A collective stir of anticipation buzzed through the caravan as the distant outline of Lykhnidos came into view, the town nestling by the sparkling expanse of a majestic lake.

The lakeside town seemed like a living tapestry woven with myriad colors and sounds, buildings stacked against each other like irregular blocks, their red-tiled roofs gleaming in the sunlight. The air was vibrant with the buzz of myriad conversations, the calls of street vendors peddling their wares, the clink of metal from the blacksmith's forge, and the laughter of children running through the narrow, cobbled streets.

The caravan halted at the outskirts of the town and made camp. The caravan members began preparing to enter the town, checking their wares and securing their belongings. The air was charged with a mix of excitement and tension as they prepared to set up in the bustling marketplace, hoping for profitable trades and new acquisitions. Most of the wagons and mules were left at the camp, secured by about half the guards staying. "We'll be her' two days. Stay together!" announced the captain.

Renier stepped into the vivacious atmosphere of the marketplace, surrounded by his traveling companions. The merchants quickly sought a place to set up their wares while Renier hunted for a tailor or seamstress. He needed to replace his tattered tunic and possibly get something for the cold.

An elderly seamstress sat in front of what looked to be a comfortable chair, applying needle and thread to a delicate linen garment. She looked up from her work as Renier entered, "How can I help you, young master?" "I have the best fabrics in the city," she added.

Renier’s eyes roamed over the kaleidoscope of colored fabric on display before him, finally settling on a sage-green woolen fabric. “This shade of green would suit me well. And help with the coming cold.”

The seamstress smiled, her fingers caressing the fabric he chose, “Ah, would do quite well for your travels. A fine choice, young sir. It’s a sturdy fabric woven with care by the good women of this town.”

“What price for such a piece?” inquired Renier, his hand instinctively going to the pouch of coins in his satchel.

“For such fine craftsmanship, ten silver coins it would be,” she replied, her voice firm yet kind.

Renier looked into her eyes, trying to portray a look of innocence like his father had taught him, “Mistress, would you accept seven silver coins? The road has been long, and resources scarce.”

The seamstress observed the boy’s earnest expression, her heart softened by his charm. “Eight silver coins, young master.”

Renier’s face lit up with a grateful smile as he handed over the agreed-upon coins, “Thank you, kind mistress.”

The seamstress measuring, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and fondness, “It'll be ready on the morrow. I'll add a lining for you so it'll be warmer.”

Renier returned to the camp to do his chores. As he turned the corner onto the street that led to the encampment outside of town, a few paces away, Mira was against the wall, three burly young men surrounding her. Renier’s grip tightened around the hilt of his falchion, a sense of protectiveness rising within him like a tempest. “Signorina Mira!” he yelled. "Are you all right?" he asked her. Mira looked despondent but didn't say a word. “Leave the maiden be, ” he commanded with as much authority as his young voice could muster as he took his falchion out of its scabbard.

The three men turned, their leers growing wider at the sight of Renier, “And what be this? A whelp thinks he can play the knight?” one of them mocked, his voice a grating cacophony.

“I will spill blood,” Renier warned, his stance firm, his falchion gleaming ominously in the fading light, “Leave, and let us part ways in peace.”

A ripple of laughter emanated from the throats of the aggressors, yet they could not mask the flicker of unease in their eyes as they eyed the blade. “Think ye a blade makes thee a man, pup?” sneered the largest of the three, taking a menacing step forward.

Renier’s gaze was unwavering, the steel in his eyes a match for the blade in his hand. “You would not be the first who thought his skin a match for my steel,” Renier replied as he lunged forward with his blade, feigning an actual thrust. The young brut jumped back, surprised by the quick attack. Sensing the unyielding spirit in Renier's stance or fearing the sharpness of his falchion, all three men began to back away, their eyes still locked onto him. “Consider thyself lucky, whelp,” the leader spat, his voice laced with simmering anger, “We’ve wolves to hunt and have no time for pups.”

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Renier’s grip relaxed, and he sheathed his falchion, turning to Mira, whose eyes were now filled with relief and gratitude.

“Thank ye, Renier,” she whispered, her voice a gentle breeze in the tense air. “Only returning your kindness, Mira,” replied Renier as they started the walk side by side back to camp.

A peaceful night followed.

Ayg floated before him, "Mu is the invisible energy of the cosmos,” she explained. “It resides in every leaf that floats in the wind, in every drop of rain that kisses the earth, and in the flame that dances freely. To harness mu is to be one with the universe, to feel its pulse, and to dance to its rhythm,” she continued. "The true knowledge of mu was lost to humanity over fourteen thousand years ago, and I have been waiting that long for someone suitable to receive my inheritance."

"It's not natural for humans to perceive mu. They must go through a process that we call Psycho-Physical Symbiosis to establish your Samvid Nexus. But before that can happen, the body must be conditioned. That process started the day you found the talisman, and it found you worthy." Renier didn't understand any of what she was saying and tried to reply but found he could not speak.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Ayg continued, "Although without a Samvid Nexus, you will not be able to perceive or manipulate Mu energy, you can, through meditation, gather it to you and help charge the talisman. It acts as an Adhikendra, which is the Mu reservoir your body develops when it goes through its transformation. You should do this before you begin your morning exercise."

Suddenly, her mist dress disappeared, replaced by loose-fitting pants and a blouse. She sat on the stone floor with legs crossed so each foot rested on the opposite thigh, with the soles facing upwards. Her spine was straight, and her hands rested on her knees, with the palms facing upward. Her thumb and index fingers touching to form a circle. She looked at Renier and explained, "You will sit in this position with your eyes closed and breathe in and out purposefully. As you breathe in, in your mind, you will repeat these words, 'Yan Mu Serenitas.' Breathe deeply for a count of four. Then hold your breath for a count of seven and breathe out for a count of 8 while in your mind repeating the words, 'Lam So Hum.'" As you inhale, you need to visualize the radiant mu flowing into the talisman in your hand, permeating all the lines of the pattern during the hold and flowing out into the universe with each exhale, creating a harmonious resonance with the cosmos.

You must repeat this until the talisman feels hot in your hand. I will impart the knowledge into your mind, and you must diligently practice every day. Child, much depends on you. It's a heavy burden, but I promise there will be many rewards. Grow strong." Ayg faded, smiling broadly.

Renier woke before dawn, as usual, and headed just outside of camp for his morning routine. As if compelled, Ayg's instructions repeated in his mind. He sat and started the meditation, astounded as the knowledge of what to do flowed into his awareness.

Inhale. "Yan Mu Serenitas." Hold. Exhale. "Lam So Hum." He repeated the four-seven-eight pattern over and over again. About forty minutes later, his right hand started to feel uncomfortably hot. Renier got up and continued with the rest of his routine.

Sometime later, he returned to the camp, intent on finding food. As he walked to the kitchen, the captain called him over. "I heard what happen' with Mira. While we're traveling, during the afternoons, instead of helping with the latrine, you'll train with the guards."

As he finished eating, he wandered around the camp. Today was a free day; no travel until the following morning. For the first time, he was able to see the people of the caravan leisurely interacting with each other. There were many families that lived on the road, going from town to town and plying their wares. Seeing the mothers and fathers interacting with their children made the throng of loss hit him. Melancholy took him, and he returned to the clearing to be alone. He spent the day sitting against a tree, lost in his memories. That night, Renier’s heart bore a tempest. The image of his parents consumed his thoughts, their laughter echoing in his ears. His family was taken away by treachery. He would destroy Gustav. He remembered Ayg's last words and the implied promise of strength and the captain and his training. Solemnly, to no one but himself, he said, “I vow,” his words, soft yet laden with the promise, “that I will not rest until I'm strong enough to destroy all the people that conspired against my family.” And then the talisman in his hand pulsed as if in approval.

Jovan lunged, the wooden practice sword looking to pierce Renier's heart. The boy stepped forward, parried, and sidestepped, moving out of the way of the thrust. 'I need to keep my balance,' he thought, just as Jovan pushed and he fell. "The footwork is as important. Keep track of your feet and the terrain," Jovan admonished. "Now you attack," he ordered. Renier obeyed with a grin. His movements were raw but spirited. During the weeks that had passed, his swordplay had become sturdier.

Notwithstanding, every time he attacked, Jovan countered, his movements a blend of fluidity and controlled power, his sword a whisper of death in the afternoon air. Renier’s wooden blade came at him again and again, a relentless wave trying to breach a rock, his movements becoming swifter, more precise, with each passing second.

“Fast'r! Guard up!” Jovan bellowed as he parried a particularly fierce attack, the wood singing as it sliced the air. Renier's cheeks were flushed, his breaths coming in short, hot gasps, but his eyes were alight with the fires of determination.

Suddenly, he lunged, his movement a burst of speed, his sword a streak of lightning. Jovan parried, his sword a shadow in the golden light, but Renier was relentless, his attacks a storm of fury. 'I'll get him this time,' he thought.

The older man’s muscles tightened. He moved with practiced grace, countering every one of Renier's strikes.

With a final clash of wood, Renier stumbled back, his breath ragged, his limbs quivering with exhaustion, but his eyes still burning with the unquenched desire to win. Sweat trickling down his brow, Jovan nodded in approval, "Much bett'r lad. Time to get some supp'r."

They had been on the road heading to Salonika on the coast for six weeks. The whole caravan pushed as fast as possible, trying to reach their destination before the weather turned. The autumn nights were getting chillier every day. In that time, Renier had sparred every day with either Jovan, Ilija, or Captain Tomas. He could now consistently hold his own against Ilija. His next goal was Jovan, and although he felt he was close, it is evident that the older man would win in a real fight.

Renier had de facto become part of the guards. Most days, he would join the scouts, and if he didn't do that, he accompanied the patrols during their rounds. Every afternoon, he sparred, and every evening, he joined the half of the guards who were off duty during supper—listening to their old war stories.

Even though he still woke up before dawn every day and did his meditation, physical exercises, and sword practice. He didn't know if it was the meditation, the exercise, or both, but he had grown during this time. His breeches were short now, and his tunic felt tighter. The muscles on his arms and chest were starting to define, and his stamina had improved tremendously.

Ayg had come a couple of times during his sleep and told him how to improve his meditation and physical routines. Although the visits were frustrating because while she could talk to him, he could not speak to her, and he had many questions. Regardless, as he lay on his bedroll, Renier thought about his progress and felt satisfied.

Just before Renier fell asleep, Captain Tomas hurried over, "Com' with me, lad. Bring your weapons; we got company!"