The dining hall reserved for the knight order also served as a reception room, and, quite naturally, stood right next to the training yard. From the start, the layout was designed for Enkrid, by Enkrid. So every path centered around the training yard.
Stepping outside, the old man gripped the handle of his cane and pulled, as if there was nothing to hide. Shring—the blade slid out, reflecting the light. Enkrid stood facing him and drew his Valery Mountain steel sword.
Srrrrng.
The clear sound of the blade scraping against the scabbard rang out. Enkrid had shed the rest of his gear and now held only that single sword. Without a word they faced each other, both bearing live steel.
Though this was called a spar, if things went wrong it could easily become a fight to the death. After all, they had made no promises and reached no agreement between them. Then the old man clicked his tongue inside his mouth.
Tak!
The sound rippled through the air like a wave. The keen senses he had gained through Jacksen—the so‑called Sensory Skill—allowed Enkrid to feel the sound as a vibration. Some of those waves spread without resistance, and some struck his body and rebounded.