King Domido and Queen Mifalla strode forward from the shade of one of the lean-to shops at the edge of the square. They were smiling and clapping slowly.

The battle over, Domire and all the fallen invaders began climbing to their feet. Some of them hobbled or placed their hands over sore spots as they stepped aside, clearing the way for the King and Queen. Several would have bruises from this bout. Good training didn’t happen without the occasional bruise or scrape.

“Well done, my children grown up!” Domido called out loud enough for the whole square to hear. “You have put on a fantastic display for us all this morning, and shown that you have not ignored your duty to these people. To my eyes, you have all prepared well, and we are all proud to see you off today. Before we can do that, I call on the opinion of your training masters. Come forward and speak on their readiness!”

Normally this would only have one master coming forward. This time it was three. Master Pilbon stepped forward first. Valkyr felt a twang of her nerves against whatever mistakes she might have made that Pilbon would point out in front of everybody. She was surprised by what he said instead.

“Valkyr Farella, I have trained many archers in my time. I have coached and criticized them to the best of my ability. In much less time than the decades I have studied the bow, you have distinguished yourself and made yourself nearly my equal.” He turned to face her father. “King Domido Farella, Valkyr Farella has matured in her training, and is ready as ready as I can prepare her for any new challenge or possibility her own bow may present to her.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his daughter. “Valkyr, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” She stepped towards the Thallenrose, where Reedl was also approaching. When they both came close to it, they stopped and waited, facing King Domido.

Master Sergeant Espilion of the royal guard stepped forward next. “Misolfa Farella, I have studied many weapons in my time, and have carried the hammer of your great-grandmother with me at all times for fifteen years now. I have provided you the best instruction I know how, and have prepared you the best I could to wield my weapon’s successor, with its particular style that it is likely to show you. You are ready.” His last sentence was prescribed by ceremony. “King Domido Farella, Misolfa Farella has matured in her training, and is as ready as I can prepare her for any new challenge or possibility her own hammer may present to her.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his daughter Misolfa. “Misolfa, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” She stepped towards the Thallenrose and joined Valkyr and Reedl.

Captain Sambi of the royal guard stepped forward. “Tido Farella, you have surprised me on a daily basis with your strength, physical as well as moral. No matter how difficult I made your training you constantly faced it with the assured air of one who has already completed the task. Nothing phased you, and you worked hard. I merely guided you. You have prepared yourself. King Domido Farella, Tido Farella has matured in his training, and is as ready as I can prepare him for any new challenge or possibility his own axe may present to him.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his son Tido. “Tido, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” He joined Valkyr, Reedl, and Misolfa next to the Thallenrose. Domido spoke next. Here he had to fill two roles in the ceremony: that of trainer and that of his role as Domire’s father.

“Domire Farella, I have not trained so many students as your siblings’ instructors did. However, I had many masters provide me their training and critique. I have had hundreds of adversaries in the practice ring over the years. You have matched them, and remind me much of myself at your point in life. You are undoubtedly ready.” He looked around the edge of the square and raised his voice, addressing all present. “People of Grendhill, Domire Farella has matured in his training, and is as ready as I can prepare him for any new challenge or possibility his own sword may present to him.” Domido lowered his voice to a more personal level again, but still as audible as it was before. “Domire, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.”

Domire walked towards the Thallenrose, leaving Aton standing alone in front of their parents.

The King then paused, looking around again at the crowd, at the guards present, at those who had fought in the ceremony, at his dear Mifalla, then their four children already acknowledged, and finally at Aton. This had to be different from all the Departures previous. There was no denying that Aton’s situation was different.

“Aton Farella…” Domire began.

The parties collided and the fight in earnest began. Only moments later, the second party joined. The guards did not lend their support. In a real fight they would have, but this occasion was a show, partly a test, and a rite of passage. This fight belonged to the five siblings. Evacuation and archery support were allowed, but when it came to calling commands and the brawl itself, the Farella family used this as an opportunity to show the people who they still had leading them.

After the archers had done their brief part, thirteen attackers and four sagemen remained for the siblings to take care of. Two armsmen fell to Valkyr’s arrows, another limped, and three were taken from the fight by Tido’s knives before the opposing parties met in close combat.

This left thirteen armsmen and three sagemen to face. Though they put up a good fight, the sixteen couldn’t hope to win against five Farellas. All they could try to achieve was removing a couple of them from the fight before it was over.

Domire, broad-shouldered and distinctly bearded—brown, matching his eyes—for a boy of 15 Turns of age, leaped into the fight, bringing his sword down on one opponent and then another. His powerful strokes could be deflected sometimes, but they could not be ignored.

Valkyr, tall and clever-looking with her hair pulled back and concentration in her green eyes, hesitated for a brief moment before joining the melee. She began to move her bow to her back where it could be locked in place so she could pull out her knives. Deciding instead that she was still not partial to the knives, she started using her bow as a staff, swinging its familiar weight around in a whirlwind. Where she aimed to strike, she hit.

Tido, curly-haired and stockier than his siblings, swung his blunt practice axe as though he had had days to carefully plan each blow. His dark eyes considered and knew that each strike would meet its mark. Though he did not always make sure to hit his opponents where their armor left them vulnerable, they got the idea—a real axe in those hands would have gone right through any plate or mail of reasonable width to be worn. Few dared to try standing in his way, and when they did, they fell quickly.

Misolfa, running into the fight with her short hair swinging and with a twinkle in her blue eyes, swung her hammer decisively. Its relatively lightweight construction gave her the poorest imitation of her real weapon among her siblings, but she didn’t let that get in her way. It clanged on armor and smacked limbs, certainly leaving a bruise wherever it hit.

Aton, though he was running, entered the fight with such a calculated and deadly grace that he seemed to stalk deliberately into a pit of vipers. Domire, Valkyr, Tido, Misolfa—all fought very well, all were on the point of being masters of their respective instruments of defense. All would soon collect their weapons and hurtle towards the superlative of skill. All were almost certain to become the most skilled at their respective weapons among anyone alive, with the exception of an uncle or aunt, or their own father. But Aton had no weapon. Aton had no such guarantee of supreme expertise. He did have the fabled Farella agility though, and his own determination. He wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be, but Aton would be all that he could be. He thrust, slashed, and parried, turning, blocking, and attacking with all the effort he could muster.

Moments later it was over. Aton found himself facing the sagemen and holding blades to the throats of two of them, breathing hard. Tido held the third one by the shoulder and kept his axe ready. The attackers had all fallen. The Farella siblings had won. The onlookers at the edge of the square were cheering. Something was wrong, though. They were hushing each other and quieting down. They looked proud, but perhaps somewhat dismayed at the outcome.
Aton, Valkyr, Misolfa, and Tido all turned their heads. Domire had fallen.

The majority of the guard force in the square started walking briskly through the people doing commerce, getting them out of the square. At the same time, archers around the square nocked arrows and sighted in on the group that just stepped off of the Thallenrose. The group stayed tight together and started sprinting toward one of the gates. They knew they’d been seen.

As people cleared out, Domire got ready to give his next signal. He did not wait long. This is why the crowd was limited at all times. Thinner crowds could be cleared more quickly. Expediency was even more necessary now that the group was on the move. The attackers spied Domire as he raised his other hand, this time his left, as he put his right on his sword hilt. The assailants shifted their course towards Domire. He extended the first two fingers of his hand, then swung his hand down and forward., at the same time giving a verbal command. “Archers, let fly!”

A dozen arrows sped towards the group. At the same time, another group of six appeared on the Thallenrose. They immediately started sprinting. As soon as they were clear, another half-dozen men appeared. The first round of arrows hit the dozen men running at Domire. A few missed entirely. Some hit at oblique angles, deflecting off the men’s armor. Three got good hits, thudding as they bounced off and fell to the ground, their blunt points causing no damage. One landed on a neck—the struck soldier obligingly went down. One hit a leg–the man fell to the ground, but held his sword up and at the ready in case he still might be part of the fight. He started to get up, staggering as he feigned injury on that leg. The third hit an arm. The “wounded” man kept running, but switched his sword to his other hand and held the hurt arm close.

In the moment when the third half dozen had appeared, Domire called, “Folllow volley on the rear! Foot, charge on front!” The archers nocked and drew bows for another round to loose, this time on the fresh group now stepping off the Thallenrose. As they stepped off, another half-dozen appeared.

Aton and Valkyr leaped from their staging point and ran towards the spot where Domire and the forward group would collide. Valkyr pulled back and loosed as they ran, falling back as she slowed to steady her shot. When it was gone–aimed true to hit an attacker in the shoulder next to his breastplate–she pulled a new one from her quiver and repeated the action.

Aton could see Mifalla and Tido jump from their vantage point on the other side of the square. Tido had a liking to carry throwing knives along with his axe. He started pulling them out from their hiding places and throwing as he ran. A neck, under the ribs–the knives would have been deadly if they weren’t made of leather-bound wood. The attackers he hit slumped to the ground.