Esben Mathiassen and Ranbu no Izayoi
”Are you recovered?” Were the first words that came out of Izayoi’s mouth as she approached Esben in the safehouse’s halls. ”The desert evidently did not agree with you, even before the battle.” She turned a critical eye over Esben. ”It seems your heatstroke has passed.”
”Regardless, I have inquiries. You are the one most equipped to answer them.”
Esben blinked.
”Good morning to you too, Izayoi.”
She motioned for Esben to follow her, and they stepped into the sitting room. Izayoi started heating a pot of tea in the fireplace, and the two sat at the low table.
”Presuming that you are a Seed, which seems more likely than when we first met, I have questions in that regard. To preface this, I knew nothing of my master’s past life before he found me in the ruins of a bandit raid. And I found nothing after his death. Evidently, he valued his privacy.”
The tea kettle continued to boil in the background.
”My working theory for the better part of a decade was that he was a Seed at some point. I can think of few better explanations. The man was not Osprean, by all appearances. Tell me, have you ever heard of any blond men nearing eight feet tall that specialized in the katana within your ranks?”
Seed may have been a secretive organization of spies and mercenaries, but her master had been distinctive.
Esben dutifully followed, taking a seat as Izayoi began to work through her question. He was slightly shocked that she still harboured doubts as to what he’d told them all at the outset of the journey, but, given that they seemed to be diminishing...chose not to make an issue of it. Better to focus on the task at hand. Even if that meant more questions about people, and looking for people, than he’d expected—he’d already spent the prior night drafting up whatever plans he could to search for Miina’s brother.
One half of the question, at least, was easily answered: ”Izayoi, it’s Skael. Eight foot tall blond men aren’t particularly noteworthy. Seven feet is nearly common, I’m plenty over six myself.” Notwithstanding that such would certainly be present in any student records, something he didn’t bother to mention as she’d be well aware of that herself by mere supposition. Certainly, anyone of that height would stand out quite a bit, especially in a crowd, which would limit their possible uses as Seeds...but there always seemed to be an outlier or two in every part of the country, even if some of them were relying on their shoes to see above the rest.
”I can’t say I remember stories of any one such that went through the Garden, but we’re always more likely to tell about what someone did than just how they were. Éliane, for example, is still a topic they like to talk about. I think our last instructor that specialized in Ospreyan styles of swordsmanship died...oh, somewhere between five years and a decade ago. Before either of our time at the Garden. But he may have some students still kicking around that I could ask.”
Izayoi frowned, rising to take the boiling tea and pour a cup each for herself and Esben. She set the kettle down in the middle of the table, nodding.
”I see. Certainly not him. And I never actually knew his name.” Once more, the realization she’d never had in her youth that she spent ten years in the giant’s company without knowing if he actually had a name sank in. Why hadn’t she realized that?
Ah, right. Because she’d been a stupid slip of a girl.
”He only ever used obvious aliases when others asked him for one. Nanashi was his favored. ‘No Name’, in our old tongue.”
”Ah. The old ‘My name is Nobody’ joke.”
”As you say,” She shrugged. ”Regardless, if Seed considers merit to be the greatest indicator of noteworthiness, I struggle to believe that he would not have been remembered even, say, two decades past his absence. You saw his deeds in the desert. He trained me. For most of our final duel, he was still my better. Unless the Garden has an exceedingly short memory, someone with seniority in the organization would have remembered a swordsman of such skill.”
Esben nodded. ”You’re quite right.” He took a sip of the tea, thinking for a quiet moment. ”Your method isn’t entirely typical of Ospreyan fighters, is it? I suppose I haven’t paid enough attention to recognize that, tales of your skills aside.”
”Correct.” Izayoi hid her surprise by raising her tea cup to her lips, taking a sip of her own. ”My own, unnamed style emphasizes fighting with a one-handed grip far more than typical Osprean bladework, as well as differences in footwork. Foreign bladesmen tend not to notice past the obvious commonalities with all katana fighting. I’d not realized how different the style was until I’d fought more samurai in my adulthood, merely thinking it was how my master’s teaching differentiated itself.”
”Rather like a sabre, isn’t it? Mixed with some more idiosyncratic techniques, due to the differing nature of the blades. You might hide it more easily if you’d learned to fight with the smaller blade in your offhand as your standard.”
Izayoi nodded along, considering Eliane’s fighting style in her mind’s eye. Given that she was the only example of Skaelan saber fencing that the samurai had seen, it was the only reference point available. And what she saw…wasn’t too dissimilar. Hm.
”Perhaps, yes. Though I am just as capable in direct combat with the more traditional Osprean dual-wielding style. There has simply not been a situation that has necessitated such a radical shift thus far. That, and wielding two blades restricts my ability to use battojutsu. Regardless, we are getting off-topic.”
Esben shook his head, taking another sip. As direct as her thought process was, he wasn’t entirely surprised she wasn’t following along with his own line of inquiry. ”This is the topic. I said that some of that former instructor’s students would still be around, didn’t I? Some of them are instructors now themselves. Even old Villamont’s style was less about replicating Ospreyan swordsmanship and more how to confuse the samurai and beat them at their own game.”
He drained the cup, setting it down back on the table.
”To that end, he incorporated techniques that are nearly unheard of this far north, some of which are even rare in our own various methods. Purely horizontal attacks, leaving someone wide open to any reprisal, but if done quickly enough, and taking advantage of the distance that only needing one hand can provide...a moulinet into another, not losing momentum at all and maintaining the pressure, something we all do but most Ospreyans never demonstrate. The most typical thing of Osprey that your master’s corpse did to me was tackling me after I defended myself from the first two. I’m sure from there you can start to figure out many other peculiarities that match what I’m saying, no? It’s just that using two blades, even with more southern-standard techniques, would hide it better.”
”Fair points.” Izayoi sat her cup down, crossing her arms in thought. ”He never cared for using two blades. As a matter of fact, he seemed to regard imparting dual-wielding during training as something more of a chore than anything else.”
”T’would be shameful if you did not excel in ALL uses of the blade, long and short. Now draw your second blade, girl. And be quick about it. My patience wears thin.”
The memory flashed in her eyes, and Izayoi forced herself to continue on.
”Seed possesses a concerning breadth of knowledge regarding how we Ospreans fight. Am I to assume that you have the same for the other two nations?”
”Of course. We usually don’t expand beyond generalities unless someone has reason to dive into all the various schools of fighting to be found in any given place, but we always keep a few available who can give good instruction in such matters.” He turned his head, one ear in the direction of the courtyard that the home surrounded.
”The yard should be relatively free, ja? I’d like to test my theory a bit.”
”Very well.” Izayoi nodded, rising to her feet. The fact that Esben had only just recovered from a concussion didn’t seem to concern her overmuch.
”You would prefer me to use two-blade style, then? Practice swords, or live steel?”
”No, your standard. Yes to live steel—I doubt they have anything here to match my blade, and I trust our abilities not to kill each other anyways.” He gestured to the cups and kettle, bidding Izayoi to sit back down. ”But, let’s finish this first. I doubt it’ll still be warm by the time we’re done.”
Before long the tea was drunk down to the leaves, and Esben returned to his room just long enough to gather up his sword and buckler. Izayoi, as he’d expected, was waiting for him out in the courtyard, likely ready to proceed as soon as he arrived. It was as much a matter of pride for him as it was anything about analyzing her fighting style—had he not been as incapacitated by the desert climate as he was, he doubted he would have fared so poorly against her old master. Even if Rudolf had made a point to tell him to get over himself and that it was testament enough to his skill that he’d avoided anything lethal and only been taken out by a tackle.
More politely than that, but still.
”Well. Let’s begin, shall we?” he asked after a moment, giving a small salute with his blade, before settling into a typical guard position—buckler out, sword high and point forward as though he’d just drawn it in front of her.
Izayoi nodded, her sword already drawn. Iai strikes weren’t to be risked against foes she didn’t wish to kill, so it would fall to raw swordplay.
She dashed straight for Esben, her katana clutched in only a single hand as she whipped it out in a quick horizontal slash, aiming to make a score across the Skaelan’s unshielded side. It clattered harmlessly against his buckler, the small shield punching the blade aside with unexpected force as stepped to his left, flicking his blade forwards and down in a small sniping cut as he moved to a new stance.
Izayoi leaned back, the tip of the blade barely missing her nose; intercepted a second cut from Esben as he straightened his arm back out, and without missing a step twisted her own over and lunged forwards herself. Esben brought his blade in and up to match, her thrust sliding harmlessly off to the side as he broke away. Over the course of barely more than a second their blades had rang out thrice, and the only thing to show for it was that they’d returned to the same positions they’d started from.
After a moment of breath, each dashed for the other once more.
Several rounds of back-and-forth later, Izayoi clicked her tongue in irritation as Esben disengaged from her assault once more. She’d no doubt wear him down eventually, but a victory in that manner was akin to giving up in terms of effort.
Of course, she was still holding a large portion of her arsenal back. No battojutsu. No explicitly lethal techniques. Trickery and footwork it was, then.
Izayoi set herself in a low stance, legs bent and center of gravity closer to the ground. She dashed forward, telegraphing a strike towards Esben’s less-guarded legs. The instant he moved to respond, however, she sprang up from her bent legs and outright leapt over the Skaelan duelist in a somersault, landing behind him with one hand stabilizing her on the ground and the other pointing her blade at his back.
”Are you satisfied now?”
As Izayoi lunged forwards for his legs, Esben barely dropped the point of his sword to maintain an obvious threat, his reach beating her own without even the need to draw back. He’d been expecting some trick, of course, although for her to bodily leap over him wasn’t the tactic he thought she’d take.
For a heartbeat, he’d thought about raising his sword in a cut to follow her momentum, twisting alongside her...had it been an actual duel, he would have. But just as there were techniques she was refusing to use for fear that she might actually harm him, he was feeling the same way, and such reprisal in the face of so wild an attack would nearly guarantee someone was injured beyond what was acceptable for mere sparring. Even if it didn’t, prolonging the exchange would only push them both towards fatigue rather than helping sharpen any of their skills.
Instead he crouched, raising his buckler up overhead to guard from any sudden strike—only for Izayoi’s landing to sound behind him. Of course, from where she was crouched, she’d see a pair of gun barrels pointing her way from the buckler he still had raised up. Esben was still full of tricks himself, even if he’d never bothered to actually hide them. One squeeze and they’d have fired; enough to shock her and make her pull back, perhaps, or it wouldn’t have, and they’d both be dead had it been an actual fight.
Hopefully they wouldn’t need to find out.
”You’re breathing hard,” Esben observed. He was too, and between the Ospreyan heat and the exertion covered in enough sweat he’d need to bathe again before the end of the day. ”Yes. You’ve your own unique touches, obviously, but the core of it is familiar enough to me.” He paused for another moment, trying to imagine what she must have been like at the height of her skill, with all the stories that had managed to proliferate about her—
”I think Edren is lucky you’re unique as you are. I certainly don’t want to consider what fighting you on a battlefield may have been like if you felt the need to use that special technique of yours.”
Izayoi narrowed her eyes. Stalemate. She wasn’t quite sure if her reflexes were still up to par in deflecting gunfire from this close a range, else this wouldn’t be as much of a detriment. Regardless, it had been a good spar. Each she had gone through was experience she needed to relearn her muscle memory, to come even remotely close to being where she should be.
The mystrel drew herself up, sheathing her blade as she spoke.
”That technique was what won the day in the first battle upon the central plains. If I’d not slaughtered an entire cavalry charge in an instant, Edren would have won the war in one push.” She took a moment to catch her breath, fixing her hat back atop her head.
”Edren is fortunate that fewer samurai were trained since childhood by a maniac obsessed with the sword and only the sword, yes. I was Lord Hien’s sword instructor once, but the rigors I demanded, as I was trained, were too intensive and time-consuming for the son of a daimyo that required a broader education.” The row she and Lord Kaien had gotten into regarding the subject hadn’t left the castle servants’ lips for months after the fact.
”That, and my position as captain of Lord Kaien’s guard were such that I did not have the time to take on a student unless otherwise ordered, as with the boy.”
Esben nodded, sliding his sword back into its sheath and hanging the buckler on his belt. ”All that in mind, I think Osprey is fortunate that its leaders knew that more was needed than just that single-mindedness as well. Hopefully, after we’re done with this mess with Valheim, such regrettable circumstances as were behind all of that...won’t resume.” He glanced skyward, where the sun was directly overhead; he hadn’t expected they’d be out long enough for noon to come upon them, but evidently they had been.
”Well. Shall we find something to eat?”