Training for the Tournament

A full day of sword practice. You have got to be joking.

Falladae gawked at his Swordmaster, jaw agape and eyes like dinner plates. A full day of non-stop sword practice? This was unbelievable! He barely survived the sessions, let alone a day!

The Swordmaster gave him a hard look: "Don't look so surprised Falladae. You've known about this tournament for months. We've been the champions for five years running now and I won't have our reputation slip because of your laziness. You and your team will be in peak condition, I will ensure it! Now get out there and start sparring before I plant my boot in your butt!"

Falladae immediately turned and slunk off, muttering mutinously. He knew better than to mess with his Swordmaster. He still had the bruises from the last time he'd dared disagree.

Stupid tournament, he hissed in his mind, stupid pointless tournament. A whole day of sword practice just to win some stinking competition. So what if we win every year, it's scarcely difficult. Most of the whelps we spar can't even hold the blade straight!

A whole bleeding day.


The End

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