The sun had started its tactical retreat but the sister moons weren’t ready to take their positions. Orange, purple, and blue were all mixed with broken bits of large clouds. Kenan shared the same sentiment with the nightly celestial bodies.

Whatever mental preparedness he put to use. It was shattered by a growing ball of anxiety that infected everything it touched. Kenan wasn't sure how to proceed. How to endure. While Doco led him to the horse circle, the walk reminded him of just how badly his body ached. It wasn't ready for another session of pain provided by his uncle. Further, his mind didn’t have the capability to withstand it either. He felt and was broken. Pieces scattered about. Like the wind had carried the most fragile parts away. He didn’t think he could build himself back together. Not in time.

The distance passed quickly. His uncle stopped and then started to turn. He froze, Kenan’s torso and legs went rigid while he brought his knuckles to his side. Doco looked at him with a similar cold frown. His eyes went up, and down. Then they rolled. “None of that right now.”

Kenan tipped over with surprise, he was telekinetically caught and put upright. “W-wha… huh?” The words escaped him because even they couldn’t form with any sort of understanding.

“That's for the morning. Here, take this.” A stick shot up from the ground and stopped in front of Kenan. It wasn’t something from a tree but a crafted staff. It was simple, round at the tips, dark brown, and about half his height. “Go on. Grab it.” Kenan did as instructed and the magical force that kept it aloft retracted its presence. It had heft, but not heavy.

“Do as I do.” Doco had a stick too. It was decidedly different. Black but it wasn’t smooth. Like there was a rough bark or questionable. A little oblong with one end being thicker than the other. It almost had a shillelagh shape if it wasn’t so long. “Follow what I say.”

Slowly, Kenan’s uncle got into a stance. He had his feet shoulder width, and knees bent. Doco had a grip with one hand over and the other under. His head turned sideways, brought his weapon in and then out. Like he had jabbed something, but the strike was in slow motion. “Slow. Make sure to take a step forward.”

Kenan followed the motion. He knew it was wrong, at the very least it was awkward. Doco walked over and had him slide his forward foot more, changed where he gripped, and pushed his shoulder forward more with the extension of his entire torso. In the first few moments, it was agony. His muscles screamed, but their yells were quickly stifled with relief. The built-up pain in his calves and thighs bucked. Then dissipated. All of the protest from his shoulders, back, and neck were washed away as their contractions were reversed and stretched.

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Doco went back into the position. “Our bodies are complicated. It’s taken much of the scholar's wisdom, a huge portion of a surgeon's experience, and the power of the Magia Coagulum to understand how it worked.” Doco slid his back foot forward to match his other. While he raised his staff up and above his head.

Kenan followed. When his arms and weapons reached the apex, his back built too much pressure and cracked. The release sent shivers down his spine. Doco minutely corrected the stance with his words, but it was overall correct.

In a slow, precise, and controlled arc, Doco chopped down so the staff as a whole was parallel to the ground. “When we train, we break down our muscles. It takes time for them to build back up. The food we eat and the water we drink help to reconstruct, but we must do more. First, we ripped and broke, then refueled, and now we must bend and test.”

Kenan swung down. “Too fast, too sloppy. Next time, slow it down.” Doco remarked. He brought the staff back and twisted his grip. Then pushed for a strike the way from the left. For a moment he paused. As if his hand glided instead of touched, he reversed the grip of his backhand and slid the staff to an attack from the left. His nephew the steps. Kenan fumbled a bit but paused and ended at the right spots.

“As it is, this training is only partly for the body. Your mind will have to be sharpened. You first will learn of the body. You will know how they work, and why they work. You will learn about your mind and your emotions. We will talk about morality, survival, and death. I’ll teach you about the system of the metaphysical. How and why mana works and moves.”

For the next hour. Kenan saw, learned, and practiced. The combo was simple to memorize. Stab, chop, swipe, and swipe. But to transfer recall to action was not as easy as Doco made it look. Kenan’s hands missed the staff more than once, the action between the chop and the first swipe was a mess which led to a bad second swipe.

Doco continually gave his nephew tips, corrected his stance at places, and ensured that he did everything at the proper speed. Between that was a non-stop stream of information about the body. The heart, it’s rhythm. How that worked in concurrence with the lungs to bring the rest of the flesh oxygen-rich blood. Doco explained the veins beneath the skin that sent the blood up and down.

It had been a test that Kenan wasn’t ready for. His body forgot its struggles in an effort for perfection while his mind boiled with a tested temperament. He was frustrated, half because the information from his uncle started to slip away, and the further the heat rose in his head. The harder a headache pounded the sloppier his staff drill was.

“Aye. Stop Ken.” Doco called. “Stop for the night. Put it down.”

Kenan nearly shoved the staff down out of anger. “I dislike this stick.”