A week came and went, which was mostly spent evaluating Lawk’s strengths and weaknesses, what he already knew, and what knowledge he lacked. The boy was surprisingly well spoken in the common language, Anchoran, though he could neither read nor write it. Per Lawk’s recounting of his childhood prior to the 3-year period of lone survival, his parents had focused on their native tongue, Opthes, a language unknown to Stace and John. When Stace asked him to write in Opthes, however, her eyebrows went up and her eyes widened. She looked up at John, whose facial expression mirrored her own, until he frowned in consternation a moment later, as she spoke his very thoughts aloud, “That’s Archaic.”
The ranger was immediately both excited and concerned. Lawk had produced an elegant script that appeared runic in nature, and which both Stace and John had immediately recognized due to its infamy as an indecipherable puzzle, an ancient language utterly lost to the ages. Hence, the name “Archaic Anchoran” (or “Archaic” for short) was bestowed upon it. If word got out of the boy’s knowledge, he would be hunted by countless greedy and power-hungry foes for his potential to unlock secrets of the past.
So, rather than immediately pester a recently adopted 8-year-old, whom they had promised to raise and protect, about a supposedly dead language, to which he clearly held the key, his new guardians advised him to not reveal his knowledge or command of Opthes to anyone. It was a subject that they had resolved to review with him in private, at a later date, should he be willing.
***
Lawk had no knowledge of proper combat techniques, but he did have applicable skills. And, what he had learned, the remarkable boy executed to perfection. He was already effectively a master tracker, hunter, and trapper, and he had become so accustomed to moving stealthily at all times, no matter what he might be doing, that he had to exert a conscious effort to make noise or leave a trail. It appeared magical in nature, how he never even disturbed the ground as he moved, unless he did so intentionally. If Lawk wanted to stay hidden, he would not be found.
The boy had also learned how to throw his hunting knife with pinpoint accuracy. The young hunter quite literally never missed with his weapon. And, his reflexes and coordination were unbelievable for a boy his age. John could not help but continue to be impressed.
As for his eyes…well, they were unlike anything John or Stace had ever seen. The boy’s vision was as sharp as his opthenium blade, even at a great distance and in the darkest of circumstances, especially when they glowed their moonlight silver. There was an incomprehensible power held within, which was entirely Lawk’s own. But, as powerful and captivating as they were, at the same time, they served as a constant reminder to his adoptive parents of the challenges this lone child had been forced to overcome these past 3 years. There was a constant alertness to the gray orbs, whether they were glowing or not, a habit deeply ingrained into the young survivor from his time in the wilds with no one to rely upon but himself.
But, his eyes were not his only keen sense, simply his most unique, developed, and refined. His hearing was nearly as impressive, and his nose was not far behind. The boy’s feet detected slight vibrations in the earth, and his skin helped alert him to environmental changes. Lawk’s alertness never ceased, not even in sleep. The child, it seemed, was more like the animals he’d lived amongst than John and Stace could have ever imagined. And, yet, he was still just a boy, an extremely intelligent and gifted boy, who had been through a great ordeal, which had forced him to mature ahead of schedule; but, a boy, he still was, and a respectable one at that.
***
For the night when the royals arrived at his estate, John had devised a little game of sorts, to both test Lawk and show his dear friends how special this new addition to his home truly was. He pulled 5 thin, red strips of cloth from his pocket and instructed, “Lawk, I want you to take these strips of cloth, and place one on each of our guests, before they enter the cabin, without being detected.”
The child stealth master nodded his acknowledgment and wordlessly walked outside, seamlessly slipping into the shadows without a trace, effectively vanishing a moment later. John, still unaccustomed to the boy’s incredible talent, stared after him in awe for a few moments, unable to detect him despite his many years of training and experience. A chill traveled up the ranger’s spine as he mused, “With his intense determination, this boy will one day gain the strength to alter the structure of the world as we know it at its very foundations. I will be grateful to not be his enemy when the time comes.”
It was then and only then that John experienced the briefest moment of doubt regarding training his new, potentially terrifyingly fearsome son to fight, before shaking his head and resolving to raise him as his own, to be stronger of body, mind, and spirit than any who came before him. And, if the boy ever strayed from the righteous path, he would be there to bring him back to his senses.
A short while later, the rhythmic clip-clopping of hooves could be heard gradually increasing in volume, as the Lartiso family approached.
***
“Elliot!” called King Lysander in a jovial and booming voice. “Great to see you again, young man! I hope this grumpy ranger is treating you well. Lady Stace can only do so much to make up for his behavior.”
The smile and raised eyebrow were clear signs of jest, but the teenage caretaker/stablemaster of John and Stace’s estate was immediately unsettled, as he was still unaccustomed to being in the presence of royalty.
Breaking into a sweat and performing his best courtly bow, Elliot replied, “Of course, your highness. Lord and Lady Brahm have been most gracious.”
“Do try to relax, young man, or you’ll end up like Ranger John here, who started growing those streaks of gray hair at his temples before his 30th naming day.”
John grunted in amusement, and Elliot straightened back up, risking a smile and a half-nervous chuckle, before proceeding to care for everyone’s horses as they dismounted.
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Once pleasantries were exchanged, and everyone was settled, the royals were instructed to search for the strips of cloth on their persons. King Lysander, quite stunned, found his cloth first. It was tied in a neat bow to the sword hilt at his waist. Next, Princess Lariatta and her twin, Prince Lariat each found a cloth tucked into one of their riding boots. The youngest member of the family, Princess Lana, found her cloth tied into her hair. Upon everyone noticing Queen Sandra did not appear to have a piece of cloth, John remarked, “Well, he is only eight years old. I should think four out of five is still quite impressive.”
“Indeed! Most impressive, my friend!” King Lysander remarked happily. “So, where is the little man of the hour?”
As if to answer his question, a dagger came whirring across the room, headed straight for John’s chest, but at the last moment, with a crisp clang, it was deflected by Lawk’s thrown knife in mid-air. Everyone turned to face the direction the dagger had come from, just in time to see a fleeing dark figure. That is, everyone simply turned except John, who knew this was not part of the demonstration.
The Royal Ranger had grabbed his bow and three arrows and bolted out the door in the span of two heartbeats. He loosed his first arrow, while sprinting all out, and caught the assassin in the left butt cheek, dropping him to the ground with the sudden impact. But, the assassin was quick and rolled back to his feet, ignoring the pain and pressing on. He was limping now, but without much of a loss in speed. John, gaining on him, loosed a second arrow mid-stride. This time the projectile pierced the right butt cheek, and the fleeing man face-planted into the grass, unable to tuck into a roll without driving the arrows deeper into his buttocks.
John called out, “I wouldn’t move if I were you! The next one goes right up the middle!” This was a tactic John had employed many times, because it always seemed to work. Something about the threat of involuntarily keistering an arrow always seemed to stop men in their tracks. Even the most vicious of killers halted with little hesitation when presented with this warning. He supposed no one wanted to be remembered for dying so slowly and irreverently. But, regardless of why it worked, it was effective, so he would continue to utilize this approach to apprehending criminals.
Meanwhile, the Lartiso twins had jumped into action, arming themselves in a blink and checking the cabin for any additional assailants. The king had drawn his sword and assumed a ready stance. Queen Sandra had grabbed Lana and manifested on her arm, in front of them both, what appeared to be a tower shield comprised of pure candlelight. A mist, glowing with the same amber/yellow hue as the shield, was condensing, apparently out of thin air, into the defensive armament and thickening it more and more each second. Stace had moved to step between Lawk and the doorway, but the fearless and practical boy had swiftly retrieved his knife and the assassin’s dagger and put himself between her and the open door instead, ready to deflect any incoming projectiles and face any danger that came their way. Stace was simultaneously proud, terrified, and fighting a strong urge to whack him over the head for putting himself in harm’s way like that.
Fortunately, no additional assailants made themselves known.
John, having subdued the aggressor, cut a sleeve off of the man’s own clothing and used it to bind his hands. He then proceeded to drag the assassin by the leg, face down, for the entirety of the 50-yard walk back to the cabin. He tied the man to the hitching post outside and re-entered. “I suppose I owe you thanks again, Lawk,” the ranger stated as he moved to retrieve a proper rope to bind his would-be-murderer.
While everyone looked each other over, checking for injuries or poisoned darts as a precaution, John casually added, “Oh, and Sandra, it appears we couldn’t find your red cloth, because the boy tied it to the back of your dress. You must have been sitting on it.”
There was a moment during which surprise was written all over the queen’s face, and a small smile began to break out on King Lysander’s lips, as an idea came to him, before he disguised the expression by giving out orders.
“Lariat, Lariatta, take our prisoner to the dungeons and assign heavy security at his cell. Place the guard on full alert with counterassassination protocol. And, send a message to Alchemist Severn, when you’re done, instructing him to bring healing salves and a vile of his least pleasant truth elixir to the dungeon in one hour. Then return here. We aren’t going to let the lovely meal Stace has prepared go to waste.”
The twins echoed a “Yes, Father!” and sprung into action. Freshly graduated from the Anchor, Lariatta and Lariat were eager to put their ample talents (having been the top mage and ranger of their class, respectively) to good use. Elliot, having anticipated the need, had their horses in front of them in a matter of moments. And, as if it had been choreographed, the twins, in synchrony, leaped off of one leg onto the nearest hitching post, landing on the opposite leg, which had hardly landed before they were airborne again, twisting and flipping into their saddles.
Once untethered from the hitching post, the captive made a feeble attempt to hobble away, which was briefly permitted, until the prince, already with his rope in hand, threw a lasso under the fleeing man’s feet and yanked, catching him around both ankles and causing him to face plant yet again. Lariatta, meanwhile, conjured a glowing rope, seemingly composed of the same fiery candlelight as her mother’s shield, in her hand and used it to lasso the criminal’s ankles as well. She did this in a matter of moments, after which both twins promptly tethered the ropes to their respective saddle horns.
They then proceeded to expertly urge their horses laterally away from each other and forward in synchrony. As a result, the prisoner was hoisted feet first into the air; and, as the horses broke into a trot, he began bobbing up and down. The man became well acquainted with the taste of grass, dirt, and, unfortunately for him but to the twins’ delight, one particularly nasty pile of manure.
***
Back in the cabin, conversation quickly ramped back up, and King Lysander revealed the idea that had come to him only moments before, one that would pay off in the long run more than he could have possibly imagined. Having witnessed a portion of Lawk’s natural talents first hand, the king had quickly decided he wanted Lana, who was the same age as Lawk, to train with John and the boy over the next eight years. The pair of youngsters would then travel to the Anchor together as an effective combat team of two. His youngest daughter, if his predictions were correct, would, with this new training partner, not only become a terrifying force for her age in her own right, but would gain a friend and protector, who would grow into a warrior the likes of which his kingdom has not seen in quite some time.
The wise and hopeful king would also recruit his other children’s aid in the pair’s training as well, hoping Lawk and Lana could learn to fight harmoniously, as they did. John loved the idea, as he was well aware, due to being a twin himself, that all twins shared a natural connection, which was yet to be fully understood. It was well known, however, that this connection aided them in understanding and reading each other. And, when practiced and developed to the extent of the Lartiso twins’ bond, it appeared to be a form of foresight or insight into each other’s thoughts. The King doubted Lawk and Lana could develop a connection to that extent, considering they were not of the same blood; but, knowing his youngest to be quite talented, he thought the two could make quite the formidable pair one day, regardless.