The House of Grey- Volume 2 by Collin Earl

Indigo voiced their collective doubt.
    “ Why is that so hard to believe? Everyone knows that Damion is amazing at pretty much everything he does. Why would this be any different?”
    “ Fencing and other martial arts are vastly different from your average everyday sports. They aren’t something you can just pick up and become amazing at. You need talent, timing, balance, technique and most importantly, a master…a teacher.  Sure, you can have all the talent in the world, but if you don’t have anyone to guide you, it’s all for nothing.”
    The girls’ faces reflected their continued confusion. Monson picked up the conversation.
    “ Martial arts aren’t just kicks and punches, or swords and staffs. They constitute a way of life, a way of perceiving the world around you. Damion, or anyone else for that matter, can learn the strokes and practice them until his hands bleed. But unless a person is taught how to think like a warrior, training your mind with your body, they won’t be able to reach the level they’re aiming for.”
    Monson’s gazed shifted towards Cyann again. “Cyann is a master, or really close to it. That wooden sword of hers echoes her heart’s strength and conviction. To be able to match her level, even for the briefest of moments, says that in some way, Damion’s heart and conviction are like Cyann’s.”  
    Monson stopped talking. Not that it mattered; he was not all that aware of what he was saying anyway.
    Artorius took over as Monson’s words started to fade out. His voice sounded unsure, as if he was still working through what had happened.
    “ In short, what Grey is trying to say is that Damion must have put in an enormous amount of work researching a style and creating a game plan to counter Cyann’s strengths. He had to have found a teacher to help him, as no one learns that fast without one. And finally, he must have put in countless hours of practice to be able to keep pace with her as long as he did. That’s why it’s so amazing.”
    A shocked silence followed as the words found their mark. Taris’ eyes went wide. She looked ruffled. Something that Monson, until now, considered impossible. Her friends whispered behind hands as a shared sense of awe settled over the table. They each thought about Damion doing all that just for a date with Cyann. Now that was persistence.
    “ Mr. Grey...hey, Monson, I mean….”
    The unfamiliar voice startled Monson.  He turned, looking down the length of the table. Ignace Ikeco was peering at him intently though her stare felt passive, glazed, almost numb. She spoke again, the rest of the group now staring at her.
    “ Can I ask you a question?” Her gaze did not falter and again her tone felt hollow.
    Monson did not answer, but put out a hand as if to prompt her to continue. She nodded, acknowledging his gesture.
    “ I was just wondering….” Her voice was quiet but with a hint of eagerness. “How do you know so much about…well,” she struggled to find the word, “everything? Are you a martial artist? How about your knowledge of history? Nobody normal knows that much about history. My father and I were there when you won your scholarship. How did you win a competition that is well-known to be rigged?”
    His jaw dropped. Talk about loaded questions! He did not even know where to begin. He did not know where the words and explanations had come from, he just knew these things. The words just came to him like a programmed computer, but he couldn’t say that, not to all these people.  And what did she mean, “rigged”? The Horum Vir competition was rigged? Then how did he win? How did he make it into this bloody school?  He did not know the answer to these questions any better than she did. What was he supposed to say?
    He remained silent for a long minute. The table was quiet—too quiet. It felt as if the rest of the cafeteria noise was hushed, like an invisible sound barrier surrounded their table.
    “ I can’t answer your