Marcellus returned to the hall with two wooden practice swords. He found Finn in the main hall, sitting on the floor and nursing a hangover.
"Here," Marcellus said, tossing one of the swords at Finn. "Let's see how good you are."
Finn caught the sword and stood up unsteadily. He looked at Marcellus with a drunken leer.
"I'm the best on the Viper," he muttered.
Marcellus smiled coldly. "We'll see about that."
Marcellus was calm and collected, while Finn swayed slightly on his feet.
Marcellus attacked first. He lunged at Finn, his sword swinging in a wide arc. Finn tried to parry, but he was too slow. Marcellus's sword struck him on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
"Get up," Marcellus said.
Finn stood up, his face red with anger. He charged at Marcellus, swinging his sword wildly. Marcellus easily dodged his attacks and countered with a swift thrust to Finn's chest.
Finn staggered backwards, gasping for breath. Marcellus pressed his advantage, attacking relentlessly. Finn tried to defend himself, but he was no match for Marcellus's skill and strength.
Within seconds, Finn was on the ground again, beaten. Marcellus stood over him, his sword pointed at his throat.
"That was miserable," Marcellus said. "You're not even close to being the best. I've seen second class swords men better than you"
Finn glared up at him, his eyes filled with hatred. "I'll have your head," he said.
Marcellus smiled slowly. "I doubt it."
He turned and walked away, leaving Finn lying on the ground.
Marcellus watched as Finn struggled to his feet, his face red with anger and humiliation. Marcellus had not expected Finn to be a skilled swordsman, but he had also not expected him to be so easy to defeat.
Finn charged at Marcellus, his sword swinging wildly. Marcellus easily dodged his attacks, his movements fluid and graceful. He countered with a swift thrust to Finn's chest, sending him staggering backwards.
Finn tried to regain his footing, but Marcellus pressed his advantage, attacking relentlessly. Finn raised his sword to defend himself, but Marcellus was too quick. He disarmed Finn with a single blow, his sword flying from his hand.
Finn stood there for a moment, his eyes wide with shock. He looked down at his empty hands, then back up at Marcellus.
"How?" he whispered.
Marcellus smiled coldly. "I told you, you're not even close to being the best."
He raised his sword, preparing to deliver the final blow. But then he hesitated.
Marcellus lowered his sword. "I'm not going to kill you," he said. "But I am going to train you."
Finn looked at him in disbelief. "You would train me?" he asked.
Marcellus nodded. "I would, I made a deal with someone you see"
Finn took a deep breath.
Marcellus smiled. "Good."
In the dimly lit confines of the training ground, Marcellus loomed over Finn, his silhouette etched against the dwindling light.
His eyes, usually calm, now blazed with an uncharacteristic fire of resolve.
Marcellus had always been a man to eschewed unnecessary violence, but the situation with Finn necessitated violence.
It demanded a lesson that would leave a lasting impression, one taught in the unforgiving language of physicality. It was how his priestess taught him, she beat him half to death.
Finn sprawled on the cold ground, was a canvas of bruises and defeat. Each laboured breath he took was a testament to the intensity of the confrontation. He was conscious, painfully so, each inhale a sharp reminder of the ordeal he had just endured.
Marcellus, standing over him, raised his fist. There was no joy in his action, only the grim duty of a mentor forced to lay the hierarchy of things.
His fist descended onto Finn's chest, a blow that was more a message than an injury. Finn's cry of pain echoed through the training grounds.
Again and again, Marcellus's fist fell, each strike a punctuation in the lesson he was imparting.
With every blow, his strength seemed to swell, a physical manifestation of his frustration.
Finn, despite his claims, found himself outmatched. His attempts to defend himself were feeble, the disparity in their strength starkly evident.
He was left to endure, to absorb the painful reality that was being drilled into him.
Finally, Marcellus ceased his onslaught, stepping back to survey the consequences of his actions. Finn lay curled up, a whimpering semblance of the confident young man he had been moments ago.
Marcellus's gaze upon Finn was icy, devoid of warmth. "Do you understand now, Finn?" he asked his voice a steely whisper that cut through the tension.
"You can't just do whatever you want. If I have to look for you I will repeat this."
Finn's response was a feeble nod, a silent acknowledgement of the hard truth that had been physically imparted upon him.
Turning away, Marcellus left Finn on the ground, his departure marked by the heavy steps of a man burdened by the necessity of his actions. As he walked away, the echoes of Finn's wheezing breaths filled the air.
The sound of Finn's whimpering had attracted the attention of several servants and soldiers, who hurried over to see what was happening. Marcellus ignored the soldiers and turned to the servants.
"Finn will be my squire," he announced in a firm voice. "Offer him accommodations"
The servants looked at each other hesitantly. They had never seen Marcellus before, and they were afraid to disobey him. But they were also concerned about Finn's well-being.
"But sir," one of the servants said, "he needs to see a physician."
"He will survive," Marcellus said. "Now do as I say."
The servants nodded and hurried over to Finn. They helped him to his feet and led him away.
The soldiers watched them go, their faces filled with confusion. They had never seen anyone who had just been beaten up so badly.
Marcellus turned and walked away, his expression still grim. He knew that what he had done was harsh, but he believed it was necessary. Finn had needed to learn a lesson, and Marcellus was determined to teach him.
...
A new day began to unfold. The events of the previous evening still hung heavily in the air.
Marcellus awoke early before dawn.
Rising from his bed, he dressed in silence, his movements methodical. Today would be different, he had given Finn the stick now he needed to give him the carrot.
As Marcellus made his way to the main hall, the mansion was already stirring to life. Servants moved quietly about their tasks, their glances towards Marcellus a mix of curiosity and caution.
The news of last night's confrontation had spread, casting Marcellus in a new light among the household.
Reaching the training hall, Marcellus found Finn already there, waiting.
The young man's face bore the bruises of their encounter, yet, there was a new sense of will in Finn's eyes, a glint that had been absent before. The ordeal had left its mark, but it had also ignited something within him.
"Hello, Finn," Marcellus greeted, his tone neutral. "I trust you've had time to reflect on our discussion last night."
Finn nodded, his response a murmur. "Yes, I have. I understand now."
Marcellus regarded him for a moment, gauging the sincerity of his words. "Good. Today, we begin your training. You have much to learn, study the knight breathing technique."
The training ground was quiet as they made their way through, the clamour of soldiers and sparring absent in the early hour. Marcellus selected two wooden practice swords, handing one to Finn.
"We start with the basics. Your form, your footwork, your awareness." Marcellus said, a hint of encouragement in his voice.
The session was rigorous but fair. Marcellus corrected Finn's stance, demonstrated techniques, and challenged him to match his movements. There was no anger in Marcellus's instruction, only the firm guidance of a tutor.
As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the training yard, Finn's initial awkwardness gave way to a growing confidence. He was quick to learn and eager to improve, his earlier defiance replaced by a focused dedication.
Does he learn faster because he is an apprentice?
Marcellus mused, watching his progress, and felt a sense of satisfaction.
By the end of the session, Finn was exhausted but animated, a faint smile on his bruised face. Marcellus acknowledged his effort with a nod, a silent approval that spoke volumes.
As they walked back to the mansion, Finn beside him, Marcellus knew that the journey ahead would be long and challenging.
The day had begun with the promise of a new beginning, both for the mentor and the apprentice.