Origin
August 27th 4229
Zach woke up, today would be the day he advanced into harder training. He was 9 and his birthday was in a week. He ran a hand through his hair and went outside for a moment, collecting his thoughts before heading back into his room. There was a font where he could drink and wash from, the keep was the largest in the land of Kerridan. Their land was a sea away from the land to the west and a long ways away from the mountainous land to the east.
He grabbed his dulled training blade and put on his leather chest piece and gauntlets. He laced up his boots and slung his sword in the sheath on his back. Eventually, He stepped out into the summer air. The sun was low on the horizon, like it wasn’t ready for the day as much as the others. The “tattoo” of the sun with a Knight’s helm in the center of it was branded on his right bicep. He looked at Lucas across the ramparts. He was to be the next Warmaster, a rank few knights achieve, let alone at the young age of 27. Most knights lived to be about 50, some get lucky and live to be 70. And the oldest knight, the Magister of their keep, was Fargull. He was 87, and he had fought a witch, once he bested her, she granted him the wish of being immortal, but at the cost of him never being able to love.
All children who were born into the keep were required to know this early on. Lucas was going to be holding the Yearling Trials. Zach had been preparing for months. Sleepless nights where he would be practicing footwork until the dawn of the next sun. Training with tenth and eleventh years to try to challenge himself. He felt ready. Today there would be a mini-tournament, to find out which five would be in the Trials.
Zach was reporting for duty around an average time. An over-eager boy by the name of Kile was bouncing in his armor and boots. The most notable thing about his technique was his fighting stance itself. It was unique and fast and upside down. He held his long sword with one hand, left-handed and backwards. It was tough to counter, but as long as you played more defensively you could tire him out easily.
Zach adjusted the straps on his armor. The looming tower in the distance, just before the sea, was ominous. It pulled us attention often for no reason in particular. Like something was warning him. Finally, the others had begun to arrive. A few jokes and words exchanged between the young kids. Moods attempting to be lifted before everyone became serious.
Abel cleared his throat and everyone had silenced, the teacher smiled and explained the rules. Three hits made a point. Three points made a victory, one catch was, everyone fought at once, in the forest. That was why Lucas looked tired. He had mapped it out fully and made sure it was safe.
Zach was biting the inside of his cheek to hide his excitement. The forest was like home to him. When his brother Chris had taken him last year, he’d hunted a Fire hound, the wispy and thin tail hung in his room, a reminder while Chris was away in the Jungle of the west islands.
Abel lead them to the starting area and added another twist. Everyone was to be out of Abel’s sight before the brawl would begin. “I will count to three. And you had better be moving.” Abel spoke, and students frantically scattered.
Zach was gone. He had dashed the second he said count, he was about a quarter of a mile away, he smiled and saw a small clearing and knew he would kite one or two there. And the toll of the bell rang out through the air and after a while, and not much action, Zach tensed up. His gut telling him to dodge. He listened and lo and behold was Kile, swiping upward from behind. “Sneaky bastard” Zach sneered with a grin. Unsheathing his blade and taking a calm stance. Steady and collected.
Kile grinned as if he were already winning, slashing over and over, until out of nowhere Zach pulled a parry and disarmed him. Punching, striking with the pommel of his blade and kicking until Kile cried the surrender word. And Zach paused, sheathing his blade and offering a hand to help him up. Rolling his eyes, Kile smiled sadly, “overkill bro” he said, and they’d both laughed.
Kile told Zach where he could find Jorge, the burliest of the group and the last stander. Five had gotten disqualified and Kile had beaten one quickly. Zach thanked Kile and started to the clearing, the bald child wielding two short swords waited.
“Jor” Zach called out from a distance, “just you and me,” he said, smiling. Jorge was skilled. Probably more so than Zach, better than Zach was the last time they fought. “This should be fun, you beat Kile, then?” Jorge asked in his sharp tone. Sidestepping as Zach followed suit. Jorge boasted heavily about his strength that he donned an iron chest piece and gauntlets. But his hubris led to many a slow reaction.
Zach made it a point to not strike first. The hooked edge of the tips of his blade were handmade to snatch swords from his opponents. Zach felt his gut turn. “Jorge,” he said with genuine fear, and an Atronarch, an amalgamation of elements, appeared. Its face was a mixture of rocks, moss, and fire. And Jorge’s eyes widened fast, and he dropped his weapons. Calling out for Abel as he sprinted from the forest.
Zach knew he could do this. He breathed, steeling himself, the Atronarch threw a rock at him fast, but he rolled under it, charging as he slipped past fire and ice. And he started to attack, sliding to the side and cutting its semi-ethereal leg as it stumbled. Then, he kicked up and turned his sword to stab him with his back turned, straight through the core, and he missed by an inch and rolled away to regain his composure.
Breathe. He told himself; he needed to keep his calm. He focused again and dashed. The Atronarch set the forest floor on the opposite of its wounded leg on fire as Zach picked up speed and charged straight through. Stabbing the core and the Atronarch shuddered, its energy leaving as its core hummed, skewered by Zach’s blade.
Clapping erupted from the silence of the aftermath of the battle. And Lucas, donning his infamous Damascus patterned steel armor, minus the gauntlets; was smiling. “That was some Tournament.” He said as he said an incantation and put out the fire on the forest floor. “I came because my gut told me something was up, but I watched, you were calm and collected. ” Lucas explained. But Zach was still a bit star-struck that his hero was speaking to him. “When we get back, you, Fargull and I are going to talk, but keep that core-actually, take it to the Smithy, tell him I sent you, he should make you something with it.” Lucas said with a grin.
Abel came shortly as Lucas was escorting Zach from the edge of the forest. “What-” he started and saw Zach holding the Atronarch core. And his face portrayed shock, eleventh years had trouble with them. And Zach was only a fifth year.
A few hours after the four yearlings went to trial, they were reported on their way back, Zach was sitting with the Smithy, the dwarf smiling at him “ye fucked that bag of rocks eh?” He said, and Zach laughed a bit.
Finally, the sword was complete; it was beautiful. Made with Thorium, and the core ended up shattered, scattered throughout the blade and used at the pommel and hilt. It was double-edged and Valkyr, the Dwarf, had named it Aetherius. He handed it to him, and it weighed more but was still balanced. Zach thanked Valkyr and placed Aetherius under his cot. And Lucas smiled as he waited in the Hallway. During the Feast was when Fargull would announce what would happen to Zach because it was not his place to slay any demon or conjuration. Zach was sitting with his friend. Kile shaking his head that he couldn’t fight that Atronarch with Zach. Knowing well that they would’ve both stood and fought.
About halfway through the feast, Fargull stood. Using his broadsword as a walking stick almost, the man standing at a giant 6′10”. He cleared his throat and slammed his blade into the ground three times. The hall silencing.
“I am pleased to announce that Kile and Jorge have become honorary Yearlings and will skip past sixth to Eighth years. And join the ninth year’s this coming fall. And as for Zachary Greyheart. ” he paused and Zach felt the eyes boring into him, the entire hall staring.
“He will be training Directly under our Newest Warmaster, Lucas Blundveld. And he will also be authorized out of the keep effective immediately. Treat this boy as if he were a man because he has demonstrated courage few others possess. Felling an Atronarch is not an easy feat, let alone with a training blade, and high remarks for technique. Well done. ” he spoke, and the hall was erupting in cheers for the Nine-year-old boy.
After the feast and everyone retired. Zach climbed to the roof of the Observatory. Closing his eyes and breathing it all in. This was fast. But it was exciting. Maybe he would find his dad. Perhaps he would tell him about his mother. He watched as he swore he could see the prewar tower in the distance shift and a light come on. But it was probably a trick of the night air.
