This is the first chapter to a book I'm writing, entitled (obviously) The Swordsman:

The Beginning. I'll be sticking around for a few weeks so I can discuss things about
the story and answer questions. I'm actually serious about writing this one.

The Swordsman: The Beginning

Chapter I: The Arrival

In a far, distant land, at a time when a man was not judged by the amount of his
riches, but the integrity and strength of his honor, there was a man. This man had
long, black hair and silver, misty eyes. His mouth was thin and stern, his ears small
and passable. This man wore a tight, cloth sleeveless shirt with large, easy-to-move-
in cloth pants. His foot attire consisted of very reliable combat boots with small
spikes in the bottom to grip the ground. He wore a long cloak that extended almost
to the bottom of his boots and had a large hood attached.

Under this cloak was the legendary Masamune, strapped to his hip. Also under the
cloak was a large Zweihander sword strapped to his back, though the large and
lengthy sword handle protruded from the back of the cloak, behind the man’s head.
It was strapped in seven places, so it made little if any noise when he moved.

This man was walking very swiftly, making virtually no noise. There was so little
bounce in his walk; one would think he was gliding. The area he was walking through
was gorgeous. Trees lined the path; birds sang everywhere, flying from tree to tree.
Fish and frogspawn inhabited the occasional pond. Rabbits, eagles, and wolves could
be seen around every turn. The scenery seemed to clash with the man’s shadowy
nature. He took absolutely no notice of his surroundings as he traveled.
Within minutes, the man had swept from the depths of the forest into the wide-open
prairie. The grass seemed to sway in waves as the gentle breeze grazed the man’s
face. Butterflies were abundant in the open air while the occasional eagle swooped
overhead. The hills rolled over and over, with no end in sight. At one point, a
merchant in a supply carriage passed by. The man stopped the merchant to buy a
small bag filled with ripe, juicy fruit and to fill his two dragon scale canteens with
cold water. The man was walking for almost two hours afterwards.

Coming over a particularly steep hill, the man laid his eyes on his destination. A
grand city, filled with many buildings, small and large. It was late at night, so
candlelight shone through many windows, making the scenery even more beautiful.
After standing at the top of the hill for a moment, the man muttered, “Conata…it has
been too long.” And set off down the rolling hill.

Reaching the city walls, the man moved even more quickly than before. When he got
to the gate, two guards met him there. One of the guards had an almost dazed look
on his face as he said, “Identification Parchment, please.” The robed man reached
into his cloak, pulled out a piece of parchment, and handed it to the guard.

For a moment, the guard’s expression did not change as he read the parchment. As
he read further, he became increasingly giddy. When he got done, he shoved the
parchment into the other guard’s hands, with an excited grin spread across his face.
This guard’s reaction was almost identical to the first. Once this guard was done,
both of them got on one knee, and bowed their heads.

The first guard said, “It is a honor to have you back among us, Lord Swartzstrom.
Should we alert Emperor Cephas to your presence?” Our antagonist, Swartzstrom,
shook his head and said, “No. He would surely wake the entire city before I traveled
two blocks. I merely wish to get to Conata Castle without any interruptions, report,
and turn in for the night. You will say nothing to no one, understood?” The guard
nodded and said, “Understood.” They both stood up and returned to their posts on
either side of the gate. Swartzstrom swiftly walked through.

Entering the city, Swartzstrom slipped his cloak’s hood on. The general passerby
could see nothing but his extremely prominent brightly glowing silver eyes. Looking
around wearily, Swartzstrom saw no one, except one beggar, to whom he gave fifty
gold pieces. He took the long way to Conata Castle. He saw familiar faces in familiar
houses, journeying to the kitchen for a late-night snack, or reading under
candlelight. Passing one of the darker alleyways, he heard someone’s voice.
Journeying in to investigate, he found that the voice belonged to a woman, who
seemed to be pleading for her life. As Swartzstrom rounded the corner, an enraging
sight met his eyes. A woman was crying, backed up against the wall, and a man with
a short sword held to the woman’s throat.

As Swartzstrom neared them, the man looked around and saw him approaching. The
man quickly grabbed the woman’s arm, whipped her around, and held the sword to
her throat from behind. The man said in a silent, deadly voice, “Leave, she will not
be harmed.” Swartzstrom ignored this warning and kept approaching, and did not
stop until he was about a foot away from them. The man said, “Stop. You will turn
around and walk away.”

Swartzstrom stood there for a few seconds, his eyes flickering from the man, to the
woman, to the man’s hand, and to the sword blade. His hands still in his cloak,
Swartzstrom slowly moved his hand to his Masamune’s handle. Think twice. Act
once. Swartzstrom reached his right hand out of his cloak, pulled it off, and threw it
into the air. Time seemed to stop as he took action.

Swartzstrom drew Masamune, flipped it over to the blunt side, and shattered the
bones in the man’s hand that was holding the sword. His sword immediately fell to
the ground and he relinquished grip of the woman out of pain, who quickly ran to the
side. Swartzstrom then leg swept the man. As the man was horizontal in the air,
Swartzstrom raised his leg and axe-kicked him, causing the man to hit the ground
with tremendous force. Swartzstrom them shattered the bones in the man’s other
hand with the Masamune. He could now never wield a sword in one hand and never
learn to wield one in the other. Swartzstrom’s cloak fell from the sky and he caught
it, quickly putting it on and slipping the hood back on. The felled moaned in agony
and the woman uttered a quick word of thanks and ran off.

Swartzstrom sheathed the sword and said, “Just like he taught me. Think twice-“
“Act once.” Someone had finished his sentence for him.
“Who’s there?” Swartzstrom looked around for the source of the voice. He quickly
located the owner. Two cloaked men were standing on the roof of one of the smaller
houses. One of them was tall and slender; the other a little bit taller than
Swartzstrom, and a bit stockier. Both had their hoods on. The tall one’s eyes glowed
a very bright sapphire; the other’s glowed a bright emerald. They also had their
weapons drawn. The tall one wielded a huge battle-axe; the other a massive war-
hammer.

The one with the emerald eyes jumped from the roof; his movements were quick,
silent, with no noise, and landed in front of Swartzstrom. The sapphire-eyed one
leaped from roof to roof, barely making a sound, and jumped to the ground behind
our Swartzstrom. The blue-eyed one attacked first. He was swinging his axe
intensely, leaving no obvious openings for attack. Swartzstrom dodged his attacks.
One particularly powerful overhead attack lodged the axe into the ground.
Swartzstrom stepped on the axe handle, with the intention of punching the man in
the face, but this plan backfired. As soon as Swartzstrom stepped on the axe handle,
the man wrenched it out of the ground, sending him flying through the air.
Swartzstrom landed on his back. Looking around, he saw that the man had prepared
for another overhead strike. Swartzstrom rolled backwards and lifted himself off of
the ground with his hands, dodging the strike.

Swartzstrom looked and said, “You will pay for attacking me.” He slowly lowered his
hood, took his cloak off, and drew his massive Zweihander sword. He readied the
blade as the man rushed forth once more for another assault. He swung at
Swartzstrom with a horizontal attack and Swartzstrom dodged it with ease and as
the man followed up with an overhead slash, Swartzstrom dodged this by spinning to
the right, and using the momentum from the spin to hit the man in the side of his
body with the side of the sword. He heard ribs break and shatter from the impact as
the general weight of the blade, combined with the force in which it was swung, sent
the man flying into a wall, knocked out cold and his weapon hanging limply from his
hand on his side.

The other man looked at his unconscious ally. Swartzstrom saw his eyes cringe, as
though he were grinning. He dropped his war-hammer and said, “C’mon!”
Swartzstrom ran up to the man and attacked with an overhead slash. The man
stepped back surprisingly, grinning and saying, “You idiot! Don’t leave yourself open
so,” proceeding to lunge forward, grab Swartzstrom’s throat, and lift him in the air.
He punched Swartzstrom twice in the face, and then back flipped, knocking him
straight up into the air. Landing the back flip, the man quickly grabbed Swartzstrom’s
ankle, and began swinging him in circles. With the third revolution, the man threw
him with amazing force, saying, “Go away!” Swartzstrom hit the wall with
tremendous force, cracking it. He got up, wincing with every movement he made,
and stared at his opponent, calculating what just happened and the current situation.
How the hell and I supposed to attack? He’ll simply counter…unless…

Swartzstrom took his blade, dashed forward, and feigned as though he were
preparing for an attack, raising the blade over his head and behind his back. The
man grinned and eagerly rushed forward. Swartzstrom dropped the blade so that it
lodged a little bit in the ground, then ducked. The man, missing Swartzstrom’s
throat, wrapped his hands instead around the handle of the Zweihander sword.
Swartzstrom stood up a little bit, and then threw his weight against the sword,
knocking the sword over and sending the man flying a few feet.

The man landed on hard on his stomach. Swartzstrom quickly picked up his
Zweihander sword and dashed towards the man. He raised the sword up above his
head while the man was getting up on his hands and knees and slammed the blunt
side of the sword upon the man’s back; he crumpled back to the ground
immediately, knocked out cold. Swartzstrom sheathed his sword and stood there
breathing hard and sweating profusely. He looked around at his defeated opponents
and noticed that the thug was gone. He then heard a sound behind him, followed by
the grunt of a man. Swartzstrom sent a back fist in that direction. He grinned with
satisfaction as he heard the thug’s groan of pain, followed by the thud of his body
hitting the ground.
Swartzstrom’s hand had fallen to his side when he heard a voice from somewhere
behind him, “Now, that wasn’t too difficult, now was it?” Looking around, he saw that
yet another person was on a roof, cloaked as well. His eyes were glowing a very
bright shade of scarlet. This man drew two short katanas and leaped from the roof to
the ground, making no noise at all.

Our hero drew the Masamune and readied it. The man had readied his blades and
charged at Swartzstrom, preparing to strike. When the man got close enough,
Swartzstrom swung the blade at him, soon seeing that this was a grave mistake. The
man repelled the Swartzstrom’s attempt with one blade and with the other
attempted to strike. Swartzstrom quickly countered by wrenching the Masamune
sheath off of his hip and blocking the strike with it, as the sheath was metal. His
assaulter stepped back and struck again.

This time, Swartzstrom chose to clash with the man, instead of simply blocking,
looking for an opening. He noticed something about the man’s swords fairly quickly.
One had a hole running down the middle of the blade, giving a slight advantage and
disadvantage to that blade. The other was a reverse-blade sword, which is,
essentially, a sword with the killing and non-killing sides reversed.

Following this strange discovery, Swartzstrom thought, Ah…I know who has sent
these guys after me, breaking the clash with him. He now knew exactly what he
needed to do to gain victory. The man wielded the reverse-blade sword in his left
hand and the other in the right. Swartzstrom ran up and attacked the man’s right
side. The man repelled the blow with one sword and sent a thrust-strike with the
reverse-blade one. Swartzstrom took his sheath and moved it in the way of the
thrust, forcing the man to sheath his blade in Swartzstrom’s sheath. Swartzstrom
placed weight on the back of the sheath, sending the reverse-blade sword flying,
landing somewhere behind him. Swartzstrom then followed up with a blow to the
man’s knee with the iron sheath, causing him to buckle and fall to one knee and the
other sword stay somewhat in the air. Our hero dealt with this by slipping the
Masamune in the hole, twisting his wrist to wrench the blade out of the man’s grip
and throwing it behind him on top of the other sword, then hitting the man in the
head with the sheath, knocking him out.

After this short encounter, Swartzstrom did not sheath his blade. Instead, he called
out into the night, “I was most definitely a better teacher and swordsman, Lloyd! I
still cannot believe that Emperor Cephas chose you to replace me and not Anasazi!
How much gold and silver did your father bribe him with!?”
“My father didn’t do anything.” A man walked up in front of Swartzstrom, neither
cloaked nor armed. He wore the exact same attire as our hero and was his identical
twin. The only exception was the fact that his hair was short and spiky, silver-
colored. His eyes were brown in lieu of silver and did not glow. He was wearing a pair
of black gauntlets.

“He must have!” Swartzstrom said heatedly, “Anasazi has always been better than
you!”
“Anasazi is dead.” Lloyd said calmly.
“You murdered him!”
“What proof do you have?”
“You know my proof.”
“Oh, please,” Lloyd said dismissively, “are you still on about that?”
“He was my best friend…”
“You barely knew each other.”
“…my comrade…”
“You only knew him for a year.”
“…the only person I ever trusted…”
“Do you want the truth?”
“I KNOW THE TRUTH!”
“Don’t yell at me.”
“Know your place, infidel.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I know my place,” Swartzstrom said silently, sheathing his blade, “it’s time you
learned yours.”

He un-strapped his weapons and stood them up against a wall. He walked to his
cloaked and pulled a pair of black cloth gauntlets, exactly the same as Lloyd’s, out of
a pocket. Slipping them on, he turned to glare at Lloyd. He then advanced towards
Lloyd, his eyes glowing a brighter and brighter shade of silver with each step he
took.

He stopped when he was ten feet away from Lloyd and got into his hand-to-hand
combat stance, saying, “Let me show you true power.” Lloyd cracked his neck and
knuckles, then got into the same combat stance as Swartzstrom. Grinning,
Swartzstrom said, “You still think you’re proficient at Otanaschuae?” and laughed
mockingly.

Swartzstrom harnessed his spirit energy and rushed forth for an assault. Dodging a
punch that Lloyd threw at him, Swartzstrom threw a punch at Lloyd’s stomach, his
hand bursting into a sapphire flame before it connected. “This is for Drake,”
Swartzstrom said heatedly as he continued the assault. He quickly threw another
punch at Lloyd’s stomach, his hand bursting into emerald flame, Swartzstrom saying,
“for Lance,” and another punch at Lloyd’s head, his hand bursting into scarlet flame,
saying, “For Auriadizo,” and a round-house kick aimed at Lloyd’s head, which burst
into colorless flames, saying, “For Anasazi!”

The kick sent Lloyd flying through the air. Swartzstrom put his fist to the air, which
burst into black flames, and punched the ground. When Lloyd fell from the air and hit
the ground, he slowly and painfully got on one knee, breathing heavily. Then the
ground began to shake. An ebon phantom-hand then came out of the ground,
pushing Lloyd twenty feet into the air and faded away. As the hand rose,
Swartzstrom said, “For Cephas!” Then Swartzstrom himself burst into silver flames
and dashed towards Lloyd’s landing point and back flipped, knocking Lloyd back into
the air when he got close.

Swartzstrom then crouched and said, “This is for me!” and leaped up into the air as
Lloyd was coming down, unleashing a brutal uppercut to Lloyd’s spinal column,
knocking him back into the air thirty or forty feet. When Swartzstrom landed, he ran
up a wall, rebounded to a wooden beam that connected to buildings, and leaped
towards Lloyd. As Swartzstrom leaped when Lloyd was almost level with him, he
ended up right above Lloyd, in his face. Swartzstrom cocked his fist, said, “And this is
for all of us…The Brotherhood!” and burst into a multi-colored flame. He then let fly
with a devastating punch to Lloyd’s head.

The amount of spiritual energy released from this last attack created a massive
explosion, shaking the ground. Lloyd’s body could be seen, blown back down to the
ground at an amazing velocity, hitting it with an earsplitting bang, Swartzstrom
landing a few feet from him noiselessly. The flames had emanated and faded away,
his eyes returned to that slightly glowing state. He took his gauntlets off and
pocketed them. He strapped his weapons back on, slipped back in his cloak, and put
the hood back on. Walking over to look at Lloyd’s prone body, Swartzstrom said,
“Idiot.”

Luckily, that moron is ridiculously resilient to damage. But that’ll be a beating he’ll
never forget. Swartzstrom stood up and was about to leave, when he heard someone
say, “Over there!” Looking around, Swartzstrom saw some guards rounding the
corner, so he quickly slipped into nearby shadows. It was the two guards from the
front gate. They saw Lloyd lying on the ground. One guard chuckled while the other
said, grinning, “I knew this was going to happen.”
“Too bad we weren’t able to see it.” The first said.
“I would have loved watching him have his and his men’s butts handed to them.”
Grinning, Swartzstrom dashed through the shadows and out of the other side of the
alley, determined to get to Conata Castle without any more interruptions.