Willow

Felix recovered quickly. Magic had always allowed Willow to heal quickly, but it was a unique experience to preside over someone with the same ability. Felix healed faster than she did, which she attributed to his status as Bearer. He was supposed to be one of the strongest magic users in the world. It made sense for such things to work differently than they did with her.

He’d moved quickly back into his home, and all seemed as normal. He was desperate to leave his bed well before he was ready to, and it took Willow threatening him with her own magic to keep him there. Edward had roared with laughter at the threat, ruining any chance of the order being taken seriously, but Willow was happier that they were getting along then she was about being taken seriously. Willow knew Edward began speaking of Alva with Felix and it’d had a positive effect on his attitude, almost lighter and fluffier.

Edward had held off filling him in about the more serious topics until he was healthier. He’d been subdued the day Edward had finally filled him in on the specifics, the responsibility he had now as a Bearer. Willow had to admit it was a lot for such a young man to take on, and he’d need time to process it.

Regardless, once his health was considered up to it, Willow had arranged for Jonathon to escort him down to meet her at dawn at one of the training grounds nearest to their residence.

He came reluctantly, red-eyed, yawning and loudly complaining the entire way. Willow could hear him from the training ground as he approached, and she laughed easily as he came into view.

Technically, he was dressed, although his belt was loose and his tunic not tucked properly, one corner poking out. His shoes were slipping off his feet as he hadn't buckled them. Jonathon looked amused as he strode in with the boy, perfectly put together and studiously ignoring the glares the boy was sending him.

Willow shared an amused look with Agnes.

His father had filled Felix in on what was to happen that day, but from the way Felix spoke to her he seemed to think they'd be jumping straight to the fancy flourishes and parries. Willow herself couldn't really do anything fancy, she'd only ever fought against Richard and his particular style was more attack focused, very headstrong and forward. Being a broad man well used to heavy farm equipment, he required nothing fancy to overcome any opponent, although weak against anything with a strong defence. He was a fitting example of the local recruits within the Resistance, with little formal training.

Willow had taken Felix aside and explained the reality.

"This will not be like my classroom, Felix," She began, and his smile dimmed a little. "This is a very serious thing. We'll be working with real swords, and you can get injured. This training and how much attention you pay to it will mean the difference between life and death. I will not be so nice if you goof off. That means starting at the beginning. It will be boring, and your body will hurt but listen to me," Felix froze as her voice turned serious and she pierced him with a strong look. "This is important for you to learn and take seriously. You are a Bearer Felix and everyone here is relying on you to survive. Without this knowledge, you won't live. Do you understand?"

Felix gulped, "Yes, Willow."

Willow nodded, "All right then, come here." She rose and led Felix over to the blacksmith. She gave him a bright smile; he was here on a favour and no one else knew that he would be here.

A quick discussion about Felix’s new weapon ensued, settling on a simple short sword.

“How long?” Willow queried.

He shook his hand sideways, “Two or three days, I think. I'll let ya know.”

Willow nodded, and he shuffled off and Willow turned back to Felix.

“This sword is for later, when you have mastered the basics,” she explained, watching him deflate. “It is not a toy, and I will not have you treating it as such until you have learnt to respect it.”

“We will start with the dummies,” she pointed to the straw forms at one end of the grounds.”

Felix bounced excitedly as she handed him his simple, wooden practice sword but stilled as he felt the weight and struggled a little to hold it up, using one hand on the hilt and one hand flat underneath the blade. Willow hid her smile, picking up her own wooden replacement. The practice swords were deceptively heavy; weighted twice the weight of the regular short-sword Felix would use, specifically designed to build Felix's strength as he learned. The idea was that it would be easier for him to move faster when he did eventually switch to a true sword.

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“It's a single-handed weapon Felix,” she admonished, “Remove your second hand.”

“But I can't hold it up!” He protested and Willow shook her head at him.

“If you refuse, I will tie your other hand behind your back,” She threatened. “Lean the tip against the ground for now.” He obeyed, grumbling displeased.

Felix was a happy learner, but he hated to be corrected and Willow watched him get more and more frustrated as with every move she made, she would pause long enough to readjust his grip. He was still unused to the weight, and he stumbled frequently until Willow decided a different approach was necessary. He simply didn't have the arm strength for sword training.

She took the sword back, much to Felix's chagrin.

She led them further into the field and showed Felix how to do a proper push up and told him if he could complete ten, she would let him go. He dropped with Willow and pushed through. Willow did them too but finished well before Felix and she was quick to correct and discount a push-up if done wrong.

Felix's frustration grew and his face turned red from the exertion, but he did eventually do his ten then rolled over and flopped onto his back, breathing heavily.

Willow nodded to herself. This exercise had been more about working out a plan than any true training and from what she could see, she had her work cut out for her.

Squatting beside Felix, she congratulated him, “It'll get easier,” She promised emphatically. “You're done for the day. I'd suggest a nice hot bath for your muscles then a good, healthy meal now. Be back here tomorrow at the same time.”

He nodded miserably and Willow added softly, “You'll understand why this is important soon. I promise.”

He just turned his head and grumbled as he sauntered away.

Willow stretched. This was to be a long road.

The following day, she was early and, feeling full of pent-up energy, knelt to pull her own sword free of its sheath. Richard had made it for her. Nothing special except the innate familial connection.

She set about caring for it, pulling her whetstone free from her pouch. Once gleaming, she settled it back into its sheath and set about doing the same simple stretches her father had ruled her whole life with. She ignored the pang of loneliness thoughts of her father brought up.

It'll lessen the strain on your muscles, he had claimed, and Willow continued to follow the advice. Less damage was always good, right?

Once feeling limber and loose, she turned to the pells, set up in a row. They were constructed to rotate as they were hit, with large Xs on them, stating a good place to hit. One had the empty bag of a King's Guard's helmet, ratty and bloodstained, sewn onto it.

She took a deep breath as she focused and did a simple warm up, the dummy swaying and swirling with each hit. She pushed herself, moving faster and faster, taking out all the pent-up frustration, anger and hurt she had buried deep down behind her polite, empathetic exterior.

With a final lunge, she sliced through the dummy's arm and straightened, breathing heavily as it thumped to the ground and rolled away.

She jumped, sword rising to her front as she spun, only to find Jonathon and Felix standing there, having apparently been watching at least part of her performance. Felix was clapping wildly, calling out questions faster than she could make out. Carefully, she re-sheathed her sword and made her way over to them.

Felix was still bouncing excitedly, telling Willow how cool she'd looked and asking if he would one day be able to do that when Willow had smiled and interrupted.

“If you work hard, maybe,” She agreed. “But first we have to get you strong enough to hold the practice sword.” He immediately wilted as Willow set him to do his ten push-ups again.

He still struggled with the push-ups, although Willow reminded him to take his time and he was quickly blustering and on his back.

Willow had just smiled and encouraged him to sit up and handed him a skin of water, which he drank down ravenously.

Once breathing normally, Willow retrieved a bag she had brought with her and sat crossed legged next across from Edward and Felix and pulled out the content.

Today she intended to teach him some medicinal herbs. Felix had protested, preferring the physical activity to what he considered 'boring flowers’, but Willow was insistent.

When he continued to protest loudly, Willow had laid down the law. “You and I will be on the road alone, Felix. What will you do if I am injured and need you to help heal me? If you don't know what these plants are, you could kill me. What if we get separated and you need healing?”

He'd quieted after that and quietly, she had begun pointing out several plants, using Jonathon’s battle knowledge where she could continue to keep Felix's attention.

The days passed in this way. After a week, the push-ups had begun to get a little easier and Willow added three pull-ups to his workout.

Training continued to pass slowly, much to Felix’ frustration, as did the seasons and before long, Willow felt comfortable enough to begin using the practise swords. From their Felix's excitement flared and things grew easier, although he never submitted nicely to the more scholarly lessons Willow enforced.

Edward was invaluable in keeping Felix' attention, able to pull real-world applications for the various lessons that helped Felix see the necessity for such things.

Things seemed to progress well, and Willow focused on the small things. She knew what they were getting into, had long conversations with Agnes and Jonathon about the odds they were fighting. Willow was honestly terrified of the fact that they more than likely wouldn't survive.

But they had the best chance on the road, and the people had their best chance if she and Felix were elsewhere. It felt like a martyrdom conundrum, and Willow didn't examine it too closely. She just trained Felix as best she could, pushing aside thoughts that were perhaps too dark to fathom.

They were fighting in a war neither of them had started, had been born into the roles they would play. So, she played war games with Felix, showed this fourteen-year-old boy how to dance on the stage of battle, and hoped... hoped beyond all things that it would be enough.