A Testament of Steel by Davis Ashura

Author:Davis Ashura [Ashura, Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heroic Books Ltd
Published: 2020-07-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Months at the Third Directorate passed in a blink. Months spent in training, sparring, learning, and studying. The depths of autumn soon blanketed the Third Directorate in days of damp dreariness, but for a few glorious weeks, the weather shifted to resplendent. Crickets chirped their last songs for summer’s final remembrance, and a pleasant breeze filtered through the windows opening into the Firsters’ common room at Krathe House. It brought in the night’s fragrances of flowers from the garden in the back, and both moons beamed their light.

The fireplace was unlit, and Cinder hoped it wouldn’t be needed on a regular basis for a few more weeks. He didn’t look forward to winter’s questing fingers and icy touch.

The common room was crowded this evening. Rorian and Ishmay were in a corner, writing a history paper due tomorrow. They should have been done by now, but they’d procrastinated and would likely be awake late into the night. Joining them was Derius. He was done with his essay, but he’d kindly volunteered to help the two humans.

Everyone else was scattered around the common room, relaxing and laughing softly. The humans and dwarves had overcome their early aversion, and during the months spent so far at the Third Directorate, they’d managed the miraculous: they’d bonded. So much so that they even played together. Currently a mixed group engaged in euchre, a card game popular in Surent Crèche. The dwarves had taught it to the humans. It was an easy game to play, and Cinder liked it. Paying attention to what cards were played helped, but it wasn’t entirely necessary, definitely not so much that conversation couldn’t be had.

Right now, though, Cinder had another interest in mind. His mandolin. Since coming to the Third Directorate, he’d rarely had time to play. Every day, there was so much to do—breathing exercises as taught by Master Absin, an hour of extra practice on his sword forms, and then his regular coursework. He was proud of how well he was doing. He was keeping up with all of it.

He grimaced a moment later. He was keeping up with everything but equitation. There, he was falling behind. The cursed white stallion. The horse barely let him ride, and they were rapidly losing ground to everyone else. The stupid animal liked to play too much. Or maybe he was just stubborn. Or stupid. Or stupidly stubborn or vice versa. Whatever the reason, if the horse didn’t pick up the pace soon—

Cinder cut off any thoughts of his discontentment with the stallion. He could worry about the horse some other time. Tonight, he wanted to play music. So far, he’d pushed himself hard at the Directorate, and he deserved an evening off. It would be tonight, a relaxing evening of music.

First, the mandolin needed tuning. He tightened a key, bringing a flat string closer to the note it was meant to hold. He smiled as he worked, remembering a time when a string had snapped in the midst of playing at the Lonely Donkey.

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