A sliver of dawn light peeked through the window, rousing Aeon from his slumber. Today was the day. He would begin his training in basic combat, a prospect that filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He yearned to become strong, to protect his family, but the physical demands of combat training remained a mystery.
Throwing off his sleepwear, he donned a set of loose-fitting clothing more suited for rigorous activity. With a nervous energy coursing through him, he made his way towards the courtyard where Instructor Falion awaited.
As he entered the familiar space, he saw Kellan and Lyra already there, their faces mirroring his own mix of anticipation and trepidation. They exchanged greetings, the awkwardness hanging thick in the air. Kellan, ever the impulsive one, couldn't contain his curiosity.
"So Aeon," he blurted out, "why did Master Falion keep you back yesterday?"
Lyra, quicker on the uptake, shot him a glare. "Kellan! Don't pry into someone's secrets."
Kellan flushed under her scrutiny, muttering an apology. Aeon, however, decided to ease the tension.
"It's nothing serious," he assured them. "I just expressed my interest in learning ...."
Their conversation was cut short by the approaching sound of footsteps. The three children straightened up instinctively, assuming their positions in a line as Instructor Falion emerged into view.
"Good morning, students," Falion greeted them, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Today marks the beginning of your physical training. Your bodies are currently unprepared for the rigors of combat. We shall start with conditioning them."
Aeon's initial excitement wavered slightly. From Falion's words, it seemed the day wouldn't be filled with learning fancy sword techniques as he had envisioned. A flicker of disappointment crossed his features, mirroring on his cousins' faces.
Sensing their shift in mood, Falion chuckled softly. "Don't worry," he said, "a strong foundation is essential for effective combat. Today, we focus on building your stamina and endurance."
He pointed towards the far end of the courtyard, a seemingly vast expanse for their young legs. "You will complete thirty laps around the perimeter of this courtyard," he instructed. "Maintain a steady pace and push yourselves. Remember, there is no shame in taking short breaks, but strive to last longer with each lap."
The sheer size of the courtyard hit them all. What had seemed manageable from a distance transformed into a daunting obstacle. However, with a determined glint in his eyes, Falion barked the starting order.
The three of them set off at a brisk pace. Kellan, fuelled by his fiery spirit, surged ahead initially. Lyra, ever the strategist, maintained a steady, measured pace. Aeon, unaccustomed to such physical exertion, lagged behind slightly. His muscles protested with each stride, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Despite the growing discomfort, Aeon pushed himself forward, fueled by a desire to prove himself and a silent conversation with the fragments of memory within him. Vivid images of warriors wielding swords flashed in his mind, their movements fluid and powerful. He yearned to bridge the gap between theory and practice.
As the minutes ticked by, Kellan's initial burst of energy waned. He began slowing down, his breaths shallow and ragged. Lyra, on the other hand, continued at a steady pace, even managing to overtake Kellan halfway through. Aeon, surprisingly, found a rhythm. He focused on his breathing, paced himself, and found a steady, determined stride.
The courtyard seemed to stretch on endlessly. Their legs burned, their lungs felt like they were on fire, and sweat drenched their clothes. Yet, they continued, fueled by a mixture of pride and Falion's watchful gaze.
The first ten laps were the most grueling. By the fifteenth, Kellan was reduced to a slow walk, his face contorted in exhaustion. Lyra, though slightly better off, was visibly struggling. Aeon, surprisingly, found a second wind, managing to keep pace with Lyra.
"Good," Falion boomed from a distance, his voice unwavering. "Push yourselves further! Remember, true strength comes from within!"
Aeon gritted his teeth and poured on the remaining reserves of his energy. He wouldn't give up, not when he was so close to completing the task. With a final surge of determination, he crossed the finish line alongside a panting Lyra. Kellan, lagging behind, stumbled in a few moments later, collapsing onto the cool grass.
Three hours had passed since they began. The courtyard, once a spacious haven, now felt like a battleground they had conquered. Each one of them lay sprawled on the ground, utterly exhausted but strangely exhilarated.
Falion approached them, his gaze filled with a hint of appreciation.
A satisfied smile crept across Falion's face as he surveyed the three panting children sprawled on the ground. "Excellent work," he rumbled. "You've pushed yourselves further than I anticipated. But a warrior's training never ends. Let's continue building your strength."
He instructed them to perform a series of exercises designed to target different muscle groups. Kellan, despite his exhaustion, tackled the push-ups with a competitive fire in his eyes, determined to prove his strength. Aeon, ever focused, meticulously executed each sit-up, his body aching but his spirit unbroken. Lyra, ever the strategist, used her core strength to navigate lunges and squats with a measured grace.
The next two hundred repetitions stretched on, each movement demanding a focused effort. Grunts and groans filled the air, punctuated by Falion's encouraging words. They pushed through the discomfort, a sense of camaraderie forming amongst them as they shared this grueling experience.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Falion called an end to the exercises. Relief washed over them like a cool wave. They lay sprawled on the ground, gulping down the fresh air, their bodies pleasantly numb with exertion.
As the midday sun reached its zenith, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Falion declared a thirty-minute break. The children slumped into the shade of a sprawling oak, their muscles protesting but their spirits surprisingly high. A sense of accomplishment filled them, a sweet reward for their hard work.
With renewed energy, Falion gathered them once more. Today's lesson wasn't just about physical training; it was about understanding the tools of combat. His gaze swept over them, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.
"Now," he began, his voice low and commanding, "let's delve into the world of weaponry. A warrior's weapon is an extension of themselves, a tool that can bring both protection and destruction. Today, we'll explore the most common weapons and understand their strengths and weaknesses."
He gestured towards a rack propped against the wall. It held an array of gleaming weapons, each whispering a story of battles fought and won. Falion picked up a long, slender blade with a curved tip – a scimitar.
"This," he explained, holding the scimitar aloft, "is a saber. Its curved design allows for quick, slashing attacks, ideal for agile warriors who favor speed over brute force."
Next, he unsheathed a weapon with a straight, double-edged blade – a longsword. "This, my friends, is a classic – the longsword. Its versatility makes it a popular choice for both offensive and defensive maneuvers. It requires balance, discipline, and a strong grip."
He continued, showcasing a variety of weapons, each with its own distinct characteristics. There was the imposing spear, perfect for keeping enemies at bay, the nimble dagger, ideal for close-quarter combat, and the heavy war axe, a weapon for those who favored raw power.
With each weapon, Falion provided a detailed description, explaining its construction, handling, and effectiveness against different types of armor and fighting styles. His voice was laced with a passion for his craft, his knowledge vast and profound.
As Falion finished his exposition, a tense silence filled the air. The children stood mesmerized, their gazes fixed on the rack of weapons. Their minds were ablaze with images of wielding these instruments of war, of mastering their intricate techniques.
Falion's gaze landed on Kellan, who stood fidgeting, his fiery spirit barely contained. "So, young warriors," he said, his voice booming across the courtyard, "which weapon speaks to your soul? Which one do you feel an instinctive pull towards?"
Kellan, without hesitation, pointed towards the curved blade of the saber. "The saber!" he declared, his voice brimming with excitement. "It suits my fighting style – fast and aggressive. I want to be like a whirlwind on the battlefield, leaving enemies in my wake."
Lyra, ever the strategist, took a moment longer to ponder. Her eyes darted from weapon to weapon, dissecting their intricacies. Finally, she pointed towards the slender, razor-sharp blade. "The dagger," she announced, her voice steady and resolute. "It's small and versatile, perfect for surprise attacks and close-quarter defense. It allows me to utilize my agility and strike with precision."
Aeon, on the other hand, found himself drawn to the longsword. Its balanced design resonated with his yearning for both offensive and defensive prowess. The fragmented memories within him seemed to whisper tales of wielding such a weapon, the weight of it familiar in his forgotten past.
"The longsword," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "It seems like a good balance between power and control. I want to learn how to defend myself and also deliver powerful strikes when necessary."
Falion studied each child's choice with a thoughtful expression. A hint of a smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgement of their individual strengths and personalities reflected in their selections.
However, there was a glint of something else in his eyes as well – perhaps a flicker of challenge.
"Interesting choices," he said, his voice low and measured. "Each weapon is an extension of the warrior who wields it. But choosing a weapon is more than just a matter of preference."
He leaned forward, his gaze meeting each child in turn. "Consider this," he continued, his voice taking on a deeper tone. "A saber, like fire, is quick and deadly in the right hands. But it requires focus and control to avoid burning yourself out. A dagger, like a viper, is silent and lethal in close quarters. But its reach is limited, and a skilled opponent can exploit that weakness. And the longsword, like a noble knight, embodies balance and versatility. But mastering it demands discipline and a respect for its weight and power."
He paused, letting his words sink in. Each child grappled with the implications of his statement. Kellan, ever impulsive, shifted impatiently. Lyra, ever analytical, furrowed her brow in concentration. Aeon, ever introspective, felt a knot of uncertainty tighten in his stomach.
"These are not simple choices," Falion continued. "They are decisions that will shape your fighting style and perhaps even your destiny. I want you to spend the night reflecting on your selections. Consider the reasons behind your choices, the strengths and weaknesses of each weapon, and how they align with your personality and fighting style."
Aeon's initial excitement about the longsword wavered. Falion's words resonated within him, raising questions he hadn't considered before. Was the longsword truly the best fit for him? Did it align with the fighting style he envisioned for himself, the fighting style hinted at in his forgotten memories?
He stole a glance at Kellan and Lyra. Kellan's expression was a mix of determination and doubt. Was he questioning his choice of the saber? Did Falion's words cast a shadow of recklessness on his aggressive approach? And Lyra, with her usual composed demeanor, seemed lost in thought. Was she re-evaluating the limitations of the dagger and considering a different weapon altogether?
The weight of this decision settled heavily on them. Choosing a weapon was no longer just about initial fascination; it was about understanding its essence, aligning it with their inner selves, and paving the path for their future as warriors.
"Come morning," Falion concluded, his voice firm yet encouraging, "you will share your final decisions and the reasons behind them. This is the first step towards your mastery of combat. Choose wisely."
With that, he dismissed them for the day. As they left the courtyard, a sense of heavy contemplation hung in the air. The excitement of choosing a weapon had been replaced by the weight of responsibility. They weren't just choosing tools; they were choosing an extension of themselves, a path to forge their identities as warriors.