Leaves blew in the air as Arturo swung his sword down, stopping the blade from hitting the ground by mere inches. Dust swirled in the air and sweat dripped down his face. He needed to improve his technique. Recently, he had found a way to swing his sword a little faster, but that still wasn’t fast enough. Legends could move quicker.
Ever since the scarred man had warned them of the future, Arturo had been practicing three times as hard. Marcus and John thought the man mad, but Arturo didn’t think so. Something had prevented the stranger from telling them what was going to happen. The man’s pained expression and sweating were not natural, though Arturo had no idea what could cause such a reaction.
He had told his brothers his thoughts, but they laughed at him and said Arturo wanted this conflict so badly that he’d believe anyone talking about a future threat. His brothers’ reaction angered him, and he used that rage to swing his sword one more time. Azzellia would need the strongest fighters possible if there was a conflict coming. Trying to convince his brothers to train was pointless. All they wanted to do was eat, drink and have fun.
With one final swing, Arturo planted his blade in the ground and leaned on the weapon as he gasped for air. Perhaps I pushed myself too far, he mused. The sun shone directly on him and all he wanted to do was drink some water. He put the sword on his back and took a cup of water from a nearby well.
If the warning from the scarred man was true, what would happen to Arindall? His family? That was what worried him the most. Fighting was in his blood, even if his brothers didn’t like it. Grinding his teeth, Arturo was about to go back to training when he saw Archard leaning against a tree, watching him closely.
“Father. I didn’t see you there,” Arturo said and let go of the handle of his sword. Archard didn’t usually watch him train. Did he want something?
“That was the intention.” Archard’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile. “You’re improving quickly.”
“Not quickly enough,” Arturo said.
“I need to show you something.”
Arturo looked around and shrugged. “All right. Lead the way,” he said curiously. What would his father want to show him? His parents rarely had anything to show off. They weren’t a poor family but they weren’t rich either.
Archard and Arturo walked to the backyard of their house, puzzling Arturo further. There was nothing here but grass and the big tree. Before they could go any further, Jen ran up to them with a wide grin.
“What are you two doing?” she asked excitedly. The front of her shirt was covered in mud and Arturo saw red marks on her hands. He would bet she had been doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
“I’m showing Arturo something. Go back inside,” Archard said.
“Can I come?” Jen pleaded.
“Not this time,” Archard said and gave her a slight push toward the house. “We’ll be back soon.”
“Okay, you better!” Jen said. Giggling, she hopped toward the house and disappeared.
Once Archard was sure that Jen wasn’t watching, he headed to a spot with three heavy-looking rocks. The boulders were large enough that no child could ever move them.
Archard moved the rocks aside and swiped away some dirt. The sun shined on the steel handle that revealed a cellar.
“How long has that been there?” Arturo asked as Archard gripped the handle and pulled, opening up the cellar. It was hard to see much as all he saw was darkness and the stairs.
“Since before you were born,” Archard responded. He gestured Arturo to follow him and they walked down the stairwell.
The cellar wasn’t very deep; twenty steps later and they came to a door that Archard opened. He lit up a torch on the wall, which revealed an array of items. The room was fairly big, with some shelves that contained some weapons. There were weapons hooked to the wall and a bookshelf below a sword and an axe. To the right were six chests that were closed with locks on them. Each chest was the same size, large enough to hold almost anything, whether it was weapons, clothing or something else.
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Arturo had never seen anything in this room before.
“Why do you have chests hidden in here?”
Archard walked over to the chests and examined each one before pausing at one that was painted dark red. He gripped the handles and planted the chest right in front of Arturo. “It’s a good place to get some peace and quiet. When you have children, you’ll understand.”
“John told me about the scarred man who talked to you boys,” Archard continued as he walked to the bookshelf, pulling out a set of keys. “Sounds like he spoke to the whole village. What do you think about what he said?”
Arturo pursed his lips as he thought about how to respond. John and Marcus had probably told their father that the man was crazy but that Arturo was taking the news seriously.
“I don’t think he was crazy,” he said.
“That wasn’t my question.” Archard shot him a knowing look. “I want your opinion on what the man said.”
“I believe the threat is real,” Arturo said carefully. He didn’t want to sound stupid in front of his father. “I want to be prepared for when an attack happens.”
Archard nodded with understanding. “I figured as much.” The click of the chest unlocking echoed in the room.
“What do you think?” Arturo asked.
“I’m not sure. Chaos has been spreading in all the nations…” Archard stopped talking as he shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. With that he opened the chest to reveal a dark gray and black armor chest piece.
“Whoa,” Arturo marveled, and knelt to get a closer look.
Archard lifted the armor out of the chest so Arturo had a better view. The armor covered the chest and shoulders. While the armor looked to be of high quality, he wondered why his father was showing him this now.
“I was planning on giving this to you on your seventeenth birthday. However, the rebellions and rumors going around made me change my mind,” Archard said.
So, he is worried about what the scarred man said, Arturo thought. It was relieving to know he wasn’t the only one. If only his brothers would take the threat seriously. He was convinced something was coming and his brothers wouldn’t be prepared.
“This is a very special piece that has been in our family for centuries. This isn’t ordinary armor. It’s called Verian armor. It protects you from people who can use the power.”
Arturo could see the use in wearing the armor, though his excitement faded. “That’s good to know, but nobody uses the power on a battlefield, so why would it matter if I wore this or not?”
“The world is changing,” Archard murmured. “For now, the power isn’t used in wars because of the mages’ rules. I have a feeling that will change. Besides, the armor will protect you against arrows as well. You’ll want to use this armor in any battles if you can.”
“Has this been tested against the power?” Arturo asked.
“My grandfather told me someone in the family tested it, but he couldn’t remember who or the circumstances,” Archard said with a sly smile. “You mustn’t tell anybody about the benefits of this armor. A mage would take this back to Mortham Tower so fast you wouldn’t have a chance to understand what was going on.”
“You think mages would do that?” Arturo asked. Like most people, he had heard about the mages but didn’t know much about them. He’d never met one. From the stories he’d heard, he wouldn’t mind never meeting one.
“I have no doubts,” Archard responded. “I’ve spoken to a few mages and they believe nothing is above them. Rare artifacts like this Verian piece would interest the mages. They would take the armor to study, most likely to replicate it and remove a threat to their power.”
That reminded Arturo of a story his father told him, about the war of power. It came from a time before Mortham Tower was created, when each kingdom had its own mages. Around 1150 years ago, the king of Azzellia, Egmardern Astero, one of the most powerful mages ever born, appeared to go mad and tried to conquer all of Aidris. This had resulted in a bloody conflict that lasted twelve years.
To end the war, mages from the other four nations had worked together to defeat Egmardern. That resulted in the creation of Mortham Tower and all the mages from the other nations disbanded, resulting in no kingdom being allowed to have its own power users.
“Try it on,” Archard said, and handed the armor over.
Arturo put the armor on, and couldn’t hide his disappointment. He wasn’t big enough. It was too loose. Fighting in this would be very difficult. It was also surprisingly light.
Archard laughed. “My boy, you realize you’ll grow into that? You still have some growing to do. A couple more inches and that armor will fit you perfectly.”
“You think so?” Arturo said doubtfully. He was the smallest of the men in the family. His mother wasn’t tall and his sister was much smaller than he was. What if he didn’t grow into the armor?
“Trust me.” Archard squeezed Arturo’s shoulder. “Worst case scenario, we have Ulrich fit the armor around you, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”
Arturo took off the armor and put it back in the chest. “How come you didn’t give this to Marcus or John?”
“I gave them something else.”
What did he give them? Arturo wondered and realized Archard wasn’t going to tell him. “Thanks for the armor. I can’t wait to wear it in battle someday,” Arturo said, hugging his father.
Ending the embrace, Archard closed the chest, locked it, and placed it back where it had been. “The armor will be here. Don’t forget about it, all right?”
“I’ll remember,” Arturo said.
“Good. Let’s go get some lunch.”