Mu

Book I

Chapter 2: A martial prodigy

It was high noon in summer and the sun shone down mercilessly. As many guards and soldiers had left for the Midsummer Festival, the training ground of the Steele estate was unusually empty, with only two boys sparring in the center of it. The eleven-year old Armand had just managed to execute a complicated dodging maneuver and found the back of the almost six-year old Owen. Owen recovered a second too late as Armand grappled him from the back and locked him arms around his head. Owen’s struggle was futile. The arm grip only got firmer. It wasn’t hurting him, but it was draining the blood from his head.

“I give up!” Owen yelled. He felt the grip loosen and felt light headed as blood rushed back to his head. His left hand ruffled his short blond hair. He sat down and looked up at Armand, “You always get me.”

Armand smiled, “You never think about your follow throughs. Once I dodge a single attack, you’re done.”

Sitting under the awning by the training ground, a light brown-haired boy chuckled. Tomas Steele was wrapping the grip of his blunt-edged sword with some newly tanned leather. The old grip, worn from overuse, lie beside him on the ground. Satisfied with his work, he stood up and made a few practice swings with the sword. ‘Perfect,’ he thought and walked out towards the two cousins.

Armand was pulling Owen up when a two-year old Aran walked onto the training grounds. At two, Aran looked like he was a four-year old child, standing at a little more than a meter tall. Aran’s cultivation of the Primordial God’s Foundation resulted in faster development and a stronger body. Despite his stature, Aran’s tempered body hid a strength that rivaled that of a teenager who has practiced martial arts.

“So it’s true? He’s joining us for training?” whispered Owen to Armand. Armand shrugged and smiled warmly at Aran. This little brother of his was too monstrous, but Armand was proud of his genius brother. Tomas stared at Aran with a slight scowl. He quickly realized it and replaced it with an unbothered look. Aran, who had trained years to observe every detail and grasp human nature, took all of it in.

Owen, Aran’s cousin from his father’s younger brother, was still too young to understand anything unusual and was therefore a little nervous of this unknown young child.

Armand was mature beyond his age. Not once was Aran able to perceive any sense of jealousy from this elder brother of his. A temporary shock, replaced by pride was all Armand had shown and he had always treated Aran with care. Seeing Armand, Aran felt warmth from the bottom of his heart.

Tomas gave off an entirely different feeling. Aran had caught sight of that scowl, and this wasn’t the first. Tomas was the eldest child of the fourth generation of the Steele family, and the son of Aran’s eldest paternal uncle. He had always been reserved around Aran and Aran noticed a hint of jealousy from Tomas ever since he was revealed a genius. Tomas was not bad natured and Aran accounted this towards the influence of Tomas’ father, Aran’s eldest uncle, who had always held a grudge against his father, presumably in competition for the Lord’s title.

“Good. We’re all here,” a deep voiced boomed. The boys turned towards the armory that was connected with the main house. A tall medium-built man wearing a set of grey training clothes came out of the armory towards them. Instructor Jacob Sindris held a wooden short sword in his scar-ridden right hand, a parting gift from a ferocious beast in his previous campaign. He was not one to let grudges pass and had personally taken care of the beast after ensuring the safety of his company.

Erin Steele, Owen’s elder sister, walked beside him. She wore her dark-brown hair in a neat ponytail and had a recurve bow strung across her back. A quiver of arrows, two short of a dozen, hung on the right of her waist and a dagger in its scabbard on the left. There was dirt on her clothes and a streak of dark red on the left elbow of her shirt.

“You must be the boy genius,” Jacob said as he stopped before Aran, emphasizing the last word mockingly. He felt that the Steele family was being reckless and, maybe just a little, had injured his pride. Jacob warned, glaring at Aran and trying to intimidate him, “My training is not easy, boy. I would not want you to get hurt because of your family’s recklessness.” To his surprise, Aran didn’t even bat an eye and plainly stared back at him. Jacob’s thoughts raced, ‘Ignorance? Foolish bravery? No, those are the eyes of someone with absolute confidence, of a veteran even.’

Aran ignored Jacob’s taunts. He turned to look at Erin and beamed, “Big sis Erin, I see that you have had a productive hunt. Uncle Brandt will be elated that you brought home a deer. I look forward to our joined dinner tonight.” Erin was taken aback. Everyone around looked quizzically at Aran. It was not difficult to tell that she went for a hunt, but to recognize that it was successful and correctly guessed that the game was a deer. Erin nodded, ‘This coming from a two-year old? Even Tomas would not necessarily have done better.’

“How?” Tomas asked on impulse, confirming Erin’s assumption.

“Well, I know that big sis had been anticipating her hunt for a large game from a while and that Huntmistress Ada had approved it. From the dirt on your clothes and your missing arrows, you must’ve went hunting. There is a steak of blood on your left elbow, where you cleaned your dagger after killing the game. Since it was your first time hunting a big game, I am sure Huntmistress Ada restricted you to the outer forests, and there are two kinds of game that were plentiful; boars and deers.”

“There are minimal bloodstains on you, and a boar would have put up more of a struggle. You would have opted to either finish it with arrows, or if you did with the knife, you would have more blood on you than just that clean streak on your elbow. Am I right, Huntmistress?” Aran finished and turned towards the direction of the stables. The other youngsters just noticed that Ada Grey had already gotten only a few meters away from them.

She was dressed in a dark brown hunter’s outfit that hugged her toned figure, shrouded by a green hood that was drawn down. She was a handsome woman, with high cheekbones and piercing hazel eyes. Her dark brown hair was short, less of a distraction she said. A trained huntress, her steps were steady yet graceful, fast yet unhurried.

“Impressive, boy,” Ada laughed as she approached, “You might have a good head on your shoulders, but I’m not sure about your physique. I agree with Jacob’s evaluation. Rushing things might cause injuries that might hamper your future development.”

Aran shrugged. He could tell that both instructors had his best interests in mind, and they were not looking down on him. At the end of the day, even Jacob’s admonishment and intimidation, despite his slight bitterness, was done out of concern. After all, what other child could begin training as young as Aran?

“Let me prove myself,” said Aran. With a childish smile and mischievous glint in his eyes, “How about making a bet with me? You and Instructor Jacob can each give me a test. If I pass them, I get to stay here and train. If I don’t, I won’t ask to train again for another year.”

Jacob and Ada stared at each other dumbfounded. Who was this fearless kid they were dealing with?

“Fine!” Ada resigned, “Erin, hand me your bow.” Taking the bow off Erin, Ada started inspecting it. “All you need to do is draw this bow. It’s a little too big for you, so you don’t have to complete the draw length. Ah, I forgot. You shouldn’t have had any training. I do not care about the form, just as long as you can draw it with your arm extended till your chest, like this,” Ada added as she demonstrated drawing the bow. “Got it?” She handed it of to Aran as he nodded.

The edges of Erin’s mouth turns upwards. The boys were smiling as well. Even Ada couldn’t help but look a little amused. The contrast between Aran and the bow created a funny scene. Aran was holding a bow much taller than him. With his left-hand at the grip, he straightened his arm. The bottom of the bow was touching the ground. Aran frowned. ‘A little too big? I see your game. I’ll raise you.’

He then looked at Ada, smiled innocently, and said in a baby voice, “Okay. I’ll try it like you did.” He angled the bow so that the bottom is raised from the ground, now at a 45-degree angle. His right hand gripped the string and, to everyone’s surprise, started drawing the bow. The full draw length was too long for Aran, but he managed to draw it 80% of the way, in perfect form.

‘What?! That’s a 40-pound draw weight! It took Erin a year before she could draw it. He’s not even trembling! And that form. He looks like an experienced archer!’ The usually calm Ada was flustered. After relaxing the bowstring, Aran fished an arrow out of Erin’s quiver. Ada exclaimed, her right arm extended towards Aran, “Ah! Stop! You don’t have to…”

Before she could stop him, Aran had nocked the arrow and drew it. He abruptly turned around towards the armory, causing everyone, including Jacob and Ada, to jump away. Aran released it. The string snapped forward and the arrow flew true, thirty meters into the center of a target in front of the armory. Everyone did not have time to recover from their initial shock. This fluid motion, from drawing the arrow to landing a bullseye using an ill-suited bow, happened in mere seconds. Cold sweat dripped down everyone’s back.

“Did I pass?” Aran asked sweetly. Ada snapped herself back to her senses and stared at Aran, who was still smiling innocently. ‘This guy…’

“Yes, you did,” she sighed and took the bow from Aran. ‘You monster,’ she added mentally.

Aran turned to look at Jacob, like a hungry beast looking at its prey, “What about your test, Instructor Jacob?”

Jacob smiled back at Aran, ‘This guy… Looks like the Steele family’s judgement wasn’t clouded like I thought.’ He had already approved of Aran. Anything beyond this is just formality.

“Owen!” he roared.

Owen straightened his back and responded, “Sir?!”

“Go get your sparring blade,” said Jacob. Owen obeyed and walked hastily towards the armory.

Jacob looked down at the wooden sword in his hand. He had brought it thinking that the light weight was suitable for Aran, and if he couldn’t convince Aran to leave, he would be satisfied swinging it around and would not hurt himself. After seeing Aran effortlessly drawing Erin’s bow, he chuckled. He shouted towards Owen, “Bring a short one as well!” The sparring blades were heavier than their actual combat counterparts, to build strength and stamina. The short sword Owen is bringing back in particular weighed at least 10-pounds.

A short while later Owen came back with two blunt-edged swords, an arming sword, about 80cm in length, and a short sword, half the size of the first. Jacob took the short sword and handed it to Aran. Owen sighed as he heard Jacob’s next words directed at Aran, “You will spar with Owen. He will not attack, only defend. If you can get a single hit within twenty moves, you will have passed my test.”

Turning to Owen, “You have been training with me for a year now. If you lose, that’s ten laps around the training grounds.” Owen groaned. The training ground was 100 meters long and 50 meters wide.

“Go easy on me, little cousin,” said Owen, vigilant after Aran’s earlier display. Aran only smiled back. Owen got into a guarding stance several meters away from Aran; tilting his body with his right, sword-wielding hand towards Aran and his left away. Aran secretly complimented Owen. It was a good guard for a boy his age, but it wasn’t enough against a trained assassin.

“Be careful, brother Owen,” said Aran calmly as he twirled the short sword and held it in an underarm grip. He kicked the ground with his right foot and exploded forward. To the untrained eyes of the other children, Aran seemed to flicker as he appeared in front of Owen. Using the hilt of his short sword, he hit the pommel of Owen’s sword with precision twice; once to loosen it, and again to disarm Owen. Aran grabbed the loose sword in the air with his left hand, slipped his foot behind Owen, who was reflexively stepping backwards. Owen tripped and Aran pointed his newly acquired sword at Owen, the tip of it inches away from Owen’s eyes. Owen did not even realize what had happened until he blinked and focused onto the sword in front of him.

“Brother Owen, you let me win!” Aran dropped both swords on the ground and instinctively offered his hand to Owen. Realizing he was too short, Aran retracted his arms, drawing a hearty laugh from Erin.

Ada whistled in amazement. Jacob shook his head and closed his eyes. He had expected Aran to get a hit in, but not this overwhelmingly. ‘Three moves? It’s so fluid, I would even consider it one!’ This young boy had shocked them over and over again.

“Geez, boy. What the… Did you drink dragon blood growing up?”

Armand smiled ear to ear, “You shock us again and again little brother! Father and grandfather would be proud!”

From the corner of his eyes, Aran caught Tomas wince at this comment. Owen, even though a little embarrassed at his loss, laughed heartily. He had accepted Aran as one of the boys and ruffled the little boy’s hair.

“Well, we’ve wasted enough time. Go get your training swords,” Jacob barked to Erin and Armand, “We will begin our drills for the day.” He turned and looked at the relaxed Owen, “I didn’t forget. You will do your laps after the drills.”

Seeing Owen’s dejected look, Ada smiled. She waved at the group and walked back to the barracks. She didn’t have any lessons today, and had only came by to assess Aran as requested by Lord Steele. ‘A genius and a martial prodigy. Things are going to be very interesting,’ Ada thought, her heart racing with anticipation for the next few years.

“Instructor Jacob,” said Aran.

‘What now?’ Jacob turned around and looked down at Aran, “Yes?”

“Can I change my sword? It’s too light for me…”

***