Soon after dawn broke the next morning, Tom and Juan had set off. Their mounts, named Exuberance and Verity respectively, had charged away from the rising sun, heading westward in the full vigor of their renewed strength. After traveling that direction for a while, the knights had slowly altered the course until they travelled southwest, drawing ever nearer to the ring of mountains enclosing Monterayne in a wall of security. 

Now, the two knights rested in the grass not far off from a rippling lake. The sun beamed down from above and warmed their skin, only once in a while interrupted by the procession of clouds in the sky. Their stallions drank from the lake's clear waters. 

Fisher boys lined part of the lake and cast their nets into the water, a pair of older children rowing a little boat out to draw the full length out. Once, they removed the net from the water, and finding a mostly empty catch, they cast it on the other side. When they attempted drawing that up, they nearly tipped the boat over. 

Other children took a more relaxed approach, dangling fishing poles over the water and watching their lines drift in the water. They eyed the two horses and their riders with curiosity, although a few of them had their attention snatched back by a jerk on their line. 

Tom finished his lunch with a contented sigh. When he rose to his feet and realized Juan had just did the same, an idea struck him. He smirked. 

"What say you to a quick sparring match, Sir Feliz?" 

A charming grin spread across Juan's face. "I suppose I could oblige you, provided you don't go bawling at your inevitable defeat." 

Tom chuckled. "Don't be too sure of yourself." 

Juan slowly drew his majestic backsword from its scabbard, intricate basket hilt fitting comfortably in his hand. He twirled it a few times in the air while Tom unsheathed his longsword. Tom felt the fishing children's eyes on him, so he glanced back. Then he returned his gaze to Juan. 

"It appears we'll have a captive audience." 

"Let us strive not to disappoint, then." 

Both hands gripping his wooden hilt, Tom initiated. A diagonal blow aimed at Juan's shoulder. The older knight gracefully knocked his blade aside with an efficient raising of his own. Using only one hand, he twirled Tom's aside and swung a return blow at his leg. 

Tom leapt back, sword returning to a guard position. His eye darted up and down Juan's body for a moment before he engaged again. With as much conservative grace as before, Juan defended himself and caused Tom to hop backward. 

A few more bouts followed in this way, Tom attempting to use the strength advantage of his two-handed longsword, but failing to bring it to bear against Juan's one-handed expertise. What he lacked in raw strength, Juan made up for in a thorough knowledge of leverage and momentum. 

Juan picked up the pace, swinging a flurry of rapid strikes, which Tom blocked with relative ease. Shifting from one guard to another in quick succession, he warded off each blow. The young knight took pride in his strong defense, and certainly it proved valuable here. 

But then he began to realize Juan was repeating the same moves again and again. In fact, this was only one of the practice drills. Narrowing his eye, he prepared for something unexpected. 

And he got it when Juan sent a sudden swipe at his leg. Tom blocked, but with his sword lowered, he'd given his opponent room to raise his own blade to his neck. With a grin, he dropped his weapon and raised his hands in defeat. 

"I yield." he said with a laugh. 

Juan smirked. "I figured you would. But nonetheless, your skill is incredible, even more than what I've heard." 

"Thank you. It means much to hear you of all people say that. Any pointers you have for me?" 

The older knight hesitated a moment. "Just loosen up a little. That's all I'd say. Focus on fluidity of movement, and powerful blows become easier to achieve. It seems counterintuitive, but I've found that to be far more effective." 

Tom slowly nodded. "I can see that being the case. But that's no teaching of Raska's, is it?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

"I've seen Raska himself in action, and sparred with some of his students as well, but none of them possess this calm fluidity you speak of. Their movements tend to be jerky and stiff. Precise, yes, but not unburdened." 

Juan nodded. "You see to the heart of the matter. See, I have never been a man to merely learn what has been set before me and not push farther. It was in my self-reflection I discovered this, and I never turned back." 

"But why is it only you practice in this way? Did you present this knowledge to your peers?" 

"I did, but Raska is...protective of his teachings. He insisted I only add femininity to his style, adding flowery moves that prove ultimately unnecessary. It is common among innovators, I have found. Once they develop something truly groundbreaking, and completely novel, they often tend to become protective of that art afterward, resisting further innovation atop their own." 

"Wow...very insightful." Tom said with a slow bob of his head. "I shall have to implement this." 

"I would certainly advise it. Now, we'd best get moving, if we're to reach the foothills by nightfall." 

**** 

Flames crackled and cast a flickering orange glow on the knights' faces as they sat and rested from the day's travel. They'd successfully reached the foothills of the Monteraynian Ring and now anticipated a difficult day's travel tomorrow, the mountains growing colder and wetter as autumn progressed. But thankfully for them, Tom was no stranger to leaving Monterayne, so he knew shortcuts and passages through the ring of mountains that would cut their travel time much shorter. 

Tom currently sighed and stared into the fire. His mind took him back to all the spontaneous camping trips his father would take Tom and his mother on between knightly missions. Tom's own love of the outdoors that persisted even until now had no doubt been born there. 

He recalled departing from the camp with his father to hunt dinner, gathering wild berries for dessert, learning to climb trees with his father's strong arms outstretched below as a vital reassurance, and trekking through heavy foliage to learn the ways of the wilderness. No matter what anybody else said, to Tom, Robert Holt was a good man. 

He snatched himself from his reflection and glanced over at Juan, who slowly sharpened one stone with another while humming a tune. "Juan, could you answer me something?" 

The man glanced up and nodded. "I very well may." 

"What was my father like...as a knight? I only knew him in the home, but what was he like elsewhere? I fear Grandfather's recollection is skewed." 

Juan smirked. "Alden's recollection is skewed on many things. Robert was...passionate, to be sure. He could never content himself like his father in a mere intellectual pursuit of honor and justice. He rarely acted because he thought it was right, but because he felt it so." 

"And is that what led him to...exile?" 

"Presumably. Robert's passion could sometimes carry him away, but in my view, his sensitivity was a gift Alden devalued rather foolishly. Alden feels a duty to perform his work, but your father did because he truly cared about the people. Their joy was his, and their sorrow equally so. Your father would weep over the people's plight. I'd say his sensitivity was his strength." 

Tom folded his hands together. "I see. And what are your thoughts on his...downfall?" 

"I'd hardly call it a downfall, Tom. Merely a mistake. As far as I can gather, he gave into his anger and slew a man who had pestered him for some time. Now, I know neither who the man was, nor the nature of his offense, but I did know your father, and he was no petty man." 

"Would you say Alden acted unjustly in the matter?" 

"Unjustly? No. Extremely? Most likely." Juan paused for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts. "He gave very little regard, I'd say, to how this banishment would affect the little boy you were at the time. It is a tragedy indeed for a child to lose both parents to the grave, but to lose them merely because his grandfather cast them out...that's almost worse." 

Tom gave a vigorous nod. "I agree! It stings knowing they're out there somewhere, but nowhere I can see them. And tell me...why haven't they come back?" 

"I can't answer that for you, Tom. I truly wish I knew for myself." 

Tom blinked hard and attempted to will away the tears that threatened to show themselves. "What if they haven't returned because they never will?" 

Juan sighed deeply. "Then that would be a tragedy above them all. I pray it not be true." 

"So do I." Tom groaned, "So do I." 

**** 

A/N: We got some nice building of Tom and Juan's connection there, so I hope you enjoyed that, along with some insight into Robert Holt. I guess there're two sides to every story, and now, we each have to decide whether we believe Alden or Juan's accounting more. Who do you believe more? 

Well, I hate to skedaddle so quickly, but I have a lot going on today and have to get to it basically now. So, have an awesome week, and I hope to see you in next Friday's double update! 😁