A Pacifistic Sword Saint

The swords screeched across one another, grinding the surfaces together. Maude winced at the sound. On the other side of her sword, Callum glared at her.

“Today is the day,” he growled at Maude. “That I extinguish your sorry existence.”

Maude held back a sigh. For someone who had given her plenty of openings to cut him down, Callum sure was confident.

Callum pulled his blade away from hers. She rebalanced herself, and saw three more easy-win openings as Callum brought his sword around to slash at her.

He’s positively ill-suited to the sword, she thought to herself. Only someone who had been training for a couple of years could be as possibly bad as Callum. Though, he had never taken his lessons too seriously.

She deflected his blade and slashed back at him in a similar fashion. She knew for a fact that he’d be able to block it with no problem.

“Ha! What a rookie mistake!” Callum called out, his ruby eyes glowing. “And they call you a sword saint.”

It’s literally the same move you just used, Maude thought to herself.

Callum closed his eyes and shook his head. What a beginner move, Maude thought. No, worse than a beginner. Even someone on day one picking up a sword should know better than to close their eyes while fighting.

“You have no words of defense?!” Callum cried out, using the same slash move again. Maude easily blocked it.

Maude blinked at Callum, and didn’t respond. The metal of their blades shrieked again, and Callum’s scowl deepened. He started swinging his sword quicker.

Maude did everything in her power to not shake her head at Callum. The last thing she wanted to do was further provoke him. She didn’t know why he was in a particularly foul mood today and had decided to fight, since all she had done was exist. Nonetheless, his increased speed made her feel a chuckle bubbling up inside of her–as if swinging his sword in the same way faster meant she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

“Did you just fucking laugh at me, swine?” Callum shouted. Some of his spit landed on her face. “As if you have a right to even be called a Holloway,” he sneered.

She knew what he was doing. As if he could knock her off her fighting game by insulting her. As if he wasn’t repeating the same things she’d heard from him nearly every day of their lives together.

He thrust his sword at her, and she easily sidestepped. She’d have to mention to their sword teacher this move in particular. Callum’s style was rugged in...not a good way.

Maude could tell that Callum was starting to get frustrated. She needed to end this before he got too unpredictable and she got seriously injured.

She also had another concern; many of her fellow Holloway knights who knew of her capabilities were beginning to gather around the small courtyard where she and Callum were dueling. If she were to intentionally let him win with an audience, one of the knights, being loyal to the future Duke of Holloway, may be likely to tell Callum she’d intentionally let him win. That would only serve to further ignite Callum’s rage and make her life harder.

No matter what she did, dueling Callum was a lose-lose situation.

Sweat dotted Maude’s brow and Callum smirked. “For being the best fighter in our empire, you seem to be in desperate need of further training, Maude.” He spat her name out, his face twisting into a sneer.

Maude’s heart started pounding as more and more knights poured into the courtyard. She bit her lip, not knowing what to do except to continue to block Callum’s blows.

On the threshold of her hearing, just under the squealing of the metal, she could hear some of the knights calling Callum a fool for challenging her, and laughing.

Callum’s face flushed with rage. So he’d heard them too.

Maude’s hands started sweating. This was bad, bad! If she didn’t find a way to let him win, and quickly, she was going to be paying for this a lot longer than a day.

His blows were starting to get a little more chaotic and unpredictable, enough so that he was able to nick her wrist. The blade bit into her flesh. She sucked in her breath a bit. That was going to scar.

She saw Callum’s face break out into a malevolent grin.

Striking her gave Callum more confidence in his blows. Maude suddenly found herself taking steps back and having to play a little defense. Had he been messing with her or did he just fight better when he was angry?

“Time to die,” Callum said, a twinkle glowing in his eye. Their swords clanged together in a steady rhythm.

No, Maude thought. I don’t want to die.

“Not today,” she answered. With an offensive whip of her sword towards his hand on the hilt, Callum’s sword went scuttling across the ground.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, falling on his knees to the ground. He wrapped his now bleeding hand in his tunic. Maude held her sword near his throat.

The crowd went wild, cheering and she heard some people chanting, “Sword saint! Sword saint! Sword saint!”

Shit she thought. I was supposed to lose. Instead, she’d won.

She gripped her sword hard, feeling her sweat and blood mix in her palm. Her heart was racing.

Fuck! I am so going to pay for winning later.

~

Maude opened the door to her bedroom. A blast of cold air rushed over her face. She glanced over at the fireplace. The embers of this morning’s fire had long since died out.

Maude sighed and sat on her bed. She pulled her threadbare quilt around her shoulders in hopes of staving off her shivers. It barely worked.

A warm bath would be lovely, she thought. Her guts twisted, thinking back to how she’d just defeated Callum. Maybe it’d make me feel a bit better.

She stood up, pulling the quilt tighter around herself. She peeked out into the hall.

No one’s here, she thought. Breathing heavily, she walked down the hall to the stairs. No one was down below either.

It wasn’t unusual for Maude to have to look around for her maid, and it seemed today was no exception.

But today, she could feel her stomach churning from it.

I wonder how quickly the news of Callum’s defeat will spread? She thought back to how she’d held her sword to his neck. What had overtaken her in that moment? She squirmed at the memory of her actions.

Maude gingerly walked down the stairs and looked around the third floor hallway. A maid was coming out of her father’s study, giggling. The maid had curly red hair, and her face was nearly the same color. Maude didn’t recognize her at all.

“Um,” Maude said, walking towards the maid. The maid met Maude’s eyes, gave her a quick once over, and grimaced.

“And what is it you need?” the maid sneered, all traces of the giggly girl were erased from her face.

“Um,” Maude said. It wasn’t the first time the maids had given her attitude. And it most certainly would not be the last. “Do you happen to know where Edith is?” Maude asked.

“Probably in her room,” the haughty maid answered. “Why do you ask?”

Maude felt a spark of fire rush through her. So Edith was allowed to slack off in her room while Maude was greeted with a nearly freezing cold room?

Maude tried to swallow the fire she felt, down, into her stomach. It added to the already churning sensation in her stomach instead.

“Would you be willing to ask her to draw me a hot bath?” Maude asked.

The maid crinkled her nose at Maude. “And you can’t because...?”

The fire inside Maude ignited again. She took a deep breath, trying to kill the flames.

I can’t, Maude thought. Feeling this way is dangerous.

“Will you please do it for me?” Maude asked. “I’m very tired from training all day.”

“Fine,” the maid answered, rolling her eyes. “But you owe me one.” She stalked off in the direction of the maid’s dormitories. Maude turned around and started trudging her way back to her room.

~

Maude dipped her toes into the luke-warm bath water. She grimaced. She knew she had specifically asked for a hot bath in hopes of warming herself up for the night. She knew she should have expected the temperature of the water to be wrong, but she always found herself hoping for a different outcome.

She was pretty sure that the last time she’d had a hot bath was one she’d had to make herself. Edith had also made sure to give Maude a nearly scalding hot bath in the summer.

Maude submerged her body in the water. No matter what she did, it was going to have to be a relatively quick bath.

“So much for trying to feel better,” Maude grumbled to herself. She’d long since given up on trying to reduce the soreness of her muscles.

Maude sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the edge of the wooden tub. Her friend Sara’s face came to mind, with her smirky little smile, and eyes that were glassy like obsidian.

“She always says she’s envious of me being a duke’s daughter,” Maude mumbled to the room. “If only she knew what it was really like.”

Maude paused, trying to think about what Sara would suggest she do in this situation.

“Make them fear and respect you,” Sara had told her one time while they’d both been sitting in the garden having tea. “If they have any reason to believe they will be punished for being disrespectful, they will never dare to disrespect you again,” she’d said.

Sara had delicately sipped her tea as Maude digested the words. “What would I need to do to get them to respect me?” Maude asked.

Sara sighed. “You’re so weak, Maude,” she said. “You need to show them you’re the one in charge. Slap them if they defy you. If they do something particularly egregious, pull out your crop, and make sure they feel it.”

Maude shuddered in the tub. “I could never,” she whispered. “I’d rather die than whip them.”

The water was getting cold quickly, and Maude could feel it leeching the warmth from her bones.

She quickly finished up, and stepped onto the mat outside of the bath. She grabbed the rope of the servant bell, and pulled it.

She dried herself off and saw Edith pop her head in the door.

“Yes, Maude?” Edith asked. Maude noticed that Edith was still refusing to call her “Lady Maude.”

“Will you help me dress?” Maude asked, meeting Edith’s eyes.

Edith paused, as if she didn’t understand what Maude was asking. Edith’s face remained impassive.

“The duke asked you to not come to dinner,” Edith finally responded. “He said that it is punishment for embarrassing Young Master Callum in front of the Holloway Knights.”

Maude felt as though she had taken laxatives. “What?” she asked. But it was too late. Edith had already left.

Even though it had been hours since she’d last eaten, Maude felt ill.

I guess that means it’s bedtime for me, she thought.