The journey to the dojo was long.
Situated far due to it's low popularity, I realised this as students became less and less frequent the farther I travelled. And even the ones I saw loitering around held weapon cases and sheaths.
Sitting at the feet of a rising hill, the 'Dragon Gate Dojo' looked quaint and dingy. Wooden beams and white walls, sparse trees reached up and around the building, looming overhead a significant portion of the grey tile roofing.
On the front of the dojo a motto could be seen painted on a plaque.
'Pain is the evidence of effort'
My jaw unconsciously clenched. This was a far cry from the comical undertones of the novel. Arthur never visited this place in the novel, but it was mentioned in the backstory of one of the more tragic characters.
It was the origin story of 'Samuel Klein'. The Vengeful Fist.
It went a bit something like this:
Samuel was just a young boy like any other student when he entered Kordell academy. Albeit average in most of his attributes and studies, he did have a talent for hand-to-hand combat.
His innate ability was centred around hardening his fists which proved significantly useful in something like martial arts.
Once Arthur had entered into the academy and the novel begun, Samuel was already in his second year. Training slowly but relentlessly under the 'Dragon Gate Dojo' which paid homage to the Chinese idiom about a carp becoming a dragon through perseverance and hard work.
Samuel truly believed this was possible. As long as he was steadfast and took one step at a time, his martial arts would find some semblance of success.
But in a fictional work like this, Samuel was utterly destroyed by the protagonist in some spar.
Ever since that moment Samuel fell into despair. His principals corrupted and squashed beneath the bullshxt that was Arthur Starlight.
In the darkest of his moments he soon turned to illegal fighting rings to train his fists. Committing bloodshed each night, Samuel grew vicious and bloodthirsty. Readying himself until the next time he would show vengeance to Arthur.
Sliding open the door to the dojo, the smell of sweat hung in the air. A hot humidity pervaded the air space as I made my way further in.
Reaching the main hall, the room opened up to a large area. A sand pit tucked itself into a corner looking to be a step lower than the normal wooden decking. The room was pleasantly tall as one could see the trees perched from open skylights and airy architecture.
Scattered throughout the room looked to be students in academy-issued training uniforms sparring with instructors or moving through different forms and stances.
Overseeing it all was a broad shouldered man. His muscle definition peaked from a loose uniform as he moved with his hands behind his back watching his pupils. His head lacked any hair, but as he saw me come in, his hairy eyebrows scrunched.
"Yes, young man?" His impressive stature passed through demonstrations and reached me.
"I'd like to begin training here from now on." It was a simple remark, but a twitch in his distinct eyebrows told me he was impressed. "My name is Khael Sonja and I want to learn how to fight."
My spine stood upright as I looked back at his eyes. It felt like a solid minute before he responded to my statements.
"...Whilst that was an impressive declaration, I do not train up fighters. " His thick forearms crossed over. "I train up martial artists, not a bunch of thugs. So go back and join another school. I'm sure the mace doctrine or even saber style may suit you."
He made his robes swish before me and turned quickly. Seeing the shine of his bald head glare at me, I groaned. This is why I never bothered learning martial arts.
"I'm not going to." Hearing me, the instructor paused and titled his face back to me. "Martial artists are fighters."
It was a bold proclamation. But it was one I nevertheless carried over even in this life.
"Is that so?" With his body now bounding over to me in a sudden burst, I saw his fist clench. His muscles clenched beneath his uniform as I could sense the sheer power rocking behind the punch.
Watching his fist approach me, time seemed to slow.
Nine different thoughts spouted in my head before a single approach shined brighter than the rest. My body moved fluidly as I steeped low and moved alongside the punch whilst diverting it away.
Quickly pacing my feet, I pivoted and kicked. The added torque of my body's swing increasing the mere power available to me.
But instructor caught himself with ease before nimbly blocking my attack with a shoulder block.
"Aren't you being a bit hypocritical right now?" The bald instructor smiled at my remark and I quickly shoved myself away as a dropkick decimated the wall behind me.
"I'm fighting you, but am I using martial arts?" Plucking his feet from the destroyed wall, he launched himself once again. "You said you wanted to learn how to fight, then learn!"
This madman!
"What I meant was-!" Pacing myself from his side kick, I rolled my body with his attack and approached his standing leg. My attempt to collapse him by hitting the back of his knee was quickly thwarted which earned me a hefty punch. "W-Why else do you train?"
My hands rubbed the burning sensation lingering across my forearms where I had blocked him. It hit me how familiar this position was to me.
The fight seemed to cool as the instructor stood menacingly. Adjusting the cuffs of his loose martial uniform.
"...It is to seek peace. Violence begets violence. But restraint allows for consideration, amity." His wise words failed to reach me as my hands trembled in pain. Consideration my ass.
Pissed off at seeing his bald head turned away from me again, my mouth spoke before I thought.
"You seek peace? That's bull. Why don't you believe the fist can't fight for peace?" I couldn't help giving the wide-eyed instructor a dirty look. "If you think that's what martial artists are, then stop training. Have your peace."
I brushed my fingers against my scalp in frustration.
Getting up from the ground I noticed the other students and teachers pausing in their activities. My cheek twitched at the sudden spotlight of attention and I began walking out.
I guess I could make greatswords work?
But before I could reach the edge of the room, a large hand grabbed my shoulder. Instinctively I associated the many hard spots on the hand as calluses.
Looking the owner of the hand my stare didn't falter.
"What?"
The baldy opened his mouth. But closed it a moment later. Shoving my shoulder away from his grasp I continued to leave the place.
"...Training begins at 6 am and direct teaching occurs after 2 pm."
...
I'm really good at playing the long game.