With the decision made to start lessons, Viktor leaned back in his wooden chair, gathering his thoughts on how to proceed with teaching Arelos to read. In a way, the task was daunting; he had always taken his ability to read for granted. It was a skill ingrained since childhood, when the letters were mere shapes to memorize before they blossomed into meaning.
"Alright," Arelos prompted, bringing Viktor back to the present with a steady gaze that spoke of determination. "What do you need from me to teach me how to read?"
Viktor considered the question thoughtfully. "Well," he began slowly, pausing to weigh the practicalities, "ideally, we'd have access to ink and paper. Easier to remember things when you can write them down, make lists, practice." He allowed his mind to drift briefly to the well-stocked study he’d once known—rows upon rows of books and scrolls, their endless pages filled with the world's knowledge.
Arelos snorted, interrupting his reverie with a dose of pragmatism that brought Viktor back to reality. "Do I look rich to you?" Arelos quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can't exactly dig up a treasure chest to buy ink and paper when I can't even afford more than the clothes on my back."
Viktor chuckled softly, acknowledging the truth in Arelos' words. "True enough," he admitted, refocusing his thoughts on innovation rather than idealism. "We just need a way to produce letters for you to recognize and build on. Create some way for you to see and remember the shapes."
Drawing back to the simplicity of his suggestion, Viktor glanced around the tavern, eyes drifting over the floor. Inspiration sparked as an idea took hold. "We could do it with just a stick and some soft ground we can draw in."
Arelos' expression turned contemplative, his gaze steady as he mentally sifted through Lycona’s many nooks and crannies. "Okay," he said thoughtfully, the wheels in his mind already turning. "I know a place."
Intrigued by Arelos' suggestion, Viktor straightened, eager to discover this secret corner yet unknown to him in the bustling city. "Lead the way," Viktor encouraged, rising from his seat and slipping his copper coin into his pocket. "I'm ready when you are."
Arelos stood and beckoned Viktor to follow as they wove through the morning patrons, slipping past those engrossed in their own affairs. Emerging into the sunlight, Viktor blinked against the brightness, shading his eyes as Arelos navigated the winding streets effortlessly, clearly comfortable in his knowledge of the city’s hidden paths.
"What's this place you have in mind?" Viktor asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice as they turned down a narrow alley between two sturdy brick buildings.
"It's an old garden," Arelos explained, his steps confident as he guided them through the less traveled roads of Lycona. "Used to be part of some merchant's estate, but they moved on and didn't bother to claim it. It’s sheltered, private, and often empty."
The mention of a garden sparked Viktor’s enthusiasm—the idea of learning and teaching encased by nature appealed deeply to him. As they traversed the city, Viktor noted how Arelos' familiarity with the streets allowed them to camouflage effortlessly among the bustling crowds.
They continued through the alleys until they reached a narrow iron gate, partly obscured by an overgrowth of ivy—like a clandestine entrance secured from curious eyes. Arelos reached for the latch, his movements confident as he gestured Viktor through.
Inside the garden, the city noise faded, replaced by a tranquil warmth enveloped by lush greenery. Overgrown foliage created a natural canopy, sunlight streaming intermittently through the leaves in gentle, dappling patterns upon the ground.
Viktor breathed deeply, filled with a sense of peace offered by this hidden oasis. The serenity of the place nestled reassuringly within him, drawing forth the anticipation of fulfilling the promise he’d made to Arelos.
"This is perfect," Viktor marveled, turning to Arelos with genuine appreciation. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
Arelos gave a nonchalant shrug, but Viktor caught the hint of pride shimmering in his ever-watchful eyes. "Thought it’d do," Arelos replied, careful to disguise any lingering sense of accomplishment, though failing to entirely conceal his satisfaction.
With the garden as their new classroom, Viktor began scouting the area, exploring pathways choked with verdant life. Gnarled trees stood as sentinels, their roots twisting through the undergrowth, offering a sense of continuity that renewed Viktor’s confidence in his teaching efforts.
Selecting a patch of bare earth cushioned by looser soil, Viktor retrieved a smooth stick among the debris on the path. It was a rudimentary tool, yet perfect for crafting letters in the loamy ground.
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In the tranquil garden, shaded from the harshness of the sun, Viktor set the stick against the pliable earth, considering how best to start teaching Arelos to read. Memories slipped in unbidden, moments captured in the recesses of his mind when he was taught the very same skill now culpable to pass on. The image of Barath, with his gentle yet unwavering patience, flickered momentarily in Viktor's mind's eye. It's how it had always been, lessons imparted in quiet study rooms with the sunlight brushing against the oak tables. For a fleeting moment, he allowed the warmth of nostalgia to wash over him, though it captured within it the poignant sting of loss.
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Barath had introduced him to reading by starting with simple letters, recalling their distinct shapes and sounds—a process as rigorous as it had been rewarding. Viktor struggled slightly to remember which shapes and forms comprised his first repertoire of spoken letters, but they formed words nonetheless, sparking the initial magic of language. A pang of sadness clutched his heart, imagining Barath's familiar figure no longer stretching across his vision, guiding him with wisdom. In a part of Viktor's memory, no matter how viciously he denied it, Barath and his family still lingered undisturbed back in the family estate, sharing in laughter, wisdom, and life's many nuances. Viktor shook the thought away, grounding himself in the reality of the moment.
Returning to the present, Viktor decided on an approach—start by teaching Arelos a few letters meaningful enough to blend into a word, an idea mirrored in the echoes of his own learning. He selected B, A, and T, intending to expand from there once Arelos grew comfortable recognizing and articulating each letter. "I think we'll start with three letters," Viktor explained, indicating each letter he'd etched into the soft earth with his stick. "B, A, T." He struck the ground lightly with the stick, drawing each letter in turn, followed by their respective sounds. "Buh, Ah, Tuh," Viktor demonstrated, glancing at Arelos to catch a glimpse of understanding.
Arelos, crouched beside Viktor, watched intently, his dark eyes tracing the simple forms crafted between them. "Buh, Ah, Tuh," Arelos echoed, mimicking Viktor's pronunciation with surprising accuracy.
Viktor nodded in approval, keenly aware that Arelos exhibited a natural grasp—not just a plodding attempt, but a deep, intrinsic understanding. It caused the lingering apprehension rooted in Viktor's own uncertainty of being a capable teacher to begin dissolving.
Encouraged, Viktor set about expanding the lesson. "Try combining them," he suggested, gesturing to the letters—childhood artifacts transformed into physical whispers within the yawning crux of the garden.
Arelos leaned into the idea, parsing the unified sound slowly until he echoed, "Baa...Tuh...Bat!"
The sheer joy of comprehension sparkled briefly in Arelos' eyes, a twinkling clarity caught between the shadows. Viktor blinked in surprise, stunned by the rapidity of Arelos' understanding. "That’s it!" Viktor declared, his voice alight with shared victory, the promise of more words swelling within its exuberance.
Arelos grinned faintly, the quiet determination that characterized his demeanor now mingling with a sense of satisfied accomplishment. His hands brushed the earth as if seeking more letters to coax into being. "So, what else can these do?" Arelos was keen to explore the boundaries Viktor had set.
Buoyed by the success, Viktor's mind raced forward—intent on crafting a balance between furthering Arelos' recognition and blending those letters into familiar words. This beginning was a wellspring of possibility for vast expansion.
Viktor scratched the earth again, creating new patterns within the dark loam. "Let’s try something different," he suggested, carefully drawing the letters T, A, and B. "What do you think this spells?" he asked, guiding Arelos toward the next step with a calm patience.
Arelos followed Viktor’s initial pattern, setting the foundation by sounding out each letter again. "Tuh...Ah. Buh...Tab!"
Victor laughed openly now, enthralled by the deftness with which Arelos surmounted Viktor's constructs. "Again already!" Viktor praised, bound into an unwavering loop of mutual dedication and respect.
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As the morning wore on, the boys continued with the lessons, Viktor’s initial teaching plan shifting to accommodate Arelos’s rapid comprehension and curiosity. He began introducing more letters and combinations, extending beyond the initial scope. Arelos was like a sponge, absorbing each new piece of information with remarkable speed.
Despite the challenges, Arelos remained resilient, his analytical approach sometimes clashing with the unpredictable nature of language. He struggled with certain irregularities—the silent letters, the quirky phonetic exceptions that even astounded seasoned readers. Viktor took care to guide him gently through these hurdles, knowing that patience and repetition were vital to understanding.
“You mean, in this word, the ‘K’ is silent?” Arelos questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion as he pointed at the word ‘Knife’ etched into the ground.
“Yeah, doesn’t make much sense, right?” Viktor replied with a smile, sharing in his pupil's disbelief. “But I guess that’s just how it is. Sometimes, the rules don’t follow logic.”
Arelos nodded, acceptance etched into his brow as he shifted through what Viktor had said. His focus remained unyielding, a testament to his determination and the budding beauty of discovery. Even these small stumbling blocks couldn't dampen his enthusiasm.
“So just because I know the sounds the letters make, it doesn’t mean every combination works the same way?” Arelos clarified, reinforcing his understanding.
“Exactly,” Viktor encouraged, “but don’t worry. The more you read, the easier it will become to predict these exceptions. It’s just a matter of time and practice.”
Satisfied, Arelos returned to forming words with newfound resolve. In the garden, time slipped away as the sun climbed higher, dappling the ground with shifting patches of light, painting the skies in soft, muted colors.
Viktor ensured they revisited earlier points, adhering to the wisdom Barath imparted about repetition's virtue. Arelos’s energy never waned; if anything, the boy seemed even more eager as the hours ticked by.
Eventually, Viktor glanced at the sun’s position in the sky, realizing the morning had slipped into afternoon. “We should probably start heading back soon,” he suggested apologetically, interrupting Arelos mid-sentence as the boy adeptly formed another word.
Arelos looked up, reluctance shadowing his eyes. “Already?” he asked. Despite his protests, he understood the logic in Viktor’s decision. Their need to return to the tavern for the next round of work was unavoidable.
“Yeah, I want to make sure we’re back at the tavern before anyone else is,” Viktor explained, gathering the fallen twigs they’d used as writing instruments. “The sooner we’re there, the better chance we have of making good on that promise with Bryna.”
Arelos nodded, albeit reluctantly. He began brushing away the various letters and words they had drawn on the ground, erasing the evidence of their lessons with sweeping motions of his hand.
“Next time, then?” Arelos proposed as they made their way towards the gate, a hint of anticipation in his voice.
“Of course,” Viktor reassured, hoping to convey the same eagerness he perceived in Arelos. “We’ll pick up right where we left off. You're making excellent progress, and I’d be more than happy to continue.”
With a renewed sense of confidence, Viktor and Arelos wound their way back through the city streets, their movements harmonious in their shared purpose. The gardens faded into memory as they emerged once more into the city’s vibrant heartbeat, the distant humming of commerce and conversation greeting them.
Talking along the way, Viktor couldn’t help but feel a certain pride in Arelos’ enthusiasm. He was keenly aware of the great strides his companion had made and, more importantly, the solidifying trust forming between them. Together, they maneuvered through the bustling streets back toward the tavern, anticipation for the work ahead mingling with the promise of new endeavors and the quiet triumph of shared knowledge.