Author: ClarineterX

Kascho looked closely at the wooden lid on the workbench in front of him. He had been trying to get it right for more than a week now. He had told the Farella youths he was “slowly easing” into retirement, but it did not feel very restive this afternoon.

It was different. He would normally spend his days hunched over actuarial tables in an office overlooking the shipwrights’ yards. His two sons had been learning his business well and Kascho did his bookkeeping by contract. Nobody needed to approve his sons taking over his business, and they would need somebody to keep their books when Kascho was fully retired. So more and more he had his sons do the work and he inspected it afterwards.

His woodworking hobby was different, though today it did not feel different enough. His hands had been more active, but today all he noticed was how similar it was to his bookkeeping – he was hunched over a workstation all day, searching for everything to look just right.

Kascho set down his tools and tidied up the workbench. If it felt too much like work, he would go find something else to occupy his time. The Farellas had been here three days, now. Perhaps they could use some diversion as well. He locked up the shed and turned to the house.

He found Misolfa in the yard, running through fighting forms. She gave him a smile as he passed by but continued with her practice. If she wanted to keep practicing, he would not disturb her.

He found all three boys in the main hall. Domire and Tido were engrossed in a chess match, with Aton looking on.

“What have we here?” Kascho asked.

“Chess, Master Kascho,” Domire stated the obvious. “Still trying to get used to the time shift from home to here.” They had been up awfully late that first night.

“This I can see for myself. Nothing better to do? Books to read? Forms to practice?”

“Well, right now I’m waiting my turn to move,” Tido said. “And I have been waiting long enough already—” he gave Domire a pointed look, “—but still, I have had enough reading today. And training…Well, I’d rather have my turn in the cave already, too. I feel like I’m close enough to this point. Training without my own axe now seems pointless.”

Domire only breathed deeply, weighing his options for his next move. A look at the board told Kascho the match was fairly even, but the positioning said Domire’s patience with himself might win it for him.

Aton spoke up. “Don’t worry, Tido. You’ll get your turn, on the board and in the cave. I get my turn in chess when I play, but I don’t get a turn in the cave.”

Domire spoke in response to this. “You can have a turn in the cave if you want. Master Kascho told you he—”

“It would be useless,” Aton said.

“No, it would be helpful. You would get two weeks of isolation, of complete focus.”

“I would have nothing new to focus on.”

“Sure, nothing new, but there’s Aguneg’s gift. Maybe…maybe with so many of us training in that cave over the years, the cave itself would help…” Domire trailed off, unconvinced of what he was saying and turning his focus back to the chess board.

“I don’t believe that,” Aton replied. “Sure, nobody knows what a Sage’s gift actually is, only that it is hereditary, and sure, Aguneg supposedly lost her gift that day. Sure, the Farella line has had these great weapons ever since, but that’s all well-known and documented. That is concrete. Until me, apparently. I’m not spending two weeks in isolation on the suggestion that the cave has some mystical gift rubbed off on it. If the gift that you received does not want me, no magical cave will change that.”

Tido spoke up again. “We get it, Aton, it’s unfair. Just do with it what you can. If you don’t want to train in the cave, you can always go back home.”

Kascho thought now was as good a time as any to steer the conversation to a more positive tone. “Aton, if you want something new, how about you come and take a look at my work in the shed? I promise no mystic skill with a weapon, but it may help you feel more relaxed.”

Aton stood. “Sounds fine. I’d rather not spend the next weeks just waiting for Domire to make his move.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Domire protested, “and if there were not so much complaining it would have been faster.” He slowly reached out to the board and moved a piece.

“It’s about time,” Tido muttered as Aton left the room with Kascho.

Mynda and Roama walked away from the Towers court together, having stripped off their hotter outer layer of padding.

“You pulled off yet another match, Mynda,” Roama said, “but you do not look too pleased about it.

“You’re right, Roama,” Mynda replied. “We won, and that should be good enough. But I know my father won’t be happy.”

Roama raised an eyebrow and glanced to the side as Tilido and Clallo trotted up beside them. “This again?” asked Roama. “I thought he already dropped this.”

Mynda took a deep breath and sighed before continuing. “He is always talking about destiny this and preparation that. Winning in overtime by one point will not make him happy. It’s as if he thinks we are going to face stiff competition from the foreigners. It doesn’t make sense. We’ve had foreigners around for a few years now. A few have learned to play Towers and joined in the matches, but nothing is changing the essence of the game itself.”

“You’re right, you know,” said Tilido. “It’s still the same game it has always been. We’re always high in the rankings. We lose a few matches; everybody does. But we always do well. So what’s your father’s issue? What is he really looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” Mynda said, still confused. “But he has been spending a lot of time meeting with foreigners, and he keeps saying the Council will listen to his ideas, but he needs to develop them further first. I don’t know what Towers matches have to do with all of that. Maybe nothing. Maybe he is just disconnected. Mother always said he cared too much for ambition and too little for people.

“So what are you worried about?” Roama asked. “It sounds like he is just being wrapped up in his own schemes. He expects too much, he says weird things, he has meetings behind closed doors. What does that matter? The Council hasn’t been pulled too far his way, has it?”

“No,” said Mynda, “but he maintains we will have a strong future despite that. Despite not having the Council’s ear, somehow we and all of Esclace will have a powerful future with no apparent reason for things to pick up. Trade with the foreigners has helped and has brightened some citizens’ outlook, but not in a huge way. There is never a huge amount of trade happening at any one time.” Mynda’s eyes focused on something in the distance. “He did recently say things would change soon. He wasn’t making much sense, but he always said ‘someday’ before. Now he says ‘very soon,’ and he has more frequent mood swings. Oh, and he’s been having more frequent meetings with his soldier friends. What do you make of that, Roama?”

“What can I make of that? Does he still insist that you act as if Tilido, Clallo, and I are your servants?”

“Yes. I will always disagree with him on that. He would also probably have a better time with the Council if he did not look down his nose at all of them. But he thinks that one must act the part of the job one wants.”

“He’s right about that part, princess,” interjected Clallo. “Why, just the other day—”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!” Clallo did not have a chance of finishing the thought as Mynda cut him off. “I need friends, not servants, and I don’t care what my father wants to say about my future! Now, do you want to be a friend, or do you want to carry my sweaty Towers pads like a good servant?” She stared at him intensely, daring him to challenge her patience, then started to let the tension dissipate as he backed down. “I get enough frustration from my father! I need friends. My father has crazy plans. I don’t. I think the Council has mostly sensible heads in it, and if I ever sit on the Council, things will be different than they are now with my father. But I’m not trying to make grand schemes. I don’t need you mocking my father through me as proxy. I just need a regular life. Towers matches, schooling, friends. That’s it.”

Tilido joined in, always a voice of reason. “Clallo, that wasn’t very funny. You could hear she was already frustrated, right? And then you come and push her buttons—”

“Alright, alright, no need for everyone to come after me” Clallo said. “It’s alright, I’m sorry, Mynda. Can you put it behind you? I already feel like I never even said it, myself.”

“Fine.” Mynda rolled her eyes. “Just, later on, let’s all go to the market, and you can show me where you got that pen you had yesterday.”

Myndael Melalta Jerllamo, leading Red Team and wearing a set of red protective padding over her clothes to match, hauled herself up on top of the block and turned to look back at her friend, Roama. Mynda barely had time to glance before Roama tossed the ball up to her. Mynda caught it, grabbing it out of the air before a blue-padded youth from Blue Team could snatch it away. Mynda jumped, reaching forward with her free hand to catch hold of the ladder-like rungs on the side of the next square column several feet away. She landed on the side of the block, the impact jarring her as her feet hit and she managed to find her footing and grab. The padding protected her knees and shins as they also hit the block. The rungs were there to grab hold of, but they were too shallow to make it easy. It was only possible with the ball in the crook of her arm because her free hand was able to reach the top of the column.

Mynda peered around the left side of the block, which was almost as wide as she was tall. A Blue form jumped up from the ground, ten feet below, and climbed toward her. She scrambled around to the other side of the block as quickly as she could and threw the ball ahead to Clallo. He caught it, turning and avoiding another Blue defender as he jumped over a pit, narrowly avoiding falling in. Just as Clallo was about to heave the ball forward to into the goal, a defender grabbed him by the ankle and jerked him violently off his feet. The ball went off aim, away from the net at the end of the court. A Blue teammate blurred past on the ground, scooping the ball up as Red players began to take a defensive position around the court.

Mynda had climbed atop the block she was on and scanned the court to understand the opposing team’s strategy. “Left side!” she called, letting her entire team know where Blue Team was concentrating now. “Play position, not opponent!” Red Team scurried to their planned positions in a formation between and on columns, attempting to form as impenetrable a barrier as possible for Blue Team.

Blue Team approached on the ground, weaving between columns. Mynda backed away from them to take her spot in her own team’s formation, leaping a pair of gaps between columns and climbing on top of another, farther back. She knew the Blues would have to climb the columns at some point, but guessing when and where was the hard part. She had to make it as inconvenient for them to get advanced ground as she possibly could. Mynda spotted a single Blue form slinking between walls on the far right of her field of vision. “Roama, coming your way! Tilido, assist!” Tilido moved towards Roama and climbed a nearby column.

Of course everybody on Blue Team heard Mynda call out, but it was too late to compensate in their maneuver. They had already launched the ball high in the air, sailing over the columns and towards their teammate on Mynda’s left. Roama ran along the ground to intercept. She leapt for the ball and managed to nudge it out of the receiving grasp of the rogue blue opponent. They both sprawled on the ground, but Roama recovered more quickly. She jumped up and grabbed the ball. Tilido had already advanced two columns forward and made a third jump as Roama released the ball towards him.

Tilido caught the ball and halted, giving his teammates time to dash forward of his position, not wanting to risk dropping it in a jump to the next column. An opponent jumped onto the side of the block below him. Tilido had little time, then. Roama was the farthest forward, but Mynda was on top of the structures. Tilido passed the ball back to Roama on the ground, who then threw it up to Mynda. Mynda was in prime real estate and quickly hurled the ball towards the goal. The goalkeep jumped at the ball and knocked it aside, but it still went into the corner of the net.

“Red Team scores!” The moderator shouted. “Match complete! Red Team: six, Blue Team: five! Greet in the center!”

Both teams dismounted the columns and walked tiredly on the ground to the center of the court, where they looked each other in the eye and struck their fists together one at a time.

Valkyr watched as Harrval grew larger in front of her. She couldn’t wait to finally hold her own bow. She had already waited a full sixteen Turns, and knew she could not bear to wait another day. The siblings knew that the four of them with weapons would need to take turns because the cave could only accommodate one at a time for real concentration. They had not discussed what order they would go in, but Valkyr felt she would be heartbroken if the others did not let her go first. It wasn’t selfishness, it was simply a need.

POP! The party landed on the Fassendais and Valkyr jumped off, eager to make her way to the cabin, into the cave. She needed her bow in her hands. The rest of the group stepped down from the raised platform, looking around. Couldn’t they move any faster? Valkyr had to go! It was very important. It had been mid-morning in Grendhill. Here, it was already late afternoon. They wouldn’t get in her way and prevent her from starting her training this evening, would they?

Reedl took the lead and gestured for the rest to follow him. They walked unbelievably slow, or so thought Valkyr. After an eternity, they finally found themselves in front of a certain large house. Reedl approached the door and knocked. It was answered by a graying man with a knowing smile on his face.

“Ah, Pascho,” Reedl began, but was interrupted by Pascho ushering them all inside.

“Come in, come in. There’s no use staying out there long.” Once all six had entered and the door was closed behind them, he spoke more. “We can’t have you out there in plain sight. You know you cannot be too careful. I don’t know what precautions you took to be sure you were not followed to Hevvlar, but I won’t have you standing outside where you can be identified.”

Reedl looked around, seeing nobody else in the house. “Is your…”

“Family’s all out,” Pascho replied. “Uillia’s gone to the market and I’ve got my boys helping with my business more and more these days. I’m slowly easing into retirement, and I took today off. You can all make yourselves at home, of course. I see you packed light.”

He paused, looking at the three princes and two princesses. “We have rooms for you, naturally. I did not know when you would be coming, but we are always prepared for a visit from any of you. I expect you’ll want to stay together, so in the hallway you can find a room for the boys and another for the girls.”

“Dinner is in a couple of hours. I hope you enjoy our local fare. You all look like—”

Valkyr interrupted him. “I’m sorry, but can we settle something among ourselves right now? Very sorry! I don’t mean to cause problems, and we’ll be fine until dinner.”

Pascho smiled knowingly. “Of course, of course. I know why you’re here, after all.”

Valkyr turned to her siblings. “Aton, I apologize that you won’t need to be involved in this.” Aton shrugged, resigned. Valkyr spoke to Domire, Misolfa, and Tido. “I think I’m ready to get started. Will you let me have my training in isolation first? I have to get in there.” She bit her lip and looked back and forth between the other three, doing poor work at holding back her nervousness and excitement.

Domire and Tido stalled. Good-hearted Misolfa spoke up first. “Of course! We would love to let you go first, wouldn’t we, boys? I mean, we will all just be sitting here for the next eight weeks anyway, right? It doesn’t matter so much what order we go in.”

Domire said, “Um, yes, that is fine. Misolfa’s right, there’s no problem.”

“Well,” Tido said, “I guess that’s okay, but can I go next? I mean, if it doesn’t matter so much.” He looked at his siblings.

“Alright, then!” Misolfa said, beaming. “Then Domire and I can just wrestle it out for the third rotation. Or just flip a coin. Maybe we could…”

Valkyr interrupted her. “Okay. Right. If you’ll excuse me, I want to get started right now. I’m sure I’ll find my way about the cavern quickly enough, and somebody can slip me my dinner later.” She turned to go and Aton grabbed her wrist.

“Wait, Valkyr. I admit I feel somewhat down about not beginning my own adventure here, but I am glad for all of you. Good luck, sister, and I’ll see you on the other side.” He offered her an embrace, which she took quickly before turning and heading down the hallway. She turned into the first door she came to on her right and closed the door behind her.

Pascho stepped closer to the group. “…You all look like you’d be interested in a tour of the house. You were all looking every-which-way, so I will go ahead and show it all to you, of course leaving the entrance to the cavern last. Come see the kitchen first.”

---

Valkyr smiled to herself. She was ready to begin.

Turning to look at the wooden doors, Valkyr paused and thought. She had descended a steep, narrow path in a rocky corridor to arrive in the chamber where she now stood. Three doors waited for her here, lit by several lanterns that did not flicker. She spared the lanterns barely a glance to wonder when they were lit and why they did not flicker as they should, then focused on a long, recessed cavity in the wall. It held four sizeable packages, carefully wrapped and bound in leather and twine.

Valkyr stepped towards one of the bundles, sensing the release of her impatience drawing nigh. This package was clearly hers. It shaped roughly like a bow, though it had a lump in the center. Despite the obvious, these clues were not what told her this was her package. She knew. She could feel it, ever since stepping off the Fassendais. She knew where to find it. It was part of her, and it could not be hidden from her.

After a moment’s pause in anticipation, she reached a hand out and pulled at the twine. As she pulled and unfolded the leather wrapping, Valkyr found her bow. Nearly as tall as she and with a sinuous double recurve, it made her feel her heart racing again. It was beautiful. It appeared to be made of metal, though she couldn’t say what type. It did not even seem to stay the same color as she looked at it. At first it seemed purely colorless, silvery. Then it took on a slightly golden hue. As she stared, she thought it even looked bluish. It was covered in intricate designs, all flowing smoothly from tip to tip. Too intricate to etch or carve, she thought. Most importantly, it was hers.

“Wasp,” Valkyr named it in that moment. With it she could sting from above.

More than eighteen Turns unused—no, that’s not right. Eighteen back on Tasala. Here on Harrval it has been over twenty-two Turns. Either way, seventeen Years, and there is not a speck of rust on it. Valkyr picked up the bow and plucked the shining bowstring. It did not need to be strung or relaxed. It gave a quiet but sharp twang and oscillated, singing its vibrations through the shaft of the bow and into her hand.

Next to where the bow had lain was a quiver filled with arrows. The arrows in the quiver had two different shapes and colors of fletching. Valkyr removed an arrow with golden fletches that curved back in towards the nock at the back of the arrow. It was light, about three feet long, with a flat golden head that curved back to meet the shaft, as the fletches did.

Valkyr started bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to contain the energy she felt. Quickly she grabbed the quiver and ran the five paces to the three doors on the opposite wall of the chamber. She threw the middle one open and saw a training room filled with dummies for skewering and pummeling. She may return here, but it was not what she sought right now. She opened the door on the left and found a much larger chamber.

The chamber was long and narrow. It was probably some 30 yards from side to side, but it must have stretched some three hundred yards long. It receded into the darkness at the far end, showing hay bales at several points along the way. How long had these chambers been prepared for her and her siblings to come train? No matter.

Valkyr found a table to set her quiver on and brought up the arrow she had in her hand. Deftly she nocked it, drew the bow and aimed, and released. The arrow flew towards the far end and hit the target she had chosen, driving halfway in. This bow was the best she had ever held. She needed more of this feeling. She drew another arrow from the quiver, this time one with silver fletches that pointed back away from the shaft, rather than curving in to meet the nock. Likewise, the head had wicked reverse-pointed barbs that would prevent a wounded enemy from removing the arrow easily. She nocked it, pulled the bowstring, and let the second arrow fly. More.

She grabbed the nock of a third arrow and pulled on it, struggling a little to get it out of the quiver because of the angle; she had not pulled far enough out. Impatiently, she slung the quiver over her shoulder and whipped the third arrow out. She could push the bounds of possibility of accurate speed volleys with this bow and these arrows. At the very least, she would try.

Domire, Valkyr, Misolfa, Tido, and Aton took position in a straight line facing their parents, backs toward the Thallenrose, and knelt on one knee. Together they bowed their heads and uttered in a loud voice, “Kindred and people of Grendhill, we have been commissioned at this time with taking the next step to prepare ourselves to protect this land. We Depart now and will return with the might of Aguneg’s Promise in our hands.”

As Reedl approached, the five siblings rose, turned, and stepped onto the Thallenrose. They made room for Reedl to stand in their center and faced outboard around him, facing outboard toward the crowed on all sides. They each saluted the crowd in their own way, presenting their weapons ceremoniously. Aton held his dao crossed in front of him.

Reedl spoke, “Hexti miti Harrval conti pondere!” The world around the six of them vanished.

Aton reflected internally as they flew. The group had not been touching each other when they launched and so he was unable to see or interact with Reedl or his siblings. He was completely alone for a few minutes.

The oath he had just uttered to the people in the square felt like an empty promise. He supposed it was true enough. Aguneg’s Promise to Grendhill had created the Farella’s weapons. The Sagewoman was a particularly talented one, according to legend, and had somehow been able to confer some of her supernatural gift upon Gren Farella all those generations ago. He hadn’t become a Sageman, nor had any of his descendants, but the gift of the Royal Arms and the talent the Farellas displayed had proven hereditary, and tied to the throne. The King and Queen’s children were born with them, but the princes and princesses who did not inherit the throne did not confer the gift on their children. The Farella dynasty did have the intelligence of the Sages, proof enough that the weapons and talent came from Aguneg’s Promise. Sages were always intelligent. Not genius level, but you would never come across one who was not smarter than average. There was their health as well. The Farellas, like Sages, were almost always in excellent health until an age when the years would finally catch up to them and they suffered the weakness of seniority. It seemed no disease could keep up with them until then.

Aton had not been granted a weapon at birth, and because of that he felt different, apart from his family. However, he had unmistakably been given exceptional prowess. He had dexterity and speed seemingly superior to anyone he had ever met, excepting within his family. Even with them, they could only best him with their respective weapons of specialty. He had every mark of Aguneg’s Promise except the most obvious and visible one. He had no weapon of his own.

Exactly what was Aton Departing for? The view? The stars flying towards him certainly were a sight he always looked forward to, but even that inspiring sight seemed inconsequential in view of the task his siblings had. What was he supposed to retrieve that he did not already have?

Domire had his sword to meet. He had fought and trained with all types of swords, but now he would meet his own. He would certainly find it the ideal length and balance for him, and even styled in a way that would match his personality. Valkyr would surely feel like she were meeting her soul mate or reuniting with an old friend when she held her own bow for the first time. Misolfa and her hammer. Tido and his axe. They would all have a very meaningful two weeks in isolation. They would all Return with an extra glow in their cheeks.

Aton was competent, but he was different. He would come back to Grendhill just the same as he was when he left.

 

“Aton, you have been a unique case your whole life,” Domido said. “Yes, you have trained with your brothers and sisters, studied with them the business of the Farella heritage and way of life. You have done your part to learn everything expected of you as a Farella. And yet you have been different.”

King Domido directed himself to the crowd. “For centuries and generations, since the founding of this nation, my family has ruled in Grendhill. We take no credit for the benevolence and bravery of our progenitor, but we have inherited a legacy to adhere to principles of concern for others. Furthermore, due to the declaration of one of the wisest sagewomen in history, we have inherited the unnatural attribute of possessing a weapon since birth, along with it the responsibility to guard this land against its enemies.

“For centuries, our ancestors have stood ready to defend what the first King of Grendhill united. We have the advantage, by no virtue of our own, of marvelous weapons that don’t grow old or rusty. We have been charged to remain ready to use these weapons against your enemies. As you have just witnessed, Domire, Valkyr, Misolfa, and Tido are prepared to take up the weapons that have belonged to them since birth.

“Aton is different, as you already know. Aton was born with no weapon. However, Aton is still most definitely one of us. It is customary among our people to try to have a sageman or sagewoman present at the birth of our children and tell us their Impressions of the babes. I expect most of you were told what Impressions were read of you at birth, giving a hint of what kind of person you would grow up to be.

“Such is the tradition in the Farella house. We recorded the Impressions of Domire, of Valkyr, of Misolfa, and of Tido. We have identified the named traits that each of them bears within, and have watched as these traits begin to form in their personalities. The sageman had no Impression of Aton. He told us there was a chord shared with the rest of our family, but he had no distinct Impressions. Some might be frightened of this.”

King Domido looked at his son, Aton. “Aton, I like to think this leaves you with great freedom. I have watched you train, study, and apply yourself with great diligence and determination. You studied multiple weapons, keeping your horizons broad. You have shown us your choice that you will be a man of honor and wisdom, worthy of the Farella name. Though your brother Domire and I can best you with a sword, Valkyr with a bow, Misolfa with a hammer, and Tido with an axe, you have distinguished yourself in skill and speed above all others. You carry an aptitude for whatever situation you find yourself in, particularly with any weapon you may be wielding.”

Domido neared the end of his remarks. “People of Grendhill, Aton Farella has matured in his training, and is as ready as I can prepare him for any new challenge or possibility his path may present to him. Aton, you may Depart to find your way.”

 

King Domido and Queen Mifalla strode forward from the shade of one of the lean-to shops at the edge of the square. They were smiling and clapping slowly.

The battle over, Domire and all the fallen invaders began climbing to their feet. Some of them hobbled or placed their hands over sore spots as they stepped aside, clearing the way for the King and Queen. Several would have bruises from this bout. Good training didn’t happen without the occasional bruise or scrape.

“Well done, my children grown up!” Domido called out loud enough for the whole square to hear. “You have put on a fantastic display for us all this morning, and shown that you have not ignored your duty to these people. To my eyes, you have all prepared well, and we are all proud to see you off today. Before we can do that, I call on the opinion of your training masters. Come forward and speak on their readiness!”

Normally this would only have one master coming forward. This time it was three. Master Pilbon stepped forward first. Valkyr felt a twang of her nerves against whatever mistakes she might have made that Pilbon would point out in front of everybody. She was surprised by what he said instead.

“Valkyr Farella, I have trained many archers in my time. I have coached and criticized them to the best of my ability. In much less time than the decades I have studied the bow, you have distinguished yourself and made yourself nearly my equal.” He turned to face her father. “King Domido Farella, Valkyr Farella has matured in her training, and is ready as ready as I can prepare her for any new challenge or possibility her own bow may present to her.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his daughter. “Valkyr, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” She stepped towards the Thallenrose, where Reedl was also approaching. When they both came close to it, they stopped and waited, facing King Domido.

Master Sergeant Espilion of the royal guard stepped forward next. “Misolfa Farella, I have studied many weapons in my time, and have carried the hammer of your great-grandmother with me at all times for fifteen years now. I have provided you the best instruction I know how, and have prepared you the best I could to wield my weapon’s successor, with its particular style that it is likely to show you. You are ready.” His last sentence was prescribed by ceremony. “King Domido Farella, Misolfa Farella has matured in her training, and is as ready as I can prepare her for any new challenge or possibility her own hammer may present to her.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his daughter Misolfa. “Misolfa, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” She stepped towards the Thallenrose and joined Valkyr and Reedl.

Captain Sambi of the royal guard stepped forward. “Tido Farella, you have surprised me on a daily basis with your strength, physical as well as moral. No matter how difficult I made your training you constantly faced it with the assured air of one who has already completed the task. Nothing phased you, and you worked hard. I merely guided you. You have prepared yourself. King Domido Farella, Tido Farella has matured in his training, and is as ready as I can prepare him for any new challenge or possibility his own axe may present to him.”

Domido nodded acknowledgement, then turned to his son Tido. “Tido, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.” He joined Valkyr, Reedl, and Misolfa next to the Thallenrose. Domido spoke next. Here he had to fill two roles in the ceremony: that of trainer and that of his role as Domire’s father.

“Domire Farella, I have not trained so many students as your siblings’ instructors did. However, I had many masters provide me their training and critique. I have had hundreds of adversaries in the practice ring over the years. You have matched them, and remind me much of myself at your point in life. You are undoubtedly ready.” He looked around the edge of the square and raised his voice, addressing all present. “People of Grendhill, Domire Farella has matured in his training, and is as ready as I can prepare him for any new challenge or possibility his own sword may present to him.” Domido lowered his voice to a more personal level again, but still as audible as it was before. “Domire, you may Depart to Retrieve your weapon.”

Domire walked towards the Thallenrose, leaving Aton standing alone in front of their parents.

The King then paused, looking around again at the crowd, at the guards present, at those who had fought in the ceremony, at his dear Mifalla, then their four children already acknowledged, and finally at Aton. This had to be different from all the Departures previous. There was no denying that Aton’s situation was different.

“Aton Farella…” Domire began.

The parties collided and the fight in earnest began. Only moments later, the second party joined. The guards did not lend their support. In a real fight they would have, but this occasion was a show, partly a test, and a rite of passage. This fight belonged to the five siblings. Evacuation and archery support were allowed, but when it came to calling commands and the brawl itself, the Farella family used this as an opportunity to show the people who they still had leading them.

After the archers had done their brief part, thirteen attackers and four sagemen remained for the siblings to take care of. Two armsmen fell to Valkyr’s arrows, another limped, and three were taken from the fight by Tido’s knives before the opposing parties met in close combat.

This left thirteen armsmen and three sagemen to face. Though they put up a good fight, the sixteen couldn’t hope to win against five Farellas. All they could try to achieve was removing a couple of them from the fight before it was over.

Domire, broad-shouldered and distinctly bearded—brown, matching his eyes—for a boy of 15 Turns of age, leaped into the fight, bringing his sword down on one opponent and then another. His powerful strokes could be deflected sometimes, but they could not be ignored.

Valkyr, tall and clever-looking with her hair pulled back and concentration in her green eyes, hesitated for a brief moment before joining the melee. She began to move her bow to her back where it could be locked in place so she could pull out her knives. Deciding instead that she was still not partial to the knives, she started using her bow as a staff, swinging its familiar weight around in a whirlwind. Where she aimed to strike, she hit.

Tido, curly-haired and stockier than his siblings, swung his blunt practice axe as though he had had days to carefully plan each blow. His dark eyes considered and knew that each strike would meet its mark. Though he did not always make sure to hit his opponents where their armor left them vulnerable, they got the idea—a real axe in those hands would have gone right through any plate or mail of reasonable width to be worn. Few dared to try standing in his way, and when they did, they fell quickly.

Misolfa, running into the fight with her short hair swinging and with a twinkle in her blue eyes, swung her hammer decisively. Its relatively lightweight construction gave her the poorest imitation of her real weapon among her siblings, but she didn’t let that get in her way. It clanged on armor and smacked limbs, certainly leaving a bruise wherever it hit.

Aton, though he was running, entered the fight with such a calculated and deadly grace that he seemed to stalk deliberately into a pit of vipers. Domire, Valkyr, Tido, Misolfa—all fought very well, all were on the point of being masters of their respective instruments of defense. All would soon collect their weapons and hurtle towards the superlative of skill. All were almost certain to become the most skilled at their respective weapons among anyone alive, with the exception of an uncle or aunt, or their own father. But Aton had no weapon. Aton had no such guarantee of supreme expertise. He did have the fabled Farella agility though, and his own determination. He wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be, but Aton would be all that he could be. He thrust, slashed, and parried, turning, blocking, and attacking with all the effort he could muster.

Moments later it was over. Aton found himself facing the sagemen and holding blades to the throats of two of them, breathing hard. Tido held the third one by the shoulder and kept his axe ready. The attackers had all fallen. The Farella siblings had won. The onlookers at the edge of the square were cheering. Something was wrong, though. They were hushing each other and quieting down. They looked proud, but perhaps somewhat dismayed at the outcome.
Aton, Valkyr, Misolfa, and Tido all turned their heads. Domire had fallen.

The majority of the guard force in the square started walking briskly through the people doing commerce, getting them out of the square. At the same time, archers around the square nocked arrows and sighted in on the group that just stepped off of the Thallenrose. The group stayed tight together and started sprinting toward one of the gates. They knew they’d been seen.

As people cleared out, Domire got ready to give his next signal. He did not wait long. This is why the crowd was limited at all times. Thinner crowds could be cleared more quickly. Expediency was even more necessary now that the group was on the move. The attackers spied Domire as he raised his other hand, this time his left, as he put his right on his sword hilt. The assailants shifted their course towards Domire. He extended the first two fingers of his hand, then swung his hand down and forward., at the same time giving a verbal command. “Archers, let fly!”

A dozen arrows sped towards the group. At the same time, another group of six appeared on the Thallenrose. They immediately started sprinting. As soon as they were clear, another half-dozen men appeared. The first round of arrows hit the dozen men running at Domire. A few missed entirely. Some hit at oblique angles, deflecting off the men’s armor. Three got good hits, thudding as they bounced off and fell to the ground, their blunt points causing no damage. One landed on a neck—the struck soldier obligingly went down. One hit a leg–the man fell to the ground, but held his sword up and at the ready in case he still might be part of the fight. He started to get up, staggering as he feigned injury on that leg. The third hit an arm. The “wounded” man kept running, but switched his sword to his other hand and held the hurt arm close.

In the moment when the third half dozen had appeared, Domire called, “Folllow volley on the rear! Foot, charge on front!” The archers nocked and drew bows for another round to loose, this time on the fresh group now stepping off the Thallenrose. As they stepped off, another half-dozen appeared.

Aton and Valkyr leaped from their staging point and ran towards the spot where Domire and the forward group would collide. Valkyr pulled back and loosed as they ran, falling back as she slowed to steady her shot. When it was gone–aimed true to hit an attacker in the shoulder next to his breastplate–she pulled a new one from her quiver and repeated the action.

Aton could see Mifalla and Tido jump from their vantage point on the other side of the square. Tido had a liking to carry throwing knives along with his axe. He started pulling them out from their hiding places and throwing as he ran. A neck, under the ribs–the knives would have been deadly if they weren’t made of leather-bound wood. The attackers he hit slumped to the ground.