Blair Frosta
The strike came at me fast. Too fast. I knew exactly how to defend against it. My instructor had instilled in me the importance of memorizing body movements, predicting where the strike would come before my opponent had even swung his fist. I had seen the right hook coming the second Michael’s foot had shifted and his upper body moved, signaling how I should defend. The fist was aimed straight for my left cheek. All I had to do was tilt my head to the side, dodging it, and lift my left arm to absorb the blow, as well as holding the defensive posture to protect from a second strike. Then, I would counter-attack, sending a similar jab at his left cheek, then either fall back into a defensive posture, or take advantage of my stunned opponent. I could have done all of this, prepared to do all of this, but the strike came too fast.
The fist slammed into my cheek, stunning me, then a second jabbed into the side of my chest. Finally, another punch hit square on my nose, and even the cushioned gloves couldn’t cover the audible crack that rang out. I fell backwards, losing my footing and slamming onto the ring floor. My ears rang from the pain of my head hitting the ground, but I could still hear what my instructor was saying.
“Well done, Michael. Your strikes grow faster everyday. I think I'd even have trouble if I went in the ring with you.”
“Thank you coach, I appreciate it,” Michael responded.
“Ok now get out of here. Go train with Owen while I talk to him.”
I saw a finger pointing down at me when I looked up to watch Michael head out of the ring and over to the bags. It was old and wrinkled, the nail bitten down so far it almost didn’t exist.
“Dad, I tried–”
“Coach. Or instructor while we are training,” his voice was quiet, but stern, “You disappoint me, son. You’ve been in this ring five years longer than Michael, yet you can’t stand in it with him for more than five seconds. Your jabs should be twice as fast, blocks twice as sturdy, and you should never trip over yourself. Not with how much time we spent focusing on your footing,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, “Now go clean yourself up. Class ends in ten minutes and I expect you to help me put all this shit away. I’m too old to lift all this stuff.”
I realized blood was dripping from my nose and onto my shirt, so I quickly took the handkerchief and ran to the bathroom. In the mirror, I could clearly see the slight bend Michael had created with his fist. All it would mean is another trip to the hospital. I quickly stuffed my aching nose with toilet paper and ran out to help clean up. The process wasn’t long, but lifting the heavy bags down and off their chains strained my arms, and I had to do it after taking a beating every single time.
“That’s it then, is it?” I nodded to my instructor, who looked at me with a scowl, “You look terrible. Go get that fixed up before you come home,” Once again, I nodded, and quickly ran for the door.
The wait at the emergency room was long. So long that by the time I came out it was raining and already late in the afternoon. My nose still throbbed in pain, but the pills they gave me alleviated it slightly. They had told me to leave the patch on for a week, and that it should be healed by then. I was to be careful, not letting it get hurt anymore, but I doubted Dad cared much about that. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was the first one in the ring tomorrow.
I clenched my fists and held them there while walking home. I could feel my nails dig into my skin, but I didn’t care. I needed to hit something. I looked around, the rain growing harsher as I tried to find something I could hit. A tree, a wall, anything. That’s when I saw a man. He had his hood up and was taking cover under a small awning in front of a store, so he was hard to spot, but I recognized him. A smile crept on my face as I walked across the street towards him. There was something to hit.
*****
Hector was slow. Both his form and footing were off, and when he slashed his sword at me from over the top of his right shoulder it felt like I was seeing it in slow motion. I quickly parried his strike, enough force in my block that it sent him staggering backwards due to his faulty footing, and hit him with the flat of my wooden blade against his chest. He didn’t fall down, one of his many improvements since he started training, but he did struggle to regain his footing from the blow. “Again,” I commanded. The boy nodded and came at me once again.
It was just past midday when Hector grew too tired to keep up with me. His breath became ragged and his movements slowed even more. “Enough sparing,” I said, “Show me the Form of the Serpent.”
Hector did so, holding the hilt of his sword with both hands above and in front of his head, angling the blade downwards and standing in a ready position. It looked like a snake that had risen its head off the ground, fangs bared and ready to strike. Hector had gotten the general idea of the form down, but his grip on the hilt was faulty, making it easy for his opponent to knock it out of his hands, and his footing was once again off. I corrected his mistakes, and continued through the other forms. Each one made his Serpent Form look impressive.
Hetcor let out a loud sigh as the afternoon set in and fell to the ground as we finished the last form. He sounded like a dog, panting heavily from the day’s work. I sat beside him while he caught his breath. I could see he was eager to do more, but everyone had their limits, and it was my job to make him know his.
“You’re really impressive, you know?” I said to him, “Most kids your age would have given up before noon, falling to the ground from pain and exhaustion. But here you are, training hard until you can’t even move your arms anymore.”
Hector tried to prove me wrong by lifting his arm, but it only twitched instead. “What do you mean by my age? You sound like an old man. You’re barely two years older than me, so don’t act like I can’t do better,” he said, a bit annoyed.
“I didn’t mean it like that Hector. I’m being honest. I’m just… different.”
“Why!? Because you’re a Lord!?” Hector yelled, attracting the attention of a few of the other guards, including Cade and Morrison. “Both you and Sean always act like you're better than me, even when I’m working so hard! I just… I just…” he trailed off, and I could see tears forming in his eyes.
Lennox had come over from the stone wall she was sitting against and sat down beside Hector, who quickly hid the fact that he was crying with his arm. So he really could still move it. I let the two of them silently comfort one another while I thought of what to say. Hector was a kid, but did I have any right to treat him like one? He was right, our ages weren’t far apart, but I had a whole previous life worth of knowledge over him. I guess I didn’t know how long that life was, but I still felt much older than him. I let out a sigh and spoke quietly, but seriously, “Hector, why do you come here almost everyday?”
He moved his arm away from his eyes and stared at me. Hector didn’t look angry anymore, even with the strain that the crying had put on his eyes. Instead, he looked like he was thinking hard. “Because I want to be able to keep up.” I gave him a confused stare, but he kept going, “You and Sean are only a bit older than me, but you can do such awesome things already. Sean’s magic has been cool since I met him, and something that I always wanted to do too. Then you came along, another genius mage who also swung a sword like a veteran soldier. When you two grow up, you’ll be free to do whatever you want, and no one will be able to stop you. Then there’s me, a stupid kid who can’t do magic and can barely hold a sword right. I don’t want to be left behind. I just want to be as cool as you two are.”
I didn’t know what to say. All of that was so unexpected that I simply stared blankly at Hector like I was paralyzed. Even though he was a kid, he was also a person. He had thoughts, feelings, and fears, just like anyone would. I wanted to apologize to him, but the words wouldn’t come out. I really shouldn’t have treated him so much like a child.
“So, why do you come here everyday?” Hector asked.
I wanted to say that I had no choice, but that wasn’t really true. I could defy Lady Mairead, it just would end in punishment. In that way, I really did have no choice, but that didn’t feel like the right thing to say. When I thought of the right words, they came out of my mouth immediately. “What else would I do?” I asked the air.
Lennox’s grip on Hector’s hand came loose as the boy stood up and grabbed his wooden training sword. “I don’t know. You could join Sean on his hunts. He seems to enjoy them. Or you could practice magic instead. You could do anything really.”
“Is that what he thinks of me? That I can do anything?” I thought.
I felt the earth underneath my hand on the ground. I could feel more than just the surface with my palm. With Nex flowing in my Soul I could feel the dirt and stones buried several feet down, waiting to submit to any demand I made of them. It was a powerful feeling, being able to command such a powerful force. Except, it wasn’t the most powerful. Sean’s spells, the ones he used water to make, were always stronger and better formed than mine. I let the Nex flow out of my body, shutting my Soul off from the strange power, and picked up my wooden training sword. “Are you ready for another round Hector?” I asked as I stood.
“I apologize, Lord Blair,” a familiar voice came from behind me.
I turned and was met by a woman with a pale face framed by long brown hair that was mostly tied in a ponytail, a few strands coming down on the sides of her cheeks, which were rosy from the cold. Like most women older than me, she was a bit taller, and much more mature looking. Even in her frazzled state, a common appearance she had later in the day due to Lady Mairead overworking her, she looked incredibly beautiful. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and looked away from her. I hated that, even though I was mentally much older, I still had to deal with the embarrassing issues of being twelve years old.
There was no mistaking the woman my eyes were avoiding. It was Anna, one of Lady Mairead’s most important handmaidens, despite the fact that she despised the young woman. I still felt a bit guilty at Anna’s misfortune from the hand of my own mother, even though there was little I could do about it, but it still felt comforting to know that there was a person as good as her going through similar things as me.
“I did not mean to disturb you and your sparring partner, but Lord Malcolm has sent for you. I was asked by Lady Mairead to escort you to him,” Anna continued.
I returned her gaze, though reluctantly, and nodded to her, “Thank you for letting me know, but I can find my own way to Lord Malcolm.”
Anna’s eyes grew wide in surprise, and a bit of fear, but then she twisted her mouth into a wry smile, like she was looking at something humorous. “Apologies again, Lord Blair,” she said, “But I would not dare to defy Lady Mairead’s order. Please, follow me to Lord Malcolm’s chancery.”
She turned and began to walk, an action that would have gotten her in trouble if it were anyone else but me, and swayed her hips slightly as she walked. I felt my ears grow hot alongside my cheeks and hurried to catch up with her. “You know,” I said when I caught up and began walking beside her, “It’s poor manners to walk away, and in front of a Lord. It’s customary to wait for me to come to you, even if you are escorting me.”
We walked into the eastern tower that framed the cliffside that was Dousindor Castle and began the long climb up a giant spiral staircase. “I know it is,” she said, the same smile still on her face.
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I wanted to be angry. After all, she was treating me like a child, teasing me as if I wasn’t the son of the most important Lord in the entire Northern province of Vistaria, but I wasn’t mad. I should have been, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was happy. Anna, despite her own difficulties in life and the incredible amount of pressure she certainly felt from Lady Mairead, always treated me like a normal person. When I was with her, I wasn’t the third son of the third wife of Lord Malcolm, a young Lord desperately trying to claim the succession of his father against all odds. Instead, I was just Blair with her. The only other person like that was Sean, but that was because he didn’t understand anything about Lords and their responsibilities. The only one who understood was Anna. “Thank you,” I said under my breath, but Anna gave no hint of her hearing it, the same smile remaining on her face.
We continued our walk deeper into the mountain, the air becoming thicker as we did so, though it could have been my imagination as I thought more about where we were headed. Lord Malcolm had summoned me personally. That never happened. The few times I had seen him were at special occasions, like the Frost Feast, but I had never been summoned by him. Even Lady Mairead, one of his wives, was rarely summoned by him. I could feel my nerves grow with each step I took, terrified of how I might have gotten on one of the most powerful Lord’s bad side. “Had I failed to impress him too many times?” I thought.
“Are you okay, Lord Blair?” Anna asked, clearly noticing something wrong with me.
I took a deep breath to try and calm myself down. “I’m fine,” I said, “Just a bit nervous.”
“You look like I do everytime your Mother calls for me. Which is about twenty times a day.”
I looked at her in surprise. It was rude, and almost forbidden, to refer to Lady Mairead, or any other of the Lords and Ladies, as anything but their titles except behind closed doors. She must have trusted, or felt very comfortable with, me to refer to her like that. “Do I really look that bad? I’ve seen you when she calls. It’s not pretty.”
“Don’t you know it’s rude to call a Lady ‘not pretty,’ Lord Blair?” she asked, her smile growing and revealing pearl white teeth.
I chuckled, then bowed to her slightly, “Apologies, Lady Anna. I would never dare to call you anything but pretty.”
“You may rise, my Lord. Of course you find me pretty.”
I did so, and watched as she pretended to flip her hair back dramatically. It was then that I realized what I'd said and my cheeks flushed. “I uh–” I began, but cut myself off trying to think of what to say.
“See, you’re not thinking about what Lord Malcolm wants now, are you?” she said, her grin once again growing wider. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Blair. I doubt the Lord would be upset with anything you’d ever do.”
I wanted to ask her how she was so sure, but we arrived before I could. “Until next time, Lord Blair,” Anna said, giving me an exaggerated curtsey, then heading off to her next order from Lady Mairead.
With a heavy sigh, I knocked on the wooden door in front of me, terrified of what was in store for me inside.
“Come in,” an elegant and confident voice called to me from inside the door.
I walked in to find Lord Malcolm staring at a giant stone pillar twice the size of him and just as wide. The stone had some cuts in it, and some pieces had been completely chipped off, giving it an unsymmetrical and messy look. Lord Malcolm was standing right in front of it, endorned in a silvery blue robe with a pair of eyeglasses resting atop the bridge of his nose. I stood just at the entrance of the room, the door still open behind me. It felt more freeing that way, like I had an escape from whatever I had done to get the Lord of Dousin’s attention.
Silence filled the room for a long time, except for the creaking of the off-set door behind me. It was custom to remain silent in the presence of a Lord and not speak until spoken too. So, despite my curiosity on why I had been summoned, I stayed my tongue.
The silence persisted as Lord Malcolm stared intently at the stone in front of him, only speaking when his eyes finally shifted to me. “It’s good to see you, Blair. I haven’t seen you in almost two months, not since the Frost Feast. A pity, that.”
I tried to keep my eyes on his, as it was proper etiquette to face the Lord when being spoken to, but my eyes kept sliding over to the stone pillar. I could feel it as the Nex flowed into my Soul. Of course, I could also feel the stone of the mountain around us to a certain radius, but something was different about this stone. The Nex inside and around it was shifting, moving without my Soul directing it. I had never felt something like this before. I couldn’t draw the Nex into my Soul, as every time I tugged at it, there was a sort of resistance. What was that stone?
“Curious about my work, are you?” Lord Malcolm asked.
“No! Um… sorry Lord Malcolm. I didn’t mean to become distracted.”
“Relax, son. There is no one here except for the two of us. I am your father, not just Lord of Dousin.”
“Yes, Father,” The word left my mouth stale.
“This stone is my greatest project, Blair. When your grandfather declared me as his successor, I was gifted this,” he gestured to the stone pillar, “Ever since then, I have been carving my own image into it, just as he did with a similar stone, and just as our ancestors have done ever since Dousin was founded by the Frosta family. When I die, this sculpture will be placed on the front facade of Dousindor, for all of the people to see.”
I took another look at the stone. Sure, it was clear that some work had been done on it, but there was very little progress to make note of. It looked like he’d just started, but that didn’t make any sense. Lord Malcom was named as the Successor of Dousin over twenty years ago. If this was all the progress he had made in that time, the sculpture would never be finished.
“Yes, I know. There really is so much still left to be done,” Lord Malcolm said as if he read my mind. “I’m afraid tradition was of little importance to me when I was young, Blair. I was… reckless and wild. I mean, I have three wives after all. Your grandfather likely only named me Successor because I was his only child! I can only hope that I make him proud with what I have done, and what I will do. Bah! Enough of my rambling. Let’s move on to why you're here.”
I shifted nervously, trying to hold myself upright as best I could. His story had calmed me somewhat, but he took another long silence, allowing the creaking of the open door to drive a spike in my nerves.
“Blair, I want you to help me. Don’t worry, it’s not a big request, just a small favor. I’m nowhere near death's door, but the lack of progress on this sculpture weighs on me. This is what my image will be immortalized in. I want the people of Dousin to look up, see my face, and remember me for the good I did long after I die. So, if you wouldn’t mind, could you describe me? My face, I mean. No man can look in the mirror and truly see himself. He’ll be blinded by pride, confidence, or self doubt. I want the real me to be etched into this stone, not some mask that’s created by honeyed words my wives or servants give me. So I ask of you, be honest with me, and describe my face.”
My foot shook slightly as I stopped myself from stepping backwards, and a chill ran down my spine like a breeze had blown through the creaking door. “Lord Malcolm I–”
“Father,” he interrupted.
“Father. I don’t know if I can do as you ask. If I were to say the wrong thing,” I bit my lip slightly, choosing my words carefully, “I don’t want to say something I will regret by accident.”
A frown fell onto Lord Malcolm’s face. It wasn’t anger that flashed on his face, but a deep sadness that poured out into the room. It was a face unbecoming of a Lord, especially a Frosta, who was meant to hide all emotion even in the worst of times. Lord’s represented their people, as well as the state of their holdings. If Lord Malcolm let anyone except me see that face, a spiral of horrible rumors would run through Dousin, fearful of what terrible thing made the Lord so saddened. This was one of the first things Lady Mairead had taught me. The ‘mask’ that Lord’s had to wear. Now though, Lord Malcolm’s mask had come completely off, and all that stood in front of me was a man who looked tired and incredibly sad.
“Please, Blair,” was all he said.
I considered for a moment, then sighed, “I will do my best, Father.”
Instantly, he brightened, then his focus turned to the sculpture, “Begin when you’re ready. Let me know how I look.”
I did my best to describe every feature of his face. Father’s eyes were slightly sunken in, and his brow was naturally furrowed, giving him a more intense look, almost like he was angry, but the absence of wrinkles on his forehead suggested otherwise. His jaw and face were slim, and his nose was slightly big. His hair was cut short, and swept backwards. I tried to give every detail, leaving no stone unturned on his face. As I described him, I felt the Nex within the stone move, changing with each feature I described. I tried to visualize the shapes the Nex was taking in my mind. It almost looked like a face was within the stone. Then, a loud crack rang throughout the room, and a piece of the stone flew off. I realized Father had moved his hand slightly, and used magic to carve a bit of the stone off. His Soul was reaching within the stone, filled to the brim with Nex.
We continued for what felt like hours. I would describe a specific part of his face, then he would make a cut. I grew a bit bored, having to stare at my father’s face for so long, doing nothing else, but this was the longest amount of time I had ever spent with him. It was… nice. Still, my eyes drifted occasionally, examining the office a bit more. That’s when my eyes fell on something hidden at the back of the room.
“Father, what is that?” I asked, pointing to the back of the room where a black cloth was covering something large.
“Oh!” Father's focus on his carving wavered, and he began to rub the side of his neck, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”
I was confused as to why, but then Father walked over and pulled the black cloth off, revealing a second stone pillar. The stone was the same height as the one Father was just working on, with similar coloration and width as well. I knew what it meant. “So,” I grit my teeth and did my best to push out the question, afraid to hear his answer, “Have you already decided who your successor will be?”
Lord Malcolm let out a long, tired sigh. He was clearly reluctant to answer. After all, I had no right to know who he had chosen before anyone else did, even if it was me, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to know the second I saw that stone pillar, the same one that would be handed down to his successor. So I held back my apologies and protests as he answered. “Blair, if I was able to break the tradition, I wouldn’t make any of my sons or daughters the Successor or Lord of Dousin.”
A tightness stabbed into my chest. I knew Callum and Magnus were much more likely to be chosen. They were older, stronger, and children of his first wife, but to hear that even they weren’t considered good enough yet was a huge blow. Was I that much of a disappointment to him? What would Lady Mairead do if she heard him say that? I tried to convince myself that she’d just increase training time in the yard and extend my lessons, but I knew it wasn’t true. To hear that I was barely a thought in Father’s–no, Lord Malcolm's–eyes would send her into a fury. I shuddered at the thoughts of punishments she would have, the creaking of the door behind me only adding to the fear I felt. I turned around to look at the door. It had half closed on its own now, slowly swaying back and forth like it was deciding which way to go. I wanted to rip it off its hinges just so it would stop making that infernal noise.
Lord Malcolm stared at the fresh stone pillar for a short while, then sighed and walked to his desk, “Blair, I think it’s finally time to get on with why I asked for you to come here.”
“I thought it was to help you with the sculpture?”
“Well, yes. It was. But I also have something else to tell you–no–something to ask you. Your Mother has spent a long time building you up so that you could stand next to your brothers. Ever since you were born, her entire life has been focused on preparing you to be the next Lord of Dousin. Unfortunately, we all know that is unlikely,” his words stung, but I stayed silent, “So, she has decided to take more extreme measures. She’s asked me to send you Cefftiff City, on the Baltal plateau to the southeast. There is a military academy there that prioritizes the sword, as well as combining magic with martial arts. Many say it’s the best in Vistaria, and it sounds perfect for you. However, these are all things your mother has asked of me. So I want to hear it from your mouth. I want to hear what it is that you want to do, Blair. Tell me, do you want to be the Successor of Dousin?”
My mouth opened, but no words came out. I didn’t know how to answer him. Becoming Lord of Dousin had been my goal since I could crawl. It was what Lady Mairead expected of me, what she wanted for me, and this academy would increase my chance to achieve that goal. However, no one had ever asked me if I actually wanted to be the next Lord of Dousin. I thought it might be a trick, but Lord Malcolm’s face was completely serious. So, I considered his question for a long while.
My answer to Hector’s question came back to me, about how I didn’t know what else I would do. It was true, but he had given me a few ideas. I could practice my magic, something I hadn’t gotten to do for months. Without Restivus my progress would be slow, but I enjoyed the feeling of Nex and the power I could control. If I wasn’t trying to be Lord of Dousin, would people treat me differently? What if, instead of only with Anna, I was just Blair to everyone else as well? These thoughts felt intoxicating, like dreams that were so far away, but I could feel myself reaching for them. Then I heard the creaking of the door opening wide, and I was brought back to reality.
My magic would never be as powerful as Sean's. He focused solely on it, not even bothering to visit me in the guard’s training yard anymore. His life was devoted to it, and I had no chance of ever catching up. Then my thoughts turned to Lady Mairead. Her disappointment, and punishment, would be too much to bear. What would all the other Lords and Ladies think of a son who gave up, not even trying to fight his siblings for more power. I would be an embarrassment to the Frosta family, known only as a mark of disgrace. It didn’t matter what I wanted, only what I needed to do mattered.
“How long would I be gone?” I asked.
“Three years.” Lord Malcolm replied.
Three years away from Sean, Hector, Lennox, Morrison, Cade, and Anna. I would miss them, but it also meant I could have three years away from Lady Mairead, working for my goal without her oversight.
“I want to be the next Lord of Dousin. I want to be your Successor more than anything else in the world.” As I spoke, I heard the creaking door slam shut behind me.