The Mansit Blade: A Novel of Gal ... by Bob Nelson - Episode 15

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Number 85 was a small, unassuming house... inasmuch as any house on Saler Street, within a stone's throw of the Palace, could be called 'unassuming'. Lorrent of Brantwall wondered for the tenth time if he was being foolish in coming here, and for the tenth time answered "Who cares?" He pulled the bell chain, and soon a young, blond woman in an immaculate black and white uniform opened the door.

"Good morning, sir. May I help you?" she asked with a smile.

"I hope so. Is Lady Mansit in? My name is Lorrent of Brantwall."

Her face fell. "Oh, I am so sorry, my Lord! But the Lady is already out for the morning... Oh, dear! I know she will be very disappointed..." The young woman frowned and sighed heavily... and then brightened again. "I know! She is surely still at the Academy, at the Training Hall. You can catch her there. I'm not sure what she has planned for the rest of the morning, but I'm sure the two of you can figure something out..."

Lorrent laughed. Lady Mansit's domestics took initiatives with her time... and were proud of themselves for doing it! Somehow, that did not really surprise him. "Thank you, ummm.... Who may I say sent me to the Academy? I don't think she would believe that I guessed..."

"I am Mistress Helna, the housekeeper." Seeing Lorrent's raised eyebrows, she blushed and added, "The Lady calls all her people 'Dame' or 'Mistress' or 'Master'. At first, when she was still very young, she said that it was not polite for a child to call her elders by their first names... and now she says that it would be rude to stop using the titles. ... The Lady is very attentive to her people."

And "her people" identify themselves as "her people", thought Lorrent. "I see," he said. "Well... Thank you... Mistress Helna. I shall try to find the Lady at the Academy."

Lorrent told everyone that he was an "acceptable" swordsman and that he was perfectly satisfied with that level. He always said it in a tone that convinced his listeners that he didn't know the hilt from the point. In fact he was fairly good, precisely because he visited this same Academy Training Hall at least once a week. On arriving, he climbed to the spectators' seats, overlooking the lanes. He stood at the railing.

It was easy to spot the smallest fencer. She was dueling against a man and a giant. Brantwall moved closer, along the balcony railing, and looked again, carefully measuring the three against the men on neighboring lanes. No doubt about it. Lady Mansit was pitted against a man of normal size, and therefore considerably bigger than she; and against a giant more than a head taller than the man, and even broader proportionally.

She stepped right, disengaging from the giant on her left, and threw a flurry of cuts and thrusts at the normal-sized man. The giant advanced to support his comrade... Mansit knocked her immediate adversary's blade outward and stepped inside his... and the giant's... reach. The giant saw her coming and swung a haymaker. Mansit dropped into a squat, the giant's blade passed over her, and she skewered him before he could recover. She kept moving left, using the body of the now "dead" giant to protect her from any riposte.

As soon as she was clear, and the fight had become a one-on-one, the man raised both hands in surrender, and then removed his mask.

"Alright, then... What happened in that exchange?" she asked, as she removed her own mask. Her mouth formed a tight, flat frown. Her eyes glowered. "What did you do wrong?" She looked up at the giant. "Stellon? What did you do wrong?"

"I... I swung too hard, I guess. I cou'n't control my blade after that."

"That's true, but you'd already made a fatal mistake before then. Now think, dammit, Stellon! Who's the best blade, here?"

"You, o' course, m'Lady..."

"Well... if you think I'm a better blade than you... then why for the gods' sakes did you advance on me? How many times have I told you that parry/riposte is vastly safer than attacking?"

The giant was crestfallen. "Yes, m'Lady..."

"There's no harm done here, Stellon... but out in the street... you'd be dead! And dammit, I do not want you to be dead. I will not hear of it, Stellon!"

The giant cringed.

She turned on the other adversary. "And you, Yven... what did you do wrong?"

The man answered dejectedly, "I stood my ground when you slid right. That's why Stellon had to advance: to maintain contact. I should have retreated, so Stellon would only have had to rotate. We would have stayed coherent. You wouldn't have been able to get between us."

"In other words," said Mansit, "you screwed up, and as a result, Stellon is dead. ... And if you hadn't surrendered, you would be dead, too."

She stepped back and addressed them both. "Your first objective in any fight is to stay alive, dammit! If you die, then you won't do anyone any good. If you're alive you are useful; if you are dead, you are not. I do not want you to die, dammit! ... Now let's do this again, and remember that you are on defense!"

The three put their helmets back on and saluted. The two men stood side by side, weapons at the ready, but not advancing. Mansit took their tips several times, but they just brought their blades back to "ready" after each contact.

Mansit moved fast to her left, trying to get in front of the giant and to disengage from the other man. The giant retreated, rotating around his partner, so that the partner remained constantly in contact regardless of how fast Mansit slid laterally. Suddenly, she slid right. The man was a shade slow in retreating, but a thrust by the giant forced Mansit to block and her opportunity was past. She continued to move left or right for another thirty seconds at least -- that's a very long time when blades are flashing -- with no conclusion.

Mansit stepped back and removed her mask. "Much better! Much, much better... Yven: I think you saw an opening the second time I went to Stellon's side. You didn't try to exploit it. Why not?"

"I thought it might be a trap, my Lady. You weren't succeeding in sliding around us, so you might be trying to ruse."

"Excellent, Yven! Very well thought out... and exactly right. If you had gone for that opening, I'd have had you. Very well done, both of you. Stellon, you're using your reach better and better... but you need to speed up your feet. Talk to the Master-at-Arms. I know training exercises for little girls, but I wouldn't bet that my stuff is useful for giants."

She removed her gloves, and then waited -- impatiently -- for all of a half-second while they hurriedly did the same. "Thank you for the workout," she said, and then they all shook hands, and bowed to each other.

She looked up at Lorrent and called, "Hello, Brantwall! Good to see you. Do you have a few minutes? I need a shower, and then we can go find some lunch!"

He gave her a thumbs up, wondering when she had had the time to notice who was in the viewing area...

A quarter-hour later, she reappeared wearing a dress that echoed the gown she had had two evenings earlier at the ball: charmingly feminine in front and in back, up top and down below. And those high-heeled sandals... Not as radical as the gown had been, but still a splendid sight! They quickly agreed that Brantwall probably had a better knowledge of nearby restaurants, so he should choose. He suggested a Lorenso place.

"Good idea! I've never had Lorenso cuisine. It'll be fun to try a new taste," she replied.

He looked at her oddly. "I heard that you speak Lorensin like a native."

"Well... not really like a native... but pretty well. That doesn't mean I've ever eaten Lorenso food, though. I have a good Lorenso friend at the College with whom I can practice the language, but she has had Lorenso food all her life, and sees no point in going to a restaurant to get what she has always had at home."

As they left the Training Hall, Lorrent noticed the giant slip onto the sidewalk behind them.

"Stellon has been my personal bodyguard since the attack in Newport," said Wubi quietly. "He accompanies me everywhere."

They talked of restaurants for the rest of the fifteen-minute walk: their favorites, which ones they both knew, which ones to avoid, ...

Mansit allowed Brantwall to order for both of them, both food and wine. The big corporal had disappeared.

Their chatter waned a moment, as they gathered themselves for serious conversation.

"I was very impressed, back at the Academy," he began. "You are at least as good as your reputation."

"Are you competent to make that observation?" she asked.

"Yes, I believe so."

"I ask, because you too have a reputation with a blade. Not a very good one," she said.

"A reputation as a 'great blade' is useful," he explained. "No one will bother a 'great blade' because it is too dangerous. A reputation as an 'incompetent blade' is almost as useful because no one will take the risk of losing to an idiot. The only reputation that a man does not want to have is 'fairly good'. That's not enough to dissuade anyone, and may be considered a stepping-stone by some. I will never earn a reputation as a great blade, so... "

Mansit slowly tore the end off of a bread-stick, considering what Brantwall had just said. "And are there other parts of your public persona that you... ummm... manipulate?" she asked.

"Wel-l-l-l-...." He shrugged massively. "If I tell you who I really am, then there will be no more secrets."

"Of course there will be... if you are confident that I will keep them," she added. "That's what 'friends' do, you know. They tell each other things that they do not want everyone to know. As you just now did... my friend..."

He laughed. "Alright, then... You tell me a secret, first."

"I'm really only thirteen years old."

"There must be quite a few people who know that 'secret': all your personal staff and in particular your bodyguards... whom you must drive utterly crazy, by the way..."

"My staff and my bodyguards are also my 'friends'. I trust them."

"They are commoners."

"Yes. Good people, all of them."

"You certainly gave your fencing partners a nasty reaming. Are they friends?"

"Of course! I am the best blade in the Mansit Guard. It would be criminally irresponsible to not give my friends the opportunity to train with the best."

"Would you allow me to spar with you?"

"Probably not. My time on the lanes is limited, so it has to be used to best effect -- like teaching teamwork this morning. One-on-one between the two of us, assuming that you are 'fairly good', would be a waste of time for both of us. But I'll be happy to set you up with some of my people, if you'd like."

He stared at her for a long moment, and then barked a short laugh. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since anyone other than my father has said 'no, you're not worth my time' to me? It's unsettling!" He laughed again.

"If you want a serious training program, we could set something up even before we board the barge to Mansit," she said. Ignoring his raised eyebrows, she went on. "I think the best way to do this will be to fabricate a persona for you, and give you an ensign's commission in the Guard. I could take you almost anywhere without anyone giving you a second glance. Security people are like table-servants: they're invisible to most of the people they serve. You'd be able to gradually work into the ensigns' regular training schedule, during the month between Galdiff and Newport."

Brantwall looked horrified. "You don't mean that you'd have me live with them in their barracks, or wherever it is?"

She laughed. A good, full laugh. "Oh, don't look so terrified! You wouldn't die, you know! ... But no, I wouldn't plunge you that deep into the real world... not instantly, anyway. Nobles like you can't breathe real-world air. No... I'd give you a room by yourself, near their quarters. They usually room by twos anyway, so there wouldn't be that much difference."

He seemed genuinely affronted. "What do you mean, 'can't breathe'?"

She relented a bit, with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry... Those were harsh words. We don't know each other well enough yet, for harsh words. What I meant is that the world of real people -- your servants among them -- is as inaccessible for nobles like you, as if the air there were irrespirable. When was the last time you had a conversation with a commoner? When was the last time you were backstairs in your own father's residence? It would simply never occur to you to visit that unknown world. Nor to know the creatures that live there."

Brantwall was watching her with narrowed eyes. He laughed a bitter laugh. "That's your way of 'softening' what you said before? Telling me that I don't know the people I have lived with all my life?"

"Again... I'm sorry, Brantwall! But there's no 'gentle' way. You've just said 'lived with all your life'. Alright... What's your butler's favorite kind of music? His favorite food? Favorite book? Do you know anything at all about him? ... Don't misunderstand... I'm sure that you're never harsh with your servants... any more than you're harsh with your horses..."

"Ouch!" he almost shouted. "Please stop 'softening the blows'! You're killing me!" He shook his head in rueful humor... more rueful than humorous. And then fell silent a long moment, clearly reflecting on what they had said. "I was going to answer rather curtly that I do not consider my servants and my horses in the same manner... but then I thought about meeting your housekeeper this morning. I went to Saler Street, and she redirected me. She told me that you call all your servants 'Mistress' or 'Dame' or 'Master'. I found the idea 'quaint'. ... But... It's not quaint, is it?

"She said you began at first by saying that a child should respect their elders regardless of station... and that now it would be rude to stop. That's just an excuse, isn't it? Using titles for them is a tool for you. A means to keep you aware of them as 'persons'."

She nodded. "Have you met Major Talter, the Commandant of the Mansit Guard? He is a precious friend, the kind who smacks me to wake me up to the mistakes I'm making. ...

"Even better... or worse... depending on how you mean: Have you ever had one of your guards take a blade for you? That is also quite a wake-up. It was all the worse because back then I didn't know any first-aid. My 'friend' was bleeding to death because he had been wounded defending me... and I did not know what to do. It was the worst moment of my life.

"Major Talter had already told me that my people deserved respect from me... precisely because they did serve me. I hope I would eventually have understood in any case... but Calder's wound... ..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered that terrible moment.

Fork in hand, Brantwall looked around the upscale restaurant, and then down at his plate. "Would you really expect a noble to give this up for mess food? And for... "

He stopped, absolutely still and silent for a long moment. Then his head whipped up to face her. He wore a huge grin. "That's it, isn't it?! This idea for me and the Mansit Guard isn't a new idea at all! You're planning to do the same thing, yourself, as soon as you're of age..." He was looking into space, at nothing. "You're a girl, so the Duke's Watch isn't possible, but you can do what you want with the recruitment rules in Mansit... Oh, my! Patroller Hollis!"

She sighed deeply. "Well... at least your reputation for 'clever' isn't usurped! Please don't dig into that any deeper. When I go, I don't want anyone, anyone at all to even imagine that I might be doing anything more than the incognito travel that lots of young nobles indulge in."

"Oh, ho!" he cried, ebullient. "Oh, that is so... " He stopped in mid-sentence, his elation disappearing instantly, replaced by a thoughtful expression.

For a long moment... a very long moment... he studied her face. "I was going to say, 'That is so ridiculous!'... but it isn't, is it? This is a practical exercise in learning to breathe real-world air. And now you're asking me if I am able to do the same, even on a smaller scale. ..."

He shook his head and snorted. "Are you this rough on all your new 'friends'?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I don't think I'm a very good judge. You'll have to ask the others. They'll expect me to cut you a bit of slack, you being so much older, and not as well prepared, and all. But they'll also expect you to work harder, because you have to catch up."

"Why do you keep assuming that I'm going to do this crazy stunt?"

"Two reasons: First, because you're bored out of your mind, and ready to do almost anything to get a little interest into your life. Second, because you're going to think about it and realize that it is a golden opportunity to become something more than you are today.

"You're basically a good man, with good intentions toward your County... but you're handicapped by... considerable... ignorance of your people. ... You'll come with me to Mansit because it's a good idea, and you're smart enough and honest enough to recognize the fact." She popped a grape from the dessert bowl into her mouth.

"I'd have to clear it with my father... and he'd never agree."

"So... This is a tough decision. If you think it's a good idea, then you do it. You leave a note to reassure him... and you go. It's not like he'd disinherit you, is it?"

"Do your 'friends' ever tell you that you're crazy?"

"Often. The last time was when I sparred with three of my security team. It wasn't really crazy, though. I knew I could take them, and I did. My friends just weren't quite as sure as I was. They worry for me."

She popped another grape. "You're smart and you mean well. So you really don't have much choice. You'll do it.

"When you're ready, you go home, you pack two carry bags and a backpack: that's a maximum, understand. If you take more, you'll have to abandon the difference. Don't bring weapons: the Guard will supply them. Then you write a reassuring note, 'Dear Daddy, I'm going on an incognito voyage because I'm bored to tears in Galdiff and I promise to write to reassure you that all is well'.

"Then you walk out. You walk down to Southside docks, you hire a boat to take you to the south end of Clastside dock, you walk to the Black Seagull at the north end. You give the tavern-keeper a note to take to Mistress Warnen in Saler Street. Then you just wait. Someone will come for you."

"Poof! Just like that?" He looked incredulous.

"It's a simple plan. Simple plans often work. We could do something more complicated, with a rendezvous set up somewhere in the city, for example... but then we'd be at the mercy of timing. The way I said, you can make your move whenever you decide."

"Usually an ensign is eighteen or twenty. Who would be joining the Mansit Guard at my age? I'm nearly twenty-three."

"You're a baron's second son, from out east. Your elder brother has always been a sickly fellow, so you were prepared as a spare heir. Then, a couple years ago, whatever had been plaguing the brother went away, and he filled out to become a fine physical specimen, with sons... leaving you with no future. Your pride requires you to leave. A friend of a friend knows Major Talter, and got you an ensign's warrant."

Brantwall drummed his fingers on the table. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Oh, not very long. Just since the ball the other evening. You seemed worth the time. One last item: Think of a name that will be comfortable for you, like Brant Lorren, or whatever. Something that you can't forget, and that is sure to draw your attention. You don't want to not notice when someone shouts your name. Use it to sign the note to Mistress Helna, and that will be you for the next four months."

"You're utterly mad, Mansit! You really think I'll do this..."

She laughed. "No obligation! You can be my 'friend' even if you can't breathe in the real world. I can breathe in both."

He scowled. "That is a below-the-belt, dishonest, dissembling, and totally nefarious challenge that I would be very foolish to accept! You are saying that it would be shameful not to do as much as a 'li'l girl'... Do you really think I can be manipulated so easily? ... ... Yes, well... of course I can." He laughed and shook his head. "I can't believe how fast I'm charging into the quicksand..."

He signed to the waiter for another coffee. His third. There was only one other table still occupied. "I need a straight answer: Is there danger? ... You say I am devoted to my father, and I guess that's right. I am his heir. I cannot put myself at risk."

"There's risk in getting out of bed in the morning. I know of no violence brewing in Newport. Political mayhem, perhaps, but nothing physical. On the other hand... my people call me the world's worst lightning-rod..."

"How many of your people would know the truth?"

"Which truth? They will all know that you are a young nobleman who has enrolled incognito in the Guard as a means to learn about the world. From the instant I vouch for you, they will be absolutely loyal to you... and will presume the same from you. None will even try to know your real name, because I will command it to be so."

"Ensign Brant Lorren?" He shook his head and breathed deeply. "This is crazy..."

For the first time in the whole conversation, her face took on a very serious expression. "You know what's really crazy?" she asked. "Letting a smart young man rot. Your father should be ashamed."

Brantwall sat up, ready to defend his father... but then thought better of it. "The options are limited in his world. I didn't see any others, either. ... That's probably the most telling argument in favor of your crazy escapade."

He looked around. They were the last clients. "We'd better go," he said, leaving several coins on the side of the table. "While we walk, you can tell me what to do to prepare for the this junket..."

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12 September 3275 -- Hollis to Wubi: Reaction to the Newport attack

To: Wubi Hollis, Lady Mansit, Mansit House, Galdiff

From: Hollis of Fidifree, Caldwood, Tashir

Dear daughter,

The story of the attack on you and your ensign is terrifying! I came to Fidifree this morning for any number of business affairs, and of course stopped by Master Galen's shop first thing. Your last letter arrived six days ago. Hearing it, even in Master Galen's steady voice, almost made me ill. How shall I tell your mother, who is already so worried by your travels?

I never imagined that I would be grateful that my daughter knows how to use a sword!

Knowing you, I can hear in your message that you did some of the killing that night, and while that idea is horrible... I am deeply grateful to the Baron for his foresight! I understand that if you had not been capable of standing with your ensign, at least one of you would be dead.

Oh, my dear daughter! Take care, take care, take care! We are proud and happy to hear of your life as a noble lady... but we always knew that there might be dangers, and now that is clear.

I know that you cannot leave the path you have taken. When you wrote of "your people", it was clear that you will walk that path, no matter what. But please, dear daughter, for the love of your parents, take care...

I had some news, though nothing of great importance... and suddenly it is of no importance at all...

We love you, daughter. We love you very much. Take care, take care, take care...

Hollis of Fidifree, through the Scribe Galen of Fidifree

addendum from the Scribe: This text is faithful to the author's meaning. Grammar and syntax have been improved by the Scribe.

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14 October 3275 -- Wubi to Hollis: Life in Galdiff

To: Hollis of Fidifree, Caldwood, Tashir

Marta of Fidifree, Caldwood, Tashir

From: Lady Mansit, Mansit House, Galdiff

I am back at College. It is my first entire year here as "Lady of Mansit". While I have been careful to remain familiar with the other Students, and particularly those who were kind last year to a little lost girl... there is no escaping the fact that things have changed.

First and foremost, there is the constant presence of my personal bodyguard. Stellon Kolafanialis is "the Lady's Shadow"... or (unfortunately) sometimes "the Lady's Giant". He is a very big man. Very big. He is a Mansit Guard Corporal, who first came into my service at the Castle. He then joined my security detail, and has been my personal bodyguard since shortly after the thieves' attack in Newport. (Yes, I know that is called 'closing the barn door after the horses have fled', but better late than never!) Stellon's presence is... dissuasive! He is also very intelligent, which people usually do not expect in a man of his size.

Stellon has a very thankless role: always silent, always just behind me, even in classes at the College, which shows how things have changed. But it was his idea, so as long as he wants the job...

As soon as I leave the College, I am now accompanied by at least four additional Guards. It was strange at first, and uncomfortable. But it was necessary, so I must get used to it. My friends have immediately taken up the habit, again, of spending weekends at Mansit House. So they must get used to the presence of my security detail, too.

Some other high nobles of Galdiff also have bodyguards. I have always seen them. Now I notice them. The two young nobles I know somewhat, Lorrent and Garid, are the sons and heirs of very important counts. They do not have bodyguards most of the time. But their fathers always do.

(In case Mother asks: Yes, these two are possible matches for me. My Lord Baron has not yet spoken with me about marriage, but it is clear that I am one of the most eligible young women in Galdiff. Since Lorrent and Garid are the two most eligible young men, the possibility of a match is obvious to every socially conscious person in Galdiff. Even to me! I like both of them, but I might not be compatible with Garid, full-time. He is a "good boy", but not the most dynamic person I know...)

My schedule is very heavy, since I have decided, after the Newport attack, to reinforce my swordwork. Since the attack, no one has disputed the extra hours every evening. I have intensified my physical training, too. Running and weight-lifting. I can definitely do sprints now. And the hand-to-hand combat training. All told, I spend about five hours per day on all that.

And then there are my classes... Truth be told, I have gotten sufficiently ahead in some areas that Teacher Mikkel is only too happy to lighten my College schedule. I think he is afraid that I will be in a position to graduate at an unseemly young age. He gets very flustered when I talk about graduation. It is great fun to watch!

The presence of my friends on weekends is a grace. I still have my workouts, and there are the seamstresses' visits... but still, there is time for games and strolls through the Great Market... That little patch of leisure is wonderful!

I love you, my parents,

Wubi

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