“Grie, are you coming? We’ve got the next five hours free, and we were thinking of swinging by the galley for some extra rations.” A small Dragon Rider gestured to her comrade as the others headed out of the training room, drops of sweat dripping from his chin as he moved through the fundamental motions with a speed and finesse that could only be attained through years of practice.

Of course, Grie Khuda’Mundi had only been a Dragon Rider for about a quarter of a cycle now, but the almost exclusive martial art practiced by the Dragon Riders had been learned from the Valkyries, and Grie had married one of them about six cycles ago. It hadn’t taken long for him to take advantage of that fact to learn Thorla’din as soon as he found out she was an instructor for the art which inspired Thorla’O, the less fine form used by many Dragon Riders as they usually didn’t have the necessary grace and fluidity for true Thorla’din.

Grie’s feet slid quickly over the floor as he focused on his internal energy, his footwork becoming a blur. “No thanks,” he said. “I need to work on my form. I’m not fluid enough yet.” To anyone who had not seen him training with his wife, this was a truly absurd thing to hear. Grie was already a master of Thorla’O, but he wasn’t training his Thorla’O. In fact, he had never really trained Thorla’O. He had simply been recognized as a master by the instructors, none of whom could even get within a leg’s length of him without winding up on the ground.

Of course, the instructors thought that Valkyries practiced Thorla’O and were simply better at it due to their increased power and reflexes. In truth, Valkyries didn’t even recognize Thorla’O as a martial art, merely thinking of it as a cheap imitation of Thorla’din, which it was. Now, as Grie sliced his arms through the air like he was juggling knives, the air almost seemed to move out of his way before he passed through it, silent as a stone and quick as a repeater bolt.

“Grie, you’re the best fighter on the whole ship. Just give it a rest for one hour,” the woman said as she set down her bag. From behind her, however, an arm reached toward her and planted firmly on her shoulder. Then, a voice came from the body attached to the arm.

“Oh, really?” the voice asked. “I’d like to test to see if that’s true.” Drigondii Sheii’Cronell patted the woman’s shoulder a few times as he stepped forward in traditional training garb which matched Grie’s own. He wiped his feet and stepped out onto the floor, where Grie had ceased his motions. “I see you’re working very hard, Grie. Would you care for a spar?”

Grie’s eyes bolted wider twice as fast as those of his comrades, who dropped their bags and quickly lined up around the edge of the training floor. No one had really seen the Monarch fight before, but as a Sheii’Cronell, he’d have to be incredibly powerful. As he looked more carefully into his leader’s eyes, however, Grie noticed a very important detail. Drigondii’s eyes were not alight with the fire of the Sheii’Cronells. He stood tall and gave the traditional salute of Thorla’din, and Drigondii reciprocated. “I welcome the spar.” Grie smiled back at Drigondii’s almost childlike grin.

They each stepped into the starting stance, and like that, their arms and legs disappeared. The Dragon Riders watching couldn’t believe their eyes. For all of Grie’s practicing to improve his speed, he was faster still in a true spar. Drigondii’s motions were actually slightly slower, but it was in this fight that the Dragon Riders saw what Grie meant about not being fluid enough.

Grie’s movements were like water, his body moving with a smooth purpose and energy that none of his fellows could match. Drigondii, however, was like a gas. Wherever the water moved, the gas filled the openings that no one else even saw until after he was there. They then realized that Drigondii wasn’t actually slower. He was simply more relaxed. Grie’s movements had a certain snap to them when he changed direction, much like a whip. Drigondii’s movements didn’t hold that snap, which gave the appearance that he was slower. Truthfully, he was carefully matching speeds with his opponent, who was wearing down from all the snapping and whipping back and forth.

“You’re right, Grie,” Drigondii said, his voice cool and smooth even through the fight, a stark contrast to Grie’s now-ragged breath. “You aren’t fluid enough. You need to relax.”

Finally, Grie found an opening. He managed to grip Drigondii into a choking hold, and it seemed like the fight was over. Then, he just wasn’t in Grie’s hold any more. The Dragon Riders blinked as they tried to figure out how he had wriggled loose of such a solid hold, but they couldn’t figure it out. Grie swung about a bit too widely to counter Drigondii’s sudden attack from behind.

The parry was successful, but as Grie blended his motion with Drigondii’s, the mistake was made plain. Drigondii grabbed the hand and quickly twisted Grie about, flipping the man into a spin toward the floor. Grie’s body turned about as he hit the floor, rolling back into the fighting position, but Drigondii was there to meet him.

“You’re also right about being too slow, Grie,” Drigondii co
mmented as he brought his arm up to flip Grie back to the ground. This time, though, Drigondii was the one seeming surprised as Grie worked around and behind him. Grie soon realized, however, that the surprise was a feint. As soon as he moved to take Drigondii down, he found his legs caught by Drigondii’s own. Drigondii made a perfect dive, taking Grie’s feet up and his head down to the floor.

Grie managed to roll out of harm, but Drigondii was again there to meet him, this time pinning him to the floor with a nerve hold before Grie could get up again. Grie tapped the floor, and the fight was over.

“Thank you, Excellency. It was a pleasure to fight with you,” Grie panted out as he bowed to his leader. Drigondii bowed back and smiled.

“The same, Grie. I do, however, recommend that you go eat with your fellows, who’ve been sitting patiently here for you when they could have been off eating.” Drigondii knew, of course, that they had stayed for the fight because of who Grie was fighting, but he wasn’t about to point that out. “Also, I think you’ve practiced enough today. Take it easy for a while.”

“Yes, sir!” Grie cried out as he saluted the Monarch. The two stepped off the floor and headed off to shower, Grie in the head and Drigondii in his stateroom. It was an interesting sight to behold, indeed, as the Monarch walked across the ship, barefoot and in a plain training uniform. He normally wore his Drigarmr.

“So we’ll see you in five, right, Grie?” The woman called out as the Dragon Riders prepared to leave again, all abuzz from what they had just witnessed.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Grie called out from the shower. By the time he’d changed into his armor, they were gone. He picked up his bag, sighed, and headed for the galley. He pulled out a picture as he walked. It was a small photograph of his wife and newborn. Grie reminded himself that his son wasn’t so small anymore and slipped the picture back into his bag, taking longer strides. Now, he was hungry.