An hour later, both arrived at the school's gates, heading straight to class.
"Mornin', mate. Sleep well?" Korrin waved from the table.
"Like a tired koala. All that walking and sword-fighting theory made the trip to dreamland an instant journey."
Zharrak—sitting beside Korrin—smirked. "Good thin' ya got the snooze. Remember to thank 'em, would ya."
"Thank him?" He gestured at Aelindor with his thumb. "I'm in his debt—I owe him."
Aelindor tipped his hat. "Speak naught of it. Yet if thine heart still urgeth thee to make requital, bestow that same kindness upon another in my stead."
"Alright, alright, I won't speak."
But I will, I will repay the kindness... with interest. AHAHAHA!
Oswald and Aelindor sat in their respective seats. Their instructor, Garrick Ironveil, entered the classroom, the metallic thud of his footsteps silenced the idle chatter of the students.
"Good morning. We shall proceed to the training grounds by the entrance, where you will join students from other classes undertaking the same exercise. Form up in a line and follow me—we depart shortly."
As instructed, they formed a line and were led to the school's training ground. A large field of sand with wooden dummies as far as the eye could see. Many students' grunts followed by a smack of the wood sounded, like a drum.
He lined up with his classmates before multiple large crates of wooden swords.
Chipped and damaged, huh. They've been put through the ringer.
Garrick turned to his pupils. "You are to strike the dummy until your skill awakens. How many? One? Ten? Fifty? Does not matter. What matters is the stirring of that innate talent, and the ring of your blade upon the dummy. Now... begin!"
He and the others took their swords and chose a dummy to strike. He struck his sword against his wooden enemy. He struck and struck and struck.
Countless strikes later, his hand started to hurt, and his shirt—hidden in the cloak—stuck to his skin.
SMACK!
After another strike, he collapsed on the sandy floor. Raspy breaths escaped him and sweat droplets fell on the sand below, evaporating instantly.
"Damn it... I need a break..."
He looked at his hand that held his weapon, blisters formed between his middle and ring finger.
Great! The next swings will hurt like hell.
Looking around, his gaze fell on a Black Cat-eared girl.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
She struck, struck and struck. On the fourth strike, water shot from the wooden sword's hilt, drenching the dummy.
Water?!
His gaze shifted to a young man in medieval peasant attire. On his second strike, lightning curled around the blade and shot toward the dummy, setting it on fire. Shocked, he dropped his sword, and looked at his class' instructor.
That was AWESOME! Water! Lightning! What will mine be? I have to see mine.
With newfound energy, he stood up—initially a bit shaky but balance was regained.
SMACK!
"Ah—" Pain shot from the blister. He jerked his hand to reduce the pain. "Fuck this blister!" He muttered under his breath.
He gripped his sword again and gritting his teeth.
SMACK!
"You won't."
SMACK!
"Stop."
SMACK!
"Me."
SMACK!
"From."
SMACK!
"Awakening."
SMACK!
"My."
SMACK!
"ABILITY!"
SMACK! FWOOSH!
On the next strike, flame roared to life around the blade, not just engulfing it but exploding along its length. The dummy's torso ignited with a WHOMP of heat and light.
"Whoa!"
Instinctively, he dropped the blazing sword, which crackled and blackened as it lay in the sand. He turned to his instructor, flabbergasted.
His instructor—standing afar alongside the receptionist—beckoned him over.
"Well done. Fire is your affinity. Come to the receptionist tomorrow—you'll be with the other fire-gifted students under a new instructor. In addition, your standing." He held out the wooden card. "This brown card marks you as a greenhorn. You are dismissed."
* * *
Oswald and the Mary Band of Idiots gathered under the evening sky, outside the school gate. Oswald winced as he balled his blistered hand into a fist.
"My hand feels like I've carried something heavy for a long time." He turned to his friends. "I got the fire skill, but I lost count after... I don't know, thirty swings? What about you?"
"In but two-and-twenty strokes did I acquire Lightning; marveled was I at the swiftness with which the skill took hold."
Oswald and Zharrak's eyes widened. "That quick, eh? Got m'self water in seventy-six."
"Haaah. Took me longer than a hatchlin' to find its feed. Guess I'm number three on the list."
"Got me Earth in twenty-one whacks. Ha! Nailed it, mate!" he said, thrusting his fist in the air.
"Since when was this a competition?"
"Ya bum hurt cuz ya dead last?"
Korrin chuckled and Aelindor offered a faint, knowing smile.
"Nooo... Maybe, a little bit." Oswald brought his thumb and index finger close. "Anyways, I'll be heading to the guildhouse and do my first job. Time to experience mundanity and copper coins for the first time." He rubbed his hands, grinning. "Also..." He turned to Aelindor. "Can you ask your innkeeper to clean the room, I saw cobwebs and... I dislike spiders. Extremely so."
"Thy entreaty shall be conveyed."
Oswald smiled. "Thanks! I'll be seeing you three tomorrow! Bye everyone!"
With a final wave, he turned and set off down the cobbled street toward the guildhouse.
* * *
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGIe0z6LsiF
and then Add to home screen.