The next day did not go any better. The king never left the royal suite. Relam did not even see his father until lunch, and then only briefly. Several times, Clemon stopped by with some bit of business or other and each time he was sent away.
The day after, Relam never saw his father. The king stayed in his room, having his food delivered to him by servants, never opening the door any wider than was necessary for a plate to be passed into the room.
Relam was glad when he woke on the first day of the next week for Oreius’ training. Any excuse to get out of the gloomy palace would suffice at this point. The prince was also understandably nervous, but at least with Oreius there was opportunity. With his father, there seemed to be no hope of progress in the near future.
He rose early and dressed, eating a hasty breakfast in the dining alcove. Then Relam set off along the River Road, leaving the palace and his father and the guards behind. There were not many people up and about this early in the morning, and he made good time to Oreius’ house, slipping around the side and through the gate as he had when he first visited the old man.
As before, Relam turned the corner of the house cautiously, not wanting to disturb Oreius or startle him. He needn’t have worried. The old man was sitting on the same stone bench, gazing out towards the river.
Relam moved to stand behind Oreius and slightly to one side, waiting to be noticed. The old man did not stir or speak though, continuing to sit facing the river. Relam took his cue from the sword master and stayed perfectly still as well, breathing lightly and enjoying the fresh morning air. Finally, some fifteen minutes after he had arrived, Oreius spoke.
“You have learned patience at least. That is good. It will help things go more smoothly.”
Relam said nothing, not exactly sure how to reply to Oreius comment.
“You are here for training, princeling?”
“Yes, master.”
“That’s not necessary,” Oreius replied brusquely. “You know my name. Use it.”
“Sorry, Oreius,” Relam replied, dipping his head slightly.
“Much better. Now, boy, you performed well on our little forest excursion. Very well.”
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t finished yet. You still have much to learn. Fortunately, I hear you are a keen student. You listen well and take instruction even better according to Tar.”
Relam said nothing, waiting for Oreius to continue.
“Sit,” the old warrior commanded, rising from the bench to make room for Relam.
The prince, a little surprised, stepped forward and sat carefully on the edge of the stone bench, his scabbard scraping the surface as he did so.
“This is your first lesson,” Oreius said quietly. “It is one that few warriors understand, and one that they all need. What do you see and feel all around you? There is a right answer to my question, I promise.”
Relam frowned. There were a great many things he felt and saw. He saw the river for one. And he could feel the bench below him. And the wind, stirring the trees. He could smell the hundreds of blossoms from the garden, and the scent of the grass between him and the river. But Oreius had not asked about smells. He had asked about sight and touch.
“Let me give you a hint,” Oreius said, gravel crunching as he paced to stand on Relam’s other side. “It is not a tangible thing that I want you to notice. It also might help if you close your eyes and try to relax.”
Relam wondered briefly how he was supposed to summarize what he saw and felt if he couldn’t see. But he followed Oreius’ suggestion, trusting that the warrior knew what he was talking about. Relam closed his eyes and relaxed. Predictably, the only thing he saw now was darkness.
But he was aware of something else as well. The gentle sounds of the river and the trees, the scents of the garden. He knew that all around him was natural beauty and peace.
“What was that?” Oreius asked. “What did you say?”
Relam realized that he had whispered the last word aloud. “Peace,” he said, more loudly this time.
“Very good,” Oreius grunted. “Move over a bit.”
Relam shifted to one end of the bench so the old warrior could sit as well. “Peace,” Oreius repeated, looking around the garden. “It’s a beautiful thing, boy. And so very fragile. Especially in a world like this, with power-hungry men and women looking out for their own interests, pushing and shoving and sabotaging to get ahead. It’s madness, chaos. And when there is not enough space left in one kingdom for this chaos it bleeds over to its neighbor and beyond.”
“You mean war?” Relam asked.
“Right again,” Oreius growled. “You are a sharp one. Yes, war. Remember this lesson, boy: peace is the one thing above all worth fighting for. Fighting for anything else, be it conquest, land, expansion, whatever, is wrong. The true warrior only takes up his sword when necessary, and then in the defense of peace and all that is good.”
Relam nodded, storing the information away. “What about the uprisings in Mizzran?” he asked, remembering his father’s discussions with Clemon.
“You mean the miners?”
“Yes.”
“They fight for peace too.”
“But they started the conflict!”
“Did they? Or has the conflict just been on hold since the miners were beaten into submission all those hundreds of years ago?” Oreius asked.
Relam opened his mouth to respond, then stopped, frowning. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I suppose your take on it could be right though.”
Oreius nodded gravely. “It’s a matter of perspective, boy. The miners of Mizzran have long been enslaved, but how they came to be that way is a fascinating story. Which we don’t have time for,” he added before Relam could ask.
“Oh,” Relam said, vaguely disappointed. “That’s a shame, I love a good story.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait for that one. For now, know that the miners were enslaved by force, and exploited ever since. During that span, there have been minor uprisings, quickly subdued, but simmering resentment is always there.”
“Now, on to other things,” Oreius said briskly. “The first thing I taught you is that peace is the only thing worth fighting for. When I asked you what you saw and felt, what all did you sense around you?”
“The river,” Relam said immediately. “The smell and the sound.”
Oreius smirked. “Yes, the smell has gotten better but it’s still there, despite your father’s efforts. What else?”
“The wind in the trees,” Relam said quickly. “And the fountain behind us. I could smell the flowers, the grass. I felt the stone beneath me and the pavers under my feet.”
“Not bad,” Oreius allowed. “Anything else?”
Relam frowned, thinking. “That’s all,” he said slowly, glancing at Oreius.
“That may be all you sensed but it is not all that is there,” Oreius growled, pushing to his feet and walking to the center of the grove of trees. “Come.”
Relam followed quickly, trotting to catch up. “Lesson number two,” Oreius said, stopping and turning abruptly to face Relam. “You have to be aware of everything around you. You remember the battle in the forest, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, what was your overall impression of that battle?”
“Chaos,” Relam replied.
“Were you able to keep track of everything?”
Relam shook his head.
“Not even close, right?”
The prince nodded reluctantly. “I was able to keep track of my area of responsibility though,” he pointed out. “The wedge of space immediately in front of us.”
“That’s good, but that is not your area of responsibility, as you put it,” Oreius countered. “It is only a very small part of it. You are a prince, Relam, approaching your twentieth name day, upon which you will be confirmed as the heir to the throne. You will be a leader of men. A general, a commander when you step onto the battlefield. Not some soldier respon
sible for a small space and a minor task.”
Oreius fixed Relam with a penetrating stare. “As a leader of men, you are responsible for everything and everyone. And therefore, you must be aware of everything and everyone, even in the heat of battle.”
“That sounds difficult.”
“Nearly impossible, actually” Oreius corrected. “And not a skill one easily perfects. I have, however, and I will pass this knowledge onto you if you are willing.”
Relam nodded gravely. “I am.”
“Good. Stand here, in the center of the grove, and close your eyes.”
Relam did as he was told, falling into darkness once more.
“Now, what do you sense?”
“The river,” Relam said, for the gurgling of its passing was even louder now that he was closer to the bank. “And the trees. The wind is weaker now, though. I hear people, on the River Road beyond the house, and an oxcart-”
“An oxcart?”
“Yes, their gait is more ponderous and plodding than that of a horse.”
If Relam thought to impress Oreius with this bit of information he was disappointed. “Not bad. What else?”
“A blacksmith,” the prince continued as he discerned the ring of steel against steel on the air.
“A rather piercing noise, hard to miss,” Oreius said dismissively.
Relam frowned. The sound of the river had changed slightly. “A ship?” he asked uncertainly.
“You heard the water along its hull, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well done, boy. Keep going.”
“Birds,” Relam said as he heard the flutter of wings. “And squirrels, chattering at the birds.” As he finished, one such noise exploded directly above his head. “I hear the fountain, though it is harder at this distance. And the scent of the flowers is weaker. I feel the grass beneath my feet, the way the earth yields gently to my weight but still supports me. I hear the creak of rope tethering smaller craft to the bank.”
“Open your eyes.”
Relam did so, looking around. Oreius had disappeared.
“Looking for someone?”
Relam looked up in amazement and saw Oreius perched on a thick branch, looking down at him.
“How-?” Relam started to ask.
“Did you not notice me climbing up here?” Oreius finished, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, no,” Relam admitted.
“Because you did not expect to hear me climbing the tree,” Oreius grunted. “You listed all the sounds and smells that you would expect to sense where you stand, things that could be confirmed by your past experience in the city and on the river, even experiences from your first visit to my house.”
Oreius swung down from the branch, holding on with his two hands over his head, then dropped the remaining two meters, landing in a crouch to absorb the impact. “A battlefield is full of the unexpected,” he said sternly, joining Relam in the center of the glade once more. “You must be aware of everything, and everyone.”
“Yes, Oreius,” Relam said, wincing. Of all the embarrassing sounds to miss, he had missed an old man climbing a tree! It didn’t hardly seem possible.
Oreius nodded, watching Relam keenly. “You are frustrated, good. You expected to do better, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Get used to disappointment, boy. My training will push you beyond your limits, to the point where you question if you really have enough to survive. It isn’t meant to be easy, and you will fail. Repeatedly.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Anyway, by the time we are finished here your skills will be beyond what you could possibly imagine right now.”
“That sounds promising,” Relam said hopefully.
“But are you willing to put in the work?” Oreius whispered, moving to stand on Relam’s other side.
“Yes,” the prince replied without hesitation.
“Automatic, good. But anybody can say that,” Oreius said suddenly, flicking his hand dismissively. “Prove to me that you mean it. Close your eyes and listen again.”
Relam did as the old warrior instructed, listing the things he heard and felt as they came to him. He performed the feat three more times. Each time, he failed to notice something. Once, a heron stalked past right in front of him and he missed the majestic bird, convinced as he was that he was hearing Oreius walking on the grass around him. Another time, a boat slid past just as Oreius plugged his fountain and Relam misdiagnosed the sudden rippling sound as the waters of the fountain. On the final attempt, Relam failed to hear Oreius climb the stone bench and backflip off of it, landing lightly on the gravel path. To Relam, it sounded like the old man had been walking on the pavers and then the path.
“At least you noticed that I was on gravel at the end,” Oreius grunted.
Relam wisely made no reply, knowing he had not performed to Oreius’ standard.
“Lunch time, I think,” Oreius said, glancing at the sky. “Least I can do is feed you since I’m putting you through training. It’s hard enough on a full stomach, let alone an empty one. This will save time too, won’t have to wait for you to go all the way to the palace and back.”
Oreius led the way to the gravel path, moving smoothly and lightly, making hardly a sound save the occasional slight grating noise. Relam felt clumsy and awkward by comparison as the gravel ground noisily under his feet.
“How do you do that?” he finally asked as they circled the fountain.
“Do what?”
“Move so quietly.”
“Oh, that. Like all the other skills you will learn from me, it takes practice. Mostly, it’s about balance and awareness, feeling the ground beneath you before you go and smash your foot down on it, understanding where you are and what sort of noise-making obstructions there are.”
“Will everything you teach me be about awareness?” Relam asked, frustrated.
Oreius turned and looked at him for a long moment. Relam said nothing, shrinking back a little, afraid that he might have annoyed the master with his question. But, finally, Oreius nodded briskly.
“Fair question. We’ll talk about it over lunch.”
With that, Oreius pushed open the back door to the house and entered. Relam followed swiftly and the warrior closed the door behind him.
The house was dark, the only light filtering through windows of an odd type of glass. Relam could not see what was beyond the glass, though he knew the back windows looked out over the garden and the front ones surely looked out towards the River Road. But the ripples and bubbles in the thin sheets kept him from seeing anything more than a blur.
“That’s a special type of glass,” Oreius said, noticing Relam examining a pane. “Keeps unwanted visitors from being able to see in. And me from being able to see out.”
“Wouldn’t you want to be able to see your garden?”
“If I want to see it, I go outside,” Oreius replied as though Relam’s question were absurd.
Relam nodded as though he understood and looked around curiously. To the immediate left and right were two open archways, graceful and curving. The arch itself was of dark wood, the rest of the walls of lighter, honey colored wood. The floors were dark wood as well, the ceiling the same as the walls. The left arch appeared to lead into a dining room, which contained a plain, but highly polished, rectangular wooden table with ordinary wooden chairs standing around it. A circular window looked out over the garden, and a solitary lamp hung above the center of the table on a thick chain.
The arch to the right led into the kitchen, which was centered by a much smaller table that was unpolished but well-scrubbed. The kitchen was immaculately clean, pots and pans standing on shelves and hanging from hooks, large cabinets for storing food standing against the wall closest to the front of the house. A large sink was sunk into the middle of a wide counter, standing just in front of another circular window overlooking the garden.
“You can wait in there,” Oreius said, pointing to the dining room. “I�
��ll be along in a minute.”
Relam took one last look around, noticing that the hallway he was standing in led right to the front door, intersecting a perpendicular hall along the way. He quickly ducked into the dining room, before Oreius might think that he was snooping. A moment later, the old man returned, carrying a fresh loaf of bread, beakers of cold water, a wedge of cheese and a plate of sliced beef.
“It’s simple,” he said with no trace of apology. “Just enough to keep us going.” He placed another plate in front of Relam and pushed half of the meat onto it. Then, he deftly halved the cheese and bread and gave Relam his share of each.
“Thanks,” Relam said, accepting the plate.
“You’re welcome,” Oreius grunted, producing a dish with a sizeable pat of butter. “Butter?”
“No, thank you.”
“Good manners for a prince. Maybe court protocols have a use after all,” Oreius muttered, ripping a chunk from his end of the loaf and chewing thoughtfully.
“Not really,” Relam replied, shrugging. “I learned manners before court protocols. My mother was a stickler for that sort of thing.” His heart lurched uncomfortably as he mentioned her, and he stopped chewing for a moment. He regained his composure quickly and swallowed, the fresh, crusty bread tasting like ash in his mouth.
“You were wondering what I would teach you here,” Oreius remembered, redirecting the conversation. “If it would all be awareness training. The short answer is no, that’s not all you will learn.”
“What sort of things will I learn then?”
Oreius sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, we start with awareness. It’s critical to most of the rest of the things I’ll teach you. We’ll mix in learning the next ten practice patterns as well - I assume that Tar taught you the first ten when you trained under him?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s a reasonable foundation to build on. We might get started on the first two new ones this afternoon. Once you’ve learned those I’ll start teaching you the finer points of fighting: how to size up an opponent, his strengths and weaknesses, and how to exploit those weaknesses to defeat him. That also relies heavily on awareness, and attention to detail, which we will drill on constantly.”
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 32