Flashback The Difference Is Education

[Savos]

12th of spring, 507 AV

“No doodling in class!” A teacher shouted into Savos' ear. He was certain that he could he could hear a faint ringing sound afterward as the professor snatched the parchment from his desk and threw it out of the window.

“... There were notes on there too,” Savos said petulantly, one hand clasped over his ear.
“Do them over.” That marked the end of the conversation, but Savos, a child of thirteen, had yet to grasp this concept.
“But I already wrote the-”
“Are you talking back to me?”
“What's so wrong with a drawing if I'm keeping up with the Cla-”
“Get OUT!” He cried, stomping over to the child furiously. Though Savos didn't know much about verbal discipline, he did know that he was about to receive a good kick in the rear if he didn't move. He promptly ejected himself from his seat and ran out of the classroom, knowing he wouldn't be followed. He could hear the whispers as he left.

“What an idiot."
“It's because he's Myrian, right?”
“Mother says they're savage people. They don't even have schools.”
“Can Myrians even learn stuff? I bet his brain is like, really small.”

He was used to this. Not many children spoke to him, but they certainly spoke of him. He generally dealt with it as a curious child would. He would wonder who the Myrians were and why he was labeled as such. Some days the other kids made him sad, some days they made him angry. He would go home and listen to his mother's soothing words and call it life.

After 13 years of existence, things were beginning to change, ever so slightly. There was a deep well within the little boy's soul, a basin that contained his most basic emotions. It rained every once in a while, little moments where he lost at a game or when he got into an arguments with the other kids. It rained a little when that teacher kicked him out of his classroom. But nowadays, the rain did not stop. It would lighten to a drizzle of bitterness and resentment, trickling down and filling up the well, slowly. He began to wrap his head around more complex emotions such as contempt and disdain. And it kept raining inside of him. His little well would fill up soon, then where would all the water go? He wasn't sure.

-

[Savos]

At first, he thought of running home and skipping the rest of the day's classes. He could tell mother that he had simply felt ill and decided to call it a day. Alas, he feared the possible repercussions of doing that. Instead, he decided to wait out the rest of the class period, and wandered toward the Library.

He was not entirely fond of the Library. He much preferred playing outside and running around the Academy's courtyards, but he could get caught by another teacher who would send him back to his class. No one really judged kids for being in the Library, even during class time.

The boy scampered up the steps of the dingy old place and stopped only when he was safe between the neatly organized shelves of books. He dragged his hand across the book spines as he walked, wondering curiously what they had to offer. He picked one out at random and opened it up. He was greeted with dust in his face and a subsequent sneeze. Beyond that was only a page full of badly written words that seemed almost as though they wanted no one to read them. He took a seat there with his back against the shelf and the book in his lap, and accepted the book's daunting challenge.

This tome thus lieth in thine hands, beseeching as such only the gazes of intrepid-

Savos shut the book almost immediately.

“This is stupid.”
“What's stupid?”

Savos shot up and instinctively shoved the book back into the shelf. It was Delano Marx, who strode over to him in a few steps and loomed over him. Though he probably never really meant to appear intimidating, a small child of thirteen such as Savos was fighting the urge to run for his life.

“I-I wasn't-”
“You weren't reading? You don't have to deny doing something commendable, Savos.”
“I- ehm, you know my name, sir?”
“It's a small school. Come with me.”

Savos gulped, imagining horrified thoughts of what he might be in for. But Marx was already walking away, expecting the little boy to follow. Hesitantly, he trailed after him.

-

[Savos]

Delano Marx led the small child through the Academy, not once looking behind him to see if he was still following. The light sound of the child's steps, half jogging to keep up, was enough to be sure that he hadn't run off elsewhere. They left the building and walked out into the Academy's training grounds, complete with an assortment of dummies, targets, and wooden replicas of various weapons.

“I hear you're one of the only children in the school that hasn't tried his hand at any of this,” Delano began.
“I... My parents say I'm not allowed, sir.”
“So I've heard. They came to see me a few days ago and we spoke about it.”
“So why did you bring me here?” Savos asked, then quickly added, “Ehm, sir."

Delano smiled, and made his way over to where the weapon storage was. He pulled out a longbow and a quiver of arrows. The longbow was old and used, but was the only weapon in the box that was not altered for training purposes. Delano slung the quiver over his shoulder and walked back to Savos.

“Whether your parents want you to or not, there is a mandatory period of militia training here in Denval.”

Savos stared uneasily at the longbow, then back up at Marx. He wondered what the lieutenant wanted from him. What was he getting at? And why was he talking to the child about it? These were matters to bring up with his parents, not him. Delano noticed the child's silence, so he continued.

“They say you are not interested in learning all this, that you prefer the pursuit of intellectual and artistic studies. Is this true?”

“... Yes...” Savos said hesitantly. It was true, to a degree. He enjoyed drawing, but he could care less about academia. He loved to run, to play. He was weaker than the other children, who indeed had already begun to receive formal training. He didn't like that.

“You don't seem too sure of yourself,” Delano said, “But I understand that you don't want to cross your parents. I respect that. But I want you to think about yourself, Savos. Have you ever wanted learn about any of this?” He swept his hand through the air, gesturing the training ground.

“Yes.”

“Good. I can work with that.”

-

[Savos]

-

“Do you know why your parents don't want you to learn basic fighting tactics?” Marx asked. As he spoke, he took an arrow out of his quiver, cocked it in the bow, and shot at a target many meters away. It hit dead center. Savos stared at it in wonder, but was compelled to answer the question before he could express any admiration.

“Ah, um, it's because I'm Myrian, sir.”
“So they say. Do you know anything about Myrians?”
“They say that they're barbarians, sir. They eat children in the night, and they attack helpless villages.”
“Yes, the fairy tales. I was afraid those would've gotten to you. Do you know anything about your people beyond rumors, Savos?”

Savos looked down. Were the Myrians really his people? He was often associated with them, but he never truly considered himself part of something he knew nothing of.

“...No, sir.”

Delano Marx sighed. Not in exasperation at Savos, but rather in disappointment that no one had bothered explaining anything to a confused child. They probably assumed that he was not yet intelligent enough to assimilate such information. People often underestimated the minds of young children.

“The Myrians are a race of people who live deep in the forests of Falyndar. They don't look very different from us, but they have a very different culture.”
“Are they savages, sir?”
“Not at all. They are a highly sophisticated people. Some people think they are savages because their society revolves highly around warfare and combat.”
“Don't we too?” Savos asked, gesturing at the training field just as Delano had done moments before. The man laughed heartily at the imitation.

“Yes, we do. You understand that the Myrians are not so different, then. I myself learned many things about hunting and fighting from a Myrian when I was younger.”

“Really, sir? You've met a Myrian? What are they like?” Savos could barely hold his excitement. His parents never spoke to him so freely.

“Yes, I've met several. They wear different clothes, and have tattoo markings all over their bodies.”
“...Oh.” Savos had hoped the tattoo part was also fairytale. He heard that they covered themselves in those savage markings to scare people.

“The tattoos might be foreign to us, Savos, but they are an enormous point of pride for the Myrians. You may not understand it, but it does not mean you should frown upon it.”
“Why do they do it, then?”
“They use tattoos to mark their accomplishments in the world. They use them to show off their deeds, but even more importantly, to remember it themselves. It is part of their identity.”

The boy remained silent, and thought long and hard about this. He had trouble wrapping his head around the concept. But then he thought about his drawings, and what they meant to him personally, despite not being at a very impressive level at that moment. The only difference with the Myrians was that they used their skin as a canvas.

-

[Savos]

Delano shot another arrow into the target, then knelt down and handed the bow and quiver to Savos. The little boy looked at them with a frown, looked back up at Marx. He took them, reluctantly.

“Now, hold the bow like this.” Delano led Savos around the foreign object, showed him how to hold the bow properly.

“Straighten your back. Bring your arm up here. Look at the target. No, keep your hand there.”

He then took an arrow from the quiver and placed it in between Savos' hands. He adjusted his finger positions again.

“Now, stretch back your arm... No, look ahead, at your target. Further, the string won't break. Keep your back straight. Now shoot.”

The arrow shot out of the bow at an exhilarating speed, but was still too weak. It didn't even reach the target before flopping lamely to the ground.

“Excellent!” Delano said, baffling the boy who thought he had failed. “With a little more force, you could've hit that target. That's simply a matter of training.”

“I can learn how to use a bow and arrow?” Savos asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Surely. I spoke with your parents about this. I believe it would be appropriate for you. What do you think?”

No one generally asked for Savos' opinion about things. Even if they did, no one seemed as interested to hear it as Delano Marx. The boy didn't know how to react. He had barely even begun making decisions for himself at this point. What if he did not say the right thing? The possibility of regret, of making a mistake, swam in his mind like a predatory shark.

“Uh.. um..”

Marx stood there, showing no sign of impatience. He simply stood, ready to hear an answer but by no means waiting for one.

“Um... Well, can I ask why, sir?”
“You may. Why what?”
“Why the bow and arrow?”

“Ah, yes, of course! I hope it is not my personal bias that made me choose this,” he said, his excitement growing, “But let me tell you why I made the decision.

“The bow an arrow is not necessarily a fighting weapon, you see. Your parents fear, and you also seem to fear that learning the art of combat would make you aggressive, violent. The bow and arrow may be used to such end only if you want it to. What it is truly made for is for hunting.

“Hunting is necessary for survival. The Myrian people, for example, would not be able to survive without it. The forests of Falyndar are dangerous to navigate, and require a lot of skill and knowledge of the wild. That's why Myrians have such a strong communion with nature. They love living in it for it is beautiful, but also understand its chaos. They move swiftly and cunningly through the forests, many with the help of a very simple tool – A bow and arrow, much like this one.”

-

[Savos]

It was not difficult for the boy to accept Delano's offer of training after that. They didn't converse for a long while. Instead, Marx continued to instruct the boy on the basics of Archery. Several times he corrected the boys stance, reminding him that if the slightest change would take away power and precision from his shots. Savos, who had previously thought archery to be the least physically taxing of weapons, found that he was very wrong. After an hour or so of work, he felt stiff, and his arms were burning from the bow's strain. He panted heavily as he returned to Delano's side after retrieving the arrows.

“Very good, for your first day,” Delano said with a smile, “You almost hit the center on a few of those. Those last shots are slipping up, though. Fatigue will do that to you. Let's take a break, for now.”

He moved out of the sunlight and into the shade of the Academy's wall, sitting down on a small wooden chair. Though Denval's sun was not particularly bright, often marred by clouds, Savos was now grateful for the shade.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you know so much about Myrians?”
“Well, every once in a blue moon, we'll have one stroll into town, never for very long. Then I will find them and badger them with questions until they are sick of me and leave!” He let out a hearty chuckle, finding his joke very funny. Savos didn't know any better, so he laughed with him.

“I'm very interested in other peoples stories. Denval is so isolated here that the world suddenly becomes so foreign, so fascinating.”

Savos thought about that a moment. He didn't know much of the world beyond Denval. He had a hard time thinking about what it was like outside. How did landlocked cities get their fish? He had heard that there were regions of Mizahar where the land was flat, without any hills or rocky landscape. Lands covered with grass, and lands covered with sand. He was pretty sure that if he believed any of this, he might as well have the word 'gullible' written on his forehead.

“Have you ever been outside, sir?”
“Me? No. One day, though, when I don't have all you kids to look after,” he replied jokingly.

“... Why are you helping me, sir?”
“It seemed to me self-evident. Your parents came to me looking for help. I could tell rather quickly that you needed help more than they did.”

“That's not true! I don't need he-”
“Are you enjoying learning about Archery, Savos?”
“Um – yes.”
“Do I annoy you with my long winded speeches?”
“N-No! Not at all, sir!”
“Good. Then it doesn't matter if you think I'm helping you or not, at least I am not wasting my time. Come on now, lets go shoot some more stuff.”

Delano walked back out onto the field and Savos followed suit without question. He picked up the bow and the quiver and they got back to work.

-

[Savos]

Syna began to disappear beyond Denval's corner of the world. Savos noticed it and made a remark, but Delano refused to end training until they could no longer see the target.

“You will not always have perfect visibility of your target,” He said when the boy complained. “Dusk can be your greatest challenge on a hunt, and I advise you begin to get used to it now. Shoot.”

Arrow after arrow was shot into the target, and Savos was struggling more and more to see in the diminishing light. In the last batch of arrows that he shot, he only got one arrow to even hit the target at all. He ran over to collect them back into the quiver. Delano called over to him as he picked them up,

“Okay, we can consider ourselves finished for the day. I don't want your parents to get worried.”

Savos ran back to his teacher, panting, exhausted with the day's work. He put the quiver and bow back into the box Marx had gotten them from, and followed him back through the academy.

“Are we going to do this again, sir?”
“Certainly. Not often, since I am occupied with the academy, so I expect you to practice on your own. Can you do that?”
“Certainly, sir,” Savos said, imitating Delano's language. Children naturally adapted their speaking to those they looked up to. Delano noticed it, and chuckled under his breath.

“Alright then. Run along kid, try to get home before Leth rises.”

Savos immediately obeyed and scampered off, still full of energy after the day's hard work. Marx admired the way a child could go an entire day running about and retain their vigor. He smiled and returned to his duties.

---

The door creaked open as Savos opened the front door of his small home. The smell of food brewing over the stove, fish and vegetables, wafted over to Savos and reminded him how hungry he was. He scurried over to the kitchen and peeked around the corner to see who it was. His father spotted him immediately.

“Savos! Where have you been? Your mother has been waiting for you all afternoon, she's been worried sick.”
“ I'm Sorr-”
“Go talk to her, she's in the bedroom. Go on now, don't make her wait any longer!”

Like a rat being chased around with a broom, he darted away from the kitchen and ran down the hallway. Guilt washed over him as he stopped to knock on the door. Readying himself for the heap of apologies he was about to make, he solemnly knocked on the door, and hoped she wouldn't cry.

-

[Edreina]

Player Name

 

Skill Points

Skill	Points
Weapon: Longbow	+1
Observation	+1
Investigation	+1

 

Lores Gained

• Delano Marx: Militant Scholar
• Myrians: My People
• Myrians: More Than Savages
• Myrians and Denvali: Shared Love of Warfare
• Myrians: Tattoos to Mark Accomplishments
• Longbow: Basic Posture
• Longbow: A Tool For War and Peace

 

Notes

I really enjoyed this thread! It was very well written and quite interesting, in my opinion. My only comment is that you should put more detail into things if you're interested in getting more points out of a thread.

Keep up the good work!

~Please be sure to edit your grade request!~