Noon hadn’t passed before long, each group guided by their personal teacher to accommodate for varied forms of training. Some were escorted outside into the courtyard, while others were taken to the fortress's interior rooms. None were more eclectic than the pyromancer division, which was made up of individuals from several groups and headed by a single instructor, Lady Igna Fairclough.
A long line formed behind her, all made up of young pyromancers. Kajin walked quietly and solemnly, belonging in the middle of the ranks and blending in without a fault. His body lacked the usual confidence he often exuded among others, yet he persisted, following his leader.
The gathering headed by Lady Igna was shortly to break from the darkness of the inner hallways, travelling to the outside; their route was marked coherent by the lush gravel path that lay before them, walking between the sites that had remained as training grounds for various purposes.
They were soon to pass through the gate as the young mercenaries patiently trailed behind, their route marked with familiarity. They were brought outside of the old fortress walls and soon having strolled up a verdant hill. The surroundings infested with plant life and veiled with the shade by the sizable trees, the trodden path they followed scarcely evident.
Through dense foliage of the forest emerged a serene temple accommodated by the occasional call of birds and the sound of rustling leaves. The air remained refreshing and cool, carrying with it the smell of pine trees. As the seasons changed, the temple's stone terrace became covered with golden brown maple leaves, the wind assisting in carrying it through.
The towering temple loomed tall, its sloping roof adorned with intricate wood carvings faded due to time. The centrepiece of the patio was a four-metre-tall statue of a man with a toned body, as evidenced by the statue's exquisite carvings. The statue is dressed in a stunning red-painted stone gown, and its chiselled face contorted yet with a slight grin. Its final distinct feature being its interlaced arms, which accentuated its proud stance.
The quietness of nature that had once muffled out the sounds of the stronghold, is once again broken by the voice of the leading instructor. “Prepare for the prayer ceremony.” Her voice sounded soft and melodic, barely breaking the rhythmic quiet of the woods and yet it carried a sense of obligation and responsibility, hinting at the boy’s sense of urgency.
They walked in front of the monument and kneeled down, as if part of a routine. The monument loomed over the young pyromancers, casting its bloated gaze and causing a sense of uneasiness between them. Unanticipatedly, Lady Igna kneeled behind her students, her armour revealing her relaxed look as her long brown hair just touched the plates on her shoulders.
The adolescent and the teacher clasped their hands together in prayer in a calm, coordinated manner, with their gestures staying silent. A murmur arose from the cohort and in unison they repeated the following words.
“O Great Valtivar Sól, provide thy warming grace, that our souls may be enkindled with righteous fury. In thy name, we smite the forsaken with thy Vel. Finding solace as thy loyal progeny. With steadfast pride, we dedicate our lives to thy sacred cause.” A brief break in their recital gave the group space to breathe.
"O Mighty Hime Ignis, from whose voracious flames we draw our strength. We lay waste to the accursed, engulfing them in a fiery torrent, offering them as sacrifice in thy name. Through thy blood, we spread thy dominion, returning to the divine realm in triumphant ascension." The cohort concerted, with great effort behind their words, they managed to chant the final piece to the prayer. The statue remained unfazed by their words, ever still.
Lady Igna is first to raise herself up, then the rest soon follow. In a quick pivot, the entire gathering turned in opposition to the motionless statue to face their instructor, patiently awaiting her next command.
Finally, she spoke her instructions. “Clear the area. Ensure that no leaves remain in the yard.” And with the utterance of these words, the boys started their work.
- - -
The cohort had been divided into two lines, each with around six members and facing opposition from the other line. The statue laid at the back-centre of their formation, visible from between the lines. The gathering sat still, calmly waiting.
Igna slowly walked in sight of the young pyromancers, each of her assertive steps echoing loudly in the minds of the participants. Her soft round face contorted as her lips opened, “Attention, young pyros.” She uttered, putting a spotlight on herself. “We will be practising sparking, so prepare yourselves.”
She cast a critical eye on her students, yet their focus remained unbroken and unaffected. Under the rhythm of her breath, she muttered, “Hm, good.” Not loud enough to be noticed. And in cadenced fashion, she added on to her previous statement. “Since you barely make for Initiate level, that’s the only technique that’s required of you to learn.”
Igna proceeded to lift her right hand, swiftly removing its steel gauntlet with the other. Her hand contrasted darker than the rest of her skin, especially the palm, it took on a crimson colour that blended with the skin at the forearm. She opened her palm in opposition to the heavens, allowing everyone to gaze at it. Her face slightly distorted again, this time with concentration. Her fingertips glowed with warmth and brilliance, a melodious crackling emerged from the centre of her hand.
Stunning sparks flashed out of thin air and through her fingers, as if they had been orchestrated in a joyous manner. In contrast to what was occurring on her hand, Igna showed no signs of suffering. Everyone peered in awe at the sight they had bore witness to, their minds filled with wonder and intrigue which served as a great contradiction to Lady Igna’s empty and desolate gaze.
“This will be your goal to reach by the end of today.” She remarked in a light tone, before closing her right palm, and with it the sparks stopped their dance. The boys’ heads were suddenly brimming with questions, yet none of them would be answered anytime soon because the pressing subject of sparking was their first concern.
Before they were able to show any movements, Lady Igna began speaking her enlightening instructions. “Attention everyone. I will require you to raise your right hand, right this instant.” Her words sounded tough and demanding, yet her voice gave a ting of compassion.
And so, each side lifted their right arm, in the manner that she had previously demonstrated. She returned to casting her keen look on her students, keeping a close eye on them.
With her hand remaining exposed, she once again repeated her previous set of movements. Casting an open palm to the heavens, her fingers had regained their brilliance and warmth. In contrast to earlier, she executed her manoeuvres faster, the sound of sparkling barely breaching the ears of the bystanders before ignition.
Instead of the peaceful sparkles on her hand, a full-fledged flame emerged in their stead. Squinting her eyes slightly upon calling forth the flame, only to return to her calm demeanour in mere moments. She didn’t hesitate before speaking: “Keep your hands raised…” A lull in her words allowed her to breathe. “Now, focus on my flame. Resonate your Vel with mine.” She remarked in a clear tone, trusting in her students.
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Her flame shone ever so brightly, the charred skin from her palm radiating with a slight glow. However, she had long since become numb to the ache. She eagerly anticipated the students.
It wasn’t long before the sound sparkling surged once more, this time from within the cohort. Her gaze averted towards the origin of the sound, turning her head to witness a lad of tiny stature with golden short hair amassing sparkles, but in an visibly unstable form.
She spoke again, hoping to guide the youthful pyromancers. “Remember, when in presence of your natural element, your Vel will naturally resonate.” She swiftly glanced around, awaiting for the next person to succeed. “Focus on the veil of your soul.” Igna’s guiding words echoing in their minds.
Despite this, Kajin’s thoughts were unaffected by their instructor's words, choosing to fixate on his own. How fantastic... Finally, we are getting into the practical. He assessed, preferring to avert his eyes from the ongoing spectacle.
His clear distraction was missed by Igna's thorough inspection of the cohort. He remained voluntarily absent-minded, only darting glances at the rest of the group's activities. However, he would spare but only a single gaze at the scorching flame, his eyes fixating for a pure second, enough to reflect the light on his eyes.
His pupils shrank, and his palm began its song, albeit an aggressive one. parks flew for a brief second before the flame ignited. As his hand began to catch fire, the crowd's attention was drawn back to him. In his futile attempts to stop the horrifying process of excruciating pain, he could only voice a high shrill piercing cry that echoed through the forest.
Falling to his knees, his cries only repeated. Being looked upon by his peers, their reaction was beyond lethargic, with the only one being with the power to diminish his pain gradually approaching step by step. The flame she had lit previously in her hand, long extinguished.
Standing over him, she stretched forward with her still exposed right arm, smothering the flame in a single breath, but the fire had long left its mark upon his skin. She lowered herself to meet him at his level, her soft voice loud enough for those nearby to hear, she uttered bearing a deadpan expression. “Rejoice, Kajin. Your affinity is great; Sol must adore you.” His exposed flesh peeking through his scarred right arm depicted his condition as he lay on the stone patio, wriggling in discomfort.
A new type of incompetent horror was carved in the boy's consciousness, and the eerie quiet grew oppressive, with the chirps of the bird proving to be the only hopeful melody to cleanse their minds from the horrific scene they bore witness to. Drained from their excitement, they no longer bore any thoughts of concentrating on their Vel.
Igna took note of the situation and hauled herself up, her armour plates clashing against each other, drawing the cohort's attention back on her. She spoke, “Return to your stations; whomever does not finish the sparking will remain in the woods until they do.” Her eyes shifted to the side, sending a final empty look at Kajin.
- - -
The sun started to set, the sky became veiled in an acute orange. The cohort began their march back to the stronghold, and the woodland became quieter by the second. As before, Lady Igna led from the front, her fair skin fusing with the colour brought on by the sun and her darkened armour popping out from her surroundings.
The sound of shifting gravel, bearing its origins from the striding cohort, contrasted considerably to the eerie calm and in turn making walking a little more pleasant.
Kajin chose to stroll behind the group’s main line, allowing him to dwell on the happenstance, with his bandaged arm becoming the main focal point of his sight and thoughts. His attempts to caress it turn futile because of the scorching pain that had been engraved on the back of his subconscious.
His grimace expressed all of his fears, although his mind remained muddled and complicated. They never taught us about affinity… He mumbled to himself, heaving a heavy sigh of dread, “Is this immense strength a gift or a curse...?” He raised his bandaged arm once more, dreading its sight.
The cloak of the trees vanished with every step and the clearing of the foliage refocused his attention on his surroundings; the fortress walls were within sight. The pure air was soon contaminated with the horrible odour of blood that they had all become accustomed to. The previously established clamour of cries and conflicts had suddenly fallen silent, leaving the stronghold grimly peaceful. Nonetheless, they marched without incident.
“Everyone,” Lady Igna spoke out unexpectedly, breaking the chill and commanding her men. "Return for the last meal of the day and proceed to your quarters." Her soft but hollow voice carried a sense of duty and obligation, leaving no doubts in her position of authority.
- - -
The mess hall became crowded one last time for the day and soon the pyromancers fell in with their individual groups, returning to their assigned body. The clamour of trenchers and shouts was not unusual. Undeterred by the noise, Kajin carried his own trencher and walked towards his usual seat, the platter itself containing fragments of mashed, unappealing food.
Invitations to sit near others were thrown at Kajin with the raise of the hand by other fellow comrades he happened to share this fortress with, but he took care in waving them off. His wandering gaze eventually landed upon the two unoccupied seats that stood out to him as well during lunch.
He paused in his tracks, unable to scratch his chin because his sole available hand was occupied holding the trencher, and started off in the opposite direction of his initial course, allowing his curiosity to take control once again. Through the cavernous halls echoed the murmurs and shouts of his peers; the last supper of the day had just recently begun, giving him plenty of time to explore.
Finally passing through the frame leading outside, he retraced his route from midday, this time veiled by the impending crescent moon's light and the company of howls originating from nightowls. His path, while not that bright, remained discernible and feeling the grass sway by his naked feet made him confident in his steps.
As he approached the little incline of the courtyard, his hearing faded into groans and grunts of exhaustion, while his view was slightly obstructed by the uphill forefront on his sights. But as he reached the apex of the small hill, his attention would soon be drawn to the two silhouettes of the boys making themselves apparent, who were absent from the mess hall.
One lay on the ground, eating from his trencher, while the other stood tall despite his diminutive height. His movements were in stark contrast to the haughty attitude he assumed, as he was unable to lift even the wooden sword in his hands. He smiled as he witnessed the scene, choosing to forget about that day’s painful training. With a wide grin, he ran up to the two, making sure his footsteps remained silent.
Reiziko gazed at the fresh night sky, discerning the time. Squinting his eyes to make observations relative to the moon's position, he maintained a tight focus. However, his train of thinking was abruptly interrupted by the horrifying sight of Kajin's purposefully squashed face.
“AAAH-” The situation appeared more severe than it was, as Vasil's productivity was disrupted by a high-pitched cry originating from Reiziko’s reaction. He swiftly pivots with the blade in hand, his golden hair failing to catch up to him, while pointing it toward Reiziko's direction.
Vasil yells "Instructors?!" in a frantic yell, as the velocity of his hair being whisked all at once strikes him in the face. While in reality, he will only be met by hysterical laughing from Kajin due to the absurdity of the situation.
Before he could respond, the point of his wooden sword plummeted to the ground as swiftly as he had lifted it, dragging him along with it. At that moment, Kajin’s reaction only intensified in opposition to Reiziko’s calm yet perplexed expression.
“You actually lifted it…” He uttered, confused at the achievement the frail boy had accomplished. Indeed, it would have taken far more days with Vasil’s current physique and pace in mind so to manage such a feat so early would have to be the work of a miracle.
“Oh, Anders... Have you been hiding this boy's incredible strength all along?” He inquired rhetorically, tilting his head towards the heavens and letting his short black hair fall to the back.