Valentin stood upon the muddy ground of a clearing near the longhouse. The smell of the previous night’s rain filled his nostrils and his boots sank slightly into the soft mud. The overcast clouds made an incomplete blanket and stray beams of Ortus’ light penetrated to the ground below.
Fingers tightened around the wooden shaft in his hands and he got into position. He moved his body into the stance that Gilles had taught him in the sparse lessons they held in secret between chores. He held the end of the staff out in front of him and readied himself against the straw stuffed bag nailed to a tree. He glanced to his left to see the elderly deggan, Hrost, taking silent note of his stance and form.
“Show me what you know,” Hrost ordered and crossed his arms.
Valentin lunged forward and poked at the mock human. He had always been enamored with the sword and begged Gilles to teach him using the weapon. The staff was to be used as a substitute of a spear and the thrusting motions was not something Valentin was accustomed to. He stepped back and stabbed from range. He stepped from right to left adding pokes and prods. Uncertain of what it was Hrost was looking for, Valentin started to improvise moves, mimicking some of the more flamboyant moves that Gilles would show him. The boy hoped that they looked as good as Gilles’.
“Stop.”
Valentin placed the staff at his side and caught his breath, he was surprised of how much practice would take out of him. “How did I do?”
“Well I believe you when you said that you never used a spear before,” Hrost remarked with a sharp tongue. “You had no idea what to do with it, just poked and flailed around like some sort of mummer. However, your footwork was good and without much flaw; better than most novices. I have enough to work with to get you where you need to be. Your uncle at least did that right.”
“Can I show you my sword skills now?” Valentin was eager to impress Hrost with his preferred weapon.
“No, you will master the spear first,” Hrost admonished lightly. “Only when you succeed, will I consider allowing you to expand your arsenal.”
Hrost spoke with bluntness to his words that felt hopeless to argue against. The elderly warrior still stood with a youthful poise and his corded muscles were clearly seen through his clothing. He moved into a stance and Valentin attempted to emulate it the best that he could. The feet felt natural but the arm positioning felt slightly off compared to how he was shown how to hold a sword.
“Did Ferron learn the spear first?” Valentin asked curiously as he widened his stance.
“He learned much of the way of the spear but never achieved true mastery,” Hrost replied with better remembrance. “He always preferred to employ brute force with his hammer. He said there was pageantry in overwhelming power, but all I see is gratuitous violence.”
Valentin swung his staff envisioning there was a maul on the end. It cratered the imaginary armor that it contacted and his fictional foe crumpled to the ground in pain. He could hear his instructor sigh in disappointment.
“I see you are not impressed by the weapon. Very well, I will have to show you the final results of your training.” The warrior bent down and tossed a wooden sword Valentin’s way. “Strike me with your sword and I will forgo spear training.
Valentin picked up the sword turned towards Hrost who had already taken a defensive stance a few paces away. The warrior held himself in tranquil stillness in his posture. Hrost took deep breaths and Valentin almost felt as though he could see the energy he inhaled travel over the body and into all of the extremities.
The boy took some exploratory swings at the warrior who lithely dodged the attacks without much issue. He had yet to attack back and Valentin used the warrior’s benevolence to try to push his assault forward.
Hrost walked backwards casually under the meager pressure that was being inflicted upon him. Valentin remembered back to his practice duels with Gilles and offered a combo of attacks that were blocked by the staff or ignored entirely. As he readied his next attack, Hrost did not take a defensive stance, instead he moved into an aggressive position. In that split second, Valentin hesitated, unsure if he should defend instead.
Nothing happened. At least to Valentin, he did not see more than a slight movement, a twitch of all the muscles in the warrior’s body and a small cascade of sparks. Then, intense pain formed in his abdomen as though he had been stabbed through. He looked down in shock to see there was no such wound and Hrost’s staff was held loosely in his hands. The boy collapsed to the ground wheezing for air that refused to enter his body. Eyes moistened in the pain but did not form true tears.
He was lifted to his feet by his instructor. His feet were unsteady and he collapsed on the old man. Hrost supported the boy’s diminuitive body without much complaint. An earthenware jug was procured and uncorked by Hrost who offered it to Valentin once his breathing had stabilized.
“Drink this, it will help the wound heal quickly and abate the pain,” Hrost instructed.
Valentin placed the jug to his lips and took a large swig of the pungent concoction. It was a bitter and aromatic flavor that he struggled to swallow. The pain in his stomach did little to ease the process of forcing the drink down. Finally, he got the brew down and returned the jug to Hrost.
“What happened?” Valentin asked in a strained voice.
“I used spear mastery and favor to deliver a blow to incapacitate you,” Hrost explained rigidly. “Are you impressed now or do you require further demonstration?”
“That was incredible,” the boy wheezed. “I barely even saw it.”
Hrost chuckled, pleased with the change in the boy’s attitude. “The spear is ubiquitous, it is the foundation of armed combat and owned by every footman. The way of the spear is to strike down an opponent before a fight can truly start. To see their eyes in bewilderment of what had transpired as they collapse to the ground. This is what you will be capable of if you follow my instructions faithfully and with discipline.”
Valentin knelt down and retrieved his spear. He got into the pose he remembered Hrost taking up against him. He struck the staff forwards from this position and the end shot forward naturally.
Hrost nodded, “Good, you will be practicing strikes every morning with me until I find that you are ready for the next step.”
Valentin was shown different poses and postures to take within combat. He tried to commit the feeling of the pose to memory. How it should feel when one steps forward, how long the step should be, and the direction the foot should be facing. Valentin performed the same strike over and over into the straw dummy.
“To use the spear is to use speed and precision,” Hrost informed, pacing behind Valentin to see the movements from every possible vantage point. “Find a spot on the dummy and only hit that exact spot. Once you hit that spot ten times consecutively, choose a new spot.”
Valentin’s arms felt weak by the time he had been cleared to aim at a second spot. They felt as though they were not attached to his body when he gained permission for a third spot. He had been sorely mistaken that it would be a simple task to hit the same exact spot ten times in a row. He felt as though he stabbed forward the same way every time but the tip of the staff would move to a slightly different location. Whenever he missed, he would hear a sharp remark from his instructor to reset the count and try again. When he had eventually triumphed the first set of ten, the praise he hoped for was instead a bark to move to a new spot.
“That is sufficient for now,” Hrost ordered after Valentin finished his third spot. “That will be the basis of your combat training. We will also be training your body and spirit.”
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“And how will we do that?” Valentin inquired.
“I have some ideas but you can worry about that tomorrow,” Hrost grinned what Valentin believed to be a sadistic grin. This man seemed to be the type that reveled in hard work. “You must have a strong body and spirit to be called a true master. To train your spirit, I will instruct you on how to harness your favor.”
Hrost’s explanation on how a novice learns to harness favor was similar to Darri’s: harness the power in the center and transfer it to the part of the body that you wished to use. However, Hrost offered breathing techniques to aid Valentin’s efforts.
“It can take many days for someone to harness their first scraps of power,” Hrost informed, being just kind enough to avoid potentially discouraging Valentin. “I want you to do this when you have time to focus and meditate. However, I will give you a few moments to practice what I just explained.”
Valentin thought a very intriguing thought. He would withhold the knowledge that he had already been practicing and then make Hrost believe that he picked up on it so quickly. He turned his back to the man and gave a devilish smile.
He would get the praise that he deserved, one way or another.
Using Hrost’s breathing, the boy summoned the power by the count of four; the fastest that he had done to this point. He kept the breathing pattern consistent during the transition into his right arm, fingers still wrapped around the staff. The energy traveled into upper arm and started to spread into the rest of his limb, the tiny sparks tickling his arm. He gripped the staff and lifted it higher. What should he do with it to surprise Hrost? Destroy the dummy? Attack him directly?
Achoo!
Hrost sneezed the earth shaking sneeze of an elderly father and Valentin’s arm unloaded the full energy of his cultivation efforts. The staff was flung from his hands and flew into the forest at high speeds before colliding with some unseen tree. A loud crack of the staff shattering into pieces greeted the pair.
Valentin turned sheepishly to face his wide-eyed instructor, unsure if he should address what just transpired. Valentin scratched the back of his head and made a face of embarrassment and discomfort.
“I’m going to need another practice spear,” he said with a voice dripping with embarrassment.
“Right,” Hrost mumbled to himself. “Well done, that was amongst the fastest that I’ve ever seen. It seems that your rumored ability holds merit.”
The bewildered pair made their way back towards the longhouse. Nary a word was exchanged between them. Valentin squirmed in the silence, unable to read whether or not the elderly warrior had been impressed or furious with what had occurred. It was a short walk back into the longhouse that stirred with activity.
“Be back in that clearing at the same time tomorrow, regardless of the weather,” Hrost ordered before going his own way through the longhouse.
“Yes, Instructor,” Valentin confirmed but the man had already departed.
The occupants of the longhouse regarded the boy with looks of curiosity. Ferron had not announced his verdict on the mysterious addition and gazes of interest followed his every movement. It seemed that regularly cleaning and a mended jacket made him appear as a new person. It was a thought that he found quite peculiar.
Not wishing to be the object of the village’s rumors, Valentin scurried towards the back of the longhouse and towards Ferron’s room.
He was intercepted by a sharp call, “Valentin. Boy.”
Valentin looked into the crowd and saw Deggan Hubert motioning for the boy to join him. He moved over to the man and noticed four familiar faces in his circle with him. One of the faces caused his heart to freeze. They briefly made eye contact and the woman quickly looked away. Valentin swore that in the brief moment that the side of her face she was hiding was discolored and swollen. The other three sat silently, not really addressing him.
Valentin was offered a cushion and the boy hesitantly obliged. “Did you need something from me, Deggan Hubert?”
The man shook his head. “I have no particular request to make of you. I just wanted to relay my appreciation from yesterday.”
“Your appreciation? I’m not sure what I did,” Valentin answered sheepishly.
“How modest, I can see why someone was smitten with you,” Hubert responded with a teasing chuckle that made Valentin flinch reflexively. “No, I know that you only spoke up for my benefit. It was you words that turned Ferron’s displeasure away from me. I don’t know how it is where you’re from, but that means something to me.”
“You knew that?” Valentin asked nervously.
“Yeah, everyone knew. You were shaking the whole fucking time,” Hubert laughed at the memory of the boy’s discomfort. “Besides, I asked these three and none of them had the same story as to why I wasn’t made aware earlier. The important thing is, Ferron dropped the topic after that and I’m no longer being considered as incompetent.”
Valentin wasn’t sure what to say in response to the Deggan, so he just nodded instead. Where was this going? The fear exuding out of the four warriors that had found him was unsettling. Their normal air of power and confidence seemed to have been squeezed out of them and they stared at the floor instead of looking at the boy. What happened last night?
“So what do you want to have happen to them? I can kill all of them if you want,” Hubert offered courteously. However, his face told a much more vicious story; one that spoke of a cruel exuberance in enacting such punishment.
“What? Why?” Valentin said, surprised at the words that contradicted Ferron’s.
“Well they completely disrespected a boy of noble upbringing,” he said with a wink. “I even heard it got romantic, but I wonder about that. Are you in love, Valentin?”
Valentin felt uncomfortable in the presence of Hubert. The man appeared to be looking for permission for violence. While he did wish for punishment, Ferron had already instructed him not to seek it. He could tell, Hubert would not be administering it out of consideration of Valentin. Did he want Morna to die for her actions? Did he want her beaten or shamed? What did he want from it at all? What was an appropriate retribution?
He had heard about a case through Vincent of a well-bred daughter being forced upon by a stable boy. They apparently castrated him. He hadn’t heard of cases involving the regular peasantry though. However, Ferron’s words from yesterday ran through his mind. Of course he wouldn’t, they didn’t mean anything to those graced at the top. They would only look after their own and ignore the rest.
“Gervin and Robert didn’t do anything. In fact, Gervin was reasonably kind to me,” Valentin informed.
The two men gazed up with relieved faces, seeing their path to exoneration through the boy. Gervin exhaled deeply at the words while Robert looked shocked by his pardon. His expression, that was normally quite sharp, softened at the unexpected mercy.
“Alright, get out of here,” Hubert ordered, dismissing the pair.
The two men didn’t waste any time scrambling away. However, before fully fleeing the audience, the two bowed towards Valentin and Hubert.
“So the other two are guilty of something?” Hubert questioned with a tone bordering on joy.
Valentin chewed on his cheek. A golden opportunity was laid out before him. However, Hubert gave him a worse feeling than even Morna provided. He couldn’t help but feel that he would, somehow, owe the man for the service. It was a debt that he could not afford to take.
“Charlon kicked me sharply in the ribs and intended to kick me in the face if Morna had not blocked it. Getting roughed up in return should be appropriate. As for Morna.” Valentin thought for a moment. He saw the woman offering him sidelong glances while covering her wound. “I haven’t decided. I just want distance from her while I think it over. Please ensure that she doesn’t talk to me until that time.”
Hubert looked slightly disappointed but not wholly dissatisfied. “You hear him, Morna? If I catch you around him without permission, we will be having another chat. Leave.”
Morna offered a quick look to Valentin before leaving the group. Valentin tried not to meet the gaze as the woman left. He didn’t want to think about her at all right now and was just thankful he was going to obtain some space. Now Charlon remained as the only condemned man. His eyes were alight with indignation to be the only one punished for their actions. Valentin was surprised that he did not feel much in the way of pity for the man, not for the kick he received, but for how he had treated Bassett. Would this beating cause him to lash out further?
“Well, I don’t exactly think that I’ve repaid my debt to you,” Hubert commented with a fairly straightforward expression. “If there is something else you’d like to ask of me, I will see it done. Provided it isn’t too much. Until then, I hope that we continue to have a nice relationship.”
Hubert reached his hand out for Valentin to shake. The boy tentatively reached out before clasping the warrior’s hand. While Hubert gave Valentin an uncomfortable feeling, he felt that it would be worse to decline and potentially insult his act of goodwill.
“Could I ask you for a favor, Hubert?” Valentin asked, already knowing exactly what it was that he wished for.
“A favor, so soon? You important types don’t mess about, do you?” Hubert chuckled. “What is it that you want done?”
“Well, the group of refugee kids that I was hiding with since I arrived treated me very well and I’d like to do something for them. You see, they are mistreated by the village and even some of the warriors here, especially Bassett, and I’d like for someone to watch over them.”
“I see,” Hubert said, making a complicated face. “You’ve bore witness to these mistreatments?”
“I have and it has displeased me greatly. They’ve been starved, beaten, and forced upon by all manner of people here. It infuriated me to watch and there was nothing that I could do about it. With your help I can fix it.”
“So you want me to have my deg step in if they see the group being harassed?” The deggan asked for confirmation.
Valentin nodded.
“I can do that, however, with the matter of Bassett. What if those acts were consented to by him?”
Valentin regarded the question with confusion. Why would Bassett ever consent to such things? He never seemed to enjoy any of it and was only doing it to protect the rest of the children. Valentin, confident that this situation wouldn’t happen, decided to answer Hubert’s question.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” Valentin responded uncertainly, not willing to commit to a potentially exploitative agreement. “They must not be harmed any longer.”
“Don’t worry,” Hubert said with a cordial smile. “I will take good care of them.”