Talking
(Thoughts)
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Re Estize Kingdom
Location: Training Yard
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Sesshōmaru's POV
The cold morning air carries the sharp clang of steel—each strike echoing through the empty training yard. Gazef moves with practiced precision, his sword slicing the space with lethal intent. Climb's body jerks and stumbles beneath the onslaught, sweat beading on his brow.
His legs falter, and with a swift sweep of Gazef's leg, he crashes hard to the ground. The sharp impact reverberates through the stone beneath him.
A grunt escapes Climb's lips as he struggles to rise, pain flashing in his eyes.
I watch intently, every detail clear—the way Climb's grip tightens, the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of doubt that clouds his gaze. Technique can be taught, skill can be drilled endlessly—but there is a gulf that no swordplay can bridge: the unyielding fire of the soul.
Why does something bind him? What unseen chain weighs upon his spirit?
Gazef sheaths his blade and leans casually on his shoulder, calm as ever.
"Watch your opponent's every move," he says, voice steady but carrying the weight of battle-hardened wisdom. "Even the smallest lapse is an invitation for death."
I step forward, voice cool and commanding. "Gazef, spar with me. Let Climb learn by watching a master of this kingdom face a master from another."
He chuckles, a sound devoid of arrogance. "My lord, compared to you, I am but an expert humbly seeking wisdom."
I summon Tenseiga—the ethereal blade appearing with a soft pulse of light. It hums, as if alive, eager to cleave and defend. The air shifts around it, anticipation crackling like static.
"Fear not. I will temper my strikes. Focus purely on your form."
Without hesitation, Gazef charges—his feet barely touching the earth, sword arcing like a crescent moon poised to strike. His blade descends in a powerful slash aimed at my shoulder.
At the last moment, he feints—a deadly ruse. His pommel swings forward, a sharp strike toward my ribs.
Reflexively, I twist, feeling the blade graze past, and seize his wrist with iron grip. The world narrows—the hard breath of battle, the pounding of hearts, the electric tension of impending violence.
My knee drives into his abdomen with unforgiving force. He gasps, staggering. Without hesitation, I hoist him overhead, hurling him against the cold stone wall.
The impact cracks through the air like thunder.
He crumples, clutching his midsection.
Climb approaches, eyes wide, absorbing every second of the brutal display.
Gazef straightens, steadying his breath. "This is why you must observe your opponent's entire body. Every muscle, every intent."
Climb bows deeply. "I understand now. Thank you, sir. I must return to Princess Renner." He departs with hurried steps.
Gazef steps beside me, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You should not embolden him so swiftly," he says firmly.
I fix him with an icy gaze. "Do you doubt his courage?"
He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No…"
My voice drops, laden with cold certainty. "Then doubt the reach of his arm. In the crucible of war, courage is but a flame easily extinguished by fear."
He straightens, pride pricked. "You claim knowledge of war, yet know no more than that boy."
I turn, eyes narrowing, fury simmering beneath my stoic exterior.
"When fear takes hold, when the battlefield is soaked with blood and screams, do you think he will stand? Many try—but the young fall first. We are left behind, hollow and broken. The young die for the mistakes of those who send them. And only after their bodies fall do we realize... we lost our future."
His face pales, shame sinking deep.
I place a hand on his shoulder—an unexpected gesture from me.
"I do not belittle either of you. But…" My voice softens, haunted. "I have seen what loss carves into a man."
He studies me, eyes searching.
"You have lost someone... haven't you?"
I nod, the weight of seventeen years pressing down.
"My twin sons and first wife—taken by darkness within this kingdom. That pain awakened me. Hardened me. Taught me the true cost of war."
He steps forward, grasps my hand, and bows his head, pressing a kiss to the signet ring of leadership.
"My lord Sesshōmaru, I, Gazef Stronoff, swear my loyalty to you. Will you accept my fealty?"
I pause, then a rare smile touches my lips—one born of quiet hope.
"I accept. Serve the kingdom, serve the crown." I draw Tenseiga and press its glowing edge to his right shoulder, then the left. "By this blade, I dub thee Gazef the Valiant. Rise, Knight Gazef."
As he rises, countless lights—like restless spirits—gather and dance around him. His eyes widen in awe and slight unease.
"What sorcery is this?" he breathes.
"When I knight a warrior, I grant armor—binding him to me."
The lights fade, golden crystals blooming across his form. They shatter with a burst of brilliance, revealing radiant white armor trimmed in gold, a cape billowing behind him, and a sword of flawless craftsmanship in his grasp.
His voice trembles with reverence. "Incredible… weightless... taps armor Only the finest tier-five materials could produce such a sound. This armor rivals the thirteen heroes' weapons."
I wrap an arm around his shoulders—a rare warmth in my cold world.
"Accept it. My gift."
He bows deeply. "My king, I swear to live up to your trust."
We walk toward the throne room, shadows stretching long.
The foundation is set. The path ahead is steep, but the next phase begins now.
[Shorter than usual—this was to link the previous chapter, but the next will unravel the timeline and introduce Clementine. Patience, please—I push through, even sick. Woooo!]