by Wolfe Locke
The Hollow Blade
A Magic Knight Light Novel
Arcadia Academy Book I
By Wolfe Locke
This book is dedicated to every cadet with a clay-stained uniform.
*KUTF*
Keep up the Fire
@2021Wolfe Locke
All rights reserved.
No portion of this record may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Other Books By Author
The Retired S Ranked Adventurer
Dungeon of the Old Gods
The Genesis Game: Volume I
The Genesis Game: Volume II
The Skeletal Champion
The Genesis Game: Beginnings
Otherworld: The Forgotten King
Heroes of Darkness
Essence Weaver
Apocalypse Hero
Tower of Ruin
Chapter 1: Bloodline of the Crimson Blade
Sweat dripped off of my brow as I swung my blade in furious arcs at the training dummy. Each successive attack dug deeper into the manikin as a well of power within me stirred. I felt it; I was close to the breakthrough I needed to formally rank up at the end of the academy year, but I wasn’t quite there yet.
A speck of light began to shine over a hill in the distance. It was the only indicator I had that dawn was close to breaking. I laughed, feeling completely exhausted. Once again, I’d managed to spend the entire night training. I hadn’t stopped for the cold, the rain, the dark, or even for sleep. As my father, the Elder Valdanes was prone to say, “The difference between those who do, and those who wish to do, is in the doing.”
There, alongside me in the mud and mire, the sounds of hard training could be heard. Low grunts and the whistles of blades slicing through the air. The smell of steel, sweat, and wet dirt filled my nostrils.
Most nights were like that. Nights when me and the other cadets who wanted to rank up dedicated ourselves fully to our training in what was basically an open and expected secret.
Such is the life of a cadet. At least that’s what my clan had always told me.
The Cadre took notice too. I’d been guided in advance and told that the actions and initiative of us cadets were the things the Cadre looked for that set us cadets apart from each other when we graduated and were assigned duties.
All of us cadets out after dark were united in the same cause and were unwilling to give ourselves over to sleep. The same all-consuming desire drove each of us, the need to have a breakthrough in our Swordcraft abilities.
Even then, most of the others had called it quits already. Only a few of the older cadets were still up training. It was a harsh regime at a pace I didn’t wish on anyone. I gave a nod of respect to those who were left. These were the ones I’d one day serve next to.
It was actions like that which set us apart in the future. Elevating us from simple swordsmen to true elites. It was expected at this point of us. I needed to continue advancing, for myself, and for my clan.
Still, after so many late and sleepless nights, I had not made the breakthrough I needed for advancement. In frustration, I returned to training. I slashed the blade forward in clean arcs, trying as I could to exercise my frustrations away and clear my thoughts.
Too late. The rising of the sun meant that my training time was ending. I knew that soon, the morning horn would sound the last watch, and reveille would follow to wake the rest of the cadets for normal daytime training. Such was the way of Arcadia Academy.
Looking up at the rapidly disappearing stars, I ran a hand through my hair and hung my head, allowing myself a moment to feel my frustration. I’m so close though, I can feel it. I’ve almost reached my goal. I just need to keep training. Tonight, maybe. I vowed. I will set myself apart.
I’ve still a few minutes left. With my remaining time, I worked to complete the maneuver I had been executing. A series of fast and forceful overhand strikes. The steel of my blade gleamed with the first rays of the sun as my aching body and aching muscles dripped with sweat.
I stopped and held the Katana. That’s enough. I still need to get ready for the day. The hilt of the blade fit in my hands like it had been crafted and made just for me and was a reminder of my heritage. In a way, the blade had been made for me. Unlike most of the other cadets who began their training with a simple short sword or long sword. I had been allowed to wield the weapon my clan, the Valdanes, was known for, the Katana.
Walking over to my pack, I pulled out a cloth and a small vial of oil to wipe down the weapon. As I took care of my body, so too did I take care of my blade. The weapon was long and sleek. It curved slightly upward at the tip, which ended in a deadly point. Unlike the standard training swords favored by the academy, only one side of the Katana held an edge. But that edge was razor sharp. Kept so by my constant care for the blade. It was an extension of myself, and it needed to be treated as such. As the Katana was a weapon, so too did I maintain myself as one. I was an extension of my blade.
Such as my family has ingrained in me. The horn blew, and I completed the maintenance before sheathing the blade on my side with an audible snip. The other cadets in the courtyard were similarly finishing up their exercises and getting ready for the day. There would be just enough time to wash up and change into the duty uniform before classes and morning training started.
As I walked, I kept my right hand wrapped around the hilt of my blade, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. Here at the academy, an attack of any kind was highly unlikely. Academies that can’t protect their students are quickly shut down. Still, years of training and an upbringing in a family such as mine had drilled the practice into my body until I did it more on instinct than intent.
The fact that I had been allowed my own sword was a bit of a rarity and showed the difference the academy held for my lineage. Cadets of my rank almost exclusively wielded the same starter swords as everyone else. But in my case, the exception to policy was no surprise.
That’s what happens when you come from a house such as mine. A clan of born warriors. Both the sword and the fist of our liege. A weapon wielded in defense of the kingdom.
As a 9th year student, I was still a member of the Iron rank. The second-lowest rank in the academy. All of us cadets started out at the Bronze rank, no matter how much training we had beforehand or how capable we seemed. Every cadet kept the rank of Bronze until our 7th year when Iron was automatically given. I had been no exception.
Once a cadet reached Iron rank, they usually started their training with one of the two standard training swords predominantly used within the academy. The short sword, which was a lighter, double-edged blade one handed weapon, or the long sword, which was a heavier blade of roughly the same design that was meant to be used in two-handed power attacks.
When a cadet completed their training in the Iron rank and proved that they had enough foundation in Swordcraft, they were elevated to Silver rank at the end of their 9thth year. And the end of the year was coming close, I needed a breakthrough. Such a promotion could be sped up based on merit, but such advancement was difficult to achieve.
Once the rank of Silver was achieved, a cadet could continue their training with the same blade, or they could choose another weapon to specialize in. Some cadets retained their original sword, having grown fond of or accustomed to the blade they had trained with for so long. As a member of the Valdanes clan, I had no cho
ice; the Katana was my inherited legacy.
But just because my path was decided, didn’t mean it was that way for others. My peers were free to choose and specialize. Which was fine, all of us were always looking to expand our skills and techniques.
Every so often, a favored son or daughter would come to the academy from a clan with specializations. I had been one of those people. I came from the clan that called the Katana their own. A clan of full of Sword Saints. I came already knowing much of the way of the blade, but to rank up, I need to unlock a new technique here.
That was why I was allowed to keep my blade. But I still had to progress through the ranks, just like everyone else did.
My clan, the Valdanes, were a family of warriors whose lineage spanned centuries. Every member of the main branch of the clan was expected to dedicate their lives to the way of the Katana. Since the formation of the Kingdom of Arcadia, there had not been a single war in which the Valdanes clan did not have members on the front lines and members in direct service of the king. Our dedication to our craft and our determination to live up to our name drove us to be the best that we could be.
But dedication to the way of the sword was not the only thing that set my clan apart. We held a closely guarded secret that set us apart from ordinary swordsmen. A line as old as theirs had not been idle throughout the ages. The Valdanes had developed our own Swordcraft techniques. It was that technique that I chased, and if I made that breakthrough, the Academy would honor it. Even now, I could feel the seed of the ability within myself starting to sprout. The undercurrent of the magic sending tiny shocks through my body.
Considering my prior training with the blade and my mastery of a Swordcraft ability, I should have been ranked as Silver already, the only thing stopping me was the requirement to learn a technique on Academy grounds. That was it, and it was proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.
I didn’t mind too much though. Everyone in the clan and every other soldier of the Kingdom had started out as a Bronze ranker at one of the many academies and worked their way up. I was fairly confident that by the end of the year, I would become a Silver ranker. I would pass the tests that were given and ascend into the next rank. All it takes is hard work and the ability to set yourself apart.
Another cadet in my position might have allowed themselves to get complacent. I took some pride in that. It would have been easy for me to do less and try and skate by the year as an Iron without giving any effort to my training.
I knew that because I’d been expressly told not to fall into that trap. There had been others before, who like me, had come from more prestigious clans or families of warriors. Those who believed that they already had the skill to be better than a lowly Bronze or Iron. They neglected their training and their classes and were invariably shocked when they did not pass the ascendency tests and were sent home shamefaced to their families or pressed into service to pay off Academy debt. But not I. That will never be me. If I stay diligent, one day, I’ll be the best in my clan. Even better than my father, the Elder Valdanes.
I was determined not to be like them. Being dismissed, not ranking up, taking the simple path. It wasn’t for me. I would train and learn all that I could from my instructors and the Cadre. Not only would I hone the skills that I currently had, but learn new ones. I’d learn every technique I came across if I could. I would make my family proud and bring honor to them.
Enough of that. I can’t put off the duty day. I wiped my sweaty brow before giving a polite nod to the other cadets, all of whom were Iron ranked like myself, united in their need to hone their techniques. I made my way toward the washroom where I kept an extra duty uniform in my locker for emergencies.
Inside the washroom it was hard to see. Hot water spewed out of the shower heads causing the whole room to fog up. After I secured my Katana within the wall locker, I got undressed and my sweat soaked training uniform fell to the ground. Within moments, I was standing beneath a blistering stream of water as I washed away the night’s exertions.
I’m getting better, but I’m not there yet. I braced myself against the wall and let the hot water roll down my back as my thoughts drifted back to my training. As had become my custom, I reflected on what I had done right, and what I had done poorly in a constant effort to not only improve my craft, but to hone it. I was reminded of the words of my father, practice the right way, and the body will respond when the mind doesn’t know what to think.
Midway through the shower, drowsiness set in and I began to regret staying up all night again to train. It was a bit of a double-edged sword. Pulling an all-nighter was a good way to keep up with or accelerate training, but it also meant that you would feel it the following day. And I’m already feeling it.
Stepping away from the shower, I grabbed a towel and stepped over the to the mirror as I dried myself. The relatively calm silence of the washroom was shattered by the morning reveille. Out of time.
There were bags under my eyes. As a good cadet, I knew that rest was just as important as training was. There was no use in overextending oneself in practice if you couldn’t function for the rest of the day afterward. But I was so close.
Much like my sword, I was becoming a weapon. My body was long and lithe. I had a slender yet muscular body. Strength training to build myself up further would come once I ranked up. I wasn’t as physically built as some other cadets or members of the Cadre, but my build suited my sword style just fine. The Katana was an agile weapon, and those that wielded them followed suit.
The bags under my eyes made my already dark eyes look even darker, and my dark hair didn’t help one bit. A couple more nights like this, and I might be mistaken for some demon that had made its way onto the academy grounds.
Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. I’ll have to get through the day and actually sleep tonight. No matter how much my mind protested that I should be up and training.
Although the relative silence of the washroom had returned, it was soon broken again by the pounding sound of hard soles pounding on the paved floor. By this time, I had once again gotten dressed and had just finishing with lacing up my boots.
Soon, the washroom was flooded with newly awoken cadets getting ready for the day. It always started out with washing, then breakfast, ten laps around the campus, and then physical training and lectures before a meal. Then the process would repeat in reverse until the sun dipped below the horizon.
My legs protested as I stood up from the bench in the washroom. I stretched and tried to mentally prepare myself for the morning run which I knew was going to be harsh in my exhausted state. However, my silent meditation was broken by a booming, familiar voice.
“Hey Tris, you know too much training isn’t good for you. You’re going to drop one day, and it’s going to be me that has to carry you inside to the medical tent."
I looked up. Way up.
Although I was tall, the cadet in front of me was massive. Good thing he’s a friend. He wasn’t just tall, but broad as well. He had olive-colored skin spread out over muscle that was a testament of the Clans of the North and the line of Kings. My best friend, Markus, heir to the throne.
I responded to that towering figure with a genial smile. “Don’t worry Markus, after carrying around that tree trunk of a sword all day, I should be a piece of cake."
Markus returned my smile with one of his own.
As a Silver ranker, and because of who his father was. Markus had been allowed to choose a specialization when he ascended. It had been no surprise when he had traded in the short sword that looked tiny in his massive hands for a long sword that was nearly as tall as he was.
Being a year below him, I had gotten to witness Markus’s ascendency ceremony when the Iron rankers who became Silver rankers got to choose their new blades if they opted into specialization. The same ceremony I’d undergo.
The
re was more to the ceremony than that, of course. There was also the ascendency of some Silver rankers to the rank of Gold and some Gold rankers were selected to become members of the Cadre who were acted as the instructors at the academy until called into service, or as was often the case. The Cadre were not all promoted from within the academy ranks, many were those who had long served and as a testament to that service were allowed to retire in their aged years and work as Cadre. Most Cadre were equal in standing or higher to that of the Gold rankers.
There was one more rank in the academy above Gold but ascending to it was such a rare feat that most ascendency ceremonies went without the occurrence, which was to Platinum. Beyond Platinum lay Diamond, but to achieve such a ranking was near impossible.
Our exchange caught the attention and stare of one of the passing Iron rankers on his way into the washroom. Markus often got stares. He had become used to it, and it had become a running joke among our friends. As intimidating as I could be with my Katana, Markus was something else altogether. He couldn’t be ignored.
“What’re you looking at, Iron?” Markus said to the cadet in an intimidating voice. “If you’re that keen on staring, then you can do so when we meet on the training field.” The Iron paled and muttered a hasty excuse before going about his business.
When Markus turned back to me, the two of us shared a quick laugh. Markus’s gigantic stature was intimidating, but he was in fact, a good friend, and a good guy. It was just as a Silver ranker; it was an unspoken rule that he needed to haze the Iron rankers. Just as the Gold rankers did the same thing to both of us lower classmen, and the Cadre spared no one.
Markus and I had become friend’s a long time ago. Our families were too close to have us be anything but good friends. Although Markus still pulled rank and took every opportunity to make my life as an Iron difficult, I usually pushed back, much to the shock of the other Iron rankers. It’s the way of things. Those who are meant to obey follow the rules, and those who are meant to lead, dare.