Monday, 22 July 2013


Nine more sets, Sire! Yes, of course the Kings of Grazia are trained in several disciplines, but none hold an honor higher than the sword. In the legends of old, Cansod declared the sword to be the highest expression of steel’s potential. It is the mechanism through with man and mineral may join, a conduit for the power of earth. Through the sword, a man may carry the weight of a mountain. The King is expect to command, so he is expected to carry the greatest weight. Each of the Seabreaker kings has been a master swordsman, and so long as Ignatius continues his studies, I am confident that he will achieve this distinction. It is already difficult to find opponents willing to spar with him.

His cousin? Sail is, well, different. He has none of the discipline of his cousin, and has refused to spar for a little over a year now. His father, the Admiral-General, has approved this position. Before that, he had shown adequate development, but nothing spectacular.

I cannot say for certain why such a reprieve from a traditional obligation has been granted. It sets a dangerous precedent, I think. Make one exception and soon enough it becomes the standard. So goes the unrelenting march of mediocrity.

No, no, Patient Sail is not mediocre, just, not engaged. When I’d have the royal cousins spar, well Ignatius would always win, but there was something hesitant about Patient Sail. He’d drop a shoulder, or slip a wrist sometimes. Little tells which looked like a lack of discipline, but I wonder. Maybe Patient Sail sees openings which even I do not, but he chooses not to exploit them.

I must be imagining things though. The boy has an air of mystery about him, which promotes the imagination. He’s allowed to run off at times and disappear for days on end. He sits out in that ridiculous boat for hours and hours at a time. Who knows why it’s allowed, but the boy is noble so it’s not my place to discipline him. It’s my place to drill.

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