The boy woke up to the old man’s stave on his forehead, the sharp ache in the same area of his forehead being a giveaway on just how exactly he was awoken from his sleep. The kid started tearing up, even though this wasn’t the first time the older man had done this little “trick”, yet it was something that stirred the same grief and anger to the same degree each and every time. The kid wished he didn't get this upset, wished he could stop it. But the best the sleep-addled kid could do as a first response was to start snuffling as he let out a whiney “Owwww.” his vision surly muddled by the wetness in his eyes.
The older man forced himself not to immediately kneel down and baby the kid, rather he had to keep the smooth face of one who was not moved by such simple things as a cadet crying.. “Yeah yeah, you got 10 minutes to prepare,” the old man informed the crying kid. “He’ll hate me, but I can't go as easy as he deserves. We don’t have that kind of time for the kid. No. For Krovan to have a proper childhood, even less for his teenagehood which is coming soon.”
The man backed away from the kid’s bed, turning and striding into the hallway. Small chimes now freely flowing from the spots they were cinched onto, making unscripted tunes with each shift of the man’s hips and ribs. His eyes wondered the new home he had constructed, not without help of course. Something that came out of the said help was the basically forced expansion of his home. The villagers sternly encouraged him to take up more space, probably more so to keep the kid trapped in the new inner plaza than actual show of gratitude.
“He is still that energetic ball of motion” The old man thought to himself, looking up to the almost cliche brown-stained wood crowning* that the kid just had to help make his crude carvings able to be preserved by the carpenter who took up the duty of the home’s wood trim and the such.
Something the mage enjoyed, since it flowed with the other details that gave the place more of a homely feel than his old spartan cottage did, even if he had no clue on how to use the extra space. Though the kid did find some way going exploring there on the times he was excused from training. Though he did consider on putting all of the plenty paintings, weavings, and even statuettes; that decorated the walls of the place; in what he supposed was to be a living room as a storage room, much like how he did in his cottage with the few he had back then.
The mage stopped at one of the more appealing paintings, a newer one after the fire. It was of a little hamlet sat in a human palm, which rose out from hills adorned with artichoke green grass, with an ivy of a color that he was told very sternly to call “hunter green” by the artistress that made it.
“Oh don't forget we will also be raising a new- '' the old man yelled with an unstrained voice, he quickly stopped speaking when his ears and his other senses picked up bare feet slapping against the unfurnished floor, Korvan turned to face the older man. “Jaero!” the kid, Korvan, yelled. He then rushed at the mage, with a blade nearly as long as his own forearm. The mage, Jaero, wasn't too perturbed by Korvan’s charge, “He isn't strong enough to unsheathe the blade just yet,” the man thought, a harrumph vocally accompanying the thought.
When Korvan got another two strides closer, the mage swung his staff down. Particles flying off the top of the staff, Jaero’s eyes only slightly looked down to the little dust plume, each piece finely ground to be able to float in the air long enough for the mage to “touch.” He reached out mentally to the obscure dirt mist and “threw” it at the kid, telling the dirt to resist the kid’s movement. “Well most of it, the chest…” The mage thought to himself with a suppressed shudder.
When the dust did land on Korvan’s body, Jaero pushed his own will onto the dust, feeling the drain as he countered Korvan movement. Who almost immediately also started feeling strain. The bulges of the calves and biceps becoming defined.
All of the kid’s pent up rage was released in a yell going something like “HNNNG,” which started breaking into a scratchy screech. “It will probably hold him for the rest of the day to actually chill out from this chokehold.” Jaero thought to himself, renewing his will against Korvan’s struggle. Jaero could feel his stamina deplete just a little, a stark feeling for mages since one is standing still rather than the feeling being masked by the subsequent physical byproducts.
“Oh good you wanted to start early! I guess you are excited to help the Franshsens with the hedges!” The mage said, smugly egging the kid on. “I cant have him lose his control like this if he wants to be on par with the elites and paladins of this world.” he thought to himself, ensuring he had the shit-eating grin pasted on his face.
In response, the kid just yelled out again with it ending in a coughing fit Korvan quickly suppressed as he tried to get past “the air barrier” that was stopping him. Jaero released the hold of the dust, giving the kid a hope of a chance to finally win against his older tormentor. Jaero just hoped the stand still wouldn't go on for the entirety of the daylight. Which had happened, multiple times. Something Jaero admired in the kid, if more than a bit annoying.
As Korvan finally gained a proper speed with a running gait, the mage made a throwing gesture with his free hand; his staff tapping the ground as he did so. The dust from his free hand joined the other collection of dust in the air, lazily falling when not under Jaero’s control. But that was not the case, Jaero pushed the dust into basic yet ancient sigils.
The activated sigils around Korvan’s acted as if they were ropes woven to the fur rugs and around his feet, binding him steadfastly. Making the kid trip right at that moment, the kid fell instantly on his face. The mage then quickly formed a half dozen sigils in Korvan's fall path to soften the kid’s fall so he would get too bruised, or a broken nose.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He wanted the kid to get accustomed to getting hurt, not become crippled and fearful of the pain after all. To know the consequences of an aggressive attack and still commit to it. “Sometimes, that’s all that is needed to win a fight or even a battle” Jaero mentally commented, to himself.
Korvan threw his hand up and threw his sheathed blade as fast as an arrow shot from a bow. The older man just stepped to the side when he saw the kid telegraph* the throw. “Well he certainly doesn’t give up, but he just threw away his main weapon,” the man thought to himself, “It was a good throw, I have to admit” he continued, hearing the scabbard make a “blon” noise against the wall all the way down the hall.
Giving out a slightly strained sigh, the old man walked over to the kid who laid belly-flat on the furred rug, and the kid growled at the older man some more in response. “He must have been bottling up more than I thought, I haven't seen him this riled up for about a month now.” the older man thought. He then renewed his will through the dust to make the spell binding held on, and then added even more power to make the spell grow in area of effect. “Korvan certainly demands no half measures, when it comes to the power of the spells used on him” he thought as the spell now binded the kid’s elbows and wrists to the rug.
Korvan’s hand had a killer of a grip onto the fur rug, trying to pull his body forward as he used his opposite foot to push forward. “Come oooon just once!” The kid mewed. His face spasming as he tried to, in the mage’s opinion, suppress his face to break down to grovel. Surprisingly, the kid’s face morphed into a frown, then his distinctive mask of determination shone through. One could almost feel it in the air when looking at him. A plain “I won't stop” message on the kids face that would give more than a few adults hesitation.
Korvan pushed against the carpet once again with an almost mute ‘pop’ noise that accompanied it. The mage squinted his eyes, feeling the kid shove and slip through his spell’s grasp. Feeling Korvan and able to put magical force against him yet not actually able to have an effect on the kid. “Like a small wood splinter in the palm” Jaero thought to himself. The mage, after recollecting himself, tried again to grab Korvan through his spell, reinforcing the minute* runes with new ones. The new ones now forcing the bindings to grow further along Korvan’s torso. An uncommon method even in the school of magic the mage was practising, one that was taught to him a long time ago
The mage watched in wonder as the kid kept winning his fight against the runes despite the mage’s modifications. The amazed mage studied Korvan as he crawled towards him, with a single streak of sweat down the kid's cheek as proof of his victorious exertion. Finding this little aspect of the kid as a phenomenal success. He decided to let Korvan win.
So, Jaero released the spell slowly to let Korvan charge at the mage. A small smirk appearing on Jaero’s face as the kid grinned and howled in glee. “Well done,” the mage thought as he put his staff in a relaxed guard, readying for a more physical combat with Korvan.
Korvan, not wanting to deal with his mentor’s staff arts head on, decided to jump up in an impressively high arc. His hands telegraphing a good ol’ throat punch on the mage, with one cocked all the back into the pit of his arm and his other arm reaching out as if he also wanted to grab Jaero’s collar. Taking a small step back and to the side, Jaero shifted his dominant shoulder forward, ramming it into the kid’s chest gently as he could while he made the kid’s trajectory fall short. Also making sure to break Korvan’s fall just a little once again.
Korvan jumped right back up from the fall, making a low dash for the mage’s feet. In response, Jaero channeled all of the mastery he had of both of his staff martial arts and of his acting skills, slowed his reaction to Korvan’s dash just enough for Korvan to land a blow. All the while for Korvan to think he bested Jaero through his own skill and not just because Jaero was going just a little easy on him.
The kid’s ‘dash’ turned into a body tackle as Korvan wrapped his arms around his mentor’s legs, Jaero fell on top of the kid, not quite able to break his own fall before he slammed into the kid below him. The mage quickly got up as fast as he could to make a visual confirmation that Korvan wasn't hurt, too much. Instead, he found the kid giggling as he stayed on the floor, the grin as wide as a city’s boulevard. The mage reciprocated the smile. “Maybe just this once, i can show how much he made me proud” he thought to himself
Korvan got out from under his mentor, running back to his room. He turned his head to yell back to the mage. “You owe me a breakfast, a good one! That is our deal!” The mage winced slightly as Korvan’s voice carried far further than what the kid estimated. Then he nodded to the kid. “I’ll start the skillets, you should get some more rest kid. We still are going to be helping Mond’dosses with raising their new pen fences,” he yelled back to Korvan. “You also did very well, Korvan” Jaero added, right before the kid could fully start the groan he was about to make, insead, before he went into his room, he just nodded with a simple “thanks”.
When the kid went into his room, Jaero’s pride in the growing kid swelled into a full bloom, a shit eating grin stretching on his face. He couldn’t not smile at what the kid accomplished, after all. “By the damned, I don't even feel petty about how simple his win was. Relative to how hard it typically is for him.” He thought to himself, then he remembered why he, himself, made it easy for the kid. “To shove off magic so young, even if it were that crudely… ” He shook his head a little bit as he strolled past the painting and small statuettes towards the small kitchen for the two residents, a low chuckle accompanying his chest pumping in and out all the way.
The mage then walked over to the oven nested into one of the inner walls of the building to radiate some heat through a trick he had learned. In two little bowls next two the oven. In one were steel shavings while the other had carefully manufactured dust that took so much time in research that the mage would rather not think about. He then mentally grabbed the dust and steel with his magic, pulling it into the belly of the stove. Forcing the two materials to dance and rub against each other on top of wood shavings and dried moss.
The dance caused the dust to spark into eye catching flares, which fell into the universal kindling nest that every person who owned a pit or oven knew of. Soon, the kindling was graced with thin grey-white whisp strands that's danced and left the kindling nest. Squinting a little bit, the mage nodded in self-confirmation that the fire was healthy and independant. He stood back up from the required crouch, side stepping to the stone counter nearby. Grabbing the stored salted bacon and pinches of the small seasonings he had. Starting a breakfast he had promised Korvan, his friend’s only son
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Skirm's (not) seriously scientific sassy glossary, secoundous
Crowning: (to put on the proper head ornaments for you kings and queens) a type of trim that is put in the intersecting corner of a wall and a ceiling.
Telegraph: to unknowingly communicate a motion or emotion one intends to do by bodily posture
Minute: (the one that's pronounced as MYNEWT) something that is small. Specifically small details (like the little lines on a circuit board) or significance (like the growth and death of a random tree in a forest)