Two weeks pass with the same schedule. Wake up, learn 'footwork', eat, spar, eat again, spar some more, eat, then sleep. It reminded me of my childhood, if I'm being honest.

  Mom was just better then me, simple as that. She had vastly more experience, and it showed in the way she twisted, coiled, lunged and retreated.

  Her blade moved like a whip, and if we were fighting with real, bared blades, I would be really, honestly scared. But, she was a very skilled teacher.

  She told me where to stand, and I tried to emulate. She then proved why to move like that via a brief spar. Then, later in the day, we had a no holds bared duel. I, desperately trying to integrate what I knew and what I was learning into a style to hold back mom. Mom, however, looked like she could read a book while cutting me to ribbons.

  It was intimidating. However, even all that couldn't stop my giddiness. It had been two weeks, and one of the smith apprentices had delivered my new sword. This morning, I went through my movement drills with my new sword in hand.

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  A flick of the wrist sent the tip of my blade whipping through the air. I pulled back, and swiped upwards. I pulled my blade back into a thrust, and I maneuver to the side.

  Constant movement, in body and blade. That was what mom was trying to sho me. Trying to teach me. It was hard.

  Fighting with my axe is simple, but very different from what I was now learning. There was some overlap, but it was like learning how to dance. You know how to do it one way, and now you need to do it in another way entirely.

  I was learning though! I couldn't help but smile as my new sword moved. Mom had been right! The training sabre was similar enough.

  There were a few differences though. For any human, this would be a great sword, with the weight of a polearm. That ment momentum had far more weight in my training now then it did before. It was also less curved, but I honestly didn't mind.

  When mom came out for the beginning of the day's training, she smirked. "Enjoying yourself, I see. That is good. The feel of the blade and body moving in tandem can be euphoric. But, you are too happy. Resheath your blade, and come at me." She said, and I complied.

  As I attacked and defended in equal measure, I thought on what she said. Sword Fighting wasn't euphoric, not to me. What I truly loved what the implacable onslaught from my axe and armor, the feeling of invincibility and inevitably. But, if I may say, this was truly fun. Hard, grueling at times, but truly fun.