The sky was grey with the first day of snowfall for the winter season. The air was already at that point that it chapped one's lips, causing one to lick without a moment's notice. The gardener was walking by the pasture fence, nearing the stable when he looked over at the lord's steed, still grazing. Their droppings had dried and the gate remained closed. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion as he proceeded to investigate lightly.
It would be later that he would inform the lord in his study. "Master, I am uncertain of this, but I believe the stable hand has disappeared. His work has been neglected, and no one has seen him in some time."
"The stable hand? I see... He has always been rather diligent in his work, caring much for the animals. It would be unlike him to simply abandon his duties." Vindor pondered for a moment, his face grimacing at the thought. "I was informed that the gate had been left open the night prior. I fear he may had wandered into the forest and gotten lost."
"I question why he would do that."
"Indeed, but the gate had to have been used by someone. Thank you for informing me of this, Gedrey. You may leave now."
"You are most welcome, master."
Vindor would arrange for a search party of house guards to look for the missing stable hand. They would find the remains of the young man within a couple of hours. Winter stripped the trees completely, allowing the sunlight to show in full the gruesome scene before them. Frozen blood had mixed with fallen snow, and there lay the obvious trail left by something that was footless. The remains were little more than the skeleton, with the flesh having been stripped and torn off the very tissue that had held it in place. The guts were spared, but the man had been eaten by something savage.
Quite the commotion had stirred back at the estate upon their return. A crowd had begun to gather, with Erik catching wind of it.
"Now, now. Calm yourselves everyone." Vindor ordered, his body standing before the brought back wheelbarrow with what little remained of the stable hand.
"My lord," one of the guards exhaled. "It was a terrible scene. No bear, wolf, or any other wild beast could have done that and not have left a trail of prints. I suspect there is a monster in the woods that attacked him."
Many were eager to get a glimpse of the damages, with Celia being quick to rush to the crowd in grabbing Erik and dragging him away. "Come along, Erik. This is for the men to handle, inside, now."
Erik willingly went, though his eyes remained on the scene behind him. He feared being found out, feared people questioning what had happened, but no one took it for anything more than a tragedy to be avenged. The remains of the stable hand would be buried, and a small funeral would be held. His father would order for news of the boy's death be sent to Novergracia, informing the records of his passing. Before he knew it, his father had organized another search party, but this time, they were armed and equipped.
They would be gone until evening, venturing out for a few days, but returning empty handed each time. Realizing there was no success in uncovering the monster's whereabouts, Vindor bolstered the watch upon night and ordered that no one was to leave estate grounds in fear of another death.
Everyone heeded the master's orders, and guards would would be posted to watch the rear all throughout the night. The servants and workers were warry and fearful, and yet, Erik was not. He would become distracted from his studies, looking out the window and into the forest with a lost stare.
"Are you afraid, young master?" a voice surprised him. Erik turned his jaw to Nomay, standing before him with a subtle look of sadness. "Whatever it was, it is of no danger to us. The master and his men will protect us."
Lord Henry would come to arrive within the week. He was told of the unfortunate incident in passing, though little was said on the matter. All he wanted to do was to see his grandchildren after another three seasons of being away.
The hearth was lit with a fire that warmed the entire room. The three children gathered around the den to listen to his stories, the air filled with the aroma of a scented candles lit all around. "Now then, I know exactly where to begin. Children, do you know what an elf is?"
"Those people with pointy ears?" Answered Noesse.
"Yes, indeed, my darling, though that is not all that they possess. They are tall, with long, pointed ears, yes, but also colorful hair and sharp eyes. His hair was very long and like that of autumn leaves. I happened upon one looking to purchase a hefty amount of goods. I asked him why, and he told me that he was donating it to help an ailing village, struck by a sickness. You see, children. He spoke Common and was an exceptional healer and warrior.
"How tall was he, grandfather?" Asked Oliver.
"Oh my... Nearly two heads taller, I would say. Certainly taller than most men. If not as tall as your father or a bit more!"
Lord Henry was not exceptionally taller than most men, shorter than Vindor who was considered to be as big as men came.
"Grandfather," Erik intervened. "Why did he go out of his way to help a village?"
"Well, you see, he was a, what the elves call, a druid. A warrior to spirits of nature, as he told me. He was a great warrior, wielding a weapon that was practically a small spear, and a shield. His sacred duty was to help those in need, as is virtue of his religion. The elves are a very different people from a very far off land. They do not worship the same gods we do. They have their own cultures, religions, languages. I have never strayed so close to their vast empires, but the stories have always fascinated me, so to have met one in person was a blessing, indeed. They are much like the templars we have, or the paladins that worship the goddess in the north."
"So he was a warrior chosen by god?" Oliver asked.
"Hmm... Less chosen by god, and one that offered himself to the spirits. Entities that exist in their realm that are worshipped and served as gods here, are, I suppose."
"Grandfather."
"Yes, Erik?"
"They willingly offer themselves as servants? Why?"
"Well..." he coughed. "I... Suppose, it is for purpose, ultimately."
"Purpose?"
"Yes, my child. You see, above all, we seek to have purpose. If I did not have my family or my work, I would most certainly have no purpose, thus, I would be nothing more than a mindless fool, wandering the streets in search of the smallest bit of pleasure to fill my days. I suppose that is why there are so many out there that indulge themselves, rather than working towards something. They do not have purpose. Of course, being a knight to the king, a templar in the clergy, a servant of the goddess, they offer themselves for the purpose of fulfilling duties above oneself. I was never much of the religious type, myself, however, I believe I understand their reasonings. They seek to serve that which is greater than them, and it is what they worship that ultimately gives them purpose. Thus, be it mind or soul, they serve as minions of a higher being. I suppose another reason could be for strength or knowledge."
"Strength or knowledge?"
"Yes! You see, obtaining strength and knowledge can be difficult by yourself, thus, they obtain it through worship. The church often gives a means to its followers."
"What if I do not wish to serve the church?"
Lord Henry laughed at the young boy's words. "My, my. Erik, you are an exceptional young boy. You have what many do not. A great mind, a healthy body, familial backing, wealth, connections born from nepotism, really, you are as fortunate as they come. You all are! You should never forget that. You have the means to obtain greatness by yourself. You merely need to study and work hard."
"Yeah, Erik. Most people who seek to join the church have to because they are poor and come from peasant families. Even if we joined the church, we would be of considerable standing within their ranks due to our lineage." Oliver seemed to tease him.
"Hmm... Well, you are not wrong, Oliver." their grandfather admitted.
"You are also fortunate because you were born to be a lord." Noesse added. "As a lady, myself, our fates are very different."
"That is also true. You see, Erik. You can be anything to set your mind on, it is simply a matter of how you go about obtaining that. Perhaps you should begin with prowess. As you are a child of the Chamber dynasty, you have training methods and skills passed down by your family that you could take advantage of, as only those with your blood would have access to them."
"I could even teach you, if you wanted to learn." Oliver offered.
"A splendid idea! Now then, who would like to hear about the flightless bird that swims?"
The children were awoken the next morning to windows fogged. Erik was promptly dressed and brought to the dining room to eat with the family, where the question was asked: "Any plans for today, Oliver?"
"Yes, mother. I will be teaching Erik swordsmanship."
"Oh? Well you kids have fun, but try not to go too hard on him."
"Father, might I practice with them?" Noesse asked.
Vindor groaned out an answer through his mouth full of food. "Mmm..." he washed down his food with a glass of water. "Noesse, I do not want you picking up a sword. It is not the place of a lady."
"Father..." she pouted.
"I find it would be only for fun and games." said Henry. "Why not let her? It is not as though she will be fighting in a duel." he laughed.
"Well..." Celia looked to Vindor.
"Well, all right then. Do be careful with your sister, now, boys."
"Yes, father. We will." said Oliver.
Of the manor's many rooms, one was a small training hall of stone, wood, and leathered ground, just past the library of the manor's east wing. Erik had never held a proper sword before, one that wasn't made of wood and meant for children, even despite how important the sword was to the Chamber family. After all, there had to be dozens of swords scattered across the manor, decorated upon walls, next to decorative suits of armor, or ones that were used by the guards. The Chamber Household was a house of knights, so it could be said that Erik felt something within him when he gripped his first sword, as though his very blood was whispering to him of its desires.
The sword was heavy, barely was he able to lift it which was forged from steel. It was cold and smooth, and even with both his hands on the hilt, he could not fully grasp the sword. His brother stepped to him, lowering the blade back down. "That, would be a sword, Erik, for knights. You can use this one," Oliver handed him a rapier. "This is a rapier, much thinner, and lighter. It is the sword often used for beginners to practice with."
Erik took the rapier his brother handed him, examining it as Oliver walked over to the center of the room. The sword was as Oliver had said, much thinner and lighter, yet still it was made of steel. It was not something that could be twirled around lightly, and still had to be held tightly. It was no toy. It was a weapon, sharp and able to wound easily if handled properly.
The rapier was shiny, like that of silver, with a leather strapped hilt and an elegantly designed guard. The blade was long, thin, and straight to a sharp point. It was about as wide as a finger at the base.
Oliver took a stance that was easy for Erik to copy, easier with Oliver guiding him to the best of his ability. "Try to have your feet spread apart, like this. Footwork is what makes a proper knight. You move like this," he showed, moving around in a circle. "You hold the sword ahead of you, and you watch your opponent." he suddenly jumped ahead, lightly clashing his sword with Erik's. On the side of the room, Noesse watched with little excitement.
Oliver began to attack Erik's rapier, one after the other. Erik was quick to learn, striking back until the two boys were circling around the arena, smiling as they continued to clash blades.
It became less of practice, and more of a bonding moment where the two young boys were simply having fun. Oliver would begin to stop parrying and instead jumping back, showing off a bit more footwork that Erik quickly caught up on. At one moment, they parried, but Oliver stepped forth, their blades hissing as they slid and slapped against the guard. Erik was beginning to get tired, but he did not want to stop. They exchanged blows, dodging, parrying, the sound of steel clashing and striking, one after another. Their hands began to numb. Oliver sought to show off a bit more, hoping to end their little duel in a final bout. He crossed his blade over his head and around his shoulders, swinging and aiming to knock Erik's rapier out of his hands, and yet, despite this sudden movement that should have caught Erik off guard, Erik was quick to react. In that single moment, Erik avoided his brother's move, lowering his sword and twisting his heel. He spun, his sword carrying behind as he swung it in the same direction as his brother's still sweeping attack, striking it as hard as he could and knocking it out of his hand. The rapier clattered on the ground and Oliver, impressed and amazed, proudly congratulated his brother.
"Erik! That was fantastic!" he laughed, slapping Erik on the shoulder a few times with the biggest smile.
"Can I go next?" Noesse ran up, quick to reach for the rapier on the floor.
Oliver laughed in grabbing it from her. "This one might be too heavy for you, sister. Give me a minute to catch my breath and I will spar with you." Oliver chuckled, breathing heavily as he flopped onto the ground to sit.
Meanwhile, Erik was staring at his hand which had become red. His heart was beating unlike it ever had. He had always been lost in thought, pondering everything his mind wondered, and yet, this seemed to be the first time he was left simple minded. He enjoyed holding a sword, enjoyed the exhilaration of swinging it.
The next few days, it seemed that all Erik would do was spend his time swinging the rapier. He would spar more with his brother, but Oliver was one to get tired quickly, thus, Erik sought to spar with his sister, but she was slow and weak.
Their blades clashed, and with the ringing of metal came the loss of her rapier as it fell to the ground. "Can you not hold your weapon?!" Erik raised his voice.
Noesse looked at him in distraught. It looked as though she were about to begin weeping, but instead, she sniffled before turning angry. "You, brute!!" she turned away, running off through the door.
"Milady?!" her nanny ran after her, screaming, "Are you alright, milady!?"
Word of Erik's newfound obsession spread throughout the estate quickly, as it had gotten around that he was rather skilled. Of course, his mother and father heard of how he had bested his brother, as well as his treatment of his sister, and though his father praised his son's talent and defended him due to the incident. "Well, in the boy's defense, Noesse is a young lady, and should not have been holding a sword to begin with."
His mother, Celia, scrunched her eyebrows in leer towards her husband. "Is that so? Well, I think Erik should have kept in mind that he was pitted against a young lady, and thus, should not have been so harsh! I fear and worry that he may hurt someone."
"He needs only to learn patience, my dear. Fret not, I am aware of your feelings. I shall talk to the boy."
Erik remained in the sparring room where his father was quick to find him. The moment he walked in, he turned his head to Nomay, sitting watchfully on the side. She stood up upon his entrance, at which he told her, "Leave us."
"Yes, milord." she bowed and left.
Erik continued to swing his sword, not even noticing his father, or rather, not bothering to pay him any mind.
"Erik!" Vindor roared. "Put the rapier down, boy. Come here." Erik did as told, approaching his father and laying the rapier against the wall. His father sighed with eyes focused on him; he, who seemed like a giant in comparison. "I hear you have quite the grip with a blade. Do you wish to tell me what happened?" Erik said nothing. "Do you not know what I mean?"
"I do not."
"I see." Vindor took a seat on the step, patting once the slab next to him. "Sit." Erik sat down next to his father who continued on, "Do you think it is fun to play with swords?"
"Yes."
"Then that was your mistake. Swords are not for fun and games. They are weapons. Their purpose is to defend and attack. To heft a blade is to be done with purpose. Perhaps you enjoy swinging a sword, but I believe that is because you are talented. You are a Chamber, boy. You come from a lineage of great knights and squires. Our dynasty is a pillar of the kingdom, just like the Rose household are as mages. It is in your blood, son, but you need to have a reason to pick up your sword. Either for the defense of the kingdom, the legacy of your dynasty, or even as mercenaries do in order to live. For what reason do you seek to hold a sword, son?"
"I just want to be better."
"...Better... Huh? I see. Well then," he stood up. "Let me show you some pointers, then. Be quick." Vindor went over to the table and picked up a large broadsword. Erik again picked up the rapier, the only weapon he could hold easily. His father met him in the middle of the arena. With both hands on his sword, he moved his shoulders and around and cracked his neck. "Now then, son," he began with a downward leer, a stark contrast from the normally grinning yet stoic father that he was. "Know that you will never find a fair match. There is no such thing. There is the environment, where you can maneuver around obstacles with ease or difficulty, depending on the length of your weapon. You can kick dirt, slip on mud. Rain blinds the vision, the dark leaves one open to surprise. Knights nowadays learn to duel one on one for show, but I learned the traditional way, the way of the Chamber dynasty that to this day, your grandfather, the Duke of Cezarch, still teaches. You may be outmatched, out skilled, or even out sized. The weight of my body and my weapon is not something you will be able to overcome easily." Vindor in his speech suddenly leapt forward. He moved gracefully, lightly on one foot, slamming down his other with force as he twisted his body and swung. His blade broke the rapier Erik was holding. His movements were masterful. It was clear he was experienced, strong, and agile, and from that single moment, Erik realized the true difference between them. "Know this, boy. The sword is a weapon, even a companion. Do not be arrogant to believe that you are capable of wielding one, simply because you defeated a child. There is everything to consider. Even the craftsmanship of the sword. A thousand years of mastery was put into this sword. It is not to be toyed with."
Erik found himself on the floor, huffing along with his beating chest. His hand was numb. Vindor knelt down before him, letting go of the sword so that it way fall against the wall. As his father took his hand, Erik asked him, "Father, how do I become stronger?"
Vindor chuckled softly. "You practice, and you learn. For one, don't hold the handle too tightly. Do that, and every time you parry or strike, the shock will only hurt your hands. Hold the blade lighter. Also, you need muscle. Practice is the answer to mastering anything. The more you use your muscles, the more they will get stronger. I used to have to swing my sword a hundred times every morning before I was allowed to eat. Now then, go wash up and prepare for dinner. I am sure it will be ready soon."
As Vindor left, Nomay, who had been standing outside, bowed and asked, "Milord, is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. You may go inside now."
Nomay did as such, only to find Erik sitting down still. Erik paid her no attention, even as she called out to him. Instead, his attention was on the sword his father had used and left behind. He stared at it, a humble determination.