II: Embers of the Warrior
There was a warm breeze as Nia stared into the pail of water. It had been nine years to the day since Iroh had taken her into the Waywards and she’d used every single one to improve her skills as a fighter, though Iroh would disagree. He was fond of pointing out the supposed flaws in her techniques, saying she was “too aggressive”. That was the point, wasn’t it? Aggression was the heart of combat. If you were gentle, then you lost, it was that simple. In her travels with the Waywards she’d seen plenty of examples of people doing what was merciful and good just to be cut down. If they’d fought with every fibre of their being then maybe they’d still be alive.
Like your family?
Nia splashed water on her face to wash away sweat, if only she could wash away the taunting voice. But it had a point. Honour and sporting behaviour in a fight, even in life served only as a hindrance and Nia had no memory of her family being anything but good people. Like good people, they died, taken advantage of by whatever bandits had set their home ablaze.
You could’ve done something if you were there, the voice in her mind teased. Or if you’d bothered to train instead of going off to play.
“I know!” she huffed as she swatted the pail of water away like a fly that’d overstayed its welcome.
A soft familiar voice comforted her “Nia, are you sure you’re okay to demonstrate”.
“I’m fine, let’s get this over with” she sighed back at the old man who was all that she had left of home beyond the steel on her waist.
Iroh’s single eye met hers, the other fully white, no longer covered by a patch. “Be not in such a hurry to pass this moment, as you may look back on it and like other moments, wish you were still here”Nia’s eyes darted from Iroh’s down to the blade hanging by her waist, it’s hilt still gold like the flames she pulled it from. It was all she had left of a moment passed, she wished to return to.“Thanks Iroh, still condescending as ever but you’ve got a point”“Speaking of points, lets point ourselves towards the yard and get on with the demonstration”Nia followed Iroh’s footsteps, trying to not let his slow pace agitate her into another blaze.
The yard was a common square of dirt and the occasional tuft of tall grass, all that remained intact of the old ruined inn that the Waywards had taken up temporary residence in. In parts the roof had collapsed, along with portions of wall which made sleeping in those parts awfully drafty, but everything else had been made habitable once the Waywards arrived. While this place was a temporary home to the travelling do-gooders, it served as a sanctuary as many camps before it for orphans, the sick, the homeless, the hopeless and those in need. Each camp over the years had shown Nia not only how big the world was, but how far the Waywards were willing to wander.
“My fellow Waywards, today we’ll be demonstrating the basics of combat. The wilds are dangerous and a few of you couldn’t fight your way out of a loaf of bread,” Iroh announced loudly to the small crowd standing loosely around the courtyard.
His choice of words made a young man by the name of Rin snicker. He fancied himself both a charmer and a skilled fighter despite Nia never having seen him wield more than a smile and a set of robes.
“Rin, you’ll be joining Nia today in our demonstration,” Iroh added.
Rin jumped up in excitement, his brown hair gathered in a long tail at the back that flowed as he waltzed, sword in hand towards the centre of the yard.
“Nia, please exercise some restraint” Iroh muttered, “This is not a fight”.
His contradictions grew by the day. Nia found Iroh’s wisdom often to be condescending and unrealistic. Iroh was by no means a poor teacher, and she was thankful for him, for all he’d given her, but his approach to certain things didn’t sit right with Nia. Violence, for one thing, was a subject that caused more than one heated debate.
Rin combed his hair with his fingers and put on a mask of confidence, even fixing the fit of his well kempt robes as he entered the middle of the yard to square up with Nia. He spun his blade, a blatant attempt to impress his friends. Nia picked up two blades from the rack and met Rin in the middle.
“Not going to use that fancy sword of yours” Rin laughed, pointing his blade towards Nia’s family sword, still hanging by her waist.
“I wouldn’t want to blunt it on your thick skull Rin” Nia retorted
“You two, enough talk, let your blades speak for you, begin” Announced Iroh.
Nia rushed forward while Rin laughed, intent on getting an immediate win. She swiped to his left and to Rin’s credit, he didn’t go down like the sack of potatoes that Nia believed him to be, but rather parried the initial attack, though shock-ridden he was. The second strike was planted in his gut, Nia’s fist was like a hammer against Rin’s abdomen. Rin staggered and tried to retaliate, a wide swing that Nia turned to the ground before cracking Rin in the forehead with the butt of her sword,
Rin threw a blind punch with his offhand. It was a desperate attempt and made him lose balance. Nia didn’t want to lose her own advantage however, and so let it land. As anticipated it was weak and did almost nothing to hinder Nia’s aggressive rush of blows. She grazed Rin’s head with the hilt of her blade before she pushed off from the ground to knee him in the gut. It was that blow that sent him to the ground wincing and frowning.
“Nia!” Iroh barked. “Too aggressive!”
“We were fighting,” she responded. “That’s the point.”
“This is a demonstration. You know the difference between a real fight and not!”
“Every battle is a real battle, Iroh. There’s winners and losers, and the losers aren’t always so lucky to survive a fight. There’s no way to improve if you constantly fight by putting disadvantages on yourself for the purpose of simulating a fair fight. They’re never fair.”
“He won’t learn if you give him a concussion,” the older man said.
“But he will take the next battle more seriously, as we all should.”
Nia turned to rack her swords when she heard a commotion behind her. She spun in time to see that Rin had taken the defeat personally and was rushing her, sword in hand. Iroh’s words were dull to Nia, she felt embers of anger crawl up her neck. Without thinking she lifted the sword in her hand to meet the steel slicing through the dust in the air. Sparks flew as she pushed the attack away, her sword flying away from her in the process.
Nia drew her family's sword, Ryumeio. It’s long blade reflected both Rin’s shock and Nia’s fury in it’s mirror like steel. Before her discarded sword even hit the ground Rin and his sword divorced, both helpless, lying in the dirt. Ryumeio slithered just inches away from Rin’s throat, the previously cocky man reduced to a cowering fool, blood pouring from the now missing finger on his shaking hand.The field fell silent aside from Iroh’s words. Nia couldn't discern them from the ones screaming at her.I won’t suffer the fate of my family.
