It had been there for as long as he lived, hung up on the wall and left alone for nearly a decade and a half. Everything else in the house would slowly change over the years. Furniture would move, pictures would change. Toys once littered the floors that were now covered in dust. Yet the Chained Glaive would always remain on that wall, never touched by his father, and forbidden for him. When had it been taken? Did Fairrin take it? Was it stolen later on?
Ryke couldn’t see any signs of breaking or entering, but he also wasn’t much of an expert on that; or anything but forging, really. It was hard to tell between which dust had been there for weeks and which had been ‘disturbed’. He did quickly rush into a spiral of panic where he checked everywhere he could to make sure nothing else was taken- or if the Aurum Tree was damaged.
Which it wasn’t. When the boy bolted into the inner courtyard with Fromir in his hands he was greeted by the usual sight. The towering golden tree remained healthy in the middle, its glimmering roots spread throughout the earth like rivers and its crown filling the sky, leaves swaying in a strange rhythm that Ryke would almost call breathing. Fromir jumped from his hands and scurried on over to the tree, sitting at his usual place at its base, snuggling up in between the iridescent roots. The stone creature looked incredibly comfortable.
The courtyard was otherwise undisturbed, forcing out a sigh of relief at the feeling of the weight off his shoulders. Almost everything could be replaced except for this courtyard and its contents. This sentiment he seemed to inherit from his father kept him coming back every once in a while; even if he found it hard to accept that Fairrin ultimately left this place to him. Alone.
Approaching the Aurum Tree to gather Fromir, he felt the air he took in become heavier. Something about it felt sharp as it pierced his lungs, making every breath painful. His skin began to tingle like pins stabbing into his flesh, and he was forced to stand a few feet away in confusion. The tree had never forced him away before, and Fromir seemed fine. That can be chalked up to his companions' stone constitution, but the rest..
His head tilted as he looked up towards one of the lowest hanging branches and gently pulled a leaf from it, forcing its edge against his finger. Without much pressure at all, the leaf cut into his skin and drew blood. The rest of the leaf felt sleek and smooth like metal, only some slight texture at the ridges. Recoiling slightly, he dropped the leaf to the ground and looked at the tree again. Could plants have affinities too?
Animals? It wouldn’t be strange, considering Fromir definitely wasn’t a normal animal. Did it have a stone affinity, then? Would it just be Earth? Would that be why he liked the tree so much? Ryke decided he’d be back at least once a day to let Fromir stay with the Aurum Tree, and maybe to figure out what prompted the change. That’s absolutely the whole reason.
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A few days later, his heart had been refined fully. The feeling was incredible. His muscles were filled with an extra strength he didn’t know how to explain, his senses heightened, and he even felt his skin clearing up ever so slightly. The improvement was minor in comparison to the stomach, but it was a holistic one that even Sigmar noticed the next day.
His movements were slightly faster. His attacks, while they still missed, hit slightly harder. The footwork was more agile, and even his mind perceived more than it used to. Frustrating him all the more when he took the end of a staff to the chest and fell to the floor, feeling like his rib cage had cracked. He moved the leftover vitality from breakfast throughout his chest to soothe the pain, a neat trick he learned after a few weeks of beatings.
“You improved. Good.”
“Good? I still can’t hit you.”
“Nor will you for a long time, but it means you’re making enough progress.”
“Enough?”
“Aye, something is happening soon.”
Normally Ryke would have asked what, but he noticed his Instructor liked it too much when he asked so many questions. Sigmar would explain many things, but always wait for the boy to ask as if he wasn’t going to elaborate on his own. It didn’t matter to him at first as Ryke was curious by nature, but it felt a small win when Sigmar would hear the silence and awkwardly keep speaking, even with a scowl plastered on his face.
“The first years are undergoing their first group training below the city.” Sigmar sighed, leaning against his quarterstaff as it stuck into the dirt. “Where the formation lies”
“Formation?”
“Every city has a formation built into it once the population surpasses a certain point. It feeds off of the vitality that people leak in their day to day life to function. It then stores this in a crystalline form until used.”
“Get to the point!”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Sigmar scowled and whacked Ryke’s foot harshly, eliciting a yelp from the boy as he held his foot and cried out in pain. The Lanista's one complaint about the boy that often shone through was his lack of seriousness at times. Any serious moment had its potential to be ruined if Ryke was more eager to know about something or someone else.
“Unfortunately” Another whack to Ryke’s foot. “The underground where the crystal is kept often needs defending. It’s.. nearly like there’s a separate world down below. Your Taura was found down there. We call it the Aenebra.”
“The Boundless Dark?”
“Yes.”
An uneasy quiet hung between the duo for a moment before Ryke slowly got up, wincing as he put his weight on his feet, He picked up his quarterstaff and looked back up at his Instructor. Ryke was rather tall for his age, well over five and a half feet tall, but Sigmar still towered over him in both stature and mentality. It took a few seconds more to gather his courage.
“And.. what are we defending it from?”
“You all? Small fry. Beasts that don’t know better. A stray devil or two.”
“And what is a devil?”
“We.. aren’t sure.”
Ryke was about to ask another question when a heavy gaze fell on him, and he looked back to see Sigmar looking at him, an unexplainable emotion in his eyes. The way he looked at him was odd. Not apologetic, but definitely concerned. Was it pity? Why?
“Before we send you down there, know this. Life will be taken. By your hands, your partners, or your enemy. Something will die. Make sure that this path, a Centurion, is the one you want to take. And if you’re absolutely sure-
Ask yourself why.”
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Sigmar dismissed him shortly after, seeing that Ryke hadn’t quite recovered from the question. He went back to his dorm briefly, came out to eat his meal, and then went back inside to sit alone on his cot, Fromir on his lap gently purring in a way stone never quite should. His mind was more than a little bit of a mess, thoughts echoing throughout without restraint.
His father told him life was sacred. Should he take one? Would he have to take many? Why?
To protect some crystal he was just told about? For a formation he didn’t understand in the slightest? Was it worth it? Why did he want to be a Centurion anyways?
They’re heroes. Warriors. They saved countless. He didn’t realise that until now that it probably meant they killed countless, too. Leviathans, Devils, Beasts, whatever those were- many must have fallen. Was it worth it to save people? Yes. Could he do it? Sweat coated his palms whilst he closed his eyes as if it would dispel the thought.
Could he take a life for his people?
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It took a few days for Ryke to regain his usual energy after that, and Sigmar never mentioned the event beyond telling him it would be in a few months; marking their first half of a year in the Ludus. He had dreamed once that the Ludus was his ticket out of Jekan, an easy way out to explore the desert and the world outside his city- not realising he hadn’t even been in the oasis zone, let alone the desert outside the walls.
He was confused at first when Fairrin told him those three things outside the Ludus that day, the last time he saw him. Apparently he saw it coming from miles away. One should not be prideful about taking life, but when necessity calls for it..
The boy sighed and ate his meal quietly, getting ready to meet Gaeldir for the day.
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“Good. Now I’ll teach you the basic concept of Runesmithing. Listen well, or I’ll make you wait further. This cannot actually be done until you have refined your sense of touch, so this is all theory-”
“Why do we have to refine our sense of touch?”
“Otherwise you cannot externalise vitality.”
“Why is that an iss-”
“I’m getting to that.”
Gaeldir glared knives at the boy, forcing him back into his seat as an expression of embarrassment took over him. The man shook his head somewhat exhausted with Ryke’s antics. Youth. Forgiving him quickly in his heart, the violet eyes shone minutely as he continued his explanation for the first year.
“Runesmithing is the act and practice of carving runes both within and on the surface of a metal, often a weapon, tool, or building block. In doing so, you can adhere different properties to the metal, creating a Runic Armament. We call such things that are useful for such practices simply Runic Materials. It is imperative that a Runic Armament is crafted well and durable, even if it isn’t obviously high quality.”
“Why?”
Ignoring the fact that he wanted to strangle Ryke, Gaeldir took out a small hammer from his belt. The metal was a dull steel that seemed to absorb all light, yet the boy found his eyes stuck to it. The weapon was beautiful in a way he couldn’t quite describe.
“Runic Armaments grow alongside their first wielder, and will also be strongest in the hands of their first wielder or their descendants. This is because the runes will attune to their vitality- a process that cannot be undone.”
“At the same time, the combination of runes and vitality will slowly nurture the weapon until it evolves. While using a strong runic armament might be good, it will never improve. Using a weak one for a long time might create a masterwork that only you can wield. Both have advantages and disadvantages. From now on, you will practise carving the runes into metal. Am I clear?”
“Crystal!”
The Runesmith set a chisel onto the table and walked away, only to come back with a slightly warm dagger. He carved a rune onto the table with his nail, and then gestured to Ryke with his hand, sliding the tools over with the other.
“Go on. Get started.”