What is he doing? Down, right, soft field left, hard shield top. The blade swept downwards, missed both defences, and dug a great hole in the air where Ioha had never been. He threw his opponent a glance, rose slightly and slid forward. The next attack went wide as well. He can’t possibly be that bad! Hard shield top and left. I give up! Ioha rose and walked inside the guard of his opponent, no defences, no stance, no nothing. With a left-hand flick, he wrenched the rapier out of his opponent’s hand. With his right, Ioha hammered the parrying sword to the ground with his hilt. Now what? Whatever! Ioha punched the boy to the ground. The judge stared and reluctantly flipped the pennant in Ioha’s direction.

  Guess I won, but what the hell was that about? He barely remembered to bow to both opponent and judge before he left the ring. Something itched in him. Why? He’s a noble. Memories of students refusing to spar with him floated to the top of his mind. Ah, of course! I’m supposed to be the worst of the lot. He’d been matched against the weakest of the nobles to function as a road bump and allow his opponent to at least reach the top sixteen. So the next one’s either one of the really good noble cats or another junk opponent. They could rig the tournament, but they couldn’t make a poor swordsman into a good one. Losing to another noble this early would be awkward, but not devastating, but having a commoner kick you out was too humiliating, and he had just done that.

  The next bout turned out marginally better than the first. The school clumped together the three weakest in his end of the tree to give the fumbling noble a possible path to the top eight. Ioha noticed his opponent's inept movements before the match even started, and there was no point in pretending. He extended a volatile shield from his aura, bent forward and marched right through the ring. The girl, maybe half his weight, never stood a chance. She desperately tried to find her footing while Ioha pushed her out of the ring with his ever-expanding shield, and she was forced to forfeit. This time, the judge tried to find a reason not to give him the win, but with only one contestant standing inside the ring, that would have been too blatant and Ioha was awarded his spot among the top eight.

  Five nobles and three commoners. Of the six nobles among the cats, only one lost his spot in the open tournament. You had to give the school credit for how they weeded out forty-three of forty-six commoners from the tournament. He looked at the list. Of the five nobles, three belonged there, no discussion. Of the other two, one shouldn’t even have made the cut to participate in the first place, and the last one represented an easy win for her opponent in a fair competition. Ioha had personally booted out the remaining noble, who also didn’t belong in the tournament to begin with.

  The day grew to a close, but there was time for the seven remaining bouts. He left the broadside behind him and walked to his preparation spot. His next match was his last. Canadena knew him too well by now, but win or lose, he still had his place in the open tournament later. Ioha guessed that out of the twenty-four, he was the only one unhappy about making the list.

  Training session, this is a training session, he thought as he grabbed his parrying sword and bokken. A few steps later, he was inside the ring facing Canadena. Rapier angled at him, and parrying sword diagonally across her torso, she stood with smiling eyes and a teasing smile on her lips. When the judge arrived with his pennant, she nodded and fell into a defensive stance.

  You suck! But he grinned. He’d lose fair and square to an opponent who held no malice towards him. One of his best friends. Training session. He took the bait and advanced on her position. Hard shield extended top and front. Soft field left. Even if it got in the way of his parrying sword, she’d die of boredom if he tried feinting a left-handed attack. He even had time to twirl his bokken once before they came in reach of another. Another soft field went to the left. Give it a try at least. Feinting right, he rushed straight forward and slapped a hard shield behind her just below her knees. As expected, it didn’t work. Not expected was how she leapt right at his face. No, you don’t! He readied his parrying sword to block her incoming thrust.

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  It never came.

  One moment, Ioha tried to parry a non-existent lunge, the next, Canadena tip-toed on his parrying sword. That counts as a hit! No. No, you really suck! Her next step landed on his hard top shield, and then she extended a gravity spell, dragging her down behind his back. He felt the wooden tip of her parrying sword slide down his back all the way from his neck, just to stop at his kidneys.

  Damn, you’re good!

  He turned, took a step back and bowed. No point in waiting for the judge. She was awarded her win as was right, and they left the ring together.

  Ioha stared at her. “You can extend shields?”

  She laughed. “Once, possibly twice, during a match, and it’s the size of my palm.”

  That made it worthless for anyone without her brains. “Well played. I thought I got a point when you stepped on my sword.”

  “Tiny shield counts as protecting my sole. Thanks for showing me the spell.”

  “Why?” he wanted to know. The time and effort she spent trying to understand his spell must have been brutal.

  “Now I can jump on air, just like you.”

  Ah, it’s not a shield, it’s a movement spell to her. “Respect!” he said and bowed again. “Pure respect.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What was that?” Karaki joined them with a question. “I felt you using aura when you jumped.”

  Ioha explained. It was faster if he did, since he was the one who understood shields and fields the best of them. “She totally got me,” he finished.

  Later, she won a protracted semi-final against a skilled but arrogant noble boy. Ioha couldn’t decide if she got lucky or deserved it. The shouting after the match, however, he knew she didn’t deserve. The arse even tried to bait her into a duel with blank weapons, but as a commoner, she wasn’t obliged to accept. Ioha sighed with relief when she declined.

  The finals that ended the day turned out to be a great show as well as a lot of fun. Canadena’s noble-born opponent was popular among boys and girls, and among nobles and commoners alike. The girl trained as hard as anyone else. She helped her rivals to become better and gracefully received help herself. All in all, she spent her days as a shining example of what nobility was supposed to be. The best part? It wasn’t for show. She was simply one of those rare people who are genuinely good. During the bout, she even allowed Canadena to shine without ever throwing the match in the least. She just picked the path to victory where Canadena could display her abilities, even though they weren’t enough. If those girls duelled ten times, Canadena would lose nine and force one to a draw. The difference was that large. There were already people who called her the king of cats, to which she jokingly protested that she was a princess and not a king.

  There were three more days of class tournaments. Ioha watched them all to learn. The second years were substantially better than the freshmen, and the third years surpassed the second years. While the fourth years were the strongest, the difference wasn’t as clear-cut. After three years, it seemed it mostly boiled down to personal ability. A noble cat from the Wari family won after a brilliant display of fireworks that, in theory, should have helped his opponent, but in reality, only trapped her. The knights' tournament was just as one-sided when the Terendala boy methodically massacred every opponent of his.

  Though thoroughly corrupt, in one aspect, the school delivered exactly what it promised, a first-class military education.