Project Empress 011

 Entremés

Master Manfred Brumotti von Burg stood in one corner of his salle. The one closest to the entrance. Today was the master’s class where his top students were sparring under his and his assistant coaches´ watchful eyes. Only that he wasn’t paying any attention to them but instead was reading, re-reading, the official looking velum letter in his hand. 

Next to him stood his right hand man and most senior student Eskil Feltis Gavenda, who was still trying to cautiously read over his master’s shoulder while also keeping the corner of his eye on the young man he had just introduced to his master. 

Said young man was the third in their little group. A blond guy, broad shouldered and obviously well trained; he would have made a good addition to their club. While Manfred Brumotti von Burg welcomed everyone into the fold of the high art of fencing, he welcomed the athletic and strong the most. For what mattered the most at the end of the day, was the success in tournaments, duels and free sparring. 

However, the blond man was not here because he was interested in training but rather because he had come to complain about one of the fencers. As it seemed that one of them had attacked him two nights ago in a most cowardly manner and broke his nose with a pommel strike.

Master Brumotti von Burg wasn’t really interested in talking to him at first, every once in a while such a person would appear complaining. He didn’t care, young people were bound to get rowdy, especially at night and every able bodied citizen was given a defence baton and was trained in its use. The only thing this ‘complaint’ meant, was that his students were, as expected, expert fighters and these people had not yet learned to pick their fights. 

What made things different this time though was that on the night of the alleged incident, master Brumotti von Burg had invited his best students to a late night dinner and discussion. Also the moment the master saw the strapping young lad with the bandage over his face, he became more intrigued, because on one hand one of his lesser students was showing some promise and he would have to pay specific attention to them to see if, through hard work and personal lessons, they could be elevated to master student level. Also the young man himself, being such a healthy specimen, could be added to the ranks of the club. Master Brumotti von Burg knew a diamond in the rough when he saw one. 

Then, the situation got more confusing as the lad had said that he had been injured by a girl… This was highly irregular. First of all, female fighters were mostly just playing at sword-fighting. They were more like dancers who, at the best of times, could show some aesthetically pleasing exhibition of the art. But when it came to actual combat they were of course far inferior to trained men. That was just natural. Master Brumotti von Burg also didn’t really believe the young man that he had been ambushed. The way his nose had been smashed in and his eyes were all black and blue it looked like he was hit by a pommel strike. Something hard to do when jumping out of what… a dark alley? So it must have been a matter of technique… 

But he had only a few female students. all of them too weak and just not good enough to be able to overpower such a big and strong man.

It was at this moment that he had Eskil fetch him the letter he had received earlier. While his master pupil was gone, he asked the blond man to describe his assailant. When he did, it finally began to dawn on master Brumotti von Burg. When Eskil returned, he reread the velum, a hand-written and sealed letter from the lord-bishop himself. It had informed him that there was some tournament or other in Vienna later next year, where the price apparently was some old manuscript. Master Brumotti von Burg had dismissed it. It was far too early to consider it, also it was a tournament outside of the martial rankings. If it was that important to the lord-bishop he may reconsider sending a few of his better students there, maybe he could curry some favour from the lord-bishop that way, and that would certainly be worth it. 

As he was re-reading the velum, there were certain details that had appeared trivial to him beforehand. It was very strange, as the tournament required the entry of a master and a novice student who was not allowed to have more than one year of training at the time of the tournament proper.

Like the legendary Sherlock Holmes had once said to his devoted friend and servant Dr. Watson: “If you discard the impossible, what remains at the end, no matter how implausible it may seem, will be the truth.”

Master Brumotti von Burg´s  trembling hand turned into a fist, crumbling up the velum in the process which he then threw to the floor.

“Cara, you duplicitous snake”, he hissed.

“I beg your pardon, master?”, Eskil said. 

“Eskil, how long have you served me?”

“Er… a bit more than 10 years, master.”

Master Brumotti von Burg nodded to himself and then looked Eskil in the eyes, his gaze had such an intensity that Eskil took a step back.

“Good, good…”, master Brumotti von Burg said. “I think you have advanced far enough to earn the right of calling yourself master.” He then turned to the blond man.

“And you, how would you like some revenge?”