The Beast and The Swallow

The situation was bad. Leopold knew he shouldn't meddle. His imperial brother was like a pile of bad-tempered sulphur, waiting for a moment to explode, and this had not improved with the years. Still, keeping his mouth shut and watching his grand-nephew risk his health and life for nothing left a bad aftertaste. A pang of his guilty consciousness reminded him that he showed no such qualms when it came to Lionel, Llewelyn, or Noah, the latter especially, taking into account the current situation with the fight for the throne.

'But he is just a kid,' the Primate thought.

'Noah was also just a kid when Sophia tried to-' began his consciousness, but he quickly shushed it.

Leopold took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but Ermin's hand landed on his shoulder, preventing him from interfering. He looked at his lover, but the younger cleric just shook his head and motioned with his chin at Leonte. The boy stood there, unnaturally calm and concentrated, and the determination on his face was that of an immovable rock.

"Run back, Er," whispered Leopold, his eyes wandering among everyone gathered. "Bring me Ardrun as fast as you can."

Like a shadow, the younger cleric quietly exited the courtyard, leaving Leopold alone with his misgivings. Having the holy sword of Saint Ursule on hand could assure that no severe damage would occur during the demonstration. What consequences this overexertion would have on the child's health… he neither wanted to know nor to guess.

On his side, Leonte seemed utterly oblivious to his grand-uncle's dilemma. He took off his doublet and folded it neatly before giving it to a silent servant. Only in his trousers and a thin shirt, he looked even more frail. His narrow chest and willowy arms were simply sticks lost in the folds of the precious silk. Despite that, he strode confidently and picked up the training sword that Leoris had dropped.

"This one is too light," snorted the Emperor and waved his hand. Another servant, carrying a larger mahogany blade, stepped forth and handed it to the boy. "Let's see whether you can best a six-year-old."

Although the words must have stung, Leonte only bowed to his grandfather and replied courtly:

"Sacrificing life and limb for their ruler is a nobleman's privilege. I can only hope that my poor performance will be a pleasing pastime to relieve His Majesty from boredom."

Leopold gagged. In an infuriated state like right now, his imperial brother could probably tolerate pleading, growling, excuses, crying… maybe not crying, but at least some show of remorse and subservience. But he definitely wasn't going to be pleased by the calm, slightly accusatory comment of his grandson.

"Is this how you've taught your firstborn?!" Emperor Leander erupted, throwing his golden cup on the ground. Red wine spilled everywhere. Precious stones, now dislodged from the impact, rolled along the crimson stream or bounced from the marble tiles with a clatter. "Are you accusing me of mistreating you, boy? Speaking to me in such a tone, do you even have a shred of respect for your elder? For your Emperor?!"

"Your Majesty!" Princess Zoraidar's gentle voice was full of worry. "Don't overexert yourself over a child's words. I have paused Leonte's etiquette studies in consideration for his ailment, but it seems that it has been to his detriment. Leo, apologize to the Emperor."

"There is no need for that." To everyone's surprise, Crown Prince Llewelyn interjected, his gaze locked with the emperor's in a silent competition of will. "Leo said nothing wrong. After all, we are all here to watch the joy-filled performance of my sons' martial arts. And it is also true that dying for the Emperor and Limeria is the greatest honor for a knight."

"Hooo, you all dare argue with the Sun of Limeria?!" The Emperor's lips twisted in a crooked smile, but instead of rising, his voice became even lower and colder. "Do you see me as a senile, old weakling to be so bold in my presence?!"

"By the Gods and Saints, Imperial Father, no!" Llewelyn put a hand on his chest with a dramatic gesture. "I am just trying to mitigate the situation before this clear misunderstanding causes you another attack. I am sure that you are reading too much into Leo's statement. He only… wanted to give… you a knightly… salute…"

Llewelyn coughed and dipped his lips with a handkerchief, his body slightly swaying and leaning against the servant next to him. Leopold could only applaud him for the impeccable performance. Showing his weakness before the Emperor sure did plug some rusty string in the old lion's heart. There was a flash in Leander's eyes, so minuscule that it remained unnoticed by anyone else but the Primate. Even after all these years, Empress Mathilde's son still held a special place in the Emperor's heart.

"Fine!" He waved his hand like he was driving away an annoying fly. "Let's finish with all this. Begin the demonstration!"

Without uttering a word, Leonte stepped into the middle of the courtyard. Pressing the flat of the wooden blade to his forehead, he saluted the Spectators. The next second, his sword split the air with a hiss. Stab for stab, parry for parry, the mahogany weapon gleamed in the sun, drawing beautiful and deadly figures in the air. Leopold was impressed. If little Leoris had shown the flowing movements of a river, Leonte was now the embodiment of wind - quick and sharp at one time, soft and flexible at another, ever-changing yet in perfect harmony… not quite. The trained eye of the cleric could detect signs invisible to most others. The tip of the blade would occasionally be a bit too high or too low. A side slash would sometimes force the boy's shoulder to over-rotate. A tremor in his leg would disturb the beat of his movements for a fraction of a second. Leo was overexerting himself, his prowess with the sword surpassing the capabilities of his body!

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Leopold watched as the young prince made a diagonal cleave that skillfully continued into a horizontal slash. The mahogany blade stopped abruptly, its tip pointing at the spectators. Thank the Gods, he was careful enough not to point the weapon at his grandfather. Despite it being a training sword, a weapon pointed at the Emperor was a sign of challenge and treason. Instead, the wooden sword was directed at Lionel, who had observed the whole performance with a scowl.

"Do… I… pass, Your Majesty?" panted Leo, his unruly demeanor not a bit quenched by the fatigue.

"Not a complete disgrace," snorted the Emperor, but Leopold noticed the traitorous signs of appreciation on his brother's face. "Very well, then-"

"Forgive me, Father." Lionel's melodious voice had now been modulated into a joyous timbre. "Our Leo sure did a remarkable job in showing us the basics. But, Father, don't you think that a test suitable for a six-year-old might be too easy for him?"

"You are right," replied the Emperor, before Lelwlyn could manage to intervene. "So, what do you suggest?"

"A mock-duel with one of the Imperial Guards."

"No!" Llewelyn straightened his back and gave Lionel a death glare. "In Leonte's condition-"

"I'll allow it." The Emperor's tone was cold and unyielding. "If he dares speak of knightly valor before the Emperor, he needs the mindset and skills to match it. Of course, if both of you kneel and beg, I can let the boy simply fail the assessment and be punished for neglecting his training later."

"No need, Your Majesty," replied Leonte dryly. "I accept. But as an opponent, I request to fight Imperial Uncle."

"No!" It was now Zoraidar's turn to intervene. Under her bronze tan, her face still looked unhealthily pale. "Leo, it's not the time for such dangerous jokes. Besides, your uncle injured his wrist a while ago, so he won't be a suitable opponent."

"A fight with a handicap against a child does seem fair." The Emperor squinted. "But I don't like this demonstration to serve as an arena to resolve some family feud. My personal guard will suffice."

Leander gave a sign to one of the men standing behind him. The guard nodded sharply and walked out. Quickly, a servant fitted him with a training sword. He approached Leonte, towering like a mountain over him.

"Last three minutes against him, and I will judge your assessment as a pass." The Emperor touched the tips of his fingers and looked at his panting grandson. He then turned to the guard. "And you, forget that the boy is of imperial blood and take it seriously. There will be no punishment."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

"Good. So, Leonte, last chance."

The child just saluted with his sword, ignoring his father's worried cry.

"Stubborn boy! Let this be your lesson in humility. Begin!"

After the first couple of exchanges, it became clear to everyone that the boy stood no chance. The imperial guard was heavier, stronger, and had more experience. And even though Leonte tried to keep his distance as much as possible, running away was also not an option. The guard was as quick as a snake. Fatigue was also a factor. Leonte's blocks were shaky and barely on time. His hands and arms shook at every contact with the opponent's blade. Then, it happened.

A strong upward slash knocked Leonte's blade out of his hands, sending it flying far away. The clatter of the blade on the marble announced the end of the duel.

"Not even two minutes!" The Emperor huffed. "You see what you-"

"It's not… over!" hissed Leonte through clenched teeth and, before anyone could stop him, he jumped forward.

Leopold couldn't believe his eyes. Everything was happening so fast. Startled by the sudden attack, the guard swung instinctively with a force enough to split the boy's head open. At the last second before the collision, the child twisted his body, pivoted on his left heel, and spun to the guard's side. As if from nowhere, a kick landed on the back of the guard's knee, making him cry in pain and lower his stance. Using the gathered momentum, Leonte made a back-hand chop towards the guard's neck. The man managed to somehow deflect the blow, but immediately, Leo's free fist found his opponent's throat. With a gurgling heave, the guard fell on the ground, wheezing and cursing between coughs.

Everyone stared at the two, stupefied. Even Leopold was caught off guard. A certain familiarity in Leonte's moves made him hold his breath. Kumo-mai, a martial art from the Zirath Archipelago! He had seen Ermin practising it, and although Leonte's moves were a bit shabby, there was no doubt about their origin. A cold shower ran over the cleric's back. Kumo-mai was created with the intention of being extremely deadly. Some masters could even kill with a single blow. Looking carefully at Leo's trembling palms, Leopold noticed the strange, yet familiar hand grip - a seemingly normal fist, yet the knuckle of the middle finger was slightly protruding like the spike of a sea urchin. It was no mistake. If Leonte were a bit heavier and stronger, that last punch could have crushed the guard's windpipe!

***

Completely ignorant of the emotions brewing amongst the crowd, Leonte had eyes only for his grandfather. Making the Emperor stare at you agape sure counted as passing the assessment. Bitter bile rose in his throat, but he tried to swallow it down. He couldn't show weakness. Not yet.

Turning to his uncle, Leonte nodded, feeling every muscle in his body screaming in agony.

"Thank you, Uncle," he rasped. "Your suggestion was very useful."

Not waiting for an answer, he looked back at the Emperor. A pale smile stretched Leo's even paler face, all the while a bout of nausea was threatening to break him down.

"Grandfather." He lifted up his chin. "I won."

As if the last words were a secret command. A wave of fatigue rushed over Leonte. Everything spun into a kaleidoscope of colorful blotches. With a sigh, he dropped to the ground, finally able to enjoy the dark quiet of unconsciousness.