The study period finished quickly, much to Tercor's relief. Lady Edda never hinted at, let alone spoke of why she struck Urik. Although the event still remained in the confines of Tercor's thoughts, the monotony of the literature learned had effectively pushed it from center stage.
Lady Edda looked at the now stretching boy, the Young Rīks had studied diligently; even to Lady Edda's meticulous standards.
"Although you could not hold perfect attention, you fared competently today Tercor. You may hold the most minute modicum of pride in your diligence."
Tercor, for the nth time today, was astounded. In times past he had been praised by her for competent studying, seldom as they were. To receive only a single admonishment followed by two compliments, it was quite literally unheard of. Due to this, Tercor and his stone-face had cracked ever so slight a smile. Not to the degree earlier with Urik's revelations or Angharad's laughter, but a crack nonetheless.
Tercor may never admit it, but he held a begrudging respect for the woman. Not only as his teacher, but also as a woman Urik respected as well. Lady Edda had already begun reorganizing the books and papers of the days' session, her dark eyes landing on Tercor still in his seat.
"Depart from me boy! I've not the time nor the patience for you to loiter in my presence. Maintain preparedness for the morrow, we've a great deal to cover indeed. Now, be gone with you!"
Ah, she had returned to her harsh words. There was finally some semblance of normalcy.
With that, Tercor quickly exited the library. High in the sky the twins began their descent down to the horizon; by Tercor's best guess it was nearing two or three in the afternoon.
Most days after his study session, he got free time for a an hour or so; today was no exception. Tercor had a few ideas on what to do: visit with Angharad again, seek out uncle Urik and discuss the situation with Lady Edda, or go back down the path to do some free training at his residence. The first idea he crossed off, as he felt it would be much too overwhelming for the girl and far too forward. The second he felt would be fruitless, as Urik was a man that only revealed information when he wanted to.
Thus, Tercor defaulted to his third choice and began for his quarters. Generally speaking, he disliked training alone as it embedded minute errors and poor habits he may have. Something that would become difficult to remove, should they become ingrained in him. This had long been imprinted to the boy from Urik, who himself disliked training alone.
However today may prove fruitful, as this morning he felt on the verge of some breakthrough with his uncle. That was the sole reason he wanted to push through with morning training; that and he enjoyed sparring with his uncle.
Upon arriving at his residence and place of training, Tercor quickly got to it. Even before he could walk, Tercor held a weapon in his hands. Urik had him practice various martial forms in numerous weapons, from the bow to the ax to the hammer and everything in between. Tercor enjoyed them all despite having some favorites, chief among them being pole arms; and more specifically a poleaxe.
His was a common weapon, a weapon of the quality that could be found throughout the world, in any of the thousands of weaponsmiths or blacksmiths. It was little more than 2 meters or ~6 ½ feet long , and weighed a hefty 3 kilograms or ~10 pounds.
It was a poleaxe of the hammer variety, sporting a four-pointed hammerhead opposite the face of the bearded axe; the axe blade itself being 30 centimeters or 12 inches. The longer blade served adequately to render flesh from bone, and the hammer could crush armor and bone alike.
On top was the sharp box spike, or queue, similar in many ways to a spear. It jutted out a good 15 centimeters or ~5 inches above the hammer and axe heads. Perfect for piercing foes, and stabbing at targets from afar. Below it all on the bottom of the haft or shaft sat a metal shoe or dag, pointed much like the queue. In emergency the weapon could be reversed and dag used as a spear.
All in all, it was a weapon of many forms: axe, spear, and hammer. A weapon that suited Tercor perfectly, as the boy simply enjoyed all three weapons a bit too much. It was the very reason Urik gifted it to him during his 8th birth celebration, a welcome gift to be certain.
Both were the maximal length and size of poleaxes around the world, which proved to be difficult for the average man to swing. Even at 11, Tercor was larger and stronger than the average man. He was born of Elledoran stock, and trained for kingship and combat by Urik; who had a tendency to give Tercor heavier weapons during training. That along with the fact that he ate incredibly well and even rested better. A final benefit being, Tercor was a boy of the mountains, the air was naturally thinner and his body was forced to develop to be more robust. His cardiovascular system was truly a wonder, his lungs and heart having grown thick and strong; allowing him unending endurance and deep stamina reserves.
Tercor moved through his forms in fluid motion, despite being a mere 11 years of age. His uncle had not named any of the martial forms he taught to the boy, stating time and again that: "These moves are not the foolish "styles" taught by duelists, sects, or academies. They are born of war, of practicality... they are born of the desperation to kill." Instead calling them by their descriptors: a lunging overhead slash, a slashing feint into lower queue stab, a weapon reversal into a dag jab and so on.
This was the practicality of Elledora, the great mountain clan, and their longtime culture of war. Moreso the practicality of Urik, a man conditioned by the horrors of war. At this point in his training, Tercor could proceed with his moves blindfolded, as they had so relentlessly been beaten into him. His muscles, bones, and flesh remembered every motion and movement. They had grown so accustomed to them that in many ways, they were beyond second nature. As unconscious to his body as his lungs were to breathing or his heart to pumping.
An hour or more passed and a sheen of sweat had long since formed on Tercor's robust physique, his tanned skin shining in the light of the twins. He was in constant motion, yet oddly enough, he moved incredibly slowly. Something taught to him by Urik for the times he trained alone. Tercor's eyes were shut as he trained, thinking back on what his uncle had told him.
"Should you ever train alone, then you should train slow. Listen boy, I dislike doing it but it happens all the same. Being slow means being aware... aware of every muscle fiber and errant twitch, aware of your position in space, aware of your footing and movement in regards to your form. Most of all however, is being aware of what you do wrong. To reach greater levels of proficiency, it is not enough to simply train. To reach greater flawlessness, you must train flawlessly, as it is perfect training that makes perfect."
"Moving with speed is an awe inspiring quality, but it means nothing if you move with poor habits -- poor habits can be viciously picked apart. When you train slow, you train smooth, it being far easier to notice a problem in that very motion. Even something as simple as having faint crow's foot during a slash will feel off, will feel unnatural at that speed. Once you have become smooth in that slowness, that very smoothness transforms into speed. For slow is smooth and smooth is fast."
"So for you, for now, train slow. For when real battle comes to you -- and it will -- you will move and adapt to anything on the ever-changing battlefield. This, besides skill and experience, this is what separates you from them."
Tercor's eyes being shut served myriad purposes, yet the purpose he utilized now was simple: it felt far easier to feel every aspect of his body when he could focus. Every part of his body was in perfect response to his thoughts, and the forms those thoughts wished to carry out.
As he continued on, time passed further. From the grumbling of his stomach, it was nearing supper. Tercor finished the final moves of his set, a crushing overhead blow the last form. As Tercor opened his eyes, Urik stood stalwart before the queue of his poleaxe.
"Well done nephew, I've been watching for a few minutes now. Your forms have grown again, they're better than this morning."
Tercor hinted at a faint, if not confused, smile, sweat careening down his face. At no point during his training had he heard Urik, even with the excellent hearing Tercor had and with his senses focused. Yet the titan of a man deftly stood before Tercor.
As Tercor wiped the sweat from his face and returned the poleaxe to the rack, he looked longways at Urik. Tercor had a litany of questions for him, some more pressing than others, but all focused on today's events. Questions of his parents, questions of the situation with Lady Edda, even questions of how the lumbering giant could move so silently. He would not get the opportunity to ask however, as Urik grabbed the boy's shoulder and began leading him elsewhere.
"No training this evening. Tonight will be grand for you boy, my instincts this morning were correct. Now that I see you've taken my lessons to heart and I've heard of the compliments Lady Edda had given you, I'm certain of it; you're mature enough to sit in with me."
"What do you mean uncle? Sit in with you?"
Tercor believed he might finally sit in with his uncle as the Young Rīxs, during his sessions of regin, or court in far off lands. Tercor being the Young Rīks meant he was King of Elledora, albeit a king-in-waiting, as he had yet to reach the age of maturity and attend the Senos Festival. In the meantime, Urik served as stand in for his rule. Not only were they of the same blood, but Urik was one of only two living High Chieftains, and was favored as the last living great warrior of Elledora.
"Uh hah hah hie! In the war council of course! A great deal has occurred in the short time we last spoke. The might and intellect of Elledora was forced to scramble together, we decided to speak on it tonight. You will sit in as their king, boy."
'Sit in on a war council? Uncle is right, a great deal has occurred... war councils are obviously only called in times of war...'
Tercor was excited and nervous. To finally be able to fulfill his role as king elated him, even if it was only symbolic in nature; but for it to be of war sent nervousness down his spine. The last time Elledora was in open war was before he could remember... when he was newborn.
●●●
Atop a low peak in the great mountains of Elledora, stood a stalwart, stout cylindrical fortress. In truth it was a single building, yet built capable of surviving the mountains themselves collapsing on it. In fact, the building was carved from the peak itself. Heavily reinforced with mighty metals and a faint silver shimmer.
Within the circular central room was a massive timber table, a relief map of the Elledoran mountain range and its surroundings. Figures stood and sat around the table, some giant and hulking like Urik, some small and stout like Gwellain. These were the leading men and women of Elledora, gathered in critical emergency.
In a particularly grand, high-back stone chair sat Tercor; Urik stood tall on his right flank. The discussion thus far had verged on argument many times. Yet now, all eyes were planted squarely on Tercor and what he would say next. They were the first words he would utter from his station as Rīks; the first words that would decide what manner of ruler he was.
Tercor was deep in thought, uncaring of the different gazes boring into his person. Some held doubt - uncertain of the boy king. Others held respect - his station deserving of it, in spite of his age. Others still, held curiosity - hanging on to what words might come from the child. Few held fury - bubbling anger, at Urik and his pawn nephew of a king.
Urik gazed at Tercor as well, mistaking his deep thought for unprepared hesitation. He leaned into the boy's shoulder, and whispered into his ear.
"Remember nephew, you need not feel nervous of them. They answer to you, even if you are not yet of age. Whatever your decision, I will go along with, as is your right as Rīks - even if I may personally disagree. Feel safe to speak your mind."
Tercor took this to heart as Urik moved back to his side, his gaze still resting on the boy king. Tercor rewound the conversation an hour or so, recollecting everything said since the beginning of the discussion.
○○○
Tercor and Urik were the final two to join the discussion. The long winding spiral path to the mountaintop was narrow and steep, difficult even for Tercor's trained body. As the two entered, Tercor noticed a few familiar faces. The most notable being Lady Edda and Gwellain. The other faces he had not seen since much younger or at all, and they were ones that he was confused as to how they had appeared so suddenly.
These were Chieftains, Shamans, High Warriors, and wisened elders from throughout Elledora. Which, despite being called a mountain clan, was as large or larger than many neighboring nations and countries. Even the other High Chieftain, who lived far closer than most others in the room, lived at least 2,000 kilometers or ~1250 miles away. The Elledoran mountain range itself spanned a breadth of some 12,000 kilometers or ~7,500 miles, and at its thickest points, a width of 1,200 kilometers or ~750 miles.
He breathed a whisper of this curiosity to his uncle as they settled into their places.
"You don't know of it, but our people use the Vegr-Gang or pathways. In essence, they are a shamanistic magick that call forth ones being from anywhere along the path, to anywhere else along the path."
'How incredible! I've long since known of magick from both uncle and Lady Edda, with Lady Edda even showing me some 'small tricks' as she put it, on my birth celebrations. To move people such vast distances is simply superb... it has so many applications.'
Tercor's thoughts were cut short however, as a man across from his and Urik's place on the table spoke to them sharply. He was of titanic proportion like Urik, yet held far fewer scars and faintly less muscle.
"Ah, how good of you to arrive so late Urik. I suppose you take our presence for granted, to bring along the boy at such a critical time is the shame of Elledora."
After uttering such disrespectful and scathing words the man spat on the stone floor. A symbol of demonstrably high hatred amongst Elledoran culture, and one that would have any other's head lopped off. Yet, this man was perhaps the only one with the gall and station to get away with such words. He was Aistulf, High Chieftain of the mighty Alberich clan. They were the first clan under the rulers of Elledora, rulers of the mountains before Tercor's ancestors subjugated them.
Aistulf Alberich despised Urik and Tercor, seeing them as even worse than the ruling clan itself. Urik and Tercor's father were foreigners after all, only bringing in their peoples after Tercor's mother laid claim on his father. By all rights, it should have been Tercor's father to inherit the name his mother, for she was queen and ruler. Yet upon their marriage she took his father's name. Thus, it was only uncle and nephew throughout all of Elledora that held the name. For Tercor was in actuality, Tercor an Sima. His uncle being Urik an Sima.
This presented a multitude of issues, both in succession of the ruling authority and relationships with the other clans of Elledora. Even Tercor's mother's clan, the Ásvaldr clan, looked down on Tercor and Urik with reprehensible views for the most part.
This was the primary focus of Aistulf, who's hatred only grew with each passing day.
"To think, Urik, that you and th-"
"Your tongue, Aistulf... shelter it back beneath your teeth or have it torn from your mouth. We are peers, to speak to me in that manner is fine yet foolish, but to disrespect your ruler, your Rīks? You risk the extinction of your clan... dēwos bless him, for he knows not what he speaks."
Urik was furious, his normally casual and joyous demeanour long gone. It was replaced by vitriol and rage. His brows grew heavy and his pallid black eyes spat venom towards his rival High Chieftain. Aistulf and Urik were on the verge of fighting, a brawl that may result in the brutal death in one or the other, as was common with most Elledoran brawls. As the two glared daggers to one another, a different voice spoke. It was thin, dry, raspy, and commanding.
"Silence children. I have not gathered you here for piss and vinegar to fly so wantonly. Do not disrespect the dēwos or our ancestors further. I will not hear the barking of curs in my presence."
It was Lady Edda, Tercor's crone-like teacher whom took command of the room. Her stature the shortest of everyone present, yet her pressure exuded like no other. Even in this room of clan chiefs, mighty warriors, and powerful shamans, there was not a single person that dared to glower at her comment.
"Is that understood children?"
In verbal unison, everyone answered without delay. Even the two High Chieftains, Urik and Aistulf, lowered their gazes and replied.
"Understood."
The day seemed to have many surprises for Tercor, as he was, yet again, in shock. To be able to command a room of such high stature and powerful people was truly outlandish. Normally Tercor didn't curse, a trait beaten into him during training with Urik, but he certainly thought it.
'What the fuck?'