[Flashback] A Network of Knots

[Edalene]

‎501AV, 63rd Summer She was seven. Eda had had a carefree day, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The ‎sun had risen early that day, and she had risen with it. Eda went about her daily chores of ‎cleaning the Pavillion and making sure the weapons cabinet at the training grounds of the ‎Diamond clan was in order. It had been, and Eda had finished her chores surprisingly early ‎that day, barely two hours after she had taken the midday meal. She had rewarded herself ‎with the privilege of watching the warriors train.‎ ‎The clanging of metal rushed in her ears, as she observed strong armed Drykas sparring ‎with all manner of sword – bastard, long and her personal favourite, the broadsword. ‎Eda’s eyes greedily drunk in the sight of the broadsword fighters, watching with barely ‎concealed delight the perfection of moves she had envied and the artistry of moves she had ‎never before seen. Eda noticed a new move, a move she had never seen done, a sort of ‎twisting movement at the waist, bringing the sword up above the head and swinging it ‎down swiftly onto the opponent’s skull (of course, in training, the muscled biceps of the ‎men stopped the sword from splitting the other’s head open). Eda took particular note of ‎this new move, and labelled it, as she did when she saw moves she did not know the name ‎of. This one she named ‘The Twisting Hawk’. The names she thought of weren’t anything ‎special, but young Eda was amused by her so called creativity. ‎ The clash of metal paused for a moment, as a new man stepped onto the training ground. ‎He was dressed in thick leather armour, glistening in the sunlight; the imprinted knot work ‎is sharp relief against the lighter tan of the leather breast. This man was impressive, a true ‎fighter, with a large beautiful broadsword at his hip. This man, Eda thought proudly, was ‎her father. He was an accomplished broadsword master. Eda had been begging him for the ‎better part of three years to teach her his skills, to help her become as adept as he. ‎ She wanted nothing more in life than to be the one that young children stared at in awe, ‎when she stepped onto the training ground with that tan armour and huge monstrous ‎sword. But how was the dream supposed to be accomplished if he refused to teach her how ‎to use the sword! Eda was a good girl; she did all her chores and didn’t really cause much ‎trouble… Really, last week’s trouble with Yatree’s etching was hardly her fault!‎

[Edalene]

Eda turned her attention back to her strong father, who had unsheathed his sword. Oh, ‎how she loved that sword. It was large, wide, always sharp and always glittering in the sun ‎and moonlight. But what made that sword so amazingly special to Eda was the inlaid ‎knotwork to the blade. It was a series of abstract knots, emotive and gentle. It turned a great ‎piece of Drykas weaponry into a great piece of Drykas art. What made the knots so beautiful ‎and heartbreaking to Eda was why they were there.‎ It remained one of her most vivid memories as a child. Her father had taken her to the steel ‎workshop when she was three, ready to pick up the broadsword he had ordered several weeks ‎prior. Eda had taken one look at the newly forged sword, and being a bit of a talkative child, ‎blurted out: “Daddy, it’s not pretty enough!” Her father, rather than being mad or ‎embarrassed by his clueless daughter, smiled sadly down at her. “Your mother would have ‎thought the same,” he murmured, and promptly drew a network of knots on the dusty floor ‎with the tip of the sword, and demanded it to be engraved onto the blade. Bending down, her ‎father grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, carefully. “Edalene, this design is your ‎mother. It is everything about her. It is only fitting that she gets a place on my second love, ‎the sword.” He smiled and stood, ruffling her hair. Eda may not have understood everything ‎her father had said, but she understood sadness and understood the longing he had for his ‎wife to be back – the same longing she had for a mother. The topic of the knots was never ‎again brought up between father and child.

[Edalene]

The knots seemed to stand out in sharp relief as her father drew the sword, glittering ‎against the sky blue backdrop of the heavens. A pause was there, almost slow motion, as he ‎gripped his sword tighter and moved into a neutral stance. Eda smiled at his antics. ‎Neutral? Her father? Just wait until the opponent was flat on the ground with a blade on his ‎neck. He shifted slightly as a warrior stepped forward to spar with him. The new warrior’s ‎name was Yatree, and Eda flushed with embarrassment at the memory of the week before.‎ Eda had been sneaking around the pavillion silently, as she was technically supposed to be ‎organising the spears at the training ground. She had seen Yatree kneeling on his bed, sword ‎across his lap, whetstone in hand. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. In attempted ‎stealth mode, she inched forward, trying to see over his shoulder. As she had neared the ‎warrior’s body, she tripped over his shield, lying to the right and the back at him. She had ‎fallen to the ground with a clatter and a yell, and Yatree had jumped up with a surprised yelp ‎and sword in hand. In the excitement, however, the whetstone had slipped from his hand and ‎across the blade. What were the beginnings of a glassbeak were now marred by the long ‎jagged line snaking its way across the metal. Yatree had begun yelling at her, cursing her ‎‎“clumsiness, and petching childhood! How are you to be a Diamond Clan warrior if you can’t ‎even walk straight?”‎ At that moment, her father had walked into the pavillion. Joy, now she was going to be yelled ‎at by two people. Her father had asked her what she was doing there. Before she could come ‎up with a brilliant explanation as to why she was lying dusty on the floor of their home, and ‎not organising the spears as she had been asked to, Yatree burst out in blustering tones and ‎red face something Eda being a useless child, and good for nothing except marring other ‎people’s works, sticking her nose into other people’s business and ruining their swords. ‎Lowering her head, Eda waited for her father to explode at her, but no such outburst came. ‎ Peeking out from under her long hair, she saw her father looking just as angry as the other ‎Drykas, and yet not at her. He was towering over Yatree, looking menacing with a hand on ‎his sword hilt. “Yatree,” he began his voice deceptively soft. “I must be mistaken, but I believe ‎you just called my daughter useless.” Yatree did not back down: “Yes, I did! Your daughter is ‎good for nothing and needs to mind her own business. And get her a Strider already, for ‎petching sake!” Striders, a sore topic of conversation with Eda’s father, were what set him off. ‎‎“You petching rude man. It was your own fault! Whoever heard of a Drykas warrior being ‎terrified of a clanging shield! It was your immaturity, not my daughter’s, which caused this ‎mess. AND YOU’RE TERRIBLE AT KNOTWORK ANYWAY!” With that last remark, he ‎scooped Eda up into his arms as if she were still the three year old at the metal smith.‎

[Edalene]

Yatree gripped his sword with two hands, approaching her father with light step and ‎concentration on his face. She giggled just a bit as the sun threw the jagged line down the ‎middle of the sword into sight. She had heard Yatree was pretending it was there on ‎purpose, being abstract art, or some other nonsense. Smiling, she turned her head back ‎towards her father. Watching him spar was amongst Eda’s favourite things to do. He was ‎skilled with the blade, and his movements seemed graceful, as if he were dancing – so at ‎odds with his intimidating physique. ‎ Yatree and her father began to circle each other, shifting forward slightly, and looking for ‎the other’s weaknesses. Suddenly, Yatree lunged forward, sword swinging out sideways, ‎hoping to clip her father on the shoulder. But before the steel could make contact with ‎flesh, her father sidestepped and met the swinging sword with a shivering clash. He used ‎his muscular strength to push Yatree’s sword up above his head, and as quick as lightning, ‎spun around and brought his sword to Yatree’s throat. Yatree stumbled backwards, amazed ‎at how fast the bout was over, and edged back from the sharpened tip of Eda’s father’s ‎sword. Her father inclined his head softly, smiling. Eda knew the gleam in his eye, that ‎satisfied smirk of besting someone who had slighted him. ‎ Before she could stop herself, Eda left out a cheer of victory. All heads whipped around to ‎where she had sat, previously unnoticed. Most of the Drykas remained passive, used to the ‎younger children watching. Yatree, however, scowled at her. He was evidently unhappy ‎with her presence, and the fact that she had seen him get beat. Though Eda had eyes for ‎only one person. She looked straight at her father, smiling nervously, hoping he wouldn’t ‎mind her being here. Instead of a frown, she was met with her favourite crinkle eyed smile, ‎and a silent acquiescence to her presence. She settled in for an afternoon of entertainment, ‎excitement and watching the warriors.‎ It certainly was an eventful afternoon. Eda watched with growing awe and pride as her ‎father owned the training ground. He won the majority of his spars, and those he did not; ‎he lost with grace, bowing to the greater swordsman. Her father really was skilled with the ‎blade, Eda thought. However, a small twinge of regret tinged Eda’s pride. If only she were ‎allowed to practice the sword, to put the moves she had memorised into practice with an ‎actual broadsword, not some stick on the ground. Then, perhaps, she could earn some ‎respect with the rest of the Drykas! It was with this thought at the back of her mind that ‎Eda wasted the day away, until there was only one hour of sunlight left in the day. All the ‎other Drykas warriors had gone home, to hearty dinners and warm wives, discarding their ‎sweaty armour. ‎

[Edalene]

Eda stood up and stretched, joints cracking from a long day of sitting and watching. As she ‎paced around the training ground, scuffing her boots in the dust, she daydreamed of the ‎day that she could be a warrior here, too. The day when she would best the other trainers! ‎The day when she would be a mighty defender of Endrykas! The day—but her musings ‎were cut short by a cough behind her. Whirling around, her long hair fanning out, she ‎clasped her hands behind her back. She bowed her head to her father, who now stood in ‎front of her.‎ He had discarded his leather armour, changing into his floaty summer garb, white for the ‎Diamond Clan. He stood in front of her, arms folded, muscles straining out against top. He ‎was an intimidating sight, his face drawn and solemn. Eda would have thought him ‎displeased, but she knew him well enough to spot the twinkle in his eye. She gave him her ‎full attention, little girl adoration, as he began to speak. ‎ ‎“Edalene, you are a lazy child. I hope you have finished all of your chores, or a hiding will be ‎in order!” Eda’s head snapped up, worried for a moment at her father’s serious tone. Her ‎fears were allayed by the quirk of his lips, so she decided to play along. ‎ ‎“Father,” she began. “You cannot force me to work in this manner! I have not done any of ‎the chores you set me, nor will I do them ever again! I shall claim your sword, and you can ‎do all the chores for me!” Her father leaped forward and began to tickle her, forcing her to ‎the ground. Eda shrieked and giggled, attempted to roll away, but he held her fast. She ‎ended up sitting on his lap, cradled in his arms. Eda loved moments like this – moments ‎where he lost all responsibility, and played with her wholeheartedly. Where both he and she ‎regressed in age so that they had the maturity of an excitable toddler. These were the ‎moments of true happiness.‎ Cradling her close, he began to speak. Eda calmed her breathing and listen. “Claim my ‎sword? You mean, this very sword her?” He pulled away from her a little, and drew his ‎beloved broadsword, watching it gleam yellow for a moment in the light of the setting sun. ‎Nodding feverishly, she carried along the joke. “Yes, I shall be mine! I will take it from you ‎by force!” He smiled down thoughtfully at her. “By force shall not be necessary, Edalene. I ‎will give it to you freely.” A small part of her recognised the joke was over, and yet, how ‎could he be serious? He chuckled softly at the confused look on his daughter’s face. Taking ‎Eda’s smaller hands in his larger calloused one, he passed the sword over to her.‎ ‎“I do believe it is about time my daughter learned to use the sword. And how could I have ‎her learn on any but this?” Eda shifted in his lap, twisting to look at him. He was smiling ‎gently, with a look of understanding in his eye. She opened her mouth a couple of times, ‎and finally managed to croak out an inadequate question. “Really?” Her father nodded his ‎head slowly, never breaking eye contact. ‎ ‎“Really, Edalene. I will teach you the broadsword. This sword is yours to keep.” ‎ The moment too poignant and meaningful to ruin, she clasped her small, child’s hand ‎around the hilt and brought it to her chest. The light from the sunset lit up the network of ‎knots, and father and daughter sat together in silence. ‎

[Cardinal]

Edalene Skills Observation - 2 Stealth - 1 Lore Self-made names for broadsword fighting forms Drykas sword decoration Being sneaky... Or not Being defended by your father Notes: That, my dear, was devestatingly touching.