30th of Ymiden, Arc 718
From Victor Amielle’s diary:
I had carried that old short sword with me since I had first left Lysoria, around 708 in order to explore the world. It had served me well during that time, but it was plain and not particularly visually appealing. Since Delroth had marked me on that beach on Scalvoris I found myself drawn to items of luxury more and more, clothes made of silk and velvet and the most exquisite of weapons. I wanted more than iron and steel. I wanted a blade that could slice through even the thickest of materials effortlessly. During my brief stay in Ne’haer where I witnessed the announcement of The Coalition I visited The Sphinx’ Armaments, a weapons shop, and placed an order for a blade made of pure adamantite. The blacksmith, one Thakrid Edwic, informed me that it would take him a while to finish the weapon. For that reason, I asked one of my brother’s servants to pick it up, incognito of course, for Ne’haer had banned all citizens of Lysoria from entering the city. I gave the man thirty golden nels for his effort and for the risks involved – which amounted to several trials worth of salary – an appropriate sum in my opinion …
The sun was burning down on the city of Lysoria relentlessly, but the Transmuter found that he didn’t mind the heat nearly as much as he had used to. Magic had changed him. It hadn’t only affected the way that he perceived reality, it had also given him some form of low-light vision and made him more resistant to heat. While his family hid behind the cool walls of the fortress in an attempt to escape the worst of the heat, Victor had ventured into the garden, put a blanket on the grass that was somewhat drier than it had been a few trials earlier, kicked his boots off and sat down in order to read a book. He had neglected his studies of linguistics since he had left Scalvoris, having been more focused on the latest political developments and his research with Jonathan Burr, the Aberrant that had entered his life quite unexpectedly the season before and that was fast becoming one of his closest friends. He had decided to amend that now.
“Homgraphs”, he read aloud as reading something aloud helped him commit it to memory. “Are words that are spelled alike but have different meanings. They can be either homonyms or heteronyms. Homonyms are pronounced the same while heteronyms are pronounced differently. An example for a homonym is the word ‘pen’ that can refer to either a holding area for animals or a writing instrument. The verb ‘lead’ and the substance ‘lead’ on the other hand are heteronyms. One needs to further differentiate between homographs and homophones which are words that are pronounced the same, regardless of their spelling”, he continued. He was just about to move on to the next page when he saw one of his brother’s servants approach, carrying a large package that was wrapped in brown paper in his arms. He put his book down abruptly, rose to his feet and walked over to the man, not bothering to put his boots that were lying in the grass next to him back on again, in order to find out what this was all about. As he did so, his heart began to beat faster in anticipation.
“Your sword”, the man simply said, bowed to him and handed the package to Victor who immediately unwrapped it and looked at the exquisite burgundy blade in awe. It was absolutely beautiful. “Thank you”, he replied. He could not keep himself from smiling because he was, he had to admit, quite excited. “I hope that you didn’t run into any trouble on the way here”, he added which the man fortunately declined – the roads around Lysoria weren’t always safe, but he seemed to have been lucky this time. Once he had left, Victor returned to his spot in the center of the garden, but not in order to continue his studies. Linguistics would have to wait a while longer, he decided. At the moment, he was more interested in trying his new weapon out and seeing if it was really as good as Master Edwic had told him that it would be – or possibly even better.
He held the sword in his hand and just swung it a couple of times in order to get a feel for it – it was rather different from his old sword, it was balanced differently, and its weight was not exactly the same either – before he walked over to a nearby tree. He took a look around to see if anybody was watching him – he doubted that his dear brother would approve of what he had in mind – and then he swung the blade with all the strength that he could muster and hacked one of the lowest branches right off. It went through the wood nearly effortlessly, and he could not keep himself from grinning like a madman. There was a part of him that quite enjoyed doing something forbidden!
His new sword apparently worked – and quite a bit better than he had expected which was a pleasant surprise. It briefly occurred to him that he could probably go back to reading his book now that he had made sure that there was nothing wrong with it. Reading was normally one of his favourite activities – in fact there were few things that he enjoyed more than sitting down with a book somewhere - but right now the sword held his entire attention. He was in the mood for a bit of training which was something that he would have done later that trial anyway – if he wanted to become more than Stefan Amielle’s little brother he needed to hone both his mind and his body. Why not do it now?
He left the book where it was, positioned himself right in the center of the garden, raised his sword high above his head so that it reflected the sunlight and held it there for as long as he could, an exercise that didn’t only strengthen one’s arms and wrists, but the muscles in several other parts of his body as well. He only brought it down again in a wide arc when his arms started to ache slightly from the strain – and began anew after only a few trills. Repetition was, as always key - no matter if one tried to master a new weapon, build up one’s strength – or learn something like a new language.
Next, he positioned the sword that he was holding his right hand near his left knee and quickly lifted it above his head and to the side, as if he were pulling it from its sheath, before he returned to the start position, an exercise that was mainly supposed to strengthen one’s shoulders. In the beginning he had been fairly relaxed – doing those exercises in the garden usually had that kind of effect on him, there was an almost meditative quality to them - but as the bits went on, sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his heart began to beat just a little faster. He didn’t mind though. He enjoyed pushing himself. He enjoyed the physical exhaustion that came with a training session. It was rather satisfying.
He only stopped after almost a break when he heard footsteps on the path that led away from the fortress and into the garden, and he turned around in order to find out who was coming and what it was all about. He was breathing more heavily now, and he was drenched in sweat – his training and the heat had finally begun to affect him somewhat, in spite of his mutations - but he held himself straight nevertheless as he approached the liveried servant – a different one than the man that had brought him his new sword, although he didn’t remember his name. It was hard to keep track of all of his brother’s employees sometimes, he had to admit. “What is it?” he wanted to know, in a tone that was not unfriendly. He would never be intentionally rude to a servant, no matter why, finding such a thing inappropriate as well as mildly distasteful.
“Your brother wishes to talk to you, sir”, the man informed him and bowed slightly. Victor nodded curtly and replied, “Tell him that I will be with him in a few bits.” If Stefan wanted to talk to him, it would be best not to make him wait. He never sent for him without a good reason. With that thought in mind, he slipped into his boots, draped the blanket over his shoulder and marched into the house, holding his book in one hand and his sword in the other hand. As he did so, he wrinkled his nose slightly. It would be best if he freshened up and put on a clean shirt before he went to see his brother. Besides, it would not do if a Blessed of Delroth looked anything less than perfect, at least not in front of the people that mattered.
1.536 words
I had carried that old short sword with me since I had first left Lysoria, around 708 in order to explore the world. It had served me well during that time, but it was plain and not particularly visually appealing. Since Delroth had marked me on that beach on Scalvoris I found myself drawn to items of luxury more and more, clothes made of silk and velvet and the most exquisite of weapons. I wanted more than iron and steel. I wanted a blade that could slice through even the thickest of materials effortlessly. During my brief stay in Ne’haer where I witnessed the announcement of The Coalition I visited The Sphinx’ Armaments, a weapons shop, and placed an order for a blade made of pure adamantite. The blacksmith, one Thakrid Edwic, informed me that it would take him a while to finish the weapon. For that reason, I asked one of my brother’s servants to pick it up, incognito of course, for Ne’haer had banned all citizens of Lysoria from entering the city. I gave the man thirty golden nels for his effort and for the risks involved – which amounted to several trials worth of salary – an appropriate sum in my opinion …
The sun was burning down on the city of Lysoria relentlessly, but the Transmuter found that he didn’t mind the heat nearly as much as he had used to. Magic had changed him. It hadn’t only affected the way that he perceived reality, it had also given him some form of low-light vision and made him more resistant to heat. While his family hid behind the cool walls of the fortress in an attempt to escape the worst of the heat, Victor had ventured into the garden, put a blanket on the grass that was somewhat drier than it had been a few trials earlier, kicked his boots off and sat down in order to read a book. He had neglected his studies of linguistics since he had left Scalvoris, having been more focused on the latest political developments and his research with Jonathan Burr, the Aberrant that had entered his life quite unexpectedly the season before and that was fast becoming one of his closest friends. He had decided to amend that now.
“Homgraphs”, he read aloud as reading something aloud helped him commit it to memory. “Are words that are spelled alike but have different meanings. They can be either homonyms or heteronyms. Homonyms are pronounced the same while heteronyms are pronounced differently. An example for a homonym is the word ‘pen’ that can refer to either a holding area for animals or a writing instrument. The verb ‘lead’ and the substance ‘lead’ on the other hand are heteronyms. One needs to further differentiate between homographs and homophones which are words that are pronounced the same, regardless of their spelling”, he continued. He was just about to move on to the next page when he saw one of his brother’s servants approach, carrying a large package that was wrapped in brown paper in his arms. He put his book down abruptly, rose to his feet and walked over to the man, not bothering to put his boots that were lying in the grass next to him back on again, in order to find out what this was all about. As he did so, his heart began to beat faster in anticipation.
“Your sword”, the man simply said, bowed to him and handed the package to Victor who immediately unwrapped it and looked at the exquisite burgundy blade in awe. It was absolutely beautiful. “Thank you”, he replied. He could not keep himself from smiling because he was, he had to admit, quite excited. “I hope that you didn’t run into any trouble on the way here”, he added which the man fortunately declined – the roads around Lysoria weren’t always safe, but he seemed to have been lucky this time. Once he had left, Victor returned to his spot in the center of the garden, but not in order to continue his studies. Linguistics would have to wait a while longer, he decided. At the moment, he was more interested in trying his new weapon out and seeing if it was really as good as Master Edwic had told him that it would be – or possibly even better.
He held the sword in his hand and just swung it a couple of times in order to get a feel for it – it was rather different from his old sword, it was balanced differently, and its weight was not exactly the same either – before he walked over to a nearby tree. He took a look around to see if anybody was watching him – he doubted that his dear brother would approve of what he had in mind – and then he swung the blade with all the strength that he could muster and hacked one of the lowest branches right off. It went through the wood nearly effortlessly, and he could not keep himself from grinning like a madman. There was a part of him that quite enjoyed doing something forbidden!
His new sword apparently worked – and quite a bit better than he had expected which was a pleasant surprise. It briefly occurred to him that he could probably go back to reading his book now that he had made sure that there was nothing wrong with it. Reading was normally one of his favourite activities – in fact there were few things that he enjoyed more than sitting down with a book somewhere - but right now the sword held his entire attention. He was in the mood for a bit of training which was something that he would have done later that trial anyway – if he wanted to become more than Stefan Amielle’s little brother he needed to hone both his mind and his body. Why not do it now?
He left the book where it was, positioned himself right in the center of the garden, raised his sword high above his head so that it reflected the sunlight and held it there for as long as he could, an exercise that didn’t only strengthen one’s arms and wrists, but the muscles in several other parts of his body as well. He only brought it down again in a wide arc when his arms started to ache slightly from the strain – and began anew after only a few trills. Repetition was, as always key - no matter if one tried to master a new weapon, build up one’s strength – or learn something like a new language.
Next, he positioned the sword that he was holding his right hand near his left knee and quickly lifted it above his head and to the side, as if he were pulling it from its sheath, before he returned to the start position, an exercise that was mainly supposed to strengthen one’s shoulders. In the beginning he had been fairly relaxed – doing those exercises in the garden usually had that kind of effect on him, there was an almost meditative quality to them - but as the bits went on, sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his heart began to beat just a little faster. He didn’t mind though. He enjoyed pushing himself. He enjoyed the physical exhaustion that came with a training session. It was rather satisfying.
He only stopped after almost a break when he heard footsteps on the path that led away from the fortress and into the garden, and he turned around in order to find out who was coming and what it was all about. He was breathing more heavily now, and he was drenched in sweat – his training and the heat had finally begun to affect him somewhat, in spite of his mutations - but he held himself straight nevertheless as he approached the liveried servant – a different one than the man that had brought him his new sword, although he didn’t remember his name. It was hard to keep track of all of his brother’s employees sometimes, he had to admit. “What is it?” he wanted to know, in a tone that was not unfriendly. He would never be intentionally rude to a servant, no matter why, finding such a thing inappropriate as well as mildly distasteful.
“Your brother wishes to talk to you, sir”, the man informed him and bowed slightly. Victor nodded curtly and replied, “Tell him that I will be with him in a few bits.” If Stefan wanted to talk to him, it would be best not to make him wait. He never sent for him without a good reason. With that thought in mind, he slipped into his boots, draped the blanket over his shoulder and marched into the house, holding his book in one hand and his sword in the other hand. As he did so, he wrinkled his nose slightly. It would be best if he freshened up and put on a clean shirt before he went to see his brother. Besides, it would not do if a Blessed of Delroth looked anything less than perfect, at least not in front of the people that mattered.
1.536 words
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