Colt had wanted to start his training immediately, but the fisherman had other plans. Although it seemed of little importance when compared to what lay ahead, the old man had still insisted on his fish being sold that day. Colt had tried to explain that he intended to leave as soon as he knew how to use his sword, however the fisherman was on a completely different schedule. He didn't see why Colt couldn't just do the rest of his tasks for the day, train that night, and then leave first thing tomorrow.
To that proposal, Colt didn't have much he could have said. "I don't want to" didn't seem like it would work, and besides, he wanted to stay on the old man's good side. So he'd taken the fish into town once again and done all of the other things he was required to do.
When he got back to the shack, he was ready to get to work. He rushed through dinner, hardly even considering that it may be one of the last good meals he had for a long while. Then, while the fisherman cleaned up, he did the rest of his chores for the night.
Colt was relieved when he was finally done. He was grateful to the fisherman for saving his life and taking him in and all, but he couldn't wait to train and then be gone tomorrow. If he had to sweep another floor or dust one more piece of furniture in the next year or so, he might just lose it.
"Finished?" asked the fisherman, who had been sitting in the chair and watching him for the last half hour.
"Sure am," Colt said. "I'm ready to train."
The old man squinted his eyes, like he'd forgotten all about that.
"You sure you want to do that tonight?" he asked. "I admit I'm a little tired. We could always do it tomorrow, you know."
"Yeah, nice try," Colt replied. "We're doing this tonight, so try to keep up."
The fisherman smiled a little. "Oh, I'll do more than try." He had a gleam in his eyes, and did not at all look like someone who was tired. He walked over to the corner of the shack and knelt down. He placed his hands on the floor and started tugging on one of the wooden boards.
"What are you doing?" Colt asked.
"You'll see."
The fisherman tugged at the board some more until eventually it came loose. He pulled it out, revealing an open space below it.
"A secret compartment?"
The old man smiled in response. He reached down in it and pulled out a sword made from iron. The blade was straighter than that of a cutlass, but looked just as sharp. The sword was covered in dust, so it was evident that it hadn't been used in a while. After a quick blow from the fisherman, however, the dust disappeared and the thing looked as good as new. Colt felt almost envious, as the old man's blade definitely looked more intimidating than Colt's.
"You have a sword?" Colt said in disbelief.
The fisherman stood back up and brandished his weapon. "I used to have much more of a use for it than I do now. But that is a story for a different day. As of right now, your training has begun. So... swing at me."
Colt blinked. "What?"
"Swing at me," the fisherman repeated. "Try to hit me with your cutlass."
"Are you sure?" Colt frowned. "I don't want to..."
"Hurt me? Oh, don't worry about that. I saw you yesterday. Your swing wouldn't hurt me even if you could make contact with it. Which you can't, by the way."
Colt squinted his eyes. "Okay, well just remember that you're the one asking for this."
Colt readied his sword and swung at the old man. Everything after that happened way too fast. Colt's cutlass was met by the old man's sword. The sword caught his cutlass at an angle and with a twist from the fisherman, Colt's weapon went flying out of his hand. Colt had no time to react to this because while it was happening he felt a force push out against him. Colt stumbled as his feet were then swept out from under him and he hit the ground square on his back.
It took a couple of blinks for Colt's vision to straighten. It took even more time for his breath to return. It'd be even longer before his back stopped hurting and it might be forever before his pride returned.
The fisherman's head appeared in Colt's vision as he leaned over him. "All good?"
"Nope," Colt muttered. He struggled to hoist himself up on his knees and then shakily rose to his feet. "No, not all good. Definitely not all good."
The fisherman looked him up and down and then shrugged. "Eh, you're fine. You've got young bones."
"Yeah, broken young bones," he complained. "I mean, how are you so good at that?"
"Good?" the fisherman shook his head. "No, I'm not all that good at sword fighting. I'm even worse than I used to be. On the scale of things, I'd consider myself pretty bad. You're just, well, worse."
Colt nodded. "Thanks," he said sarcastically.
"You're just horrible," chuckled the fisherman. "No offense, by the way."
"It's getting more and more offensive," Colt mumbled.
"Sorry, sorry."
Colt walked over to where his sword had fallen and picked it back up. He faced the old man again. "So what is it exactly that I'm doing so wrong?"
The fisherman sighed. "Where to start, where to start?"
Colt began to wonder if training with the old man had been a mistake. But then things took a turn for the better.
"Well, to start with, your form is all wrong. You're thrusting your entire body too much, which makes you exposed and your moves predictable. You need to plan your attack, plant your feet, then use your shoulder and arm to put power into your swing. That will make it more controlled and less avoidable."
"Okay," Colt said. He nodded and closed his eyes, trying to visualize what the fisherman was saying.
"You also need to take the weapons you and your opponent are using into consideration," the fisherman continued. "You have a cutlass, which has a more rounded blade. My sword has a straight blade. Your sword is better utilized for slashing, while mine is better for stabbing. My blade can also hook yours and pull it away from you. To prevent this, you need to avoid leaving the back side of your blade open. It will also help to keep a better grip on your sword, at all times. You never want to lose your weapon in the middle of a fight, because nine times out of ten that ends the fight right there."
Colt processed this for a moment before nodding again. "Got it. Anything else?"
"Yes," replied the fisherman. "Tons more. But that's a start. Improve in those areas, and then we'll move on to other stuff. You've got to master the basics before we can do anything else. Are you ready for round two?"
Colt gripped his cutlass tighter this time as he prepared himself. "I'm ready."
"Okay then. Swing at me."
Colt did as he was told. This time, however, he did it differently. He mapped out what his attack would look like, planted his feet, and then used his upper body to swing at the old man. He could tell his attack was stronger than last time, because the fisherman didn't have as much time on his hands to defend against it. The fisherman raised his sword to block Colt's, but this time Colt had positioned his cutlass so that it couldn't be hooked by the iron sword. His feet were also set, which meant they couldn't be swiped out from under him as easily.
"Good," said the fisherman as their blades met and they separated again.
They circled around each other some more and then Colt attacked again. He had the same result as last time, with the old man meeting his blade with his own. But then the fisherman withdrew his sword and side-stepped Colt's next swing. Then he brought up his sword, resting the tip of it right in front of Colt's throat.
Colt dropped his sword and raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, you won," he said. "So what'd I do wrong that time?"
"Hmm," replied the old man. "Let's focus on two more things for next time. First, you used the same attack twice in a row. Therefore I expected it and was able to easily counter it. You need to switch it up, so that you're never predictable. Second, you left yourself open after your second swing. You defend with your sword and your body. In addition to blocking attacks with your sword, you also need to move your body so that it's not open to counter strikes."
Colt nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"
"I'm sure there will be much more," the fisherman said, the corners of his mouth turning up. "But we'll start with that. Ready for round three?"
Colt smiled and picked up his sword off the ground again. "You know it."
They went on like this for a little while longer. Colt and the old man went at it, round after round, until Colt could barely lift his arm to defend the oncoming attacks.
He found himself continuously amazed by the fisherman. He was an old man, yet could move faster and fight better than Colt could. It wasn't fair! Colt knew that the old man in front of him would have a much better chance of surviving the trip to the Authority base than he would, and that alone was enough to discourage him enough to think about just calling all of it off.
But he didn't, because what did he have to lose? He had a total of one goal in his life, and this was it. Make it to the authoritarian base and get the information he needs or die trying. Those were the options and Colt was okay with that. So why not try?
Eventually the fisherman suggested that they stop the training. Colt had agreed, in the interest of not tiring himself out or managing to kill himself prematurely.
But he was reluctant to stop. He hadn't managed to beat the fisherman in a round, but he felt like he was improving regardless. It was taking more and more effort for the fisherman to win, even as Colt was becoming more and more fatigued. That had to count for something.
Of course, in a real sword-fight it was doubtful that his opponent would give him several chances to win. And they might not even tell him what exactly he was doing wrong. But maybe he'd run into a friendly sword-wielding murderer. Those exist, right?
Regardless, Colt was satisfied as he lay down for his last night in the fisherman's shack. He'd finally started to learn how to actually fight, which was more progress than he'd had in all his time aboard the Bloody Manta.
He ended up falling asleep almost instantly, which was great, because tomorrow was when the real challenge would begin.