The Tale of Defeat
by Elaerina

Joelle spat out dirt mixed with blood as she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. She blinked dazedly as she raised her head, and barely had time to register the identity of the approaching fist before its knuckles, with all their impossibly hard edges, slammed into her face again. Joelle collapsed, groaning, and shocked that Ralserin had hit her again so soon. It was against all of the rules to hit an opponent before they had a chance to resume their fighting stance.



As she lay in the dirt, deciding that for once her jaw was not broken, Joelle turned her head to look for the brawling master. As she suspected, his back was turned. Ralserin never played dirty when the master was looking. If only the master would intervene just once! If only Ralserin could be just a little bit slower, or just a little bit smaller. Joelle sighed and pulled herself to her feet once more as the bell signaling the end of that day’s training session finally rang. ‘If only’ would get her nowhere.



Joelle had been thrilled when she had been accepted into Master Brevery’s mercenary training camp, where it had quickly become apparent that she had a true talent for unarmed combat. She was elated when she was paired with Ralserin, the top student in their class, for the brawling sessions. Her elation quickly turned to dismay, however. Ralserin’s talents far outstripped hers, and he was meaner than a war troll.



Joelle finally mustered her courage one morning, and approached Master Brevery, who was speaking with a new recruit. “Sir?’ At the Master’s brief nod of encouragement, Joelle continued, ‘I would like to request a new brawling partner, sir. All of the other recruits regularly rotate partners, but I always get stuck with Ralserin, and he is by far the strongest of us. It just seems unfair, sir, that I never get a chance to win. Besides, Ralserin never follows the rules. Why, he broke my jaw yesterday when he hit me before I had regained my stance!”



‘Is that so?” mused the Master, rubbing his cropped, graying beard. “I see. So, you never get to win, aye? And you think Ralserin is unfair, aye?” Joelle nodded emphatically after each question, and then froze mid-nod as the Master fixed her with an icy stare, the amusement fading from his eyes.



“Lass, always remember that there is much to be learned from defeat. War is not about being fair, nor about getting your chance to win. You will train with Ralserin until that lesson has been learned.” His eyes softened marginally as he continued. “Besides, who do you suggest I throw in the ring with Ralserin? Erlanya?” He laughed and ruffled the new recruit’s hair as her green eyes first took in Joelle’s swollen and purpling jaw, and then widened in horror. “I think not. Do not bother me again with this business.”



From that day on, Ralserin seemed to get twice as mean, and Master Brevery always seemed to have his back turned at crucial instants, such as the moment after the ending bell rang, that allowed Ralserin to get in his worst and dirtiest blows. Joelle raged silently as Ralserin scoffed at her where she lay in the dust, and plotted her revenge as she lay on the empath’s tables, recovering from the training ‘accidents’. Slowly, she learned to use her speed to counter his strength, to never let her rage spur her to carelessness. Slowly the matches became more even, and her trips to the empaths less frequent. As the summer passed Joelle lost, and learned, and waited.



Then one day, as Ralserin lunged in to grapple her, his foot slipped on the grass, and he fell to his knees before her. Quick as lightning, Joelle grabbed his outstretched arm, and twisted it round behind him. Ralserin gasped and fell still. They both knew that, with one more twist, Joelle could dislocate his arm. He had done the same to her not three days earlier. Joelle glanced over towards the Master. Unbelievably, his back was turned. Her chance had arrived!



“So, Ralserin,” she hissed in his ear. “Over the past months I have received nothing but betrayal, deceit, humiliation and pain at your hands. Now I find myself the victor, and it is my turn to teach you a thing or two.” She felt her rage build as she remembered every insult, every ‘accident’ that left her gasping for breath or clutching a broken bone. She listened with satisfaction as Ralserin panted with terror. She watched as two drops of sweat fell from his chin to dampen the dust in small circles in front of his knees. Now was the time.



And, suddenly, Joelle felt her rage subsiding; she knew she could not bring herself to harm Ralserin. She could not abandon her morals. She wanted to be able to remember this moment of triumph without any dishonorable actions to detract from its pure joy. For as the rage subsided that is exactly what she felt in its stead - pure, unadulterated joy.



Snarling with amused self disgust, Joelle moved in front of Ralserin and, with a twist and a twirl, raised him to his feet, where he stood unhurt, and staring at her in confusion. ‘Come on then, lout.’ She said, moving back into a fighting stance, ‘It seems like today is your lucky day. Let’s get back to work.’



Master Brevery glanced back over his turned shoulder and smiled as the two began wrestling once again. Both Ralserin and Joelle had learned something important from defeat that day.