[Maker’s Hall] The Art of a Strong Defense.
Date: 34th of Ashan
Location: The Maker’s Hall
Morning, Dry, Warm Weather
The Scrolls of Anar Verse One, Rising from Mediocrity, #23 Overcoming the Balance.
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aladis had no idea if he was on good terms with the Makers or not. Frankly after being given the run around to bring Laventia out of hiding, he believed he was owed the original two remaining training lessons he was promised. He could never prove the Makers were responsible for giving Laventia his location, but it all seemed far too coincidental that Laventia just happened to be at the Musical Atrium when he’d arrived looking for clues. Thankfully that was the last time he’d ever hear from her again, though there was still the matter of the sister working for Asfern, and who knew where that trio stood.Thirty trials had passed since then. Who had he to trust? Himself, that was always what it came down to. When he turned up at the Maker's healing gardens, he noted the four corner guards keeping out of sight as always, dressed in their bronze, and carrying their obvious colors of their allegiance, they'd probably been alerted to his approach twenty bits ago.
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nocking three times on their door hard, as usual nothing happened. From his time trying to return the research materials Kaladis knew the Makers rarely admitted anyone they didn’t specifically have a plan for, this time however Kaladis was beyond caring. Banging three times again he demanded entrance, “you owe me two training sessions. Vhalar demands you keep your promises fairly.” Invoking the name of Vhalar was sometimes enough to insure a response, here however the Makers had a reputation for trading and contracts to consider. For the Maker to a break a contract would be poor form also, which unknown to Kaladis was what actually opened the door.It seemed in all his trials he had yet to earn the respect of the Makers, something Kaladis would demand more of in time. Taking his shoes off at the door as was custom, from his trips here he had gauged the rough stone floor was actually used to slow entrance or exit in a hurry when barefooted; unknown to him there was also a trap underneath it to be armed in emergencies.
When he approached the main hall, clean stone pillars and intricate carvings awaited him as always. Three men were also waiting for him, and none of them happened to be Aaranius his former tutor. One was dark skinned but not a Qi’ora, the other two were human’s and seemed to be in training attire. Kaladis was in his chainmail, shield on his back, sword and knives across his belt as usual.
“Aaranius is away on business, you can come back in seven trials.” The response from the man’s tone seemed unfriendly but not outright hostile. The Makers rarely gave him even that much of an indication how they felt about him, almost having neutrality down to an art form.
“Are there no others who can train me in the shield?”
“No. What I teach you are not ready for,” the Instructor said with a certainty to his voice.
“Try me.” Kaladis had come for a workout from the best, and that is what he was going to get.
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