Olivia was not the only person covertly watching Orn practice. A pair of figures watched his struggles from a second story window.

Looking out the study window, Orn’s parents watched him swing his sword in the empty garden. “I hate watching him do this.” His mother said as he dodged some invisible threat, “I am happy he is getting stronger, but seeing him using weapons like that keeps reminding me he is learning to fight… To kill or to ... “

Orn’s father put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I feel the same way.” he squeezed her shoulder, “But I am also afraid if he did not choose this path, he might not be alive now. There were so many close calls, I just keep reminding myself that I should be happy to have him healthy.”

“I know I am being greedy, before his birthday I would have given anything to know he would grow up at all. Now I cannot help but be afraid of how fast he is growing up.”

Orn paired an invisible blow, “At least he has started to open up. He is talking more at meals and does not turn inward as often. A lot has changed for him, but he is finding his stride.”

In the garden below, Orn braced himself to block a blow aimed at his head. He shook with the weight of the blow then began a vicious counterattack.

“Watching him, do this scares me.” She said as Orn’s sword swung fluidly from one attack to the next, “I know he is getting faster, but the movements are strange. Even with all the fighting in the war I never saw anyone move like that.”

“He does not move like anyone else.” The count replied as Orn began to block imaginary blows again, “I have seen many fighters with all manner of skills. He does not use a weapon like any of them. He is still small now, but if he keeps growing like this, I doubt there are many who could touch him.”

“I would rather he never have to test that. Maybe he could do something safer…”

“There is always…” he quickly raised his hands in surrender at her glare, “I know, I know. After his birthday. But he needs to do it and it would be good for him to meet them.”

“Besides, hunters are rarely seen, much less hurt.” he smiled as Orn put aside his blade and picked up his archery targets, “He even knows it. Watching him using a bow is the only normal thing he does. He is a bit behind though.”

That is not normal, it is worse! Your frame of reference is bad! She yelled internally at her husband. She had tried explaining it to him before, but he did not understand. Your relatives are not normal…

She turned away from her oblivious husband, and back to her son. Orn was messing with a group of suspended plate sized metal rings hanging from the large oak in the garden. Once he had them all spinning or swinging, he backed away and grabbed his bow.

He starred unmoving at the targets then the stillness was broken by a flurry of motion. Suddenly his bow bent, and an arrow flew through one hoop before it hit the ground. Circling slowly around the tree he loosed a couple more arrows. The last arrow sailed through two of the moving rings before burying itself in the tree. Her husband quietly cheered at their son’s accomplishment.

Internally she ranted at the absurdity of what he was doing. There is no way that is normal! He can wait to meet those bad influences until AFTER, I get to spend some time with him. I want to enjoy spending time with my Orn, before they try to turn him completely into one of them…