Ever since he first found Tristan defending his small companion, it was evident to Valkir that Tristan would be a swordsman.
His defiant attitude, courage to stand up to those stronger than him, and bravery to fight even in the most unfavorable circumstances solidified this.
Tristan wandered around the shop for a while, picking up different styles of swords. Some had long blades with a single sided edge, some were curved and flexible, some were even so large and sturdy it would take two hands to adequately hold it.
Tristan had grown after becoming an innate warrior, he was now nearly six feet and possessed a wide frame.
In the early stages, cultivation perfects the body, turns you in the best version of yourself. This is why you would rarely find an ugly cultivator. Only those that cultivated demonic arts would have their bodies rot and deform.
Cultivators were naturally beautiful, elegant, and gave the image of divinity. To mortals, they were gods among men.
While the store looked nice, and the blades looked fancy, this was only a small town. All the weapons were mortal weapons, not even one tier one blade among them. These blades could serve as training weapons and not much more, as the cultivator got stronger, these steel weapons simply wouldn't hold up.
Valkir's own weapon was made from a tier 3 beast that he slayed, this was a true cultivators weapon. A spirit weapon.
Tristan walked around and found himself in front of a sword, this weapon was labeled "Jian". It was a straight, double edged sword, with steel that had been folded many times in its creation.
It's scabbard was black hardwood and covered with leather, along the base were pieces of decorative metal at the tip and towards the top.
Tristan let the fox onto the ground below him then grabbed the sword. It was heavier than the stick he was used to. However due to his abnormally strong body it was manageable. He grabbed the leather handle and unsheathed the blade.
*Shing*
A beautiful bright blue-silver blade erupted from the scabbard, the double edged blade was 55 centimeters long and a little over 3 centimeters wide. It weighed over 1.5kg and had a handle length of 16 centimeters. The handguard, hilt, and pommel were all made of a metal alloy. Only the handle was covered in a rough leather for a better grip strength.
Tristan slashed, cut, and stabbed in different directions skillfully.
Before he was kicked out of the town he often peaked over the walls of the military quarters. Watching the troops train daily.
He imitated them many days with branches and sticks when he was living in the woods but now, he had a real sword.
Even Valkir was somewhat impressed, yet he could clearly see many things wrong with Tristan's form and stance.
One thing was for sure, Tristan had potential and the desire to grow. His talent with a sword was clear for all to see by the few movements he performed.
Tristan, who had been in a sword trance lost track of time, looked at Valkir shyly and said,
"May I have this one? It seems to suit me.."
Valkir smiled and picked up the sword from Tristan's hands,
"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a heavier single edged curved blade? They're easier to handle, and you can use your newfound strength to overwhelm your opponents.. This type of blade requires precision, training, a lot of training."
Tristan shook his head side to side,
"No sir... I can tell it will take a lot of time to master but I'm willing."
Valkir sighed, he knew Tristan could immediately become a powerful asset if given a curved heavy blade.
He looked at Tristan's hopeful eyes and shook his head defeated,
"What do I know, I've only been a warrior for a few hundred years... Fine. You may take this sword, but in the future you will practice with Donovan every morning and night for many hours. Once it's reforged you will carry this sword wherever you go, it will not leave your side. I don't care if you're pissing, shitting, or bathing. This sword must stay with you. Now go to the dwarf to get fitted for your armor. Give him the sword and this dagger."
Tristan nodded and turned to go to the dwarf before stopping... he quickly turned, grabbed the sheathed sword and dagger from Valkir.
Tristan bowed deeply,
"Thank you, I will not forget your kindness sir."
Tristan turned and ran off to the other half of the store where a Dwarf was waiting with measuring tape.
The dwarf received the sword and the dagger and looked confused back at Valkir,
"Sir, I'm only a humble mortal tier cr--"
Valkir released a bit of knightly aura and caused the dwarf to stumble over his words.
Valkir walked closer,
"I don't know why a innate warrior like yourself if hiding in this town and I do not care, you have the ability to reforge the sword with the tier one components of this dagger. The sword must be sturdier, do you understand? This dagger is made of peak tier one material and can raise this swords level considerably."
The dwarf looked at the door making sure it was shut, and that no one else was close enough to hear their conversation.
"As long as you understand, this humble one respectfully asks you to not speak of my presence to the others here. It could cause...complications..."
Valkir nodded and motioned for him to continue measuring Tristan.
The dwarf craftsman resigned himself, he could only hope that Valkir is a man of his word.
Tristan paid no mind to their conversation, he was to excited about the armor and weapon. He didn't know it at the time, but no new warrior had special armor fitted for them like this, Valkir was betting that this child was something special. Even just mortal tier armor was expensive. Even the local soldiers only had metal chest pieces over their leather uniform.
The dwarf turned to Valkir while stroking and elaborated on his findings,
"I have his measurements, he's a buff little lad isn't he. Yet I feel like he could still grow... I won't outfit him in anything to snug to give him time to finish growing. So a full heavy metal plate set is off the table."
Valkir walked over to the three statues showcasing three different types of armor, one of light armor which was all leather with only a bit of metal covering the vitals.
Valkir shook his head and looked to the next set, it was medium armor. This armor had a leather base and was in many different pieces which allowed the user to be flexible in their movements. The armor set consisted of different metal pieces such as pauldrons covering each shoulder, a breastplate, gauntlets that covered the forearms, and metal boots that covered the legs up and over the knees.
This dwarf was a peak tier one level craftsman.
Valkir looked the medium armor up and down and back at the dwarf,
"There are a few things we will need custom, this armor must be inlaid with fur of the white bear or the white wolf, second there must be a cloak with a fur hood attached to the armor."
The dwarf paused and looked out the window to the south before sighing, "You're heading towards colder weather it seems. As you well know, we're not close enough to the border to have a large supply of that material."
The Dwarf's eyes shined gold and his voice strained with a fake sadness,
"It will be quite, expensive..."
The dwarf grabbed the bag of gold on the counter weighing it in his palm,
"This whole bag should be enough"
Valkir's eyebrow raised,
"Oh should it now? The whole bag... dirty merchant.. fine, take your gold and the spirit stone hidden within. Make sure it's black river serpent leather for the base or I'll have your beard. Make sure to put a white emblem of a shield like this one on the cloak and breastplate."
The dwarf took a step back still clutching the gold. For a dwarf, their beards were sacred, believe to be gifted by the divine. The longer a dwarfs beard, the more powerful they were thought to be.
The dwarf nodded submissively, grabbed some premade dark silver armor pieces and went into the back yelling behind him,
"Give me one day and I'll have it ready. Let me tell you.. You won't be disappointed, I will make this so every knight in the empire is jealous of this young man! You may stay in the side house while I'm finishing this set up. Dinner is in the stew pot over the fire, enough for you, that boy and his beast for a night."
Tristan who was holding his sword looked nervously back at Valkir, yet he couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear. No one, in his entire life had ever bought him anything. From the rags he wore currently, to the meals he ate.
Everything he owned was because he worked ,scavenged and bled for it.
Valkir motion Tristan to begin walking into the door leading to the side house, once they went inside they saw walls of armor designs. The house was covered in projects started that were never completed.
Valkir took a look around, yet Tristan only looked on way, towards the food.
The black fox had climbed onto Tristan's shoulder and they both walked to the large pot which was bubbling over the fire. He grabbed the large ladle and two stone bowls that was off to the side.
Minutes later Valkir walked over to find them both devouring the bowls of meat stew like animals. Tristan had never used silverware before and ate like a beast. Valkir could only sigh, training this boy was going to be a lot of work.
Valkir took out a pipe from his storage ring and sat near a opened window. Quickly the smell of a pungent herb filled the air.
Tristan, who had just finished his meal, wiped his face and gave the fox a second bowl. He then walked over to Valkir and asked slightly trembling,
"Sir, I'm grateful, but why did you take me with you? I'm not smart... but I saw you give them money, Does that make me a slave?"
Valkir's eyebrow raised while he puffed his dark wood pipe,
"Do you feel like a slave?"
Tristan shook his head and looked at the floor. Despite being an innate warrior and looking nearly 20, his mannerisms cause his true age to show.
"I've never been a slave so I don't know... You're much nicer than the other slave owners I have seen so I can't be sure."
Valkir looked at the boy for a moment before speaking, he blew an O outside the window with smoke.
"No boy, you're not a slave. I did have to pay for you though, quite a lot in fact. Do you understand why?"
Tristan looked down staying quiet.
Valkir raised his voice,
"Look up at me boy."
Tristan quickly looked up meeting Valkir's blue eyes with his own red ones.
Valkir smiled,
"Never look down kid, hold your head high. As a cultivator, even a king doesn't have the right to make you kneel. I had to pay for you because you're a cultivator, before anyone else could claim you I'm taking you into my service. At least until you repay me for the armor and weapon. You're a cultivator and you could do with a bit more confidence. Just don't let that confidence turn to arrogance or you will end up dead in a ditch somewhere."
Tristan looked at Valkir, taking his words to heart.
"What is a.. Cultivator?"
Valkir puffed his pipe,
"You have brains, do the other 12 year old boys look like you? Do they have your strength? Your freakish height? You must have felt it, when you were fighting that fat boy earlier."
Tristan pondered for a moment,
"I remember something... It was like as wave of wind started flowing into my arms. Giving me a ton of energy and power. I'm also taller and burlier now than I was this morning... Even my voice is deeper... Which also confuses me quite a bit."
Valkir patted Tristan on the shoulder,
"What you described as wind, was the physical manifestation of the worlds Mana. It's all around us. Mana is unrefined spiritual energy, a cultivator harnesses this energy and refines it into their body. We cultivators breathe it in through mediation and action. Mana strengthens us, like what happened when the mana entered your arms. You Tristan, have awakened."
Tristan couldn't believe it, him? A poor forest child that has been eating fish from the river and squirrels of the forest for the last five years...
Yet the more Tristan thought about it, somethings started to make sense. His senses were always much stronger than other, his reflexes were quicker, his mind was sharper, he just thought he was a bit more gifted. That the world pitied his situation and gave him some minor abilities...
Tristan looked back to Valkir,
"So are you a cultivator too?"
Valkir patted his own muscles,
"Clearly! I'm the leader of a mercenary group you know? You're one of us now. We go by the name, Obsidian Shield. I myself wield a large ax in one hand, and a large black shield in the other. I'm a mid tier cultivator."
Tristan took a moment and then sat in the chair next to Valkir. The black fox also gave Valkir the side eye which he met.
Tristan asked,
"What do you mean mid tier? I don't understand this whole cultivation thing.."
Valkir took a deep breath,
"This is going to be a long night I can tell.. Doesn't matter, ask all the questions you want little one. Cultivation at its core is the pursuit of immortality and great strength. A cultivator who refines the worlds mana becomes stronger and gains longer life with each major breakthrough... And before you ask what that is, just listen. There are many levels of cultivators, most are just a bit stronger than humans and can live longer lives. These are the low level cultivators. Then there are the mid level, which is what I am. I won't go into the specifics of the higher tiers because to be honest... I don't know about them. They're rare existences in our world and you will likely never encounter them."
While Valkir wasn't much taller than Tristan he spoke with the experience of one who had lived for hundreds of years. He could very well be a Great Great Great Great...Great Great.. grandfather.
Valkir took another deep breath then continued,
"For now I will go over some of the low tier cultivators, low tier cultivators are broken out into three major realms and on quasi realm. When you first awaken you're considered a squire, which is what you have been for a long time. Your heightened senses, slightly better agility and mental speed, are the result of awakening your innate potential by absorbing small amounts of mana around you overtime. Normally individuals need a awakening ceremony to fully awaken. You however, seem to have mysteriously awakened a long time ago."
Tristan looked down and thought about his past, even he had no idea why he awakened. Yet many things about the last five years became clear.
Valkir continued,
"After one awakens, over a period of years, the body slowly absorbs the surrounding mana heightening their senses, increasing their agility and mental sharpness. Once the body adapts the cultivator can attempt to feel the mana around them. Once they can feel it, they then will have to absorb it into their meridians on their hands and forearms."
Tristan raised his hand, and Valkir paused,
"What are your meridians?"
Valkir wasn't an intellectual, so he thought a moment for a decent analogy,
"You're meridians are... well they are... hmmm..."
Valkir looked at the inflated ball on the ground nearby and picked it up.
"The meridians of the body are a lot like this ball, but much smaller."
Tristan looked with peaked interest,
"Like this ball?"
Valkir smiled,
"Yes like this ball, you have meridians all throughout your body at specific points. For example, you have one in each hand and one in each of your forearms. To break into the innate realm, you must absorb this mana into the meridians on your forearms and hands to nourish them, which then activates them. Most people never achieve this, just feeling the mana around you is a difficult thing to most. When you fought that boy, you activated the meridians in your hands and forearms naturally. You child, are gifted."
Tristan sat back in his chair and looked over at his black fox slightly arrogant,
"Hear that, I'm gifted! haha!"
Tristan smiled naturally for the second time today, this hadn't happened since he caught a large fish three years ago. He truly had been struggling and was now told that he, the beggar orphan boy, was special.
The fox kept eating from the stew bowl yet the corners of its mouth curved upwards slightly.
Valkir continued,
"Tristan, do not get arrogant. You're special yes, but only compared to mortals. There are many cultivators who are more special than you. You're.... slightly above average in my opinion."
Valkir saw the arrogance drain from Tristan's eyes. He is special, but Valkir wants to make sure Tristan remains humble.
Valkir continued,
"For now I will tell you about how to become stronger as an innate warrior, this is also something you will have to work on every day. Only then can you grow strong enough to protect yourself and that little one over there. That black fox is... Special. Keep it hidden when around outsiders, at least until you become a knight. Anyways, an innate warrior is broken into four stages we cultivators call minor realms. Early, Middle, Late, and Peak. You're what's known as a Early Stage Innate Warrior. Only by activating the meridians within your body can you progress. To breakthrough to Middle Stage you will have to activate the meridians in your feet and legs. To progress to the Late stage you will need to activate those in your torso. To finally reach the peak of innate you will need to activate the meridian in your skull. It must be done in this order or you will face dire consequences. Promise me you won't attempt anything stupid?"
Tristan nodded many times,
"Yes... yes sir."
Valkir leaned back and closed his eyes as the sun was starting to set,
"Enough for today, I'm tired from the journey. Go finish eating boy, you grew a lot today, eat the rest of that stew and go to bed. The days ahead will be long."
Tristan didn't know what Valkir meant but was obedient.
*Boom*
The door to the guesthouse burst open.
....
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