Lost World-Chapter 41: Master Greaves

Later that night, Yamamoto finished up and went to sleep, as apparently, Garrick didn’t come back that night. He made sure to lock the door and take out his key in the event Garrick came back later.

The following morning, while he was still in his room, a knock came on the door. He opened it to find a younger guild member standing there. He looked like one of the clerks from the administrative office.

As soon as the door opened and the boy saw him, he spoke, out of breath almost. "Message for you. The branch head wants to see you, he says its important."

Yamamoto was a bit surprised. "Did he say what it’s about?"

"No, just that you should come to his office when you’re available."

Yamamoto thanked him and the boy scurried off.

’Urgently, but come when free...’ thinking about it, he decided to get it over with before going on with his day.

He put on his clean clothes, the old raggy ones, and made his way to Tormund’s office.

On getting there, the door was open, and Tormund was sitting behind his desk.

He glanced up when Yamamoto knocked on the doorframe.

"Ah, Yamamoto. Good, come in. Close the door."

Yamamoto did so, then took the seat Tormund gestured to.

"Kenneth told me about the goblin nest," Tormund said, setting aside his ledger. "Said you held your own well enough for a first team dungeon." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Saying nothing, Yamamoto nodded.

"Well, anyway, that’s not why I’ve called you here this morning. I was thinking about what you said before, about being self taught. You see, that might become a problem later on, for you of course." Tormund said.

"I agree."

"Here’s the thing about being a Weapon Specialist, class, equipment, and levels only take you so far. Real power comes from mastery. Without proper foundation, you’ll never reach your potential, and in this line of work, that limitation will get you killed."

"I understand," Yamamoto said. "What do you suggest?" He asked.

"Well, that’s why I called you here." Tormund stood, retrieving his coat from a hook. "I’m taking you to Master Greaves’s dojo. He runs the finest sword school in Mashlow, training some of the best Swordsmen in the southern region. I have a working arrangement with him—guild members can train there at a reduced rate. If you show any talent, you might just get a lot out of him. So in the end it still depends on you."

"How reduced?"

"Normally, his standard training costs fifteen gold per month. For Iron Vanguard members, it’s five." Tormund opened the door, gesturing for Yamamoto to follow. "Still expensive, but worth every copper if you’re serious about improving."

"And the guild covers this cost for free?" He asked as he got up.

"You can cover it yourself if you like, and you will have to. The guild only covers for the first month."

They walked through the guild hall and out into the afternoon sun. As they navigated the city streets, Tormund continued talking.

"You joined the guild at a good time, you know? Iron Vanguard isn’t one of the largest guilds this side, but we have influence. When you wear our pendant, doors open."

There was pride in his voice, and Yamamoto realized this was important to Tormund.

"Master Greaves has worked with us for three years now," Tormund continued. "He’s... particular about his students. Not everyone makes the cut, but if he accepts you, you’ll learn more in a month than you could in a year of self-teaching."

They turned down a side street in the artisan district, passing workshops where the sounds of hammering metal and sawing wood filled the air. Finally, they stopped before a large building with weathered stone walls and a simple wooden sign that read "Greaves School of the Sword."

’Quite the fancy name.’ Yamamoto thought to himself.

When Tormund had mentioned a dojo, Yamamoto had expected something along the lines of what he’d seen in old martial arts films from his previous life—tatami mats, sliding doors, maybe even students in traditional garb. Instead, the entrance led into what looked distinctly like a training ground for Spartans rather than delicate swordsmanship.

After making it to the building, Yamamoto found the main hall to be spacious and open, with high ceilings supported by thick wooden beams. Weapon racks lined the walls—longswords, shortswords, sabers, rapiers, broadswords—but notably, Yamamoto didn’t see a single katana or anything resembling Eastern blades. The floor was hardwood, scarred from years of training. Several students were practicing forms or sparring in pairs, their movements sharp and disciplined.

At the far end of the hall, Yamamoto spotted a familiar figure... It was actually the scarred man from his adventurer registration!

Back then he only glanced at him and didn’t pay much attention, who would have thought that that serious looking man was this Master Greaves?

Greaves was in his fifties, built like an old oak—solid, weathered, unmovable. His face was a map of old battles, with a prominent scar running from his left temple down to his jaw. He wore simple training clothes and was currently correcting a student’s grip on a practice sword, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"Greaves!" Tormund called out. "Got a minute?"

"Greaves? Isn’t it a bit disrespectful not to call him master Greaves?" Yamamoto asked.

"Haha, despite having only being partners in business for a few years, we’ve known each other for longer, though, not particularly close." Tormund said, brushing off Yamamoto’s concern.

Greaves looked up, his expression shifting to recognition. He dismissed his student and approached, moving with the economical grace of someone who’d spent decades mastering their craft.

"Tormund. What brings you by?" His eyes flicked to Yamamoto, and something in his expression suggested he remembered him too, though he gave no indication of it.

"Brought you a new student. Yamamoto Odinson, newest member of Iron Vanguard." Tormund clapped Yamamoto on the shoulder. "Self-taught swordsman, level 8, good instincts but no foundation. Needs proper training before bad habits cement."

He studied Yamamoto for a while, then, "Hmm," Greaves said noncommittally. "Your guild’s last referral was a waste of time, lazy and entitled."