Tale Thirty-Seven, Keeping a Promise
The sun hung heavy in the air, rays creating a heat that penetrated the sky towards the high mountainous valley of the Highlands where Cobbleston stood. However, the cool wind and the upper peaks of the tallest stone giants overlooking this region of Orsterra matched the warm waves. They matched tit for tat, creating a pleasing temperature that was neither too hot nor too cold.
As if the two masters of the environment were dueling. Temperate weather was the outcome of their weapons clashing over and over again.
Olberic chuckled at himself for making such a comparison, knowing far too well how much it suited him.
Yet his brief mirth didn't last long as he returned to the envelope he held in his hand.
It was addressed to H'aanit and contained a letter within it that Olberic wished to deliver but found he didn't dare to do so. After all, it contained more emotion than he had ever cared to express and by the time it reached S'warkii, the huntress would have departed for the Frostlands for their reunion.
Maybe there he could give the letter to H'aanit - or better yet talk to her.
The warrior sighed.
Cyrus had once claimed Olberic to be a warrior-poet who didn't mince words. Now, the bigger of the two men didn't think so.
"Olberic!"
The man in question's head shot up, happily ready to welcome any distraction from his inner thoughts fighting with each other.
Philip, his squire, came running into the ring Olberic had set up behind his small cobblestone hut and where the warrior found himself preparing to leave on his journey for the Frostlands.
Only his indecision had stopped him dead in his tracks.
Now, it would seem Philip had the same idea.
The young lad bounded up to his teacher, wooden practice sword in hand.
Olberic knew what the boy wanted before he even spoke.
"Sir Olberic! Before you go, I wanted to ask if you could help me with my forms," Philip asked excitedly - bouncing with energy. "Have to keep myself in top shape for your return."
Despite himself, the warrior smirked. "I guess you do, do you not? But I must be off to the Frostlands to see my dear friends, soon."
"Aw! Please, Sir Olberic? I just need a few minutes, promise."
The pout the boy threw at Olberic should've been considered a weapon in of itself. After all, the former Knight of Hornburg couldn't very well ignore it. With a sigh, the dark-haired man knew he would give in to his squire's desire to train.
Olberic dropped the letter, his blade, and the sack he carried over his shoulder. "Very well, but you must grow up sometime, Philip. This is the last time I fall for such pleas if you are to grow strong enough to protect Cobbleston."
Philip nodded happily, his eyes shining (and Olberic's instruction likely being unheard).
"Yay! Thank you, Sir Olberic!"
The man smiled gently as he walked over to his rack of training weapons. There, Olberic picked up his well-worn, blunted iron blade which rested next to a similarly constructed and maintained ax. Sword would suffice for now - Philip wasn't yet ready to wield an ax.
Then, the teacher and student entered the makeshift, wood-fenced enclosure behind Olberic's home that the warrior used as his training grounds. They made their way to the center of the ring. Olberic raised his sword and Philip followed suit, spreading his legs to mirror his mentor's stance and holding his sword in front of him.
Squared shoulders. Firm feet. Solid, yet not rigid, grip.
Philip's form already impressed Olberic.
"I see you have remembered our past lessons well," the warrior mentioned with a sense of pride.
Philip nodded happily. "Of course, Sir Olberic! I need to be as strong as you someday, after all."
"That you do. Now, we shall begin. Thrust!"
Olberic thrust his sword forward.
Philip did the same under the warrior's diligent eye.
Bent legs propelled his momentum forward. Raised elbows jutting back before thrusting. Bringing his dominant foot forward to carry him through.
"Again, well done Philip. Upward slash!"
Olberic saw no reason to stop now nor make it easy on the lad.
Unlike his thrust, Philip was caught off-guard by the sudden command - and on one of his weaknesses no less.
Grip strong, but too rigid. Slash was too wild and almost caught the ground. Blade and stance both unsteady.
"You can do better Philip. Remember that no true foe will wait for you between moves. You must be able to act and react based on instinct and muscle memory," Olberic instructed, still holding his stance.
"Yes, Sir Olberic!" Philip yelled back with conviction.
"Good. Side slash!"
The warrior moved, the hem of the Hornburg tabard he wore fluttering slightly at his movement, coupled with the rattling of the chainmail underneath the blue piece of clothing.
Philip followed without hesitation.
Foot propelling him forward. Slash coming in slightly diagonally from shoulder and following through. Sword pommel ending near his waist, ready to parry if needed.
"Excellent, Philip! Now - turn and downward slash!"
Olberic spun on his toes, his eyes focused on Philip as his muscles and sword carried him forward. He didn't expect to hit anything, so of course, he didn't look in front of him.
Yet, instead of slashing downward into the air, Olberic's blunt blade met something solid.
Stunned by the sudden ringing in his arms and ears, the warrior turned his furrowed gaze to the individual responsible for interrupting his training with Philip.
Instantly, his eyes widened in surprised recognition.
There, ax held horizontally to block Olberic's blade, stood H'aanit, a challenging grin on her face.
The warrior noticed behind her, near the entrance to his training grounds, stood Alfyn, Linde, Primrose, and Therion with pints in hand. It struck him as oddly amusing that they stopped at the local tavern for stouts before deciding to visit him. But, despite the current predicament of H'aanit meeting him blade-to-blade, Obleric couldn't help but smile and shake his head good-naturedly
"I should have known you would travel on this route," he spoke, already knowing full well why members of his traveling family had come to Cobbleston.
"Thou shouldst hath known, dear Olberic," H'aanit affirmed. "We shallst depart soon, with thou joining us, nay?"
"Of course, I would not have it otherwise."
"Good, then I doth believen that we hath a promise to keep," H'aanit challenged.
Olberic met her challenge and broke away from their stalemate, readying himself for their duel.
"That we do."
Then, as they had in Stillsnow, the blade of the bear and the ax of the hawk met with a clang of iron-on-iron.