Perspective shift: Deadalus Duard

His master was forever devoted to the Elder tomes, but Daedalus had his eyes closer to the ground. He was reading from several books in the language section.

By the time Master Silas found him he was nearing fluency in three languages he had never previously heard of. He could come to like this power over languag, even if most of them were dead. He wondered what he might learn from any one of the thousands of books his master ignored to pursue the elder tomes.

" Daedalus, it is time we go." Quite the master of conversation, that Silas Stone-eyes, Daedalus thought to himself as he slowly stood up and put the several books he had been reading away on their shelves.

"A pity. I was learning so much." His master lifted his eyebrow in a doubtful expression.

"A fire drake won't care what language you beg for your life in." His master had little interest in any magic you could not use to fight. Daedalus supposed he understood that, but it seemed a dull life to him. Dull and full of fear.

“The counsel says the firedrakes are nothing to fear so long as they keep their distance” The youth sounded unconvinced by his own explanation.

“And what if their gathering draws an inferno walker? Such has happened before.” The boy shot a defiant glance at that.

“We have seen both things happen near the same time but that doesn't mean they cause one another. Walkers have been seen without dragons, and dragons without walkers.”

“Regardless, we must have weapons to defend ourselves. How could Madgera of all people not see it?” Daedalus had no answer. He hated when his master put him in the middle of these things. He had no answer, so he said nothing. Silas continued. “Follow me to the fencing yards, it is time for us to review another area of your studies.” Daedalus knew what that meant, and could already feel the welts.

Down to the ground floor, out the main doors, and straight forward about half a mile, and at last Daedalus saw that the narrow cobblestone road expanded into large courtyard lined with wooden pillar wrapped in thick rope. Perhaps three dozen scholars practiced with sword and spear with blunted edges, sparring each other or practicing stikes on the pillars.

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When they approached, the older man walked to the center of the courtyard, and threw him one of two wooden swords, holding the other ready in his right hand. His master rushed forward, striking with blistering speed.

Daedalus caught the blow from his master's sword with his own, and slipped away, back into a defensive posture. His master pressed him just hard enough to show that he could easily break

him but chose not to.

Daedalus kept his distance and circled, noticing for the first time that the fencing yards were fuller today than usual. He felt self conscious, having so many people watch the master deliver the thrashing that was about to happen. And the number of spectators was larger as well, the watchers more diverse.

“Why are there so many others here today” he asked.

Seemingly in response, another attack came from his master. But this time, he stepped out of its range quickly and launched a counterstrike that almost got through. Silas whipped his wooden blade down to deflect it just in time, and then up again as his students momentum carried him into the next strike.

Ah, there they are. The welts he had been waiting for. He got many more before the training was over, but fewer towards the end, and his master said he was improving. The boy grinned with pride.

A dark haired, very thin girl of perhaps 15 had watched the whole fight, and when they finished, she rushed over to them. Now that he saw her closer, he noticed her clothing was ragged and unwashed, and her hair only a little less so. A beggar, no doubt, she looked his master directly in the eye. “Please sir teach me to read. I saw you come out from the book tower, I know you can, please sir.”

Silas and his student both looked at her as if she had sprouted antlers. Begging for food or coin was one thing, but this, to read?

“I've got no one, sirs. My ma was all I had, and she's gone. I can't do anything about it. But if I could read...” The girl trailed off and began to stare dejectedly at her feet, which Daedalus now saw were bare. His heart hurt for her, but he had no say in whether or not they helped her. He had only to obey. He had to keep learning, even if it meant this girl could not.

And there was no way Silas would choose to teach this girl over him. None at all. “I am rather busy, and what I teach might be too advanced for you.” Might? Daedalus suppressed a laugh. This creature would last not a week studying with the master. Not a day. “Daedalus will teach you.” The smile died on his face but he dared not protest.

“Come with us. You are now a student at the Scholar's tower. Rooms will be found for you nearby, is there somewhere we could go to collect your things?”

The girl looked as though she was about to cry, and then she did. “I don't have anything, but thank you, thank you. I'll be good. I'll learn. Thank you.”

His master directed her gaze to him. “Thank master Daedalus.” The old man's smirk was infuriating, and had he not known what would happen if he tried, Daedalus could have hit him.

The girl came over to him and inclined her head. He still could not imagine himself having a student. He was a mere 20 years of age, and had been only 8 summers with Master Silas.

“Thank you, Master Daedalus.” The sound of it broke the world as he'd known it beyond repair. Master Daedalus… how strange to think such a thing.

“What is your name, student?,” he asked when he finally recovered.

“Zahria, if you please,” his new student answered meekly.

And thusly did Daedalus Duard become the youngest master in the history of Scholar's Tower, at 20, while still not near the end of his own tutelage. Silas stone eyes could be a hard old bastard of a teacher, when the mood suited him.