Across the center line of the oldest yard, Daro Kesh lowered his heavy hardwood sword into a compact early-Bronze guard. He held his own veteran Deeper Bronze pressure reined back with the exact pedagogical discipline that made him a great teacher. Before taking his first step, however, Daro tapped the flat of the wooden blade against his lead forearm.
“Name the intention before you cross sticks, Seyun,” Daro instructed. “In my school, a fighter doesn’t swing wildly and invent a flattering name for whatever happens to land. Tell the yard what principle your Bronze exists to hold, so Ilyra, your sister. I can see whether your feet actually keep the promise your mouth makes.”
Seyun adjusted his weight on his sound right boot. That kept his left heel lightly grounded and the braced fourth toe lifted clear inside its calfskin guard. During his eleven years as an outer student at Ash Reed Sect, he had attended seven formal Bronze threshold ceremonies in the upper pavilion. At every single one of those ceremonies, the tester had stood before the elders’ banners and recited an ornate, poetic title copied from the sect’s manuals—The Unyielding Cliff, The Piercing Heron, The Tide That Covers the Shoal—claiming an image of unbeatable natural grandeur around which to harden their breath.
