Ten Minutes to Midnight - The Sword Club's Shadow

The training grounds behind the l

The training grounds behind the lower foundry smelled of hot iron, wet leather, and bruised grass.It was late evening, and the torches mounted along the low stone retaining walls sputtered in the mountain draft, casting long, writhing shadows across the packed dirt arena.

While most freshmen were huddled in their dormitories or studying herbal formulas under flickering tallow candles, a small group of

Vanguard seniors and select underclassmen were still pounding away at the heavy wooden dummies.Felix

Lin stood near the edge of the pit, his breathing slightly shallow, a dull sheen of sweat cooling on the back of his neck.He was holding an unadorned practice sabre with a blunted iron tip—standard issue for the

Club’s casual evening drills.

Across from him,

Miller, the club’s vice-president, lowered his own blade with a quiet, approving nod.”Your footwork is still sloppy,

Lin,” Miller said, pulling a coarse linen rag from his belt to wipe down the steel crossguard of his sabre. “You pivot from your heel instead of the ball of your foot.

If you tried that on loose shale in the

Steppe, you’d be flat on your back before your opponent even drew iron.”Felix lowered his blade, rolling his stiff right shoulder.

The residual ache from

Xu’s willow branch had finally dulled to a manageable throb, but it served as a constant, biting reminder of how fragile a freshman’s defenses really were.”I’m used to flat ground in the east,

Senior,” Felix said mildly, offering a self-deprecating smile as he tossed the practice sabre onto a nearby rack. “Back in

Oakhaven, the hardest thing you trip over is a loose paving stone.”Miller let out a short, dry chuckle, sheathing his weapon with a sharp clink .

He walked over to a wooden bench, picked up a clay flask of water, and took a long, unhurried swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his thick forearm.“Word is spreading about you rejecting

Vance’s invitation to the

Club,” Miller said, his dark eyes fixing on

Felix with a frank, unblinking intensity. “House

Vance doesn’t take kindly to commoners turning down their patronage.

You’ve probably made an enemy before you’ve even picked up your first real

Aether blade.”Felix leaned back against a stout wooden pillar, watching the sparks drift up from the nearby foundry chimneys into the darkening indigo sky.”If

I wanted to spend my days writing flattering verses about

Chancery ministers,

I would have stayed home and kept books for my father,” Felix said quietly. “I came to

Aethelgard to learn how to survive, not how to bow.”Miller stared at him for a moment, then a slow, genuine grin spread across his square, weathered face.”Good,” Miller said, clapping a heavy, calloused hand onto

Felix’s uninjured shoulder, nearly jarring his teeth. “That’s why

I told you to come down here.

Club isn’t a political salon or a court faction.

We don’t care about your family tree, your

Aether talent rank, or whether your recommendation token was signed by a governor or an old sergeant.”He gestured broadly toward the empty dirt pits and the rows of heavy wooden training racks lining the courtyard.”You want to train?

The grounds are open every evening.

You want a sparring partner who won’t try to draft you into a court conspiracy?

Find me or one of the third-years.

But remember—out here, we don’t use willow branches.””Understood,

Senior,” Felix replied, a quiet, steady glint touching his dark eyes. “I’ll bring my own padding next time.”