Free The First Blade of Ostia by Duncan M. Hamilton Page A

it, but he wanted to savour the moment, to allow his anticipation build until finally he came upon his own name, contained somewhere toward the back.
    There were several columns written in black ink in a neat, uniform hand; rank, name, year of graduation from the Academy, number of duels fought, points scored, and an arrow with a number beside it, indicating their position in the previous edition and whether they had moved up or down. Number one was Panceri Mistria. In the excitement and fuss of preparing for his own duel, Bryn had missed Mistria’s most recent matches. Eighteen perfect scores. It seemed that he was destined to hit the magical one hundred and twenty-five. No one could stand in his way. In his most ambitious flights of fancy, Bryn saw himself stopping that meteoric rise, although he realised it was unlikely they would meet in the arena for months or perhaps years, if ever.
    He flipped to the next page and scanned it briefly, some familiar names, some not so. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he flipped all the way to the last page. He ran his eyes down the list quickly until his heart leaped before his brain had the chance to register what his eyes had seen. There, five lines from the bottom of the last page, was his name. It had a star beside it indicating that he was a new addition to the Ladder. The rank didn’t matter to him, only the fact that there, in black, waterproof ink, was his name. Bryn Pendollo.
    He felt an enormous sense of satisfaction as he stood staring at the page for what must have been an inappropriately long time. The clerk cleared his throat, still looking at Bryn with his languid eyes.
    Aside from fulfilling the lifelong ambition of seeing his name on the Ladder, he did have another purpose in visiting the Bannerets’ Hall. The Ladder would also give him an idea of who his next competition would be. Tearing his eyes away from his own name, he ran his finger up the page, reading each name and trying to remember them.
    As with the first two pages there were names that he recognised because they were his contemporaries. Two had been with him at the Academy, but had not gone on to the Collegium as Bryn had after graduating from the Academy. They had spent two years on the duelling circuit but had clearly not prospered if their names were so close to Bryn’s. At the bottom of the page was Nava Nozzo’s name.
    He felt conflicted by the sight, both guilt and pride in the knowledge that he was responsible for the small downward pointing arrow next to his name. He flipped through the next few pages, wondering how many matches it would take him to reach and pass the familiar names on them. Again he ran his finger along the list, recognising a name here and there, until he stopped at one that he was very familiar with. Amero dal Moreno.
    He turned back to the page that his name was on, checked the number and went back to Amero’s listing. He was ranked two hundred and forty places higher than Bryn, despite not yet having fought a duel. Where the number indicating his duels fought and points won should be, there were the letters ‘FR’. Bryn stared at the listing in bemusement, again for what must have been too long as the clerk cleared his throat once more. ‘FR’ meant ‘foreign ranking’. When a duellist from another country travelled abroad to test his skill, he could, with the appropriate letters of reference, be admitted to the foreign Ladder at a place commensurate with his home ranking. To the best of Bryn’s knowledge, Amero had not been out of the country in years. Having seen all he needed to, but no closer to understanding, he closed the folio and slid it across the countertop toward the clerk.
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    T he next major event in their schedule was Amero’s first duel. Bautisto had decided to refine his approach to how he would prepare them both for their matches. He intended to alternate their fixtures, so that he could tailor their training to address the needs of