fantasy

Quest System Earth: Initiated, A Review

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Hello, and welcome to a review of “Quest System Earth: Initiated,” a book by Michael Lopez. As it says in the Afterword, this is the first book in a series that chronicles the adventures of Jonathan Galas. I will likely be reading and reviewing the other books in this series, and as a slight spoiler for this review. I am excited to do so.

The Beginning

At the start of the book, we see Jonathan drop back into reality after spending many years on a faraway planet called Franesh. There, he was gifted with something he calls “The System.” The System is heavily based on RPG User Interfaces of D&D fame. Games like Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, or “The Witcher,” or other video game RPGs will use a similar idea to what happens here. There are 5 stats: Strength, Stamina, Agility, Intelligence, and Perception. Each of these is directly linked to the user’s human attributes of the same name. Jon says at one point, “…if you distribute the 25 points evenly, you’ll add 5 points to each attribute. Believe me, you’ll definitely notice the difference of a 5-point increase.” As you progress in The System, the real world becomes easier and easier for you as well, at least that seems to be the implication of the story.

Jon, whose name the author spells with an h, confronts his father first, who does not believe that his son has returned to him. After some drama, Jon convinces them that it is he, their son, who has been missing for 6 years. Jon uses the funds he accumulated on Franesh in tandem with the abilities he gained there, which include a ridiculously high agility stat, to gather funds, off which he subsists for the rest of the novel. Basically, if you think, “Where did Jon get that?” The answer is likely Franesh.

There is a family reunion with his siblings, some of whom believe and accept Jon back into the family, but one brother, Tim, denies it and uses his resources as a federal agent to begin investigating his brother. While he is doing that, Jon reunites with his childhood friend, Abigail, a.k.a. Abby. He reveals the truth to her, at least in part (we’ll get to that), and with the revelation of the system, Jon offers her the chance to grow stronger like him so she can protect herself and her family.

The Middle

The next stage in the book is old-school RPG dungeon hopping. With some new friends, Carl and Gary, who are other players of the System who were taken to a different world for a much shorter time than Jon, and are thus much less powerful than he, Jon and Abby enter a few dungeons and clear them with the intent of leveling Abby up so she can defend those she loves and her own life.

After a particularly harrowing dungeon, where the quest that they all received basically said, “New Quest: Survive.” The team pops out of the dungeon, Gary and Carl go home, and Jon and Abby have a heart-to-heart. Jon goes into detail about his time on Franesh, where he spent many years. He leveled up, became part of the community of the world, and eventually even married a village girl. His life was looking up until a princess from a nearby kingdom got jealous of the woman Jon had married, tricked him into leaving them alone to go be a hero, and sent a team of men to raze the village. Among the dead were Jon’s wife and child. This is why he had rejected Abby when she basically told him, “I’ve been waiting this long for you to come back.” She ended up telling him, “I can wait a little longer.

I appreciate the fact that the romance between Jon and Abby is clearly something that will likely be explored in future installments, but right now it is enough for them to just be friends, adventuring and taking down dungeons together.

During all this time, Jon’s brother, Tim, has been trying to take this thing that calls itself its brother into captivity. Every attempt has failed, hilariously. In the last attempt perpetrated by the U.S. Secret Agents, Jon breaks everyone’s arms and hitches a ride with them back to their HQ. There, he confronts his brother and tells him, in no uncertain terms, to back off. He says, in response to Tim asking what would have happened if Abby was hurt: “I would have killed all but one of the agents earlier, then followed the survivor back here and destroyed the building.” -pg. 147

The brotherly conflict in this book is satisfying and realistic in my interpretation. As someone who grew up with four brothers, how the conflict is resolved is amazing. The fact that Tim decides, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, is his best bet, is very understandable. Hopefully, we will see more of Tim going forward.

With his brother dealt with and Abby informed, Jon can move into the endgame for this book. There is still some black-suited agency coming after him, but it’s not American.

The End

The endgame here is Abby’s little sister, who, up to this point, has been pretty background and not important, but becomes, arguably, the focus of the last three chapters. Save chapter 19, the second-to-last chapter, which focuses on a brand new character whose existence was only hinted at earlier in the book. Melanie, Abby’s sister, is called “a Natural” in chapter 20, and we learn that she takes to her new powers very well. Killing slime and horned rabbits comes like second nature to her. By the end of the dungeon, she had leveled up several times and was excited to keep going.

I feel like now is a good time to bring up a gripe I have with the book as a whole. The parents of these children are brought up to inform the reader that they definitely do exist, but they are never consulted for any major decisions. Jon is basically an Adult; his trials on Franesh forced him to mature much faster than he should have needed to, so I understand his independence, but Abby and Melanie are very much children and still dependent on their parents for housing, clothing, food, and the rest of their being. So when Jon offered, and Abby so quickly accepted The System, I cringed. Shouldn’t the parents have a say in whether or not their children accept this deadly responsibility? Then they ask Melanie, a FIVE-YEAR-OLD, if she wants to be like a video game character. Meanwhile, Jon knows and understands the concept of “Player Killers” very well. Putting this five-year-old on the target list of blood thirsty villains. I hope this is addressed in the next book.

In chapter 19, before Melanie gets her chance to shine, a self-proclaimed PK’er or Player Killer, arrives on the scene. He is a Russian diplomat by the name of Aleksei Kozlov. He calls out Jon without taking a moment to consider that there may be someone more powerful than himself. Jon puts that illusion to bed quickly and tries to end things without bloodshed, but the Russian pushes the point and pays for his arrogance with his life. One of the Men in Black who was there working security for their diplomat tells Jon that he has left Russia defenseless against the gates. Jon fixes this by granting this patriotic Russian The System and the ability to fight the archways in defense of his motherland.

At the end of the book, we know there is more to come. Jon’s killing of a Russian diplomat is caught on camera, and we are left wondering what will come of this. The Feds, the Russians, and the local police all want to bring Jon in, but none of them have anyone strong enough to make Jon bend.

Review:

Final review:

“Quest System Earth: Initiated” by Michael Lopez is a fast-paced action story written for a younger audience. The formatting stands out from among its English peers, but I have not read many Korean or Japanese Light Novels to compare this one to. There are some editorial issues, such as spelling, that could be addressed as well. However, despite its flaws, I am looking forward to reading the next adventure of Jonathan Galas and the “Quest System”. If you are looking for a very quick and easy read that will keep you turning pages way past your bedtime, give it a read!

Final Rating:

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Be sure to watch the video version of this review on my YouTube Channel, linked below!

Was Your Laptop Stolen?

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Sadly, yes. But now I have a new one! It’s true, about a month ago, on a Thursday evening, a homeless person in my town broke into my car and stole my laptop. I have been without a portable laptop computer for about a month now, but finally I have one again. While it isn’t my old machine, it will do the job! I lost no progress on any major project I had been working on outside of the cover design of The Shards of Arthur’s Shield. I have since made it anew and even better than it was. You can see it below:

How cool is that? The quest begins on May 22nd via Amazon on Paperback or E-book. If you buy it on E-book the copy is yours to do with what you will!

I plan on being a bit more active on this blog here in the next few weeks as we approach the release date and I look forward to my next release coming December 2026!

More magic, more myths, and more adventure is on the way!

Early-March Update

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January and February have come and gone. Let’s set some goals, shall we?

Social Media Goals

Novel Goals

> X Growth
As per my last goal, I smashed 220 in January and made it to 240+ by mid-February. By the end of February, I had made it to 256+ followers on X, and now I sit at 259. My goal for March? 270 followers by the month’s end.
> A Monthly (formerly weekly) Short Story
I haven’t written a short story in a minute. I plan to change this to a monthly short story of about 2-3k words.
> A Weekly Newsletter
This, too, will be changing to monthly with the March edition out this Saturday.
> Daily Motivational/Non-fiction blogs
These are being discontinued for the time being. I would like to make one per week at least, but I can’t make any promises.		The Shards of Arthur’s Shield <
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I got my editor’s feedback and am now implementing it in one last read-through. I am also writing the Epilogue as we speak.
The Early Years of a Great Mage <
The time has come. The Student will begin to learn the ways of magic. (Coming December 2026)
Brothers’ Feud <
The Brothers’ Feud has had a name change and has been split into three books. The First of which will be coming in Spring 2028

How’s it going?

February was hard and stressful, with school, edits, and work, I have barely given myself time to breathe. But now, a rhythm has been discovered, and I believe I will begin to regulate again. I cannot wait to start writing the first in my first Trilogy, coming out this December. The name has changed, but I will keep “The Early Years of a Great Mage” as a working title.

Hello, I am still six-feet above ground

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Good morning, afternoon, or evening (just covering my bases). I have returned to the land of blogging and am excited to write this post. It might just be the coffee flowing through my veins as I sit at the coffee shop I so love (Cartel Roasting Co. in Tucson, AZ, come check it out, seriously), or it could be a sudden burst of inspiration from… uh… nope, coffee is all I’ve got to explain it. What gets you guys writing? Does the coffee stop the yawning long enough for your eyes to focus on the page, too, as it does me? Let me know in the comments.

In other news, the Kickstarter is live! Check out “The Shards of Arthur’s Shield” on Kickstarter today by clicking here (or on the picture to the right) and clicking the link you find on that page. The most expensive option is less than a triple-A game. This is all about building trust and hype, so tell your friends and “Trust me on this.”

I will be posting a progress update today, too, as it is the first Tuesday of the month. But know that the book is nearly finished. I will be doing one last read through with the notes from my editor in mind during the first half of March and will finalize the formatting by the end of march and I should have author copies in my hands sometime in April! I still can’t believe this is real, can you? I am finishing the rough draft of the Epilogue today, called “Jonathan’s Rest.” It is a heavy-hearted short story with which the story of Thomas will conclude and allude to what is coming in December this year ;).

Mid-January Update

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2026 has just begun! Let’s set some goals, shall we?

Social Media Goals

Novel Goals

> X Growth
I am well on track to reach 220 Followers on X before the end of the month. I am at 213 currently.
> A Weekly Short Story
I plan to edit or write a short story at least once a week to release alongside my Newsletter. So far I am 2 for 2
> A Weekly Newsletter
So far I am 2 for 2. I am considering changing this to a monthly newsletter.
> Daily Motivational/Non-fiction blogs
Of 13 days this year I have posted 7 Non-fiction blogs as of this blog. If I post one tomorrow that will keep me at about 4 per week.		The Shards of Arthur’s Shield <
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I have an appointment with my editor on the 21st to go over a game plan. So I have till then to finish getting the book up to first draft standards.
The Early Years of a Great Mage <
I will be placing this on the back burner until I have TSOAS off to a pro-editor.
Brothers’ Feud <
I will be placing this on the back burner until I have TSOAS off to a pro-editor.

How’s it going?

January is just beginning, but with December behind me and the whole of 2026 before me? I am feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. Please pray for me if you are a praying kind of person.

An Assassin is Brought to Justice

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A Short Story by A.B. Timothy

The grass of the forest floor tickled the soles of Fenreir’s feet as he stalked his prey. These forests had been Fenreir’s home for decades now, and he had called a little village his home for almost as long. When they found out about his hunting skills, they quickly welcomed him into their fold. Now, as he aged, his skills had begun to wane, but he still insisted on carrying his own weight. He told the village priest that he would hunt until the day the gods hindered his movement. Unless he was unable to hoist himself from his bed in the morning, he would hunt and provide for this place that had sacrificed so much for him.

There was a great buck before him now, a male of the commonly hunted deer species in these parts. It was likely twice the size of Fenreir himself, and if he could take it down and bring it in, it would feed half the village. Other hunters had offered to attend him on these hunts, but he felt they were only trying to pity him. A decade before, he had taken apprentices and had taught them the ways of the hunt: how to stalk, how to read the forest, and how to kill, but now they wanted to pity the old man and help him when he was the only reason they knew their blackberries from the deathfruit.

He raised his bow and drew back the fresh string on the old bow. His biceps tensed, and his brown eyes focused. His slim body tightened to steady his breathing for the killshot. The leaves of the bush he hid in did not so much as move in the wind as he loosed his fingers. The arrow flew true and pierced the chest of the great beast. Fenreir knew from experience that the buck was dead, even if that fact took several seconds to register in the brain of the great beast.

At that moment, a blood-curdling cry split the air from gods knew how far away. The hunter whipped around to look for the source of the sound; the knife slipped free from its sheath on his waist purely on instinct. When he saw no immediate danger, he looked up, through the canopy of the forest, back the way he had come, and saw a pillar of smoke rising high into the clouds.

The buck watched as his killer leaped from the bush and ran through the foliage away from the kill. He groaned and fell forward into the dirt as he died.

Fenreir was back on the outskirts of his village, Konray, and orbited the place he called home, looking for the danger. Finally, through an opening in the homes that let him see straight to the village center, he saw that the temple was burning and the priests were on the ground. The whole village center was filled with villagers. Fathers, mothers, children, holy men and women, and elders watched as a company of soldiers surrounded them and held them all at swordpoint.

“…my father!” The man who looked to be in charge of the lot of soldiers held a knife to the throat of their high priest. “He killed the man who allowed these pagan practices to persist in our Great God’s land. He killed the source of the mercy you benefited from so greatly.” Fenreir recognized the voice but thought it was wrong. This man was dead; the hunter knew that. Could this new man be related to that old voice?

“Tell me where he is, or all of your holy ones die with their pagan temple.” Fenreir had moved through the alleyways to get close enough to see the fear in the eyes of all the women and children. “Tell me!”

Fenreir recognized the garb of the soldiers. These were imperial men, soldiers from the capital itself. What were they doing out here?

Fenreir called out, stepping out of the shadows, “Stop! Don’t hurt the old man!” He realized he was speaking in the Imperial tongue, which none of the villagers even knew. That was probably why they weren’t responding to the demands of this nobleman.

“Rek orj, thun, ojkat!” the high priest told Fenreir. It meant, “Don’t concern yourself, old hunter, run!”

In their tongue, Fenreir told the priest, “I can’t do that.”

“You, hunter! You would take this old man’s place?” the nobleman demanded.

“Who are you looking for?” Fenreir asked the man, his hands raised as he continued to approach the man.

“Take those head coverings off, man, let me see your face.”

“It seems neither of us can get a straight answer from the other,” Fenreir said as he took off the coverings that covered his forehead and mouth while he hunted. A breeze caught his hair and blew away a bit of the sweat that had been coating his forehead.

The Nobleman threw away the elder, unharmed, Fenreir thought from the lack of blood, and pointed his sword at the hunter. “It’s you! I’ll kill you! Guard, give him your sword. I will not kill him unarmed like some filth-ridden assassin.”

One of the soldiers near them, with a confused look on his face, tossed Fenreir his sword. A few of the other guards had stepped forward to help their lord kill the old hunter. “Stay back!” The Nobleman insisted, “This kill is mine, just close ranks, ensure he does not run. Rats are known to run when their lives are in danger.”

“Who are you, boy, and why do you desire death?” Fenreir asked the noble.

“You don’t recognize me? They say I have my father’s eyes. Look into them and see if you find the eyes of the man you killed.” The Nobleman took a step forward and brought his blade down to strike at the older man.

Fenreir parried the strike and side-stepped another blow. The old hunter was trying to look into his opponent’s eyes. Could it be true? Could some poor orphan that he had made in his old life have found him all the way out here? Then Fenreir saw in the rage-filled eyes of the Nobleman the eyes of the old Emperor. That made him stumble. His sword was knocked aside, and he felt a gash open on his chest. He fell to his knees.

“Know me! Ye people, know your emperor. I am Jonathan the First of his name.” Emperor Jonathan picked up Fenreir’s weakening body by the hair. He dragged the old man before the villagers, who had treated him like family for decades. “I name this man, Fenreir the Subtle, assassin of the guild, slayer of my father, and reuiner of the Empire. Know you of his past! I demand that you know! Would any stand for this man?”

“Fenreir, do you deny any of this?” asked the village elder.

The old assassin weakly shook his head. “I cannot.” Fenreir remembered it now. His last kill was over three decades ago. The Emperor of the Silver Throne. The only witness was the man’s son. That boy must have made him and spent his life hunting him.

“I speak for my people, my lord; we did not know of this man’s treachery. Do with him what you will, we will not resist you.”

“So, you savages do speak!” The man pointed at the gathered villagers and commanded his soldiers, saying, “Kill them all and make sure Fenreir can see each die. The Empire will no longer suffer the pagan to live.”

Fenreir felt his lifeblood seeping out onto the dirt. He would die with his people. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Emperor Jonathan hoisted the dying man back to his feet. After the horrors subsided and all the village had been slaughtered before the assassin, Emperor Jonathan spoke, “Look at them all, look at their innocent pagan blood, know, assassin, that this blood is on your hands. Now, with your final thoughts being the knowledge of the cost of your murderous ways, go and be with them in the fires of eternal damnation.”

Fenreir felt a sharp pain in his scalp as his hair was given to someone else to hold. The Emperor stepped in front of his father’s assassin. No more words were spoken, and the last sight that Fenreir beheld was that of his old life catching up to him.

January Goals!

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2026 has just begun! Let’s set some goals, shall we?

Social Media Goals

Novel Goals

> X Growth
I intend to reach 220 Followers on X before the end of the month. I am at 190 currently.
> A Weekly Short Story
I plan to edit or write a short story at least once a week to release alongside my Newsletter.
> A Weekly Newsletter
I plan to put out a weekly Newsletter covering what I wrote for my blog that week and what I did in pursuit of my creative goals that week.
> Daily Motivational/Non-fiction blogs
I plan on putting out 4 or 5 blogs every week discussing writing, editing, and life.		The Shards of Arthur’s Shield <
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My goal for January regarding this novel is to have the whole of it edited to my standards so I can send it off to a professional editor by the end of the month.
The Early Years of a Great Mage <
I will be placing this on the back burner until I have TSOAS off to a pro-editor.
Brothers’ Feud <
I will be placing this on the back burner until I have TSOAS off to a pro-editor.

How’s it going?

January is just beginning, but with December behind me and the whole of 2026 before me? I am feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. Please pray for me if you are a praying kind of person.

It’s all about sticking to it! Feel free to subscribe to this blog to see how my works progress, and also send your email my way so I can get you added to the weekly newsletter.

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨

Fortis: The Return of the Vulture King, a Review

/ abtimothy / 1 Comment

By: A.B. Timothy

Fortis: The Return of the Vulture King, by C.K. Kesterson, is a book filled with vibrant fantasy, explosive fight scenes, and relatable characters who feel real. Whether you are looking to buy a clean adventure book for a middle-grade reader in your life, or you are looking for an easy-to-follow, fun adventure to go on, this book is for you.

Kesterson does an amazing job writing boys who feel true to life. I remember what it was like being a tween and feel as though both Lucian and Tomas embody those memories with ease. C.K. Kesterson clearly draws on his experiences as a father to put his sons in the story, giving us compelling, if sometimes less than intelligent, characters. Granted, knowing how I was as a young boy, the lack of intelligence makes the experience that much more authentic sometimes.

The companions who come alongside the heroes throughout the story are very well written and true. They don’t just automatically go along with what the boys say because the boys are the main characters, and the plot demands it. They push back when two random children show up on their doorstep and try to get help from them.

The villain of the story, the titular “Vulture King”, is suitable for a middle-grade fantasy story. You will not see the depths of Jordan’s “Dark One” or the imbecility of Wiley Coyote, but you will also never feel safe in the presence of the villain, which is perfect.

I highly recommend this book for parents looking for a clean adventure for their children to read that isn’t one of the classics from the 20th century.

How Warsingers Fight

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A Short Story from the World of “The Battle of Johanna Valley”

By: A.B. Timothy

Zennith was a young lad sitting under the tutelage of a veteran warsinger. His attire was that of the standard youth, a plain brown tunic with trousers to match. His eyes were a deep, almost black, blue; his face was round and pudgy; his hair was blonde and well-kempt. His mother refused to let him out of the house if a comb hadn’t at least touched his hair.

The young man sat in a semi-circle that surrounded their teacher, the veteran warsinger. They all sat on the ground in an attempt to be as connected to the earth as they could manage inside this building. Around them were decorations that reminded them they were in school, tools of math, books of language, and implements of science. But now, all the young boys in the school had gathered here to learn from a master, just as the young girls of the school gathered in a different classroom to learn from another teacher, their secrets.

That day, the warsinger, Master Henry, was teaching the children a new song. This song was a song of protection. Henry began in a low baritone, as he had spent the last week teaching them all the fundamentals of Warsinging, strength is found in the deep bass notes. “Oooh shield strong, shield wide, brush our enemies away and put them aside.”

The melody stayed in the lower register of young Zennith’s voice. He sang the song and tried to follow his teacher’s vocal footsteps. The veteran’s voice became manifest in their air, a blue shield sprang into being, its color was a deep, barely translucent blue. Zennith knew that this meant the shield was strong and unlikely to break. When the young singer tried his own, it too became manifest in the world. A small blue shield floated in front of him, almost the same color as the sky, very easy to see through. His voice was not deep enough, his notes were pitchy, but the air heard his song and granted him protection.

Henry looked around the small semi-circle of young boys who were trying their part in the song of protection. Several of them managed to create a little shield, like Zennith, but others were not getting low enough with their voices, or their notes were too pitchy. He sang the song for them again, and again they all tried. They did this call and response for an hour before Henry called it for the day.

“You all have the gift of Warsinging, children, but some are tenors, and some are basses, and some are baritones. Take young Jor, his shield is light and you can almost not even see it, for his voice is naturally higher than most,” Jor blushed at first, but then Henry continued, “but now look at Zennith’s shield. Strong, and it got darker with each attempt, for his voice is naturally lower than most. However, next week, after I have given you your lore for the day, we will be learning a new song, a song of speed. I can say with certainty that Jor will be outpacing all of you before the day is out, and Zennith may be behind the group. This is not to belittle nor to bolster Jor or Zennith,” Henry explained, “rather this is to help you all understand. Each gift is different, but all are needful in the fight. Sopranos, altos? Those ranges are even more vital, some argue, than we bass clef ruffians. Your sisters or mothers may have learned some of those skills in school. Can anyone tell me what they do?”

A boy named Ramth raised his hand. Zenith knew he had three sisters and a very influential mother. “Yes, Ramth?”

“Well, sir, the higher voices are able to move things even faster than tenors, which allows them to bind wounds, light fires, and restart hearts,” Ramth said.

“Very good. This is why most hospitals will be staffed with alto nurses and soprano doctors. You will rarely find bass surgeons because of what some true basses have learned they can do with their gifts, but those men are rare.” Henry stood from his teaching chair and straightened his blue tunic, and swept the legs of his pants clean with a few brushes.

“That is enough lore and training for today, boys, now go home and be good sons.” Henry returned to his desk and began marking things off on a sheet of paper. Zennith stood and followed the crowd of students out of the classroom.

Zenith returned to his home, where he prepared for his extracurriculars. Mostly, his brother, who was five years his senior, would be home soon, and he would continue to teach his younger brother swordplay. It was good practice for Hock, Zennith’s older brother, as he was on the dueling team at the local youth school, and it was good foundations practice for Zennith as he hoped to join his brother on the team next year.

Hock was a tenor and ran in the yearly tenor race, so he had made Zennith promise not to use song in the duel. Duelists on the team had to wear mouth guards that muted them to prevent a tenor from merely outrunning a bass. Dueling was not about who could Warsing the best, but rather who knew the duel the best. This, they had been told, prepared the boys for real war. In those real battles, they did not wear mouthguards, but neither did the enemy; to tenors and basses used their voices to counteract each other. Shield walls grew from the ground in front of choirs of basses, and tenor soloists would have to run around the wall before they could close the gap and do any damage. At least, that’s how the stories went.

Zennith was practicing sword forms in the field behind his home when Hock arrived. The two brothers clapped their wooden swords and took their stances. Zennith was warmed up from the forms and Hock from the practice at school. They each put in their mouthpieces and went at it. Zennith was smaller, but sometimes faster than his brother, so he was able to win a few points, but the points that Hock scored were draining. Zennith received a bruise on his calf from a smack Hock gave him with his sword. The bruise drained his energy and sapped him of strength. It was less than five minutes later that Zennith surrendered the duel.

“You’ve got to work on defense. Your speed is good, Zennith, but if I can land those hits, your speed does not matter one bit.” Hock tapped his brother’s calf with the point of his wooden practice blade.

“Well, in a real fight, I’ll have my Warsong to defend me.” Zennith protested.

“And that’s why we practice with these,” Hock gestured with the mouthpiece he was still holding. “In a real fight, your only hope against a Tenor Assassin is your skill and instinct with the blade. He’d cut your vocal cords before you could get a single bar of a protection song out. Come on, let’s go again.”

They both took sips of water before putting their mouthpieces back in. Zennith attacked first. His sword flew from targeting one of his brother’s temples to the next, his hands twisting in the air. Finally, his brother caught his blade and threw it up, pushing Zennith back and pressing the offensive.

Hock pressed his brother hard, using up a reserve of energy he found to force his brother to practice his defence. To Hock’s pleasure, Zennith held his defensive line well. Hock tried all of his usual tricks and feints, but Zennith had been ready for each one. He stabbed at an opening in his brother’s right guard, but his thrusting sword was met with a sweeping reposte. Zennith’s blade knocked Hock’s aside and, in an impressive display, the young warrior brought his sword around in a defensive twist and put it right under Hock’s chin.

“I yield!” Hock cried, spitting his mouthpiece out. That made the score one-one. They each took a few moments to ready themselves for the inevitable tie-breaker.

They took their battle stances again and put in their mouthpieces. Just as Zennith went to move in, they heard, “Boys! Dinner!” They both sighed and lowered their blades; they would have to have their tie-breaker another time.