By morning, everyone in the room was red-eyed. The meeting that had started in the darkness of the night had lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and the hours of intense discussions and calculations had exhausted everyone's minds. Corvus' body was the most tired. He felt the burden of the days in Sorbaj, then the exhausting journey to Bahoz and now this meeting that had lasted until dawn.
The plans Baral presented were detailed and logical. Each project was intelligently thought out, built on long-term strategies. But Corvus sensed that not all of these ideas were Baral's. The plans involved not only Bahoz, but Sorbaj as well. He knew that such a comprehensive plan could not have been created without a team of experts in urban planning, economics and trade. Baral's real achievement had been to bring together people who understood these things and use their intelligence to present them as his own ideas. But Corvus did not question this. After all, what mattered was not who thought it up, but whether the plans would work.
Meanwhile, the effects of the deal with Belisarius were becoming visible. Corvus' trade for a hundred kilos of Lightstone had enabled the Adler merchants to bring in the goods they wanted. This greatly improved the economic situation of the people of Sorbaj. And not only Sorbaj, but also the merchants in Bahoz. With the introduction of Adler goods, other foreign traders were forced to reduce their prices. Those who refused to lower their prices incurred the impatient wrath of the population and many were beaten.
However, this agreement had its problems as well as its positives. The Lightstones given to Belisarius had exhausted Corvus' resources. He no longer had access to his father's coffers and was in no position to seek outside support. If he wanted to finance new projects in Bahoz, he had to rely solely on his own income. According to Baral, once the new market was completed, it would be a major source of income. This would mean a revival of trade in the city, an increase in Rasur's taxes and a strengthening of economic stability.
Baral expected these increased revenues to be placed directly under his control, but Corvus disappointed him. He ordered that all revenues be transferred to Rasur's coffers and that city projects be funded from this common budget. As much as Baral did not want this, Corvus' decision was final. Bahoz's future depended on the whole community, not just one man.
Corvus woke up from his few hours of sleep fully refreshed. Fatigue had been erased from the depths of his body. Even after the challenges in Sorbaj, the journey to Bahoz and the last all-night meeting, his body felt ready to return to the battlefield. But there were other thoughts in his mind beyond the battle. The first thing he did when he woke up was to check on his younger brother Volmir. But Volmir's room was empty. His younger brother had woken up early, like someone who had been raised in army discipline for many years. When he asked the mansion staff, he was informed that Volmir was practicing in the backyard.
Corvus took heavy steps into the garden. Standing in the doorway, he surveyed the garden. Despite the early hours of the morning, the sun was already rising in the sky, casting a golden light on the earth. But Corvus' eyes were focused on only one person. Volmir, drenched in sweat, swung his sword with patient and steady movements. His younger brother was practicing fighting with two swords, having idolized his older brother. This was against the traditions of Rhazgord. Young warriors were not allowed to use a different weapon until they were twelve. But Volmir had obviously continued to train in secret, breaking the prohibition.
Corvus watched in silence for a while. There was purpose in Volmir's every move. His sword strokes were delivered with discipline, not childish enthusiasm. Volmir was less skilled than his peers. But he certainly had more willpower.
Corvus's mind went back a moment, a month ago. He was standing in the same spot in this garden. Only then he had come here to say goodbye to the lifeless body of his fallen friend Kragan. Now, on the same grounds, his brother, the future of Rhazgord, was training. Life continued its relentless cycle, but Rhazgord's warrior spirit was never extinguished.
Corvus finally stepped into the garden. Hearing the sound on the gravel, Volmir moved quickly and threw one of the swords in his hand. The sword flew through the air involuntarily. But Corvus' hands and feet were quick; he darted forward and caught the wooden sword in mid-air and held it tightly.
"I didn't know there was such a technique" Corvus said, raising his eyebrows slightly and showing the sword in his hand. His voice was mocking, but his gaze was still hard.
Volmir said nothing. Instead, he turned his head to the side and turned his cheek to his brother. The meaning of this gesture he had learned in the Rhazgord army was clear: "I accept my punishment." His younger brother accepted his punishment without question. But instead of slapping his cheek, Corvus smiled, slowly lowering the sword in his hand. Seeing Volmir's stubborn spirit dissipated the discontent that had been brewing inside him. His brother had broken with tradition, but it was not for lack of discipline, but for ambition and admiration. As Corvus thought about how to respond, he realized that deep down he enjoyed this small rebellion.
Corvus spoke with a small smile as he weighed the sword in his hand. "I used to train with different weapons in secret too." he said. This was not entirely true, but he felt that this little lie would do more good than harm. In truth, he had started using a double sword at the age of twelve. His master at the time, Montis, had suggested he try the double sword technique when he noticed Corvus' physical attributes. However, Montis did not teach him a specific technique, but merely guided him.
Corvus' body was designed more like that of a god of war than a human being. He could control his left hand as perfectly as his right, make decisions with extraordinary speed and anticipate his opponent's moves with his keen eyes. His body was as flexible as rubber and explosive in power. These abilities did not escape Montis' notice, and made him decide that Corvus should not stick to traditional fighting styles. Within two years, he had blended the fighting techniques of the Rhazgord with his own style, creating a fighting style that even his masters admired.
Each of his swords served a different purpose. The long, narrow sword in his right hand was purely offensive, designed to cut down his opponent. The sword in his left hand was a few centimeters shorter and wider, used for both defense and finishing attacks. But what made Corvus' technique so frightening was that he could change the role of these swords at will. He could switch from defense to offense in an instant, or mislead his enemy to deliver a deadly blow from an unexpected angle. This made it difficult for his opponents to read his movements and allowed him to keep the upper hand during battle.
But the real lethality of his technique was not only in his swords, but also in his movements. As a result of his collaborative work with Montis, he optimized his footwork. He circled the enemy by constantly changing angles and surprised them with unexpected attacks from unexpected directions. This technique required a level of mastery that only the most skilled warriors of the Rhazgord could fully grasp. For Corvus, it had become a natural instinct.
Volmir's eyes lit up as he listened to his brother's words. He had watched Corvus's skills over and over again, in challenges and on the battlefields, but this was the first time he had heard so clearly how Corvus had developed his own technique. Along with the admiration that grew in him for his brother, so did his determination to improve even more.
Corvus was sure that Volmir had no aptitude for the double sword technique. It was not only because his brother was behind him in skill. The real issue was that Volmir's body was not suited for this kind of fighting. He was even smaller than his peers and struggled even with standard training swords. But despite these disadvantages, he surpassed his peers and even many experienced warriors in one thing: Agility. Volmir's speed and flexibility were almost supernatural. He had reflexes so fast as to be almost incomprehensible, and his body could glide almost like a shadow.
An idea flashed through Corvus' mind. He immediately called out to the staff to bring him a short sword. In a few minutes the weapon arrived, only a few centimeters longer than an ordinary dagger. Corvus took the sword in his hand, weighed its balance and told Volmir to watch carefully. Then for a few seconds he tried to get his feet in the right position and straightened his stance. It was clear from his movements that he had not fully mastered this stance. Volmir had been watching his brother for years, but he had never seen this technique before. It was not one of the traditional stances taught in the Rhazgord army.
As Volmir suspected, this was a different style of fighting. It was a technique Corvus had only had the opportunity to observe a few times, but instinctively grasped its essence: The technique of the Black Masks.
After taking a deep breath, he suddenly jumped up and began shadow fighting. His movements were fluid and deadly. Every step was in perfect flow, as if he were fighting an invisible opponent. The short sword flashed in his hand, striking at the weak points of his imaginary enemy with every turn. His footwork was so fast and mind-boggling that a spectator could feel him disappearing into the shadows. He used his body with extraordinary precision, bending, leaping and calculating his next move.
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It was a movement that was more of an art than a fight. He had realized how deadly the Black Masks' fighting style was the night in Bahoz, the night that led to Kragan's death. Now he planned to use it not only to hone his own skills, but also to open a path that could guide his brother.
Volmir watched his brother with wide eyes. He had never seen a fighting style like this before. Corvus' every move seemed to melt into the shadows, disappearing and reappearing. It was a technique based on speed and agility, and it suited Volmir's nature much better. As he memorized each step his brother took, he felt the warrior spirit stirring within him with excitement.
Corvus made a few more moves and then stopped. He deliberately executed his final strikes a little slower so that Volmir could see the movements more clearly. He wanted to give his brother time to grasp the technique. When he was finished, he handed the short sword to Volmir. The young warrior took it with a hesitant expression. He felt that this technique was right for him, but it was very different from the 'honorable' fighting styles his instructors had taught him for years. It was too fluid, too sneaky compared to the fighting traditions of the Rhazgord. And how effective could he be on the battlefield with such a short sword? It was more like a fighting style developed for assassins or one-on-one duels.
Corvus sensed what his brother was thinking. Smiling slightly, he spoke in a determined voice:
"They questioned my technique too. Then I beat them all, and now no one dares to talk about my technique!"
He took a few steps back, giving Volmir space to try out the new technique.
"You can use a double sword like me. Fight with your cane like Master Montis, or carry a huge axe like Kragan did. The only thing that matters is whether you can bring down your opponent."
Volmir felt the encouraging effect of these words. He shook all hesitation from his body and stepped forward. He began to perform the movements Corvus had demonstrated with great ineptitude. But even so, he could feel how much his instincts were in favor of this technique. As he let his body flow, his steps became more and more natural.
Corvus pointed out and corrected her every mistake, but deliberately did not give him a precise direction. His goal was not for his brother to copy the technique exactly, but to create his own unique style. He knew that martial arts had to suit the individual's body and instincts. Volmir would eventually find his own path.
They practiced until the sun was high in the sky. Volmir's arms were tired, his breathing quickened. But the determination remained on his face.
"That's enough for today. Go and wash up. I will introduce you to your new teachers."
Volmir paused for a moment at these words. Teachers? He thought he had only come to Bahoz for a short time. But Corvus had different plans. He had obtained a full month's permission from the army for Volmir. Without further question, the young warrior put down his sword and tiredly went to wash. He returned a short time later.
Corvus and Volmir moved with heavy footsteps and reached the area where the new workers were billeted. This too was heavily guarded by Rasur's men. When they entered a large house, Volmir's eyes widened in surprise. Here before him, as he had imagined the training he would receive from Bahoz's skilled warriors, were grizzled old men. Most of them were well over fifty, scholars with the weariness of years on their faces. But the greatest disappointment for Volmir was that he could not sense in any of these men the deadly aura he had felt in his instructor Montis. These were not men forged in steel on the battlefields; they were inhabitants of books and rooms full of knowledge.
Corvus' presence changed the atmosphere in the room in an instant. The old men turned their eyes to him in fear and instinctively retreated to a corner of the room. They were all scholars forced by Corvus, and they were here because of his will. For days they had been sitting idle because the construction of the academy had not been completed. But now that Corvus had come here, it could mean one of two things: Either they were finally going to be given a job, or it had been decided that the Rhazgord warriors did not really value education and science and they were no longer needed.
Corvus broke the silence and spoke with a stern but indifferent expression. "I have heard that you have been bored for a long time." These words, spoken in Adler, were difficult for Volmir, who had not yet mastered the language, to understand. Corvus took a step back and pointed at his brother.
"So I have brought you something to deal with. This young man is my dear brother Volmir. He will stay here for a month."
The scholars immediately grasped the meaning of these words. Normally they were not in the habit of teaching children, for their teachings would have seemed heavy and unnecessary to someone without a certain basic knowledge. But here, in this land where even books were hard to come by, they were bored out of their minds. Pushing aside their fear of Corvus, they excitedly surrounded Volmir. For them, this young warrior was more than just a student - he was also an opportunity to make use of their time.
The scholars suddenly surrounded Volmir and began to talk excitedly. Normally dignified, wise men, they acted like children, excited to meet a young mind. Each of them wanted to draw Volmir into their domain, to satiate his thirst for knowledge with their own discipline.
A short, chubby man, stroking his beard, stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice. "First of all, we must teach the boy geometry! The secret of the universe is hidden in shapes! Look at these parallel lines-" he quickly spread a parchment in front of Volmir and began scribbling a few drawings on it with trembling hands.
"This is the basis of everything! You cannot understand the order of this world without angles, proportions and perfect equations!"
But before he could finish his sentence, another scholar with a long, bony face and a perpetual frown interrupted him. "Nonsense! The child must first learn basic math! What is geometry without numbers? The universe is meaningful as long as it is measurable and calculable!" he snapped, pulling a small abacus out of his pocket, and began to move the beads rapidly with his fingers. His eyes had the ecstatic expression of a man steeped in numbers.
At this moment, an older but energetic man with a slightly hunched back interrupted the discussion with a wave of his hand. "Enough!" he roared, straightening his heavy robe and stepping forward. "What good are your numerical calculations to a child! He must first learn the true spirit of the world! A person who is not educated in philosophy will believe whatever is handed to him! He must be taught to think, to question!" and with a deep sigh he folded his hands across his chest. He shook his head serenely from side to side, as if meditating in a temple.
"True knowledge begins with skepticism."
But just then, a younger, stern-looking scholar stepped forward angrily. "Don't teach him nonsense and confuse him!The real world is ruled by material power, not logic! The child must be taught the rules of alchemy! Without understanding the nature of matter, he cannot unravel the secrets of anything!" he said, pointing to a small glass vial he carried with him and shaking the dark red liquid inside in front of Volmir's eyes.
"Look, son, this may look like a simple liquid, but combined with the right ingredients, it can melt a sword!Geometry? Numbers? They don't change reality! But alchemy does!"
An older man with a stooped posture and a thin beard crossed his arms and took a step forward. "Enough! You are all talking nonsense! The boy needs to learn history first!" he said, sighing deeply. "If he doesn't know the past, how will he shape his future? He must learn about the great wars, the mistakes of kings, the reasons for the collapse of ancient civilizations!" he added, opening a large hardcover book with the inscription ‘History of the Adler Empire’ and placing it in front of Volmir. The smell of old ink from the dusty pages filled the room.
But another scholar was not amused by this claim. An elegant man dressed in an embroidered robe, his face completely covered in wrinkles, waved his hand in the air. "History is nothing but tales of the past! The child must first learn the art of oratory! If he cannot use his words correctly, he cannot be a leader or influence people!" he took a deep breath and continued. "Even kings have not been the strongest warriors, but the best orators! Young man, you cannot succeed without the art of rhetoric!" he said, bowing ostentatiously to Volmir.
Hearing this, another scholar, agile despite his age, gave a harsh laugh. "Rhetoric? Talking? Nonsense! The boy should learn battle strategy!" he said, leaning over the table and pointing a finger at Volmir. "Even the strongest warriors are ruined by bad strategy! Tactics, the formation of armies, the art of trapping the enemy... A man who doesn't know these things has no sword!" He took out a small wooden game board from the inside pocket of his robe and began to demonstrate a battle scenario by arranging the pieces.
But he was interrupted by another scholar, who held up a thick scroll with a serious expression on his face. "No, no! He must learn law before all this! If one day he has to rule the city, he must know the law! The sword alone is not enough to rule! The most powerful way to win people's respect and loyalty is to be just!" The old man's eyes shone with excitement as he unfolded the scrolls in his hand and showed them to Volmir.
Meanwhile, another scholar chuckled sarcastically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen down the bridge of his nose. "War, oratory, law... You are all talking nonsense! The first thing a leader must learn is the art of diplomacy! Even the greatest battles have been won at a table! If you can deceive your enemy, you don't even need to draw a sword." he said with a sly smile, interlocking his long fingers.
"Wit and cunning are sharper than the sword!"
As the arguments that filled the room grew louder, Volmir did not know what to do. Someone handed him a book, another opened a map, another handed him glass bottles with different contents. Volmir could not understand the conversations in Adler. Corvus was silently watching, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, smiling slightly. "I guess my brother won't have a boring education." he thought.