It felt lighter in his hands than he expected, and as he twirled it around in his wrist, he was struck by a feeling of rightness. More than a knife in his hand, a blade like this seemed to stick. It seemed to flow with all the naturalness of a river, as though it was born to sit in his palm.
"I take that to mean you're satisfied with it?" Greeves said, watching the boy toy with it, completely enamoured. He was half glad to see him like that, for he'd expected him to offer a significant amount of resistance towards the moved-up Hobgoblin date. "The day after tomorrow then, you're going to bring me victory, aye?"
Beam finally spared the merchant a glance. "I'm not exactly in good shape, but I do not intend to lose. Make no mistake though, merchant. The victory won't be for you."
Greeves waved his hand dismissively. "Dedicate it to whoever you want, I care not. As long as I can reap its rewards, it's still very much my victory. So, upon your slaying of the beast, you can merely tell me where the corpse is, and I will have Judas take care of the rest. But, y'know, if you fail this, know that the matter won't end with only your death."
Beam's eyes narrowed at the threat. "And what can you do to me that will be worse than death?"
"Well... I wonder," Greeves said, flashing a malicious smile as he toyed with the fruit knife on his desk. "Since doing my little tasks for me, it would seem you've been getting close to the villagers, mm? Some more so than others... One of them, ah, yes. Pretty little thing. Very pretty – I can see why she caught your interest, though I do wonder why you caught hers..?
But, either way, I will have my money regardless. Whether it be by this Hobgoblin corpse, or whether I get that girl sold."
Beam's eyes flared dangerously, they widened to the point of madness, the anger more than evident. The temperature in the room felt as though it dropped. With the sword in his hand, he could have cut down the merchant there and then. He felt the presense of Ingolsol closer to him than he ever had. Dark fingers clawed at his heart and bid him to act.
Just barely, he resisted, though he had to calm himself with a vow that the merchant would pay. He inhaled deeply, restraining himself just for a moment. "...I won't forget that merchant."
"If I win, there isn't a problem," Beam said, holding his sword at the ready once more.
"As you are now, you will not win," Dominus said with a sigh. Beam ran forward again, this time attempting a thrust with his sword. Dominus used his palm this time to knock the incoming blade off course, but Beam had expected that. He twisted, then brought his sword down in an overhand slash, followed by another, then another, then another.
But no matter how many times he swung, his sword did not find its target, as Dominus easily avoided it.
"You will not beat it," Dominus said again, "you are still weak. You are forcing progress where none yet exists. You will fail, and you will die."
"Then why did you let me change my test in the first place?" Beam asked in irritation, as he fought to regain his breath.
"Because in a few days, you might have been capable of it. Being such a fledgling as you are, a few days is a world of difference, in terms of what can be achieved in progress. And yet your wound has weakened you," Dominus said.
"But I came so close to victory before," Beam protested. "Just the slightest bit more and I would have got it."
"And now you are weaker and you are slower," Dominus said. "In what area do you suppose you've improved, such that you can now succeed where in the past you have failed?"
"Strategy..?" Beam said weakly, though he still had no idea how to apply strategy.