Over the next month, Keros' days fell into a predictable routine. Each morning he would hurry through his chores and training with Gareth before rushing off to Avita's mansion on the hill overlooking Riverbend.
The expansive estate became like a second home as Keros spent more and more time under Avita's Guidance. Her extensive library provided limitless material for him to study between lessons on sensing and channeling his inner atman.
In the afternoons, Keros would make the trek to Avita's Mansion, legs exhausted but mind racing with questions from his latest assigned readings on the nature of atman. Over the course of their Relation, it had become more profound and intricate.
They talked about the intricacies of life, ranging from basic chit-chat to heartfelt conversations on philosophical topics. As they spoke, their connection deepened, and a passionate bond began to form. The hours seemed to drift away as they shared stories, laughed together, and discovered more and more about each other. It felt like a dream that had gone beyond simple companionship into something more meaningful.
Avita was an exacting but captivating teacher, driving Keros hard while regaling him with tales of her own rigorous journey to mastery. He drank in every word, committing her wisdom to memory.
"Atman resides within all living beings, connecting us to each other and the forces of the universe," Avita explained one day. "Properly controlled, it allows us to transcend ordinary limitations. But true mastery requires looking inward as much as outward."
With practice, Keros found he could summon up wisps of power from his core, manipulating the energy in small ways. Moving objects without touching them remained frustratingly out of reach, but Keros trusted Avita's reassurances that in time, nothing would be impossible for one with his gifts.
Keros pondered her wisdom while attempting new meditation techniques meant to center his spirit and quell disruptive thoughts. Focus did not come naturally to him, but Avita counseled patience.
When they took occasional breaks for tea by the gardens, their conversations ran long, covering history, philosophy, and Avita's travels to distant lands. She had a wit and insight that Keros found magnetic.
"The mind is disorderly, like a wild horse. It takes commitment to tame it. But persist and it will serve you well."
Back in Riverbend, many began to murmur about the abrupt changes in the formerly humble boy. Where once he could be found whittling wood by the stream or helping an elderly neighbor, now Keros seemed ever distracted and quick to anger when torn from his studies.
His family watched with concern as their son and brother withdrew from community life, spending less and less time in the village or even speaking with old friends. Only vague promises of future greatness offered any explanation.
One day, Keros' sister Lena confronted him as he tried to slip away after hastily gulping down breakfast. "Big brother please, you've barely been home this past month! Come play knucklebones with us tonight - Darn misses you."
Keros stepped away from her, not wanting to be touched. "I'm far too old for childish games now Lena. Run along with Darn."
Seeing her disheartened face, he softened slightly. "I'm doing this for you, and Darn. You'll see." his voice was almost pleading as he walked away with a heavy head, not waiting for reply. "Soon enough, we'll have gold and prestige beyond imagination. Just be patient."
Mother watched the exchange silently from the kitchen door, a heavy sadness weighing on her heart as she remembered Keros' former playful nature. She had been aware of his growing ambitions and knew he was driven by something more than
Lena looked skeptical but held her tongue. Their parents exchanged worried glances, but Keros was already rushing out the door.
At his lesson that day, Keros was surprised to find Avita more Serious than usual. She paced thoughtfully before turning to him.
"There is a matter of importance we must discuss, Keros. The kingdom's greatest tournament- The Grand Tournament approaches. Held but once per decade, it draws elite combatants from all lands to compete before the emperor himself. You must enter."
Keros was taken aback. "Me? But I have barely begun to grasp atman's ways, let alone match swordsmen who have trained for decades."
Avita lifted his chin, her smoldering gaze meeting his. "Don't doubt yourself. You are far greater than you can imagine. The tournament will be the perfect opportunity to show everyone what you're capable of - if you trust yourself." She stepped closer, her body barely inches away from his as she spoke softly.
Keros wrestled with indecision but found Avita's reassuring confidence difficult to ignore. She had never led him astray before. If she, the High Priestess believed him ready for this trial, who was he to question?
Bowing his head respectfully, Keros assented. "I am honored by your faith in me. I will begin preparations at once."
Avita smiled, eyes gleaming. "Excellent. Train hard in these final weeks. I will handle the official entry details." She dismissed him, already scribbling out notes to her contacts.
The tournament dominated Keros' thoughts in the following days. Endless potential awaited if he could eclipse the kingdom's champions. But failure would mean humiliation after coming so far.
During sparring matches with Gareth, Keros channeled all his nervous energy into each strike and step. The graying soldier barked feedback when Keros' undisciplined fury left him vulnerable.
"You're distracted, head full of daydreams! Focus on the blade in front of you or you'll be fodder for the first real swordsman you meet."
Keros bit back an angry retort, knowing Gareth was right. He would need to master both passion and detachment in the arena.
The night before the tournament, Keros couldn't stop moving around his room, struggling to calm his mind. Doubts assailed him under the cover of night. What business did a mere village boy have competing against legendary warriors?
Just then, a raven alighted on his windowsill, releasing a scrap of parchment from its claws before vanishing back into darkness. The note bore Avita's elegant script:
"My champion, doubt not your worth. Claim the glory fated to be yours."
Keros clutched the message to his chest. Avita's faith in him was enough. With her wisdom guiding his sword arm, he would not fail.
******
Far to the north, in the snow-capped peaks of Myrtana, Ragon the Wolf strode alone through ancient pine forests preserve. Few dared hunts these lands marked as royal grounds by order of King of Myrtana Empire- Bjorn Ironside. But Ragon irritated at any limits on his freedom.
As chieftain and warlord of the northern territories, Ragon commanded enough spears and swords to give even the king pause against provoking his anger. But Blight's curse required endless war and plunder to keep his domain intact and coffers full.
This day Ragon returned empty handed, after tracking a great stag through steep ravines and rushing rivers, they were only narrowly able to avoid losing it.
Irritated, he marched back to his stronghold - a mammoth fortress of blackened timber and stone soared up from the mountainside. All bowed their heads in respect as Ragon approached, and not a single word was uttered to his presence. His every demand was met with swiftness and accuracy. Ragon had no patience for unnecessary words on a trying day.
Heading straight for the training yard, he observed a pair of young warriors sparring with practice blades. Ragon recognized one as his son and heir, Viktor. The lad showed promise, exhibiting the vicious instincts befitting a future war chief.
Viktor quickly switched to a live steel longsword, ready to attack his opponent. His competitor reacted quickly, blocking several of Viktor's dangerous strikes with his own sword. However, Viktor eventually managed to disarm him by using an expert technique.
Ragon grunted approval at the display. The hints of power and potential within the boy kindled familiar ambition. With the right honing, his son could help him carve out true conquests fit for legend.
There would be no end to Ragon's designs until all rival clans bowed before his rule. And one day, Ragon would lead their descendants atop even greater heights of domination. But first, the long winter ahead...where to find the spoils needed to keep his war band fed and content?
Ragon scratched his beard thoughtfully as he watched Viktor offer his opponent a hand up. The paths to victory often started small. Much could change between now and the spring thaw. This grand tournament in Valexus...perhaps opportunity awaited there.
Yes, Ragon decided. He would have eyes and ears in the capital, and coin to stimulate them to action. All it took was the right nudge at the right time to set events in motion. Those who failed to recognize moments of destiny lived in obscurity.
Turning on his heel, Ragon headed inside to draft orders. Much had to be arranged in the next few weeks. The winds of change were picking up...