Goodness me, it's that time of year again, isn't it? Mid-summer hits and the tavern fills up with all manner of folk off to the tourneys. Grand spectacles they is, archery, jousting, and sword play all for our entertainment. Personally, I just go for the food but never mind that.
See that group over there? The fancy-to-dos in their motley pants and carrying honking great blades? They’re students from a couple of sword schools on their way to compete in the Prince’s Rest summer tourney. They’re drinking and having a good time now, but in a week they’ll be trying to poke each other into submission while people shout and throw peanuts at them. Quite the dignified living.
Anyway, I can see by your face you don't know much about them sword schools so while we wait for your rosemary chicken to hatch out the oven, I'll be happy to fill you in a bit.
Sword schools is like any of them martial schools and academies. Usually perched in a city somewhere, some wealthy patron or group sponsors a house in the noble pursuit of deadly knowledge or, more likely, a return on investment. Archery roosts and sword schools are scattered all about, some with only a handful of students while the larger ones boast up to a hundred or more. Once a student graduates they become body guards, instructors for local militias or any other profession that could use a strong sword or bow arm. Never forget though, graduates owe a tribute to their school's sponsor, sometimes for life.
There are more of these schools than I can count, so I'll just fill you in on the largest I know of.
Watercross Sword School
The oldest and proudest of all sword schools, students of the Watercross Sword School are a cocky bunch. Spend even a day in the sprawling city of Watercross and you can’t help but bump into these fancy pants swinging their swagger around. Its right hard to get admitted and so each student carries themselves as if the city owes them just for gracing it with their presence.
As for their patron, it's the lord of Watercross itself, whoever it may be at the time. Ages ago, a lord by the name of Bellany got the bright idea to create a sword academy open to all, not just the nobility which had been the precedent. He had the idea after watching a farmer fight off an angry swan with a stick. Their form was so naturally gifted that Bellany thought, ‘no one so skilled should be held back by their birth name, surely I can I make a few coin off that?’ Both noble and exploitative, isn't duality great?
Ask the city watch though and they'll tell you how much they resent having to tolerate all the trouble they bring. The students love getting into scraps with ‘lesser’ schools or even challenging each other to duels outside pubs in the twilight hours. But their school brings lots of money into the city through taxes on tourney winnings and so the watch mostly turns a blind eye to their high-jinks.
As for their style of fighting, I find dissenting voices a reliable source to suss out the truth.
‘Don't get me started on those swagger swords. Watercross is the oldest and proudest, aye, also the sloppiest. They march around their city in a world of their own, acting with such ego, but get them fighting and you have to wonder where all the hype comes from.
Fine, yes, some of their lot are quite talented. It's no surprise that their best get sent out on the tourney circuit while the rest are kept close to home. It’s not that they're bad per se, it's just with all the talk of how hard it is to get in, you’d think they'd each be a shining example of skill and grace. Maybe with so much hype the pressure gets to em.’
Dawn Company
Out in the unassuming hamlet of Blue Notch is a mustering field that doesn’t stop mustering. The collection of tents and barebone structures has been there about 50 years and is home to the Dawn Company sword school. They carry the same kind of pride as Watercross but display it in a reserved and regimented manner.
The Dawn Company was founded by a disbanded militia known as the Midnight Company. After the Frontier Wars ended (not the last frontier war mind you, the one before that), as part of the peace treaty all them militias were ordered disbanded in an effort to squash any grudges. Most of the company’s just went home to exchange their swords for hoes, but not the Midnights. They’d been career soldiers, with no notion that the war would end with their forced disbandment. So, the commanders got together, changed their name and cooked up a new venture to ply their services.
The only requirement for admission into the Company is that one must have served previously in a militia, army or guardhouse. Their specialty is in honing a recruit’s skills with a blade, not teaching them discipline. As such, their graduates are sought after by standing armies and noble houses alike for their measured demeanor and assumed code of honor.
‘I feel sorry for the sods in Dawn Company, I really do. Did you know they have to sleep in tents and muster at sunrise EVERY day? Who lives like that I ask you? Gluttons for punishment, that’s who. They look big and mean but once the sword is out, I’m asleep.
Their entire philosophy is about balance in fighting, strict adherence to form and repetition. Does it work? Sure. Is it art? Lords no. Watching a Dawn Company student fight is like watching a water wheel turn; reliable and effective but agonizingly boring.’
Renway’s Blades
Renway’s Blades is one of the few sword schools not located in a city or town. Out in the Kilamey Valley, amongst the forest and foxes is a large building made from slapped together timber and crooked towers. Rumor is the foundations of the place are made from old carriages and is furnished with cherished heirlooms of royal houses.
Why would there be such a rumor you ask? Because Renway’s Blades used to be a criminal organization, one of the most feared bands of highway robbers this side of the Blue Horn River. Before they was a school, a fella named Renway terrorized the roads all along the Kilamey Valley with his followers, sticking up tax wagons and gilded coaches. Such a devil was he that the nobles went so far as to try and bore a tunnel through the neighboring mountain just to avoid traveling the valley.
Eventually the nobles had enough. If they couldn’t lock him up (lords know they tried, unsuccessfully, many times), they could possibly legitimize the criminal. King Rothem sent a delegation into the Kilamey forest and made a proposition; cease all criminal activities at once in exchange for a full pardon and patronage to set up and train the finest sword fighters (King Rothem was a big fan of tourneys you see, and was tired of his own knights getting trounced in the sword competition year after year). Renway agreed and we are better for it.
As a highwayman, Renway developed a reputation for not just his thievery but also his skill with a blade. He was wild and unpredictable with no strict adherence to the styles of the day. Soldiers would fall to the ground in a heap trying to fend off his red fencing blade as he lunged forward with little regard for his own well-being. It was this reputation that became the guiding principle of the school. Train the foundations of sword play, but trust in one’s instinct in the moment.
‘Every bloody time the students from Renway’s Blades show up to the tourney ground, all tattooed and loud, I have double check with the watch that we ain’t being robbed. Even after they produce their official papers, I have the servants hide the silver, just to be safe.
There’s no grace in how Renways fight. In fact, at times they’re downright loony. I once saw one of their students swirl around like a spinning top with two swords in hand until he was so dizzy, he fainted. The other sword fighter just shrugged and tapped him on the head with his blade. Easiest win they’ll ever have.
Just don’t underestimate them. For every 10 nutters, one of them is a genuine blade artist with deadly instinct. Luckily for the other schools though, most are just nutters.’
Swords of Reverence
The Church of Eternal Reverence is unquestionably the most popular and influential of all the lands many religions. Common folk flock to their hallowed cathedrals to pay respects to their ancestors and to ask for strength from the various icons of human toil (Gregory, the icon of storytelling is my personal favorite). As such, bounties of donations flock from these cathedrals to the holy city of Merenberg, the seat of the church. With such wealth, the church has seen fit to fund many initiatives in an attempt focus divine influence around worldly affairs. It’s from these efforts that the Swords of Reverence school was founded.
Students of this holy sword school are devout in their belief that worship of the ancestors will give them the strength to overcome any opponent. Even with the popularity of the church, most spectators at the tourneys have little patience for the rites that must be performed by a Reverence fighter before each bout. It’s not uncommon for their students to begin a fight to the shouts of ‘Bloody hell, just get on with it already!’
That said, to witness one of their more talented students in a tourney is truly a sight to behold. They fight as if in a trance, as if they know every action just before it happens. Their western style of sword play lends itself to it, a focus on long swords that maintain contact with the enemy blade until just the right moment.
‘I’ll not speak poorly of the church, not in public anyway. But I must say I feel for those Reverence sword fighters. There’s all that build up, prayer and pleads for guidance from their ancestors before a match. If they don’t win, then you won’t see a more downtrodden and guilt-ridden creature around. All they can think about is how they must have upset their great great grandparents somehow.
They’re able fighters, aye, but at what cost? They make em sleep in monastery dorms, eat gruel and pray 4 hours a day. No thank you. I’m all for a modest lifestyle but if you told me I had to stop eating sweet cakes in order to play the lute better then I’ll pick the sweet cakes everytime.’
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