Weylyn kneeled in his family's small chapel as he reflected on the events that were only but a week ago. His right hand still felt somewhat numb and several phantom pains in his chest still haunted him to this moment. He did his best to keep his mind off of that thought He did this by turning his thoughts to his prayers and praise to the patrons of his house and the north made sure to send his prayers to the great huntress, asking for a good hunt as he was to accompany lord Rabe's hunt with his father, brothers, and Sir Ler.
He turned his prayers to Aengus, his personal patron for protection and a happy life. Weylyn had been born under the stars of the winged god and even now he could feel the spirit watching him. He lit a little branch of hazel wood, waiting for it to crackle and twist, before muttering lowly " Aengus…men call you the Young. For you are the sunlight in the heart, the moonlight in the mind. You are beyond joy and tears. you who will make men immortal for your palace opens into the Gardens of the Sun and there are the fire-fountains which quench the heart's desire in rapture" He sent off the simplified version of one of Aengus's prayer.
Among the old gods though he brought his prayers to the the red angels and the golden one. The walls on the side of the temple showed two legions of angels march across the world to bring the great peace. Great warriors taller than any man, dwarfed only by their two masters. One a giant of copper skin and rainbow eyes. The other was the most majestic of beings with great wings and golden hair. Some said that the angels were just servants of gods though and that they should turn their faith to the old gods. The gods of their fathers and their fathers' fathers and so on since man had fallen from the stars themselves. The walls showed the angels ending the great war between the clanns with warrior few man could strike, with blessed armored no blade could pierce directly. They had come down from the sky generations ago and told the people of their lord beyond the stars. A golden lord who ruled every star that they could see those they could not.
The story went that they would come again whenever their world was in peril and they would come to take their people to a land of paradise when the day of the ending would come to be. He had always loved the old stories of both gods, though he himself was blessed by the old ones. He never understood why others could not accept having both gods old and new, for his family was one of the few that did.
Weylyn stopped his prayers after a moment. He felt someone enter the room behind him. He did not hear someone come in, nor see them, but he felt them enter the chamber. He heard a muttering in his head and the feeling of another heartbeat.
He rose up from where he prayed, slowly reaching for the blade that rested against his thigh, and turned back to the doors of the chapel to see one of his family servants. The dagger in his hand brandished for defense, it had been a precaution since his trial, one which in this case was unneeded. The simple man that had arrived named Osterwick, hollow of face and thin of frame. He was the best of men noble or peasant that Weylyn knew.
Osterwick stood quietly in the doorway, stopping in his step. "I am sorry my young sir, I had tried not to disturb you. Your lord father though wishes to see you." He found himself slightly surprised as that his charge had turned. He had done his best to remain quiet.
Weylyn lowered the blade, "Sorry sir." He smiled mischievously despite himself, he felt his face a slight bit inflamed from embarrassment. "I was not expecting anyone, I thought you might have been an intruder.
Osterwick only nodded at his young ward accepting the apology and the reason. "Your father sent me to get you for he wishes," it was only then that the man gave serious thought to the blade that in his wards hand. "Now put that damn thing away boy before you cut yourself." The elder snapped at his own young ward.
After a small chuckle, "I am to be a knight Osterwick, I am going to need to carry more than this one day." Weylyn pointed out, the rosy-cheeked boy smiled at his elder as he swung it about pretending it was a larger blade. It was nothing more than a hunters knife. It was a cheap one at that, one which even normal young huntsmen would be able to purchase with only minor haggling.
The old man began to walk forward to his ward, his movements old and yet still spry. "And until the day you have got a messer in your little hands you are my responsibility," Osterwick pointed out as he moved through the temple. "Now you will put that thing away or I shall knock it from your hands and teach you a few other lessons while I am at it." He smiled as, despite his harsh words, he was joking.
"And if I don't" Weylyn challenged the elder. It was not a disrespectful challenge but a playful one. The boy raised up his blade and pointed it at his warden in jest.
Osterwick stopped for only a moment, a fatherly grin His mentor and watcher took up his cane and turned it upward as if to imitate a blade. "Than I would have to to teach you what happens if you do not listen to your elders." With a glint in his eyes the man thrust forward. It would have stabbed into Weylyn's shoulder, though he side stepped blow by an inch, the stand in sword This began the days lesson of swordsmanship, or at least knife play.
The boy slashed at Osterwick. His cane though snapped at against the blade before it even got to the elderly man The ironwood stave clanged against the steel of the knife, never making it any closer to its target. "poor of form." Osterwick shook his head at the thought and pushed the blade away, taking a step back. "Again and try harder."
Weylyn slid back,flipping the blade backwards in his hand, resting his thumb were the blade had been a moment ago. He slowly began to walk around his mentor, knowing he was at the disadvantage due to the cane's length, he had to strike at the right moment. A silence passed over them for a single short minutes before that moment came, as his mentor took a step back, he faltered at a loose stone. Weylyn dove into his enemy, bringing his arm to slash horizontally. He did not see that it was a trick until wood and iron snapped together.
He did not let this stop him though, Weylyn began to thrust and cut at his mentor aiming for the chest. When the blade and stave made contact, he used the momentum to push towards his mentors hand. His blade being bound back again and again with his every strike, only managing to catch the threading of the man's overcoat. Weylyn did his best to keep close, knowing that this were he had the advantage, yet as he stepped back for another lung he felt his hand go aflame.
Osterwisk rapped the boys hand, the pain searing, in a moment the blade had been knocked from Weylyn with ease. The simple blade skidding across the stone of the sanctuary and stopping against the wall. The warden wrapped his arm around the boy's arm, forcing into a twisted angle. He wasted no time in delivering a quick palm thrust to Weylyn's chin, wrapping his fingers around the boy face and thrusting Weylyn's head down.
Weylyn did not know he was falling until he felt Osterwick grab his collar and had his head from being dashed across the stone. "You will have to get better than that if you are to be more than a squire." The elder laughed as he pulled up his young ward.
"That is why I have you. Osterwick." Weylyn answered to his warden as he was pulled back to his feed. "My father still thinks your skill and patience will rub off."
"Well, It is a father's right to dream... I suppose." Osterwick replied with a sigh. The two of them began to chuckle at the thought, as the teacher walked his pupil from their family chapel. It was a sad truth that most of their family doubted that it was actually going to happen, yet his father was a hopeful man.
The two of them passed through the chapel doors. The courtyard was a in decent repair, only a few stones had been dislodged by weeds and grasses. The cobblestone was a deep rich dark grey running from the color. It stood in great contrast to the pure virgin white stone of the shine. The city of Red Branch sat far away in the distance in the north. The city rested at the base of the O'Dunnslebi mountains. A forest of oak stood to the south, leading the river of his birth.
A pair of sweet-water breed horses awaited them, reins tied to about a post. They were great beasts neighed as they saw their masters. They were a fine and strong breed. One was a fine chestnut color and the other was wondrous ivory in color. The were those of their family. The one of ivory particularly was Weylyn's own, he had been present at its birth, help raise the horse, and named it Alph.
The young boy went to his own and rubbed its snout to calm the beast. "Good boy." Weylyn pushed himself up onto Alph, the destrier shaking under him and whining. He knew was not going to bucked off though, Alph was a loyal and strong breast. Alph would take him through caverns measureless to man, down to sunless seas, and gardens bright with sinuous hills if Weylyn had wanted.
"I brought her just for you. Come now before we commit some more sacrilege by accident." Osterwick smiled and spurred his own stead forward, Weylyn falling into step with Osterwick. The old man had once been a man at arms for his family, he had severed and even saved Weylyn's grandfather. The man had been bound to the Ushe family ever since. He quite enjoyed the life to compared to the toils of the average was not that Osterwick did not like the simple life, he just found the trappings of nobility to be a tad more satisfiyng.
The two of them began to trollop forward They dashed across the low grassland with a frantic speed. The salt of the sea to the east rolling over them and the sounds of water crashing against stone. Villages and the great standing stones dryad with their spiraling patterns darted past the two of them.
It was well over a few hours journey traveling at breakneck speed before they began to close in on Red Branch. The smell of the sea being replaced with the smell of greasy food and smoke of irons forges. "Do you think I will be a proper knight?" Weylyn asked as they slowed down. The numbers of peasants growing thicker as the approached the Red-Branch.
"I think you will be fine. You will be a halfway decent leader even if you had never listened to me. If you have listened to half of my teachings you will be a great lord." Osterwick told his charge with only a serious, but sincere tone to his voice despite the almost joking words. "You might not hold much in the same strengths of your brothers, but you're a fool when it comes to your spirit and I know you will do you best. I will haunt you if you don't". In this statement, he afforded himself a small smile.
Weylyn was to respond and yet he was not sure how much of that comment was a compliment to him and how much of that was insulting to him. Despite a slight misgiving he felt, for the most part, blessed to hear the words from his longtime mentor and friend. "Thank you Osterwick," Weylen replied which elicited only a curt nod in response. The two of them continued onward in silence for the last few minutes, listening to the chatter of the crowds and that crackling of flames. The great walls of the Red Branch towered above him, perfect white stone looked as if it was caught aflame with the setting sun. There was no more beautiful city in all of either Ulaid or perhaps, as some would debate, all of the world. The fact it was him debating that did not phase Weylyn
The great gate's shadow engulfed the two as they passed into the city and made toward the Urshe keep.
I thought to give a little bit about the world. I know this chapter did not add much story wise, but the early parts will play a role in the world. The two n's in clann is intentional for an old medieval way to say it.
Check out my other works on fiction press, particularly my main story: Trials of the Witch Hunter