Flashback The Foundation

[Mors]

The Early Lessons

Summer 499AV

He had arrived to a very large manor, almost four stories tall, with many extravagant rooms, though there were several rooms that looked to be training rooms. These rooms had weapons ranging from tiny daggers to massive blades, Bows or crossbows. He was lead to a bed room on the third level, where his shackles were removed, the man left and he was alone in the room. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he fell onto the bed, crawling under the sheets and blankets. The bed was extremely comfortable, it helped lull him to sleep where he found dreams of an older life one he had lived previously filled parents and friends or things of that nature. when he woke he judged that it was somewhere near dawn, or dusk as the light was weakly slipping through the window. He sat upon and through sleepy eyes he spied a set of clothing set out for him. It was a simple tunic and trousers, and a new pair of boots. He got dressed and peeked out the door. There was an elderly woman waiting outside humming to herself. When he spotted him She smiled and spoke directly to him “ Hello there dear! Awake finally! You know you really should take a bath, I’ll have lads bring up some hot water for you hun.” And with that she shuffled off, he attempted to leave but was soon pushed back in by two large “Boys” who were carrying massive buckets of water. He moved out of their way as they emptied the contents into the bin, until steam rose from the washtub. The old woman came back in and in a flurry of movement had him stripped to his skivvies. She pushed him towards the tub and slipped out side with the two men. “If I don’t hear splashing and washing I’m going to do it for you sweety!” She cackled afterwards and waited.

He dipped into the hot water after shedding his underclothes, it was his first time in many weeks. He scrubbed his dirty skin, and then pulled at his tangled hair. When he got out of the water it was more mud than not. He was clean though and smelled faintly of lavender. There was another set in the room that the woman must have set out, this time there were half shoes, a long tunic and trousers. He dressed quickly and attempted to leave again. She smiled at him and gave him a little pinch on the cheek. “After breakfast we’ll get you a nice hair cut, how about that?” She was overly nice and it made his insides twist, no one in this world was nice with out a reason or a want. She guided him to the dining hall which was massive in each corner there was a suit of armor, with massive spears held in their grasp. He was the only one at the table when the servers came out, a man and a woman. Each with a plate that they set before him. The stayed and waited until he began to ravenously attack the food. The plates both contained small portions but enough to make his stomach feel as if it were going to explode. He sat at the table for a while until the old crone came back. “Ready sweets? Its time for your hair cut “ He eyed her for a moment and then nodded. She once again guided him to an empty hall which had a chair sitting off to the side, and a mirror in front of it. He was seated, she rummaged through her massive apron like clothing, which held many many pockets. She fished out a comb and scissors. She set to work upon him cutting and trimming his hair. When all said and done. He had very short cropped hair. The sides shorter than the top and the top less than his tiny knuckle in length. She gave his hair a dab of grease and slicked it to either side parting. He frowned not liking this new “Tamed look” But he had never really cared about appearances did he? “Oh my! How handsome you are sweets!” She cooed very motherly like.

After the haircut he was hauled around the manor showed to each room and what their purpose was. The man who owned it seemed to have an entire staff, and each one could maintain a number of jobs. He met eleven others who were like him. Though they were constantly training and the closest to his age was six years his senior. The last stop was in front of an office
She tipped her head and left him, giving off a soft cackle. He couldn’t tell if she were a witch or just an old woman. He looked back to the door, and opened it, The nobleman was inside sitting at a massive desk seemingly deep inside the parchment he wrote upon. He stood awkwardly until the man looked up. “ You should try knocking, and when acknowledged come in and tell me who you are and why you’re here. We’ll call it reporting.” The boy felt a twinge of guilt as if he’d done something bad. “ Also you should stand straight up, don’t slouch and keep your hands to your sides, along the seem of your trousers… here. “ He had gotten up and was directing his body through small touches. “This is how you will talk to me from now on, you will never enter my office without reporting and you will never leave this position of attention. “He adjusted his chin a little “ I am Alex Rosh, though you will call me Master. You live here now, you are to be trained in the art of assassination and information gathering. Though now you will not begin training, we have a long road to recovery for you. You’re too frail and far too weak for a boy your age. I assume its from the time you spent living on the streets. For now your lessons will be in etiquette and things of that nature. How to speak, how to read, how to write. Is this understood?” The boy looked straight his eyes, boring into the bronze mask that hung upon the wall. “ Is it understood? “ Without looking he responded “ Yes Master” The mask was something of a curiosity to him. It had no human features save for the two small eye holes which it bore. He wished to hold it. Though understood now that he was no longer a creature of free will but a wolf chained. “Isola will take you back to your room. For writing and reading lessons.” He turned and left and waited outside the door the woman took him back to his room. They sat at a desk in the corner that had two chairs seated at it. She pulled out a large book , it contained only the letters of the common language alphabet. She taught him each name, and the various roles they could be used. The lesson went on for a good portion of the morning before she ushered him down to the dinning hall where he ate. And when he returned they opened a new book, this one full of numbers. She taught him the basics of addition. This went on throughout the afternoon learning numbers and the alphabet. He only spoke when needed too, and only answered her questions with basic answers. At the end of the day he could shakily recite the alphabet, and count to one hundred. He much preferred the numbers to alphabet. The way they could be added and subtracted was mystifying at first.

[Mors]

During dinner she taught him manners and table etiquette she ran him through scenario after scenario teaching him how to handle each accordingly. Dinner ran for almost an hour with minimal food being ate. His back hurt and his head was full, he looked at the old woman wearily ready for bed, yet she continued on. She showed him forks and which ones are used for what, showed him how to hold each one. This lesson had been the most boring of the day. After she was satisfied that he had the basics down she allowed him to be dismissed. He was guided up stairs and quickly undressed and collapsed into his bed, yawning from tiredness, he crawled under the sheets, the linens were freshly washed and smelled of wildflowers, he curled up and let sleep take him. A final lingering image drifted through his mind, a bronze mask. The night was peaceful and his sleep was sound, he awoke before the dawn, the clockwork time piece that hung on the wall ticked, he didn’t know how to tell its time. Instead he got up and peaked out his room, to his surprise the old woman was walking towards his door. “Oh! Hello there deary! Time to wake up is it? Better get ready! We have numbers and letters before breakfast!” his voice crackled with age. He dipped back inside and waited for the two men to haul in the hot watter buckets. They filled his bin and he bathed. After dressing she came in, the men came as well and took yesterdays dirty clothes, sheets and blankets.

The crone patted the chair next to her and he sat. She reviewed all of the numbers he had gone over yesterday, all of the rules for addition. And they started with some work. Several problems. “1+2=....” She spoke slowly and concise. “Three” He spoke softly, his eyes darting around the page. They spent a better part of the morning, working with numbers before going back to letters. She gave him sounds for each letter, taught him how they worked in conjunction with each other. The process took a great deal of time and before he knew it breakfast was being set up. He was brought downstairs where he ate with the other eleven people of the manor. They all talked loudly and were very comical. His heart hurt for a moment as he realised that he’d been blessed by the gods. Breakfast was good, a thick slice of bacon, two eggs and some toast. He woofed it down almost before it touched his plate. After he was allowed to sit and digest, watching his new-found brother and sisters eat, talk and laugh.

She hauled him up stairs and the continued their lessons, learning of the numbers and their history, the letters and their meanings. Lunch came and went and he continued his lessons. IT was nice being able to learn like this to be able to sit back and absorb the knowledge. He was given several sheets of paper and a bottle of ink with a quill. He began to write down each letter and say them allowed, after he did some number problems. His entire afternoon and most likely many more would be swallowed by this education. During dinner he once again began his etiquette exercises where he politely ate his dinner and made talk with his hostess “Yes ma’am, I think that todays weather is very chilly” During their lessons the master of the house entered he gave a slight nod and seated himself at the end of the table and waited for his food to be placed before him. He ate delicately and had the air of a lord over him. This man could be good but he knew there was much unkindness deep inside him. It could almost be seen swimming in his eyes, when he flashed a fake smile. It was unsettling how people could be two things at once. Dinner went smoothly regardless of their visitor, he continued with his lessons. He seemed to grasp everything he was being taught. He had surprisingly good memory. After their plates were cleared he was lead back to his room where he was instructed to finish the papers on the desk before bed. So he did. He sat down, wrote the alphabet again having to occasionally look back to make sure he was copying them down right. He did a couple math problems before going to his bed. Where he drifted into a fitful night of sleep.

This is how he lived for the first month. learning and eating, regaining his strength. He could basically read and do almost any addition or subtraction problem even if it took him awhile. He was quickly grasping the concept on how to read and write his mind hungry for more knowledge. He went down to breakfast excited for todays lessons. He ate quickly and when he went back to his rooms he found that there was a plain sleeveless tunic, with a pair of plain trousers. A note was set upon them “Wear” He slipped into them still wearing his shoes. A knock on the door followed a moment later, one of the men… Tenio his name, poked his head in “Its time for training, please go to the training hall.” His nerves exploded and he gave a little nod. He left his room and headed down the flight of stairs, making his way into the hall.

[Mors]

He was in incredible shape he had well defined muscles, though his hair was a little off, literally, the top of his head had balded while his sides had grown out. “ I understand you don’t have a knowledge of how to do any of this so I’ll show you the basics. “ He got onto his hands and knees and assumed what he called the “Push-up” Position. He began to pump his arms up and down moving his form to the floor the back up. He continued for a couple seconds before getting onto his back and curled his knees towards his chest he began to do what he called “Crunches.” He got into the push up position and began, up, down, up, down, up, down, hold, hold, hold, up, down, His arms were hurting and only after fifteen. Next were crunches. Up, down, up, down, up, down, up,down, half way down, hold, hold, hold. After several minutes his body was aching. They climbed to their feet, the man shaking his head “You’re truly pathetic, can’t even finish a complete set of push-ups or crunches. IF you want to be like that, we’re going to run.” So they ran in circles around the hall, periodically changing directions. By lunch he couldn’t eat. Instead he went to his room, and attempted to throw up nothing, he retched a few times before laying on the cool wood floor. He groan softly and ten minutes later a knock at his door. It was Munio, the brother to Tenio. “You need to report to the training hall.” Here was going to be his death he went down stairs still damp from earlier exercises the entire time he had been humiliated and berated. He arrived once more greeted by a new face. A woman who seemed taller than normal she had a wicked scar running down the side of her face. “ I am weapons master Aventia, I will be training you how to fight.” So began his next lesson, the sword. He was given a wooden training sword and was taught how to hold it. She showed him several types of swing, jabs, and parries. Then was instructed to continue each motion. There was no fighting, just going through the motions his muscles were sore and he wanted to collapse on the floor dead. “Side, Side, Thrust, Perry, Side Side, Thrust, Perry” This went on for hours, and eventually his arms couldn’t hold the stick anymore, so she wrapped him on the back with her own wooden sword. He fell to his knees tears in his eyes. “Get up and continue training.” So he did, his arms protested but it was less painful than getting hit. Finally when she released him, he was instructed to take the wooden sword to his room and practice. He went to his room, bathed changed, and went to dinner. Where he was drilled again in etiquette though he was tired he made a valiant effort to not fall asleep.

The next morning was rough he could barely stay awake and was incredibly sore though he learned his numbers and letters, he ate breakfast and was instructed to see the balding man. And it turns out his name was Ryl. He did his push ups, curl ups, and began his run. His morning was painful, and similar to the day before. He ran and ran, pushed up and curled up. Over and over. His aching body hurt he continued this personal hell. For the better part of the morning he was called soft, called squishy and weak. It hurt. He couldn’t please the mad man, and knew his next lesson would be similar. The last hour of lessons he was sat down and explained the importance of quality exercise. They talked for a bit, before getting into planking which the man continued to talk, about building muscle, eating properly and becoming a man. The eight year old blinked taking much of it in. He’d heard about “The Talk” But never thought he’d get it at this age, doing planks, or from a balding well muscled man who's job was to make sure he could hardly walk. After this lesson he went to lunch ate, reported for sword play. He continued to do his drills swing, swing, perry, thrust, swing, swing, thrust, perry, swing, perry, thrust. She then showed him a new stance a new move and commanded him to continue. The entire six hours between lunch and dinner was him practicing. He was tired and hurt, but continued on. His back still had bruises from her. His arm was on fire, and at the end was released. He went to his room changed, bathed and went to dinner. The crone Drilled him again, he sat straight, ate his food delicately and spoke clearly. The process was terribly painful for his body felt broken. After dinner he went to his room, where he read the simple book he was given, did some of this arithmetic homework, and practiced his sword movement, stances, and strikes.

[Mors]

His life was a similar blur for weeks eventually something changed, his body became less sore, his striking became more fluid and his reading, writing improved. He kept a small journal for his letters and small stories he wrote. His first lessons now were grammar, and punctuation. He began learning multiplication. The crone was a great teacher, when she spoke he listened and he slowly began to talk more, his wild side being repressed. He had not left the house in months though it bothered him little, his next lesson they were starting balancing after a long warm up. Hour three he was standing on his hands his legs in the corner. He could feel his blood rushing to his head. It wasn’t painful yet but knew it would get there. So he stayed like that watching his instructor. Eventually they came down, and stood on a single foot, he talked a lot his instructor told him the essentials of a good healthy life, from drinking lemon water with pepper to running ten miles a day ( Which they would start shortly ) Sometimes the man talked about nonsense the other times he seemed to make good points. They shifted legs, and balanced he continued jabbering. The boys mind wandered and he eventually began to think of the mask he’d seen. He thought occasionally about it, for some reason it had a beauty to it, or so he thought. Next the instructor pulled out boxes of various heights and was instructed to jump box to box. Which he did so, only almost falling twice. He leapt, leapt, and leapt. The boxes ranged from narrow to wide, and tall to short. He had an hour remaining, and it would be spent balancing on a narrow ledge, that hung ten feet off the ground. He was supposed to stand and get used to the heights. Then lunch came and he gratefully ate his meal before returning to the room, where he was now sparring against a training dummy sometimes the dummy would win though often times he was quick enough to block oncoming attacks. These lessons were quiet and he often times had many hours to think. He fought with the wooden enemy for the entirety of his lessons. She only spoke to critique him. Which had become less and less over the past days. So he fought in silence save for the occasional grunt. His life had become very routine.

Everyday was the same, he’d read, write, solve problems, eat, exercise,eat,train,eat/etiquette, finally homework, bed. He began to bore, he was excelling in all things. He had a firm grasp on reading and writing, math wasn’t a problem it was a subject he actually enjoyed. His body was hardening and he was beginning to enjoy the exercise, eating properly. He was getting better each day on his swordsmanship. After what seemed like an eternity of fighting the training dummy. The Weapon Master introduced him to a new opponent, A girl from outside the house. She was of similar age, and must be somewhere near the same skill set. A challenger to sharpen his abilities against. It would be an easy victory, she was frail and thin while his body had become more developed his starved body filling with muscle. They were given new wooden swords, with fresh paint on them, he could see the read shimmering lightly against the torch light. They both wore white tunics and trousers. At the sound of the Weapon’s master voice he lunged for the girl going for the kill, she deflected him throwing him off balance she struck for his side only to be blocked last second. They went back and forth for several blows before the boy realized he was outclassed. He couldn’t get close to striking her while he had to use every ounce of his skill to stop her from hitting him. He was constantly defending himself, he had one advantage that his body was better suited for this back and forth so he tried to hold on.

With every blow he deflected his confidence sank, she wasn’t slowing her face composed and determined. She looked familiar, not someone he knew but like someone… A soft swishing sound as she nearly smashed the top of his skull in. He’d narrowly dodged, his mind was getting off track. He duck using the momentum to flying himself forward, she stepped aside and the first blow was delt, she struck him in the arm. Aventia clapped softly, he recovered turing to face her again his eyes looking over his opponent they were both drenched in sweat. He dropped his arm as it had been “Cut off” He Raised the sword, pointing it at her, a challange. She came swiftly, he ducked coming out behind her, he swung to meet her blade. IT didn’t matter how fast he pushed himself she seemed to be faster. No matter what he tried she would counter. Her knowledge was greater, and her speed was better. He decided to try something they had yet done. He met her sword and held it with his pushing it to the ground. With that he placed a foot on it and went in for a stab. Quicker than a snake she had her sword back and parried his blow. It had him off balance, she then cut off his leg ending the training session. He fell back and let the defeat sink in. HE could hear them talk. “Mother, did I do well?” Aventia’s deep voice replyed back “Yes, wait outside and we’ll go home so you can clean up.” It was quite and when the girl left he sat up. “She’s your child?” The woman nodded and walked over pointing the wooden sword to him. “If you’re smart you’ll win next time. For today you will practice your striking. You were sloppy, you had an advantage of being physically stronger. Your blows should have broken her deflects. He nodded standing, his eyes drilling into hers “You’re a mother, yet you train me to defeat your child?” She looked back and with a wicked smile she nodded.

[Mors]

After early morning lessons, Ryls was waiting for him outside his door, he led him to the larger training room which had been cleared out of the other occupants, he set up markers in a staggered pattern. “You’re going to learn agility, and quickness.” The Boy looked at him confused “ Am I in trouble for losing yesterday? Why should you punish me? You train me physically” He gave the boy a crossed look “You don’t tell me what I train you for, or why I should punish you. You have made me look like a fool and you shall be punished accordingly. When we’re done you’ll be quicker than an arrow and stronger than an ox.” The boy looked back a small flame of rebellion awakening in his eyes. “You’d better not challenge me boy, and start running or it will be your last mistake.” The Boy stared for a moment and backed down, he took off down across the room, he slowed around each marker as he zig zagged to the other end of the room. Once across Ryls waved him back. He repeated this process over and over until his knees and calves hurt. After he began sprints halfway across the room fifty meters, back and forth, back and forth. Then zig zags, he continued this for a better part of the morning. After he went back to pushups, up, down, up, down, up, down. He was quick, and had learned how to block out the pain of aching muscles. He got to his feet after another couple sets, and Ryl pointed down the room. He took off running as fast as his body could, he reached the other end tagging the wall and headed back. By the time lessons had ended he had nothing left to give. He picked at his lunch and headed to sword practice. There was the young girl again in a white tunic and trousers. She held a wooden sword in her hand.

He looked at her still drenched in sweat, he knew what was going to start happen. Just like the training dummy he wouldn’t move on until he’d master her. He grabbed for a wooden sword off the rack, one he hadn’t used yet. He entered the circle eying her. Today would be harder, he had little strength after that mornings work out. They locked eyes, Aventia dropped her hand signalling the fight. He began to stalk to his right, and she followed moving right. Eyes locked, he waited for her to strike. Then she moved like a scorpion's tail she lunged and he deflected her to the left, a move she’d done on him yesterday. Before he could cut her arm off she had caught herself and twisted ready to deflect, he let the opportunity pass and stepped back. Waiting for her to strike again. It was a moment or two before she recovered and readied, and when she did it was quick. He tumbled backwards but not before catching her wrist, as he fell he brought her with him. He rolled and pinned her now grasping both wrists, she bucked her hips trying to shake him. His sword lay a few feet away, his eyes darting to it. His hands were sweaty and he couldn’t hold her for much longer. Finally with one savage buck he leapt and she was up he rolled grabbing his wooden sword. In a crouch he waited for her to come at him, she shifted stances and he decided to go onto the offensive. he struck she barely deflected and they began the dance of strike and block, strike and parry, lunge and deflect. They started a dance that would end in the defeat of one of the combative. The sound of wood striking echoed throughout the hall. He rolled to the side, swinging the tip of the blade striking her skin leaving a small scratch. It was a minor success. His lost confidence returned and he renewed the assault pressing into her more and more. Before he knew it her attacks were becoming more and more sluggish. She slowly began to make mistakes and they were costing her. he nicked her more often. As the tide started to shift he was gaining the upper hand, her foot shot out tripping him, he fell to the ground and before he could recover she had the wooden sword pressed against his throat. He’d failed a second. time.

[Mors]

He was spent, and laid there for a long time. “Mother did I do well?” She spoke softly, and seemed to yearn for the attention of her mother. “Yes, go home I’ll be there shortly.” The girl left, and he laid. To his surprise Aventia sat next to him. “You’re a young man yes?” He nodded, and looked up too her “Why do you act like an adult, I’ve never met a child with more weight on his soul than you, even my daughter who thinks I abandon her.” He blinked not understanding. But remained silent. “You don’t laugh, you don’t smile. Your eyes are dead.” her words were like the sharpest blades cutting through him, leaving his defenses torn. “You need friends.. I’d like Merra to start training with you.” He caught his breath “Alright.” She dismissed him early, and he left to his room. He bathed and got dressed. He took some extra minutes to practice his sword. His sword wooden sword cutting the air. His mind was troubled now, the Weapons Master had spoken truths. He had not been raised to be a child and currently was not being raised. He gave a couple more swings. His mind churning with the madness and treason the woman spoke. He was certain that if Master Rosh had heard her say those words she would no longer be his trainer. He gave a couple more swings, practicing a jab, and gave a half hearted sigh. Setting the sword down. He headed to his desk and wrote out a series of numbers, he added a variety of signs in and began to solve the equations. Numbers always quelled his mind. When the clock in his room began its chorus he stood and left heading to the dining hall. He took his usual seat, he sat on the right side of the table at the twelfth seat. The chair in which they sat was their position in the household. He knew all of his companions, though some he only met briefly for they were constantly off on missions.

Dinner was delicious smelling duck, with a cranberry sauce. There was many, many sides. His favorite being mashed potatoes and duck gravy. He craved the delicious potatoes and its toppings, yet he couldn’t give in. He sighed again, his day in ruin. As all of the plates were slowly passed down, he helped himself to several green vegetables, and a small serving of duck. He removed the sauce, mixing his plate together. Most of his companions all prayed before dinner, even the Master did. For the short time he’d been alive he’d never been given a sign that the gods existed. He wasn’t graced with a mark, and they never helped him in his life. Then again, he wasn’t a hero. They all ate in silence, tonight he wasn’t pestered with etiquette lessons. So he ate as he did all other meals. Without hindrance of manners he hated the shackles of the “Noble lifestyle” He quickly shoveled his food down, and before he could take his leave he heard Rosh call out above the silence. “Twelve, please see me in my study after dinner.” He looked straight ahead and gave him the only thing that could be given in regards to responses, “Yes Master.” He excused himself and went to his room. He sat for a moment wondering what his visit was with the master was about. He waited for a minute or two before he departed. He navigated the halls quietly and arrived at the door he dreaded the most. He knocked three times and waited. After a long pause his voice came through the door. “Report!” He opened the door took three steps in and stopped. “Twelve reporting as ordered.” The man looked up, from his desk. “I was curious as to why you haven’t chosen a name for yourself yet.” He looked back down, and resumed writing. The boy shifted slightly “I’m not experienced in the way of naming master.” The man gave a small nod. “Maybe someday you’ll earn a name for yourself.” He finished the parchment and set it aside to dry. He drew another sheet of paper. “You’ve lost two days in a row. I can’t have you losing. If you keep failing me, I’ll have to see the punishments fit the transgression. You’re dismissed.” He put his right toes behind his left heel and about faced. He left the room quietly and drifted down the hall to his room. He grabbed his wooden sword and began to practice.

In his room he slowly and carefully swung his sword, with near perfect movements. He was going over the match he’d had. His body hurt from all the excursion, he felt incredibly heavy and slow. His eyelids felt as if they head leaded weights on them. After a couple minutes or so he grew tired and set the sword down, and crawled into bed. It was almost immediately and he had drifted off. The next day was rough he’d over slept and his body hurt. He awoke to no one in his room, he sat at his desk and studied awaiting the witch to come teach him new things. She never came he went down to breakfast ate and went to the practice hall. Ryl wasn’t there. He left searching the house eventually he found Isola knitting in a sitting room. “Do I not have lessons today?” She looked up slightly confused “ I thought you were told, you were allowed a day of recovery. It’ll happen on the fifth day of every week from now on.” He must have looked dumbfounded as he stared eventually she shooed him off. He returned to his room and collapsed onto his bed and spent the rest of the morning asleep.

[Vanari]

Placeholder--Grading In Progress!

(Issues with CS and Ledger pending)