Chapter 3: How to Stand

Ennis grabbed his son by the hand.

Cori, you're only 13 years old. That is the age in this village that you begin to learn weaving. However, in my hometown, it is the age that you start to learn to defend yourself first- weaving comes later.”

Neither Corwin nor Lana had ever heard Ennis talk about his hometown. It had been an unmentioned agreement in the family, who had realised after one of the many conversation deflections that Ennis had pulled.

“I know I haven't been entirely straight with the both of you about where I come from, and I still can't tell you the whole truth. But, I can see that you are going to need the skills that I learnt. Not just because of your classmates, but because of the mindset that it can give you. However, this is training that can only begin when both the teacher and the student are ready.

Are you ready, Cowin Ennis-Kane? Will you accept me as your master and your teacher?”

Albeit a little slower, Corwin had also come to the conclusion about what was going to happen to him without weaving ability. He didn't want to get into fights, but it was perfectly evident to him that others weren’t going to allow him that.

“I really don't want to hurt anyone,” Corwin started. He looked down at his feet.

When he looked back up and met his father's eyes, the determination was clear.

“But I don't want to be constantly watching over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

Ennis broke into a smile and put his hand on his son’s back.

“I'm never going to be able to weave like everybody else can am I?” Corwin said in a small voice.

“I honestly don't know,” replied Ennis truthfully. "But, I can teach you to be able to stand at the same level. And maybe, if you put in the effort, higher."

* * *

When Lana heard her husband tell Corwin that he could teach him to fight back, she was half convinced that he was merely telling her son a white lie. After all, she had never seen her husband weave even once. She had even suspected it was the reason why he didn’t talk about his home village, that he had perhaps been kicked out for his lack of ability.

And when she saw Ennis make the kid run around the garden, humming some strange sounds, she thought the perhaps he was just trying to distract Cori from the situation.

Sometimes they would do push-ups, and sometimes they would climb the trees surrounding their property. At other times they would sit in the grass together, cross-legged with their eyes closed, motionless. It was bizarre.

And at other times, they would fight. It was at those times that Lana would fret for her son, and scold her husband when her son came back bruised all over.

But as time went by, things started to change. Cori’s once youthful countenance was now prickly with the beginnings of a beard. Instead of the skinny child that he once was, he now sported tight muscles. They weren’t bulky, like some of the men who worked on the fishing boats, but rather wiry and lean. And now when they came back from sparring, Cori wasn’t the only one with bruises.

Their son was no longer that fragile child that had sobbed in her arms just three years ago.

* * *

Corwin remembered his first day out in the forest with his father. He had thought it almost akin to torture, but looking back on it, his father was going easy.

After the first day, which was pretty much just running and basic strength training, his dad begun to start teaching him to meditate.

It was an arduously slow process, but soon he began to feel the changes in his body. Not only had he grown taller, but his shoulders had also become broader, and his arms taught with muscles. And if his father’s skills were of any indication, he was decent and hand-to-hand combat.

But throughout all this improvement, training never got easier. His dad seemed to know exactly how difficult it was for him, and whenever he felt like it was becoming easier the level would abruptly change.

Even though he greatly changed since the ceremony, Corwin didn’t risk entering the town. Although some of the kids would only want to rough him up a little, some of the kids were told by their parents that the son of an outsider should not be allowed to live in this town. And although it would’ve been a blatant act of murder if an adult tried to harm him, a ‘training incident gone wrong’ would likely remain unpunished.

But, on his 16th birthday, Corwin’s parents decided that he needed to get an education- in both basic history and weaving.

Corwin mother had taught him only the underlying theory for how scores worked for each of the common elements; fire, water and wind. Sadly, due to her disabilities, she had never properly learnt to utilise her weaving capabilities outside of basic utilities in everyday life, so combat weaving was off the table. And his dad still refused to show any sort of weaving whatsoever.

Miss Morgan had agreed to teach Corwin privately. However, she was now too old to come to venture out into the woods herself. This meant that he needed to come visit her home in the village.

Hopefully without seeing any of his old classmates.

* * *

Corwin approached the village warily.

There was no walls, nor any fence that protected the perimeter of the village. It was too small a town to have the resources to build a wall, and there was little need for one. There was little monster activity on the small island of Solum. This was the reason why it was able to perform so well in the logging business, as well as the harvesting of rare herbs and forest plants.

Approaching the first house on the outskirts town, Corwin couldn’t spot anyone lying in wait.

Logically, he knew that no one knew that he was coming into the town today. But the thought did little to quench the tension he felt.

He wasn't sure that he had the ability to fight with them, but it was reasonably confident in his ability to run away.

Finally reaching Miss Morgan's house, he timidly knocked on the door.

“Come in!” replied Miss Morgan.

Opening the door, Corwin found his old teacher sitting in a wicker chair by the roaring fireplace. It was winter, and especially for someone of Miss Morgan's age, the cold winds that braced the seaside town were excruciating.

“You've grown,” remarked Miss Morgan, surprised. Compared to the small boy she’d taught only three years prior, the student at her doorstep now had the presence of a man.

Corwin awkwardly smiled at her, unsure of how to respond, as he moved to sit down in the chair that Miss Morgan gestured to. Miss Morgan had also changed, he noticed, but not for the better. There now lay a cane propped up next to her chair, and her already frail body was now fraught with wrinkles.

“You've been out of town for a while now, so perhaps you don’t know -I've retired from teaching. Now, don't give me that face. I know that I'm old, but I'll still do this favour for you and your parents.”

Corwin breathed a sigh of relief.

“However, don't think you’re getting this education for free. I'm going to need you to clean, cook, and chop the firewood for me, for the duration that you are under my tutelage. Does that sound fair?” she questioned him.

“Perfectly” agreed Corwin.

“I will be teaching you what little I can about combat weaving, and general knowledge and history of the Alliance and the Republic.”

“But I can't-”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“That's ridiculous. If you expect to survive in this world, you need to understand the basic principles behind the magic that shapes our everyday life. And it just might save your life one day. There's no lazing around in my class! Especially not if you're the only student.” she added.

* * *

Quickly the two of them settled into a routine. In the morning, Corwin would make his way to her house, do all the chores early, and then sit down in the afternoon to receive his lessons.

They weren't physically challenging, unlike his dad's, however they were still quite taxing. He had to memorize the basic scores for each of the elements, in addition to being able to recognise them aurally.

After the first few tries, they hit the same limit as he had in the ceremony. He could only focus his soul for roughly 5 seconds. Without extensive practice, there was no way he could even actualize an element in that period of time. However, his small ray of hope came in the form of manipulating already existing elements and tal stones.

Tal stones immediately took effect when the score was focused upon, meaning that he could use their effects for a few seconds before the connection was lost.

Unfortunately, Miss Morgan only had one tal- a simple inscription that secreted water- because they weren't cheap. So, the bulk of Corwin’s practice consisted of manipulating small candle fires, cups of water, and small breezes.

After a few weeks of practice, he could throw marble sized fireballs, freeze shards of ice, and create small lacerating effects with wind from already present elements. Miss Morgan claimed that she was impressed by his improvement, but Corwin suspected that he was far from matching the performance of his past classmates.

“When in combat, a sorcerer must always have some sort of score. If it’s a fire mage, you know that it's going to be a very steady tempo. If they are a water mage, then the score will be very slow with gradual builds and declines. Finally, if they are a wind mage, then you know that the score will be fast and spritely. There are of course other elements, but the scores for them are only known by Noble families- kept a tightly held secret.”

Corwin nodded along.

“Now, tell me. How will this knowledge help you?” she had asked him one day.

“If you know what sort of score they are using, you can get a feel for their rhythm. You might even be able to predict when they will actualize their element.”

“Exactly. Unfortunately, you are going to have to be reactive instead of proactive. You don’t exactly have the capabilities to exchange ranged shots, so once they have their element ready, you’re going to have minimal options. The best you can do is either take them out before they can hit you, or stop them before they can even take a shot.”

Aside from her “combat” lessons, there was another topic he sincerely hated: politics and history.

To be fair, there were some parts of history lessons that Corwin actually enjoyed. He loved it when Miss Morgan talked about tales from the God Wars, and the history of the Gods, but unfortunately, that was a rare occurrence. Miss Morgan thought it incredibly crucial that Corwin came to understand the current political climate between the two powers; the Alliance and the Republic.

Solum belonged to the Alliance, a small island off the coast of Animar, the main continent. Belonging to the other power, Tenére and Alacer. Coaevi remained neutral and acted as a neutral ground between the two powers.

It had been only 5 years since the last war between them had ended. Now, there existed an uneasy truce between the two sides. The last war had only ended because of a champion from their side tipping the balance of power and forcing the Republic to agree to peace talks. This unnamed hero had then vanished, and no one had seen him since.

The really boring topics were when Miss Morgan started to talk about the Noble families of Animar, and their internal politics. He couldn't think of a single reason why they would be useful in a town as small as Weston, not to mention on an island as small as Solum. Where did she think that he was ever going to meet a noble, much less fight one?

Perhaps it was because of the boredom of the lesson, or perhaps it was just dumb luck, but it was after one such lesson that Corwin didn’t take as much care on the journey back to his house.

Because as he left the house, he almost walked straight into a boy around the same age as him.

“No way! Corwin, is that you?”