Arran and Doran stood on a small patch of grass near the walls of the stronghold. While it wasn't far from the training fields, it was obscured from view by a group of trees that blocked the eyes of any curious onlookers.
"So you don't know anything about sword styles?" Doran's question was blunt, but his voice held no scorn or mockery. Instead, he merely seemed curious.
Arran shook his head. "Not really. I've had several teachers who taught me in their own styles, but their skill was far beyond mine. I picked up techniques and practices, but I never got anywhere close to mastering a style."
"Seems it served you well enough, so far," Doran said. "But in the long run, continuing on that path will limit you. When we fought, I could see that your skill already exceeds your knowledge."
"You're right," Arran admitted. There was no point in denying it — so far, he had gotten by on strength and experience, but he knew his lack of knowledge was already hurting his progress.
