Read The Brotherhood: Blood for Free Online

his son attacked the straw dummy with less than ample ease. It seemed, at many points in time, that the boy was having difficulty maneuvering the weapon around, almost as if it were too heavy or if he wasn’t able to hold it steadily enough. He couldn’t necessarily see why, given that the sword was only two feet long and quite light in respect. That alone was enough to make him uneasy.
    Can he not fight? Ectris thought, his hopes and dreams for the boy slowly crumbling way around him. Is he—
    Odin stopped attacking the straw dummy before him, paused, then switched his sword into his left hand.
    How is he—
    Immediately, the progress bloomed before him.
    “He’s a lefty,” he mumbled, laughing, almost unable to contain the emotions spiraling within him.
    He should have known that his son would be more capable using his left hand over his right. By God, he wrote with his left hand, had done so since the horseriding accident last year, when his arm had been broken and he’d been unable to use it for nearly six months. How stupid could he have been?
    When the surrealism of the situation began to wear off and was replaced with a casual, more-even pursuit, Ectris braced his hands against his knees and watched his son stab the dummy directly in the torso—then, slowly, disengage his weapon from the figure before twirling and hitting it right in the neck.
    Had the sword been metal, Odin would have easily cut the dummy’s head off.
    He’ll be fighting for the king someday, he thought, closing his eyes.
    The boy deserved better than he did—much, much better.
    “Father?”
    Ectris blinked. Odin stood directly before him, a single bead of sweat running down the side of his head and his chest heaving with the effort. “Yes?” he asked.
    “Will you teach me how to fight?”
    “You know I will,” Ectris said, rising to his feet. “Come on. I’ll show you a few things.”
     
    By the time they settled in for the night, Ectris could hardly make dinner. Between showing his son evasive maneuvers that he should use to avoid jabs and thrusts and allowing his boy to use him as a living, moving target, he felt as though his lungs were about to cave into his chest and his heart was going to stop beating and simply cease to exist.
    “Easy there, boy,” Ectris laughed, setting a hand on his son’s shoulder when he approached swinging the wooden sword in front of him. “Put that down. We’ll train more in the morning.”
    “We will?” the boy asked, eyes wide with intent.
    “We will. I promise.”
    After double-checking to make sure that his son had secured the sword at its place near the door, Ectris set about the kitchen gathering up the breads, meats and cheese freshly delivered from both Joseph and another neighbor before crossing the room to arrange them upon the table. Odin, the attentive son that he was, darted into the kitchen to fish for the silverware and plates that they would be dining with and swiftly returned upon the time Ectris finished placing the last of the three platters on the table.
    “Did I do well today?” Odin asked, taking his seat at the opposite side of the table and sliding a piece of cheese into his mouth.
    “You did,” Ectris said. “There’s few things we’ll need to fix, but I’ll help you.”
    “Were you ever a knight, Father?”
    “No.”
    “How come?”
    “Peasants can’t become knights, Odin. Only royalty can.”
    “ Why?”
    “Because the training is only reserved for those of the royal family,” Ectris shrugged, continuing with his own food and trying his hardest not to give in to his son’s shocked, almost-sad face. “That isn’t to say that common men have never become knights though.”
    “How?”
    “Sometimes when you do something amazing for your country—like securing a checkpoint on the battlefield, saving a nobleman’s daughter or even just returning home after killing one of the king’s most horrible enemies with his head—the court takes notice and