Paragon of Destruction

The sun stood high above Knight's Watch as Arran and Kaleesh made their way back to the training fields. Though Arran had arrived shortly after dawn, their conversation had taken up much of the morning, and now, they found the fields were emptier than before, with many of the troops already taking their mid-day break.

Kaleesh eyed Arran warily as they approached the fields. "What are you planning to do?" he asked — the fourth time in as many minutes that he'd asked the question.

"As I said," Arran replied, "you'll find out soon enough. But first, show me this army of yours."

The captain sighed, then gave a reluctant nod. "Very well. Follow me."

Even with many of the soldiers resting, there were nearly two thousand men and women still practicing. They were divided into separate groups, each consisting of around two hundred soldiers and headed by a single Ranger.

"I've assigned most of the Rangers their own groups," Kaleesh explained. "Not all of them are cut out for command, but it's best to find out now, before we head into the Desolation."

Arran nodded thoughtfully, wondering how he'd even begin to organize an army as large as this. While the Rangers would be the most obvious choice to command the groups, he knew that power did not necessarily translate into leadership. Yet to spurn the Rangers would create its own problems, as many of them would certainly object to following the commands of their lessers.

After considering it briefly, he decided that he was glad that he did not have to lead the army. Just the thought of having to organize all these men and women nearly caused him a headache.

Kaleesh, however, appeared well-suited for the task.

As he guided Arran past the groups, he effortlessly alternated between exchanging banter with the Rangers and issuing them commands, and although most of the Rangers' personalities matched their rough looks, they nevertheless treated the captain with respect.

Arran, meanwhile, got his share of attention from the Rangers as well. Word of his encounter with the Band of the Dragon had already spread through the camp, and no few of the Rangers were curious to meet the one responsible. From their gleeful reactions, it was clear that there was no love lost between them and Matas's troops.

"There have been some confrontations with the other groups," Kaleesh said. "And none of those more than the Band of the Dragon. Nothing too serious, mind you, but I expect that your actions this morning will have earned you quite a few friends among the troops."

"I hope I haven't caused any problems for us?"

Kaleesh shook his head. "As long as nobody gets killed, the Governor turns a blind eye to any fights. As for Matas…" He shrugged. "That one is more concerned with the glory he expects to win in the Desolation. At most, he'll punish the Ranger for being defeated."

Arran nodded, relieved that he hadn't caused any issues for Kaleesh. As much as the young Ranger that morning had deserved a lesson, Arran did not care so much about the matter that he thought it worth a real conflict.

They inspected several more groups, and the more Arran saw, the more he grew convinced that Kaleesh had made the right decision in recruiting the prisoners. Rough though the men and women in their army might look, it was plain to see that each of them was easily worth at least two Darian peasants.

As they approached yet another group of soldiers, however, the Ranger who led the group immediately rushed toward them. Tall and dark-haired, he had the build and confidence of an expert fighter, though there was something in his features that Arran did not like.

"Captain, we need to talk about—" he began, pausing mid-sentence when he finally noticed Arran. "Who's this then?"

"This is Arran, my second-in-command," Kaleesh said. "Arran, meet Domar." Though his tone was pleasant enough, the look in the captain's eyes suggested there was little friendship between the two of them.

Domar gave Arran a curt nod, then promptly turned his attention back to Kaleesh. "Captain," he said again. "About the rewards you've promised… I've been here for over a month, and—"

"Domar," Kaleesh interrupted him. "How many battles have you fought this past month?"

"None, captain. But I've been here for over a month. You said we would be rewarded."

Kaleesh faced Domar with a weary expression that made Arran suspect this wasn't the first time the Ranger had made this demand. Nor the second, for that matter.

"As you well know, there are no rewards without battle. Once we venture into the Desolation, you will have plenty of opportunities to earn the bounties you seek."

"What about the Blightspawn you fought on the way here?" Domar countered. "You got their badges, did you not?"

At this, the captain's expression hardened. "I promised a fair share of any rewards you earned," he said in a tone that suggested his patience was quickly wearing thin. "Not a share of the rewards earned by others. And I do not recall you taking part in those battles." He paused, then added, "Besides, those badges are worthless until we reach Sacrifice."

"I suppose," the Ranger said reluctantly. "Just don't go back on your word."

"I won't," Kaleesh replied curtly.

As the Ranger made his way back to his group, Arran gave Kaleesh a questioning glance. "He seems a troublesome sort."

"I wasn't exactly spoiled for choice, when it came to Rangers," the captain said, answering the question Arran had left unspoken. "And troublesome though he is, Domar is unusually talented. If he spent half as much time practicing as he does complaining, I wouldn't be surprised if he surpassed even you."

Arran cast a long look at the Ranger as he resumed his practice with his group, and soon realized that Kaleesh wasn't mistaken. As unpleasant as his first impression of the Ranger was, there was no denying the man's talent for swordsmanship.

"Come," Kaleesh finally said. "There are more groups to inspect."

Much to Arran's relief, the next three groups' leaders all proved more amiable. They eagerly introduced themselves to Arran, and all had a glint of pride in their eyes as they showed their soldiers' skills.

Yet just as Arran and Kaleesh were about to move on from the third group, a young woman stepped forth. She was short and dark-eyed, with dark-red hair despite her Darian features, and her expression was one of concern.

"Captain," she began as she approached. "We need to talk about the equipment."

"Elena," the commander of her group began, his tone uncomfortable. "This is not the—"

"He needs to know, Rafi," she interrupted him, an angry look on her face.

Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "What do I need to know?"

"Our equipment," she answered. "It's trash."

"Trash?" The captain frowned. "It may not be quite as lavish as what some of the other armies have, but surely it—"

He fell silent as the woman tossed him her weapon — a sword so rusty the steel could only barely be seen underneath, with a visibly crooked blade.

Kaleesh looked at the weapon with obvious distaste, as if he was holding a thoroughly rotten haunch of meat. "This," he said, "is indeed trash. Where did you get it?"

"That's the sword I was given when I joined your army," the woman replied. "And it's the same for most others in our group."

Kaleesh frowned, then faced the Ranger. "Is this true?"

The Ranger gave an uncomfortable nod. "It is, captain."

"Then why have you not told Sassun about this?" Kaleesh asked, some irritation in his voice.

"I have," the Ranger replied. "Twice. He said he'd take care of it."

"Is that so." Kaleesh's expression darkened, and he gestured to Arran. "Let's go. It seems Sassun and I have some matters to discuss." He held up the rusty sword, then said to the young woman, "I assume you won't mind me taking this."

As Arran and Kaleesh made their way to the center of the camp, the captain shook his head angrily. "He should know better than this," he said, giving the rusty sword an annoyed swing. "What was he thinking? I can't send soldiers into the Desolation with this…" He glared at the sword in frustration, unable to find the words to even describe the weapon.

"Trash," Arran finished the sentence. "And if Sassun is handing out such weapons, there must be a reason. He doesn't strike me as the type to be careless about these things."

Kaleesh hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "The man is many things, but I've never known him to be careless. Still…" He gave the sword another look, then shook his head in wonder.

They reached Sassun some moments later, and found the commander hard at work instructing his troops — mostly mercenaries from the original Wolfsblood Company, Arran saw, clad in the starmetal armor that even Knights envied.

"Arran," Sassun greeted when he noticed them. "Good to see you've returned." Though the commander's expression was flat, given his normal dour look even that could be considered an unusual display of cheerfulness.

Before Arran could return the greeting, Kaleesh held up the rusty sword. "What is this supposed to be?" he demanded.

"It appears to be a sword," Sassun replied. He tilted his head as he regarded the weapon, then added, "Though not much of one."

"Why then," Kaleesh began, a dangerous look in his eyes, "are our troops equipped with trash like this?"

"Because we ran out of coin," Sassun replied, unperturbed by the captain's angry glare. "Which I already told you about two weeks ago."

At this, a frown crossed the captain's face. "Didn't I give you more?"

"So you did," Sassun said, nodding slightly. "And that—" he gestured at the sword "—is what your additional funds bought us. Which is why our newest troops are using equipment that is more rust than steel."

Astonishment flashed across Kaleesh's eyes. "What I gave you could have bought equipment for an entire army!"

Sassun nodded calmly. "So it could," he said. "In any other part of the world. But here in Knight's Watch, coin is as plenty as weapons are rare. And if the stories I've heard are true, the situation is even worse in Sacrifice."

For several moments, Kaleesh stood silently. The anger was long gone from his expression, and now, his eyes held concern more than anything. "Then we have a problem," he finally said.

"Indeed," Sassun agreed. "Unless, of course, we part with some of our starmetal armor. I know some of the men would—"

Kaleesh cut him off with a gesture. "Absolutely not. Not unless there's no other option."

Decisive though the captain sounded, his voice nevertheless held a sliver of doubt, as if he found himself at a loss for other options. And no wonder, Arran thought. To equip an army so large was no small matter, and to keep them fed besides would strain the purses of even the wealthiest nobles.

Of course, Arran had the means to solve their problems in an instant. His void ring held treasures enough to equip every single man and woman in the Wolfsblood Army in starmetal armor, with enough left to outfit a second army should the need arise.

But the treasures he carried could not be revealed. Even if he trusted Kaleesh to keep the secret, it would not go unnoticed if the Wolfsblood Company suddenly came into possession of a vast hoard of treasure.

Yet after giving it a moment of thought, he saw another path. And while it would draw just as much attention — if not more — that was something he'd already accepted as unavoidable.

"Kaleesh," he said, "the Darians like to bet, don't they?"

The captain gave a short nod. "They do, but a few small bets won't be enough. The coin I've taken from them so far hasn't even covered our food."

A small smile crossed Arran's face. "I think you'll find some good odds these next few weeks. Now, as for what I had planned…"

Arran looked around, then quickly decided that this spot would be as good as any. After all, for what he had in mind, location mattered little.

He cast a quick glance at the many soldiers and Rangers practicing around them, searching for some moments before his eyes finally came to rest on a particularly large Ranger in one of the nearby groups.

Blond-haired and a good seven feet tall, the man was clearly an outsider. And from the scars that marred his square face, it was equally clear that he had no small amount of experience in battle.

"You there!" Arran called out. As the man turned to him, a questioning look in his eyes, he motioned, "Come join us for a bit!"

The Ranger obliged at once, and as he approached, Arran asked, "What's your name?"

"Barric," the giant man replied. "You're the one that killed the Reaver, aren't you?"

"That I am," Arran confirmed. "How about the two of us spar a few rounds?"

The Ranger cast a questioning look at Kaleesh, who gave him a small nod. Then, a grin on his face, he replied, "I'd be glad to. I don't suppose I'll win, but I'd be happy to see what you can do."

As the two of them faced each other, a circle of onlookers instantly formed around them. There were few members of the Wolfsblood Army who weren't curious about Arran's abilities, and it wasn't long before well over a hundred soldiers and Rangers stood gathered, eyes eagerly fixed on the spectacle to come.

When Arran was satisfied with the audience, he turned to his opponent. "Your attack."

The words had barely left his mouth when the Ranger came at him. Despite his size, he moved with surprising speed and skill, and it took only an instant for his blade to reach Arran.

Although Arran could have ended the battle right there, he did not do so. Instead, he deflected the attack with a flawless parry, then quickly took several steps back.

"Again."

The giant man gave him a curious look, then shrugged and launched another attack, the ground almost shaking at the power of his strides.

Again Arran parried the attack at the last moment, and immediately, he told his opponent to attack once more.

A dozen exchanges passed like this, and slowly, signs of frustration appeared on the Ranger's face. No matter how he tried, each of his attacks was effortlessly defeated, with Arran only barely even moving.

Finally, after yet another failed attack, he could take it no more. "If your goal was to humiliate me, you've succeeded. But I will have no more—"

"Again!" Arran snapped. "And this time, pay attention!"

A look of confusion crossed the giant Ranger's face, but after a moment's hesitation, he did as told. And although this attack was no more successful than the ones before it, his eyes widened with surprise when he made another retreat.

Then, a hint of excitement in his expression, he attacked again.

The two sparred for half an hour, and although the Ranger never came close to hitting Arran, the man's excitement soon grew into unrestrained joy. Though it had taken him some moments to understand what was happening, he had at last figured out what Arran was doing — correcting his insights.

Yet despite his enthusiasm, half an hour of sparring was enough to leave the Ranger thoroughly winded, and finally he stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow before giving Arran a bow.

"Thank you for this," he said in a voice that held as much exhaustion as it did delight.

"Thank you, as well," Arran replied, returning the bow.

For the truth was that not only the Ranger had benefited. As the two sparred, Arran had taken care to study every single one of the man's movements, copying his insights even as he improved on them.

This was not an easy thing, and had the gap between them been smaller, it was unlikely that Arran would have succeeded. But as it was, the difference in ability between them made it possible for him to see straight through the man's attacks — and in so doing, distill the insights that lay at the heart of them.

"Now," Arran said, with a look at the soldiers who had gathered around, "who's next?"

Several Rangers stepped forward at once, but after a brief argument, one of them — a young woman, short and lean — took the lead.

Arran did not ask for her name. Instead, he merely motioned for her to attack, after which another half-hour bout followed.

Much like his first opponent, the young woman bowed with gratitude when exertion finally forced her to step back, and Arran sincerely returned the gesture.

Where the insights he'd gleaned from his first opponent were related to strength and force, the ones he'd found in this one were related to speed and agility. And although there were several among them that he had failed to grasp, the match had brought him another small step forward.

Yet he knew he still had far to go, and with a glance at the audience, he called out again, "Who's next?"

When the light of day finally began to fade, Arran had faced well over a dozen opponents. Some of these had taught him little while others proved to possess a wealth of skill, but with each new battle he fought, he slowly broadened his insights.

Still, even as the sun fell below the horizon and shadows overtook the training fields, Arran had no intention of quitting.

"Bring me some food," he called out to no one in particular. "And some torches."

A meal was brought not long after — as much as he could eat, and then some — and he ate it in silence, pondering the insights he'd witnessed in his opponents so far.

When he finished the meal, he stood up and looked around, finding that hundreds had gathered around him already. A small smile crossed his lips, and he immediately called out once more, "Who's next?"

He fought through the night, and then the day that followed, each new opponent strengthening and broadening his insights. By now, he was certain that he was on the right path — that the knowledge he needed lay hidden in plain sight, scattered amid the ranks of the Wolfsblood Army.

The Rangers were not the only ones whose knowledge Arran sought, however. Somewhere during the first night, a particularly bold soldier had stepped forward, and when the others saw that Arran treated him much the same as he did the Rangers, there were few among the soldiers who did not wish to seize the opportunity — even if many of them weren't quite certain what it was they were supposed to learn.

Still, Arran instructed them as best he could, and found that if their insights were shallower and fewer in number than those the Rangers possessed, that made them no less valuable.

And so, he fought on, never pausing for more than a quick meal, which he invariably ate in silence as he contemplated the many different insights he'd witnessed.

On the third day, a Ranger from one of the other armies came, dressed in a black-and-gold uniform that Arran did not recognize. But then, he did not care about the man's identity — what he sought were his insights, and only battle would reveal those.

The strange Ranger was skilled, and he lasted nearly an hour before bowing out in exhaustion, bestowing a wealth of knowledge upon Arran in the process.

Arran could see in the corner of his eye that the man handed over a fat purse to Kaleesh after the fight ended, and a brief grin crossed his face before he turned his attention back to the crowd around them.

"Who's next?"

More fights followed — dozens, then hundreds, and finally more than Arran could remember. He faced both soldiers and Rangers, as many from the Wolfsblood Army as not, stopping for neither night nor rain. Only when he needed to eat did he briefly pause, and even then only reluctantly.

Yet the more he fought, the more eager he grew. Because with each new opponent, he found himself gaining new insights, slowly filling in the gaps that still remained in his understanding.

As the days grew into weeks, Arran found that he no longer saw opponents when he fought. Rather, what he saw were collections of insights, each of them different from the last, and each with new things to teach him.

Occasionally, he vaguely noticed voices — Kaleesh's, he thought, and sometimes Sassun's — urging him to rest or eat between his fights. These, he ignored. Each new fight brought him another step forward, and seeing a long-awaited path lit up before him, he did not dare pause for fear that it might vanish.

Even with the path before him clear, however, he did not succeed in gaining all the insights he recognized. Some were too advanced, too far developed to comprehend with a single glance. Others, meanwhile, proved too alien, too far removed from his own understanding to be absorbed.

Yet for every insight that he failed to grasp, there were a dozen that he took for himself, and though most of them could only barely even be considered nascent insights, together they formed an ocean of knowledge.

As he fought, Arran could feel waves of exhaustion push at the corners of his mind, and he was distantly aware that his body was losing some of its strength. Yet enraptured as he was with the knowledge that continued to pour into his mind, he ignored these sensations, his thoughts fully focused on the insights that still lay ahead.

He did not know how long this continued, nor did he care. By now, he was long past the point where time was of any concern. Instead, all that mattered were the insights he pursued.

But slowly, Arran began to realize that the previously plentiful insights were growing sparser with each new fight. While his opponents held no less knowledge than before, more and more of it was knowledge he'd either already gained or had failed to grasp.

He did not let this discourage him. Although there were fewer new insights than before, there was still plenty of opportunity for him to solidify the insights he already had.

More days passed like this — or were they weeks? he distantly wondered — until finally, Arran found the path ahead of him growing murky. Although he knew that there was still much to be learned, the way to learn it was no longer clear, and he felt some desperation as he realized that he no longer knew how to proceed.

Yet just as despair was beginning to set in, a new opponent stepped forward to face him. And as he laid eyes on this opponent, his eyes went wide with anticipation.

Though he no longer recognized whether the person before him was even a man or a woman, much less what they looked like, what he did see filled him with excitement.

While his previous opponents had only possessed loose collections of insights, what he saw in this new foe was something completely different — numerous insights, tightly woven together, forming a vast tapestry of knowledge.

In some distant corner of his mind, Arran realized that he was facing a Knight, and that sliver of a thought caused him to react immediately.

For the first time since arriving in Knight's Watch, he called upon the full power of his fused insights.

The sensation briefly threatened to overwhelm him. Although he'd already succeeded in fusing his insights earlier, what he had possessed before could barely be considered a puddle compared to the sea of insights he now controlled.

The feeling was a strange one — a level of control he would once have thought impossible, as if he was fully attuned to the world around him, with even the slightest move he made the result of a thousand different insights all joining together.

But wondrous though the feeling was, he had no chance to linger on it, as the Knight attacked an instant later.

For a time, there was nothing Arran could do but defend. Though he'd gained many new insights and had now fused them all together, his opponent possessed numerous insights as well and clearly had far more experience in combining them.

Yet somehow, Arran persisted.

Even if his opponent was the more skilled of the two, Arran was not without advantages of his own. For a start, his strength was greater than his opponent's, as was his connection to his weapon. And more importantly, his true insights into binding and severing continued to empower him as he fused them with the others.

At first, these advantages were only barely enough to keep him from being defeated. Yet as the battle drew on, he became more familiar with his opponent's movements, and it wasn't long before his earlier panic faded, finally giving him the chance to observe what was happening.

In a sense, he thought, it was as if he was fighting two battles at once.

The first of these was the physical battle — two warriors exchanging blows, their swords endlessly meeting as they sought to defeat the other's defense. This was a familiar thing for Arran, and here, he easily held the upper hand.

The second battle, meanwhile, was the one between the insights that guided their weapons. And this was where the Knight's advantage lay.

Although Arran was both stronger and faster than his opponent, the Knight's every movement contained a sliver of what could only be called perfection. Each strike was like a flawless version of itself, without even the slightest fault that Arran could see.

Yet as he recognized this, he also saw that there were limits to this power. While each of the Knight's strikes might be flawless, none held more power than the Knight's body could grant them. And even if the Knight's every move was free of fault, that did not mean those moves were the right ones.

Rather, Arran realized, what his opponent had was a level of control that went so far beyond mastery that it almost resembled magic. But in the end, control was all it was — control built from the fusion of numerous insights.

But if such control would have seemed impossible to him just a year earlier, now, he knew that he was already close to achieving it himself.

He already had sufficient insights, and he had already discovered how to fuse them. All that remained was to learn how to fully wield that power. And for that, there was no better teacher than his current opponent.

Arran took a deep breath, then focused his mind fully on the Knight who stood before him.

It was time to take the final step in mastering his insights.