[backstory] Serendipity
Everyone begins as a Two.
It had been the first thing he'd been told, but the armory of the Suit of Clubs was the perfect place for a world-class sabreur to keep his head down until he learned the lay of the land. If it meant he needed to be a dogsbody for a time, Dafydd would live with the rank until it could be remedied.
It worked, too. For a month and a half he spent his time cleaning and sharpening an astonishing assortment of bladed weapons, some of which were hundreds of years old. Eavesdropping was easy as a Two, too, and he was contented with this status quo. Until the day he met his first opponents.
The Three and Four came in together, chattering and posturing, and after an internal debate Dafydd had made his presence known. There had been laughter when they'd learned he was a Two. The Three was only recently elevated. He could hardly remember what it was like to suffer the indignity of being a Two. They'd gifted Dafydd with only their ranks - he never learned their names - before the Three suggested Dafydd face off against them.
Dafydd didn't know whether or not the pair had been in their cups, but he didn't give them time to reconsider. His left side was weaker than his right, but he'd seen the arrogant, inexperienced way both Three and Four had handled their own swords. The sabre was at his left hand anyway. He caught it up, pointed it at the Three and challenged.
The first fight barely put him out of breath.
He was satisfied with the single increase in rank but in a rage the Four challenged him and came forward before Dafydd had even recovered. He had no choice but to switch hands.
***
"What happened here?"
"Who the hell are you?"
Dafydd looked up from cleaning two layers of blood from the sabre and smiled.
"Dafydd. Four of Clubs."