The Deceiver's Path - Chapter 145 - In the Favored Shadow (Patreon)

Ophelia stood in the room she shared with Piper and stared at her wooden sword propped up against the wall. She’d received the weapon from the instructor Andreas back in the city, and she’d grown used to carrying it everywhere with her. She felt safe whenever it was around.

But Lysander had invited her to spar with him today. He’d probably think she was a silly child if she showed up with a wooden sword instead of the real weapon gifted to her by the guild.

Pressing her lips together, she agonized over whether she should bring it. She really wanted Lysander to see her as a mature adventurer. And a mature adventurer wouldn’t have a wooden sword.

Then again, it was a practice weapon. She could just say that she’d brought it along in case he didn’t want to use padded weapons. There was no way he could see any flaws in her logic.

Smiling, she thrust the wooden sword through the side of her belt and gave her hips a little shake. When it didn’t fall out, she grabbed her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. Then she hurried over to the door.

As she stepped into the hallway, she glanced both ways to see if Joanna was lurking somewhere. She still owed that horrible woman a severe poking for trying to attack Piper. And she had far worse planned for Nikandros.

The thought of him made her raise a hand to her face. Sometimes, the scars from the ooze still itched, though they’d long ago healed. She firmly reminded herself that Piper was right—they made her look tough, not like a monster.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about them. Maybe she should get a cool mask for when she was doing quests. That might make more people remember her and her amazing deeds.

With no sign of the jerks, she hurried over to the double doors leading outside. She used her shoulder to push them open. Occasionally, she wished that she had placed all of her points into Strength like she’d told Piper; the look of shock on her sister's face had been priceless when she’d said that.

But as Piper had suggested, she’d spread her points into Strength, Stamina, and Vitality. Though being truthful, she would have preferred to dump everything into Strength. She wanted to be as strong as Piper so that she could keep up.

Every day she worried that Piper would try to leave her behind again, like she had in the mountains. She wanted to be an adventurer, but it would mean nothing if she wasn’t with her best friend. She would do anything for Piper.

Ophelia pulled the hood of the cloak over her head and hurried through the swirling snow. By the time she reached the practice building, a chill was creeping up her toes. She really needed to buy some nice fur boots.

Thrusting open the door, she let it slam behind her. The building had a large open space in the center with wooden spectator stands surrounding it. Pennants hung from the ceiling, each emblazoned with the image of a silver hippogriff on a field of blue. Carefully spaced windows shone beams of light onto the sandy floor in the center, while motes of dust drifted in the weak sunlight.

Normally, this room was reserved for adventurers and wayfarers. But it wasn’t as if they could use the outdoor training grounds for the aspirants, since they were covered in several feet of snow.

Near the center of the room stood Lysander. He rested a two-handed sword over his shoulder, and he peered down his hook nose at her.

“It’s about time you got here, gravebait,” the man called out.

“I’m right on time,” she shot back.

“Next time I send a servant to summon you, I expect you to run here.”

Ophelia untied her cloak and draped it over the nearby stand. “I’m not running through the snow.”

Lysander shook his head and swung his massive sword around. “Why are you here?”

She stopped walking. “What sort of stupid question is that? You told me to come here.”

“I meant, why are you with the Silver Hippogriffs? Why do you want to be an adventurer?”

“Because… I want to protect my sister.”

“Now that’s a reason I can understand. Your sister is different, isn’t she?”

Ophelia chewed on her lower lip, desperately trying not to blurt out the wrong thing. She always blurted out the wrong thing. But thoughts just popped into her mind, and she said them before she could stop herself. And sometimes, when she didn’t speak right away, she forgot what she was going to say.

I can’t screw this up for Piper.

“She’s always been special.”

“Ah,” Lysander said, watching her more closely. “So, she was the favored daughter.”

Ophelia scowled at that. “Our parents love both of us.”

“But they love Piper a bit more, don’t they?”

“Are we going to talk, or are we going to fight?”

“I’m simply trying to understand your recklessness. Are you trying to prove something to your parents? To yourself?”

Her scowl deepened. “The second she showed up, she never did anything wrong. My dad never took me on a hunting trip, but he always took Piper. He never taught me to shoot a bow, but he spent hours with Piper. I never seemed to do anything right around her.”

Lysander cocked his head to the side. “When she showed up?”

Ophelia mentally cursed herself for letting that slip. “Are we going to fight or not?”

“Not quite yet. What did you mean when she showed up?”

“You know, when she was born.” She looked down at the floor, desperately avoiding the man’s gaze.

“Isn’t she older than you?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking all these questions?”

“This isn’t something I say often, but I think you have the makings of a powerful adventurer in you. But I need to understand why you throw yourself into dangerous situations with no thought for yourself. Are you impetuous or trying to prove something? Currently, I’m leaning toward trying to compete with a favored sister.”

“They always loved her more,” she said miserably. “If I can be half as amazing as Piper, maybe they’ll love me again.”

“I’m sure your parents love you equally,” Lysander said softly. “However, such things are often difficult for children to see.”

“Piper could never do anything wrong!” she said plaintively. “All I ever heard was how I should be more like her. Or how Piper was so amazing on the farm while I did nothing but screw up.”

She curled her hands into fists and blinked away the tears. “I really wanted to help, but it was just so difficult. Sometimes, my dad would tell me to do a bunch of things, and I’d forget all of them. It was hard to remember when he gave me a long list of instructions. It’s like it would go right out of my mind. Then he’d get mad when he came back and I was doing something else. Why couldn’t he see that it was hard to remember all of his instructions? I really tried!”

“Everyone is different.” Lysander replied. “Each of us is blessed by the Emperor in different ways. While your sister excels at magic, I believe you will far surpass her with martial skills.”

“Do you really think so?” Ophelia blushed as she rubbed a sleeve against her eyes. She’d never told anyone this stuff before, and she hated that she was nearly crying. Only wimps cried in front of other people.

“I do.” Lysander walked over to her, the sand crunching under his boots. He placed the tip of the weapon against the ground and rested a hand on the pommel. Then he gently placed his other hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. “I think your parents would be proud of you.”

She let out a half-laugh and half-cry. “Aren’t you supposed to be calling me gravebait?”

“I foresee great things in the future for you and your sister,” he said. “Perhaps I’m simply laying the groundwork to join your group.”

“We really need another warrior in our group. You know how magic users are.”

Lysander chortled. “I was forced to endure them for many years during my climb to the rank of wayfarer. However, they are a necessary evil, even though they are often full of themselves and never acknowledge our contribution to battles.”

“I know, right! They always think they do all the work, but we’re the ones who keep the undead off them so they can cast.”

“I’ve heard rumors about your undead quest. Is it true you slew a zombie mammoth?”

“I clobbered it good…” She grimaced and looked away. “I mean, what undead?”

Ophelia tightened her fist until her fingernails dug into her palm. Pain blossomed in her hand, but she didn’t relent, trying to banish the bad feelings. Why did she always have to speak before thinking? Why couldn’t she control her tongue like everyone else?

What is wrong with me?

“Have no fear.” Lysander laughed. “I’ve spoken to the girl who accompanied your group, along with others from town. Since your arrival, I suspected there was something different about you and your sister. Still, slaying that many undead exceeded my wildest dreams about your abilities. The two of you will do great things.”

Lysander stepped back and raised his sword. “Now, shall we train?”

Ophelia pushed her feelings of shame into a little ball and drew her sword. “We aren’t using padded weapons?”

“Do you need them?”

“I don’t think so…”

Lysander fell into a fighting position, his sword gleaming in a shaft of light. “First things first: the rules. No spells and no skills during the fight. You need to stop using those as a crutch for your fighting.”

“I’m a good fighter!”

“I’m know you are, but there will always be someone better than you. So, you must master the way of the blade.”

“I just hit things as hard as I can,” she said indignantly. “It’s worked so far.”

“And what happens when you meet someone stronger or faster? What if you encounter someone who can annul your magic?”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “What do you want to show me?”

“I’m going to show you some drills and forms,” he replied. “I want you to practice them every day until you fall over from exhaustion. And then I want you to get back up and practice them again.”

“That sounds boring…”

“Does becoming the best warrior who ever lived sound boring to you?”

“Now that you put it that way, what should I do first?”

Lysander planted his feet and swung his sword. “I want you to practice swinging your sword.”

“Asterion already taught me that.”

“That man was little more than a tavern brawler. I plan to teach you finesse in your battling.”

Ophelia took a moment to emulate the man. But even though she was certain that she’d copied him exactly, he kept correcting her stance. More than once, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling him off.

After several hours of grueling practice, she felt as if her swings had become more fluid. And her footwork was steadier than before. She had to grudgingly admit that Lysander knew what he was doing.

The tall man wiped sweat from his forehead with his hand. He glanced up at the window, where the light had dimmed until the entire room had been cast into shadows. “I suppose that will do for now. I want you to continue practicing everything I showed you in your free time.”

“I will, every morning and afternoon.”

Lysander eyed her and chuckled. “I imagine you would. But one long session daily is more than enough for now. Next time, we’ll spar and I’ll show you some tricks.”

Ophelia found herself looking forward to more training. “When is that?”

“Tomorrow we’re escorting a noblewoman and her cargo to her manor. We’ll try to schedule something soon after.”

The thought of sparring with Lysander again filled her with excitement. While she still believed the best way to defeat an enemy was to pound it into the ground, there might be something to be said about what he called finesse. And she found that she couldn’t wait for her next lesson.