"Hey! Try to keep up will you, Cyrus?"
Marlin, thin, amber-haired, and positively beaming, charged away from the lagging figure of Cyrus. Cyrus sensed the challenge and immediately sprinted after the disappearing Marlin. The great oak trees of Grandheart Forest were large and their verdant leaves wide, in which they wove a tight semi-brush layer between the canopy and forest floor. Seeing through the layer was difficult, traversing them was even more so. Yet the two boys ran, leapt, and bounded through the oak trees with the mastery only years of repetition could have brought.
It was a scorching summer day, but the great swelling sun did nothing to slow their advance. It was windless and the air was dry, with only the drone of cicadas to accompany the laughter of the two. This was the Greatheart Forest they both knew so well - unfathomably immense, gorgeously lush, and stupidly hot.
"Why the rush? Got something to compensate for?" said Cyrus, his skin glistening with sweat and his chest strenuously heaving. His white shirt was soaked and sticky but cooled rapidly against the rushing wind as he ran. As the forest blurred by him, Cyrus found himself fascinated and dreadfully curious by the boy he was chasing. "How are you keeping up so fast?! What are they feeding you at Harlorr?"
"Nothing special," Marlin cheekily answered. "You might need some work on those sticks you call legs."
"And it as if you're more than skin and bones?" Cyrus replied.
In spite of Marlin's confidence in himself, he too was sweating like a pig. However, his brown robes were far more ventilated than Cryus's common shirt, and it's magical properties allow himself to easily dissipate the heat. Marlin was not nearly as athletic as Cyrus, nor was he was strong or nimble. What he did have was a sharp head on his shoulders, and a little talent called Magic. Call it cheating, but to him all was fair and game when it came to their challenges with each other.
They moved rapidly through the dense forest, Marlin maintaining a strong lead against Cryus of around fifty metres. Through streams, hills, and bush they ran and ran and ran. It was something so Marlin to do, Cyrus thought. How he snarked at everything he said, and how eager he was to prove himself, and how hard he tried to make his point.
Marlin was born frail and weak, but with a heart full with determination to prove his worth. Like Cyrus and all the other orphan children in Eless Village, they were born common. It was what every man, woman, or child was grouped into if they were magicless. Mages dictated everything in the Elandor Kingdom, relentlessly oppressing everyone whom they considered low-born and filthy. Every common hated their status and their powerlessness, but none did more than Marlin.
He learnt of his powerlessness first hand in his days in the orphanage in Eless Village. His tiny stature made him a target all too easy to pick on and bully, and in the scramble for food in the poorly supplied mess hall, Marlin frequently went to bed without even an ounce of food in his stomach. When he fought back, he was beaten down. So he learnt to fight in a different way. For every piece of food stolen from him, he would remember and repay their deeds at their most vulnerable.
Dead rats in bed. Poison in their soup. Pets found strangled outside their room. Marlin learned that even when he seemed completely defeated, through pure struggle and work he could break others and elevate himself. All the other children had this innate drive to assert themselves over the rest, but Marlin took it to the extreme where he saw life itself as a competition. If he could not win with fists, then he would win with wit and trickery instead. Even Cyrus himself once bullied Marlin, although after the rock 'accident' nearly splitting a child's head open he realized what kind of person he was provoking. Instead, he befriended him, and they found each other to have far more in common with each other than they thought.
Both orphans. Both competitive. Both in dire need of someone to rely on.
Cyrus thought that Marlin's time in the orphanage drove him slightly bonkers. But insanity was the least of his issues when it came to a boy as ambitious as him. That destiny he craved came calling on their 13th summer when the Mage-Seekers arrived. They were Mages that roamed the Magedom to test common children's latent talent in magic because although exceptionally rare, children born to commons could possess magic. Mages were powerful but rare, and new blood had to be fed into the system in order to keep the archaic system alive. When Eless Village's children were tested none, including Cyrus, were found to have even the slightest hint of magic in them.
Except for Marlin.
Cyrus could still remember the jealousy he felt when he saw the first wisp of magic emerge from within his skin. Then Marlin's skin started to glow a deep, sapphire blue. And then a torrent of runic power burst from him like a broken dam, sending a shockwave that blasted around the entire village. At that moment, Marlin knew that he had become more than some common child in some poor village.
Barely a week later, a group of men clad in dark, gold lined robes knocked on the doors of the orphanage. They were from Harlorr Castle, and Marlin was invited to become the apprentice of the Mage-Lord of Fire, Thaerus. The invitation, of course, was nothing more than a formality. It wasn't a request, it was a demand and threat - join or perish. Marlin, with all the ambitions a boy could have, accepted it in a heartbeat. He has whisked away to the distant land of Harlorr Fief and Cyrus had not seen him since. Cyrus shivered at the thought of interacting with Thaerus.
The adults never liked to talk about him, and when they did, it was always in hushed whispers when no one was watching. Thaerus's contempt for the commoners was almost legendary. Rumour had it that he had the tongue of a man and his whole family cut when he had badmouthed him while drunk. Cyrus couldn't understand the mind of someone who could do such cruelty, but he could understand why someone like Marlin would follow such a man like Thaerus. Thaerus was powerful - the strongest Mage in the Elandor Kingdom, with great mastery over the magic of pyromancy, and perhaps the most influential man in the kingdom after the Mage-king himself. Someone as aspiring as Marlin could not get a better mentor to start his journey.
So when Marlin showed up on the doorsteps of the orphanage this summer morning, Cyrus thought he was seeing things. He was even more surprised by the way Marlin treated him - he had expected the arrogance and pride that the mage's (especially Thaerus) was infamous for, but it seemed that Marlin had barely changed at all. So Marlin was still Marlin, and he did what he did best - and that was to immediately drag Cyrus away somewhere to compete. That somewhere was old, homely Grandheart forest.
"So, what are you doing here anyway?" Cyrus asked as he looked around himself. They were sitting in a large glade that opened wide from the dark, cool embrace of the trees. Scorching light bathed everything in the vicinity. The grass was long up halfway to his knees, and wild pearl lilies bloomed around them. Cyrus was still recovering from their race here, and the few words that came out of his mouth were rushed and graceless. Marlin seemed at ease, and he barely panted while they rested, although from the sweat on his face Cyrus could tell he was still quite exhausted.
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"They sent me back here."
"They sent you back here?"
"They. Sent. Me. Back. Here."
"They sent you back here?"
Marlin scowled at him. "Want me to repeat that again, my good deaf sir?"
"But why?! I thought you were some genius Mage?" Cyrus exclaimed baffled. His forehead wrinkled in thought. Wasn't he some great talent that even the Mage-Lord Thaerus would desire? Wasn't he so clever that he scared everyone around him? Did he do something that offended Thaerus? Would he be in trouble-
As Cyrus sunk into deep thinking, Marlin roared aloud with genuine laughter.
"You should see the look on your face!" Marlin blurted out between his snickers. He slapped Cyrus's back in delight. "Why are you thinking so hard? Are you worrying about me? There are explanations a lot simpler than being expelled, you know?"
Cyrus blushed in embarrassment as he realised Cyrus had purposely left his answer vague to bait him. It was Marlin, of course. Why did he forget? This person was so good with his words and manipulations, and he should have easily expected something as petty as this from him. It was just that he had forgotten how to deal with him. Something that was familiar from routine was now foreign and out of practice. A year was a very long time to not to see someone, and a warm feeling settled in his chest. He had indeed missed Marlin very much, although he would never for the life of him confess that out loud.
Marlin calmed down from his fit of laughter, and explained:
"It's just a holiday. They were busy with something at Harlorr. Something very important, from what I've gathered. I barely had any lessons in the last half of my time there, because Lord Thaerus was so obsessed over whatever in gods name they were doing. So they just sent me back here for a while."
"Thaerus? What's he-" Marlin glared at Cyrus as he began. "It's Lord Thaerus." Marlin corrected. Cyrus gave him a deadpan look.
"Does that really matter here? In the middle of nowhere?" "Its habit, I suppose. I don't like calling him that either, but I've seen what he does to those that displease him. He blew up one of his followers - one of those dark robed people that always stalks behind him. The poor guy just made a face at an order, and then Boom! He's dead."
Cyrus grimaced at the thought. What kind of person could do such a cruel thing? Marlin was not a good person by any stretch, and neither was himself really, but to blow up one of his own? That took some ruthlessness that he wasn't sure he could even understand.
"So I take it you didn't have a good time there?" Cyrus asked.
"Well, I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. There was that threat of death hanging over me, but that isn't much more different to here. Lord Thaerus isn't bad in the lessons, but good god the man is stuck-up. He wouldn't be quiet about how much better he was to quite literally anyone."
Cyrus chuckled at Marlin's outburst of irritation. It seemed that Marlin had quite the experience during his year there. He threw his hands up and hurled himself onto his feet. Then, he asked the inevitable question of burning between them.
"What do you want to compete in?"
Marlin gave a sly grin as he too stood up to face Cyrus. He slid his hand into his robe and then drew out two long, cylinder packages. They were both wrapped in strong, chestnut-coloured leather that covered the entirety of their length. Expensive, Cyrus immediately thought. Those must be ridiculously expensive. He usually wore the cheapest of fabrics, and not even the rich mayor had a leather jacket as luxurious as that. From the covering alone, he could tell the thing was going to be extraordinary. Then, Marlin tossed one of the packages over to Cyrus, who caught it with as much care as he had in him.
It was exceptionally heavy, and he very nearly dropped it when it first landed on his hands. Cyrus thought it was probably heavier than 4 large bricks combined. How was Marlin carrying this around? When Marlin bet him on their race here, he was already greatly surprised. But to do that while carrying two of these? Cyrus looked at Marlin, observing and analysing his body. No obvious changes, he noted. He was a little bit taller, but his limbs were still as skinny as he remembered them. Something had to have changed about him, but what?
Marlin grinned smugly at Cyrus.
"There's no need to gawk, Cyrus. I know of my greatness personally."
Cyrus felt his face flush red again. He had been baited twice already, and he felt more foolish than he had ever been. But before he could regain himself, Marlin immediately pressed on.
"Open it. There is a string tied to the end; untie that, and it will open."
Cyrus held the package lengthwise and searched for the said string. He could not find anything even after a minute of probing and scrutiny.
"The other side, Cyrus."
Cyrus sighed as he flipped it around. There, after a bit of fiddling around, he found a small knotted black string protruding from the package. With a vigorous tug, he undid the knot and the entire package fell apart. The leather unwrapped as he spun the package around, the excess collapsing onto the floor as the contents were revealed.
A beautiful sword, of sterling steel, lustrously silver in the radiant light, and incredibly powerful in the hand. It was not too heavy nor too light - it seemed that the weight of the package was in the leather, not the iron. It sat with a perfect balance in his palm and he could feel how gorgeously crafted it was. The distance between the bottom of the hilt to the tip of the blade was of thirty inches long; too short for a longsword, yet too long for a shortsword.
It seemed to favour the sturdiness a shortsword gave, yet it rejected the strong wide base of one. It seemed to favour the grace and nimbleness a longsword gave, yet it rejected the great reach of one. Too small for an adult, too small for a child, but perfectly sized for an adolescent - like himself. It was an exquisite amalgamation of the common swords, forged by a smith who wanted exactly everything and nothing at the same time. But it was absolutely deadly - Cyrus could tell that the edge of the blade was incredibly sharp, and the steel it was hammered from was of supreme quality. It would not shatter or break easily.
Cyrus broke away from his trance-like examination of his sword and looked up at Marlin. He too held an identical blade, with the same glory and majesty of his. Marlin pointed his blade towards Cyrus. It was a challenge, he realized.
"A sword duel. It was our favourite game to play when we were younger, wasn't it? But instead of sticks, we'll use these beauties I brought from Harlorr Castle's Smith." Marlin said, lowering his body as he shifted into a stance.
"Challenge accepted." Cyrus replied as he held his new acquaintance tightly in his hand.