Dust: An Elysian Tail

Before The Storm

Written by WildSnivy

Chapter 8

Trials

I unleash another set of fast blows towards Nikolai, and watch him almost effortlessly knock each one of them to the side with his two-handed blade. I can feel the tiredness start to take its toll; my breathing has already gone shallow. I can feel a few droplets of sweat starting to bead on my forehead. I still have full control of my arms, but I can tell they're approaching their limits as well.

I watch the last strike get deflected and I finally concede, out of breath and stamina both.

"If yer outta breath, then yer doin' it right," the blacksmith tells me as he slips the great sword into the sheath on his back.

"I...fail to see...how," I pant back, doubled over with my hands on my knees. I don't think we've been at it for any more than an hour, but I'm already exhausted. With effort I manage to drag myself over to the corner of the training area, and drop the blunted steel training weapon onto the nearby worktable before falling over onto the wooden bench next to it. On another day, I'd say it's too hard for to get comfortable and lie down on it, but that's irrelevant right now. I'm just glad I have some time to rest, and I really don't care where or how I take it.

Nikolai joins me soon after, two cups of cold water in his hands. "Ya did fine. Right now, we're just findin' where yer limits are, is all," he tells me as he hands one of the cups to me.

I sit myself back up and accept the drink. Somehow, between then and the time it takes for the blacksmith to take the seat next to me, I've already downed the cups contents and started searching for a spot to refill it.

Nikolai points me in the direction of the bathroom, and I promptly stand back up to walk over. "Ya know, for someone who hasn't used a sword before, 'specially that one," he calls after me. "For a rook, ya definitely know what yer doin'."

"If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn't be here," I yell back from the bathroom, over the rushing water from the faucet.

"Well considerin' I haven't told ya a thing 'bout short swords yet, you look like ya know yer way 'round one," he shouts back as I gulp down another glassful of water. "'Cept for one thing. Why do ya keep holdin' the practice model backwards?"

I feel a little embarrassed that I can't give him a better answer than, "It just feels better. I don't know why, but it does."

"Ya might wanna do somethin' 'bout that, I'd say," Nikolai replies as I drudge back into the training room. "If it's a bad practice with knives, then it's a very bad practice 'ere."

I slowly pick the practice sword back up off the workbench. It should feel relatively light; Nikolai created it to be comparable to the sword he gave me. I guess I'm still exhausted, though, because it feels like it's made out of lead for all the weight I feel in it right now. Strange, because none of the maneuverability feels like it's departed in the process, and I'm able to quickly switch my grip back and forth on the model's hilt.

"If you wanna carry yer blade 'round backhanded like that, that's fine. But when it comes ta fightin', you'd best be holdin' it like everyone else, aight?" Nikolai emphasizes.

"Okay," I acknowledge. For somebody coaching me in an area of combat, Nikolai is a remarkably laid back coach. He's not aggressive, he's not demeaning, and anything he finds wrong with my technique gets pointed out and constructively criticized. To be perfectly honest, I can't say I was expecting this. I mean, on the passive-to-aggressive scale, I didn't expect him to be on the same level as, say, a Royal Army Drill Sergeant, constantly yelling in my ear as I performed mundane exercise after mundane exercise, never once letting up or offering any sort of morale boost or respite. But then again, he's remarkably forgiving for what mistakes I am making, almost like he wants to me find out myself what I'm doing wrong.

The weirdest part about his entire coaching strategy, though, is that it's working. And I think he knows it is too. He's been hiding the faintest of smiles ever since he showed me up here to the residential area of his forge: a one-room style floor, with the sleeping area, living area and kitchen all seamlessly interconnected without walls to separate them. The furnishings are mostly leftover blacksmithing fixtures; the workbench I just picked my sword off of functions as a short-term storage area, akin to the table Ginger and I keep in our living room. We are actually practicing in his living area right now, and once we moved the chairs, workbench and carpeting out of the way, the result was a clean, almost completely vacant hardwood floor. A nearly perfect training arena, at least for our purposes.

I glance back over at him as soon as I familiarize myself with my practice weapon again. "So what did you mean by 'if I'm out of breath...?'"

"Then you know how ta use yer blade proper, aye," Nikolai nods, pointing at my actual blade on the workbench. "Yer sword there's a light weapon, no other way 'bout it. And when you were swingin' at me with the blunt, you weren't after power. You were attackin' fast, usin' the blade's properties ta yer 'vantage. That's good."

He stands back up from the bench and stretches his arm a bit. "Only problem, ya went and got yerself all tired out by the time I called it. So we need ta work on that as well."

I nod obediently and inspect the trainer for a few seconds. Nikolai continues talking. "Though I'll say this: for someone who doesn't have much trainin' with swords, ya do a great job coverin' it up."

"What do you mean by that?" I reply, waving the trainer in the air, giving it a few practice swings.

"You say yer a beginner, but ta me, you fight like you've been doin' this for a while. For the most part, anyways."

"I'm still a rookie, Nik. Even if I look like I'm not..."

"That's irrelevant, Jin. The important part's that yer lookin' to get better at somethin'. And for a good cause."

I peer back up at him. He's grinning with esteem. "Yer parents woulda been proud o' ya, son," he tells me, raising his hand to the hilt of the sword on his back.

I don't respond immediately. Thoughts of the parents crash back through my head like a tidal wave onto a beachfront. Memories, stories, everything about them up to last week rushes into my head. I'd feel like the jolt is too much on another day, and I'd just be overwhelmed by the surge. But I feel more at ease as Nikolai says that. Is it because they would be? I'm honestly not sure; frankly I didn't have a ton of interest in the art of the sword until Nikolai made one for me that day. And even then, it's likely I wouldn't have acted on that interest without the Royal Army occupation.

The more I try to convince myself I'm not trying to be a resistance fighter or anything like that, the more I end up contradicting myself, because that's exactly what Nikolai and I are training to become. I'm honestly not certain what the parents would have to think about that one. I know my mom in particular was mostly pacifist, and my dad might have been a strongman but even then he didn't like fighting where he could avoid it. Me, I'm actively building myself up because I want to be ready to fight. But, just like Nik said, I'm doing it because it's what's right. I'm not actively searching for trouble either. I just want to be there for Ginger.

"Yeah," I finally say. There's a little bit of doubt in my tone that I can't quite mask fully, but I force my words through it anyways. "Yeah, I think they would too."

I go a few more rounds with Nikolai, until Fidget flies up the stairs and tells us it's five o'clock and I realize Ginger's probably going to kick in the door to the forge at any moment now looking for me. I quickly gather up my things - my blade, my jacket, a banana from out of Nikolai's kitchen area - and jog back down the stairs to take my leave. Both he and Fidget follow me down the stairs as I throw my jacket back on.

"Back 'ere at eleven sharp, aight?" Nikolai reminds me. "And make sure yer arm doesn't give out in the meantime. Ya worked it a lot today."

"Right," I tell him as I get ready to show myself out the door.

Fidget casually flies over to me, hovering at about head height next to the door. "I think I'm gonna get some fresh air too before the sun goes down."

Nikolai gives a nod in our direction. "I crack the door for ya."

"This late in the evening, Nik?" I reply. "You think that's safe?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," the nimbat shrugs. "I mean, have you seen him angrily chase people before? He's scary! And likes throwing things. And people. Particularly into other things."

"If I see any veggie carts nearby, I'll put 'em through one just for you."

"We'll see you tomorrow, Nik!" I say to him as I push the door open and let Fidget outside, followed by myself. I smirk a little bit at the nimbat as she flies alongside me, and she needs a couple seconds before she says anything about it.

"Oh, don't look at me like that!"

"You needed some fresh air, eh, Fidget?" I skeptically ask her.

"Yeah, I did! You've ever been in a building like that for a prolonged period of time?"

"Yes, because that is how a lot of people here tend to live. You...kind of live in the middle of a forest."

"Hey, even that gets boring after a while. And...well..."

Fidget flaps over to my shoulder and sits down on it, similar to the way a parrot would sit on a pirate's. "I don't know. I just kinda like being with you."

That gets a small laugh out of me for some reason. "Fidget, there's nothing wrong in saying I'm a friend. Everybody makes them."

"I have friends!" she promptly defends. "But, I usually don't make them this quickly."

She leans against my head and reclines on my shoulder even more. "You're like the first honestly good person I've met in a long time. And what you're doing for your sister? It's...kinda awesome."

I'm speechless for a moment. I don't think I've ever had anyone say that to me before, let alone somebody like Fidget. I just have to take time to think on that, and the conversation goes stale after a while. Fidget is still propped against my shoulder as I continue to stroll down the street home, lazily but comfortably enjoying the ride.

I slowly reach my hand up behind her head, and gently scratch her behind the ear. "I appreciate you thinking that, Fidget," I softly tell her. "Thank you."

The nimbat moans a bit in response before talking again. "I'm not a pet, Jin."

I immediately back my hand off, like I had placed it on a stovetop. "Oh, sorry," I reply. "Should I stop?"

She's quiet for a couple seconds. "Nah. Keep doing it," she requests. And my hand promptly complies as I continue taking the two of us back to the house.

A few silent but golden minutes pass us by, and I finally see the house approaching from around the bend. I'm considering having Fidget stay for dinner. She and Ginger would probably hit it right off, though I suspect the reason might not be much deeper than "Fidget is cute and fluffy and Ginger has an affinity for those particular traits."

Regardless, I'm glad the nimbat is with me. I'm glad that I have a new friend. Even if we did meet entirely by accident and as a direct consequence of Nikolai's retrospectively amusing reaction to her breaking into his house. Then again, I guess it's hard to have friends you don't meet by accident to begin with.

In that case, I'm glad that accident this morning happened to be Fidget.

Out of incidence, I peer past the house, towards the one a little bit further down the street. Not so close to the point where they would be called our next-door neighbors, but Ginger and I at least know who they are. Right now, there's a sea of blue-dyed armor standing in front of their house, with a singular black-clad entity standing at the door and presumably asking them a few things.

The man inside does not look pleased at all. "...don't know why you keep asking me these things. I told you everything I have right now!" I can hear him barking at Cassius right now.

Fidget raises her head off of my hand and looks down the street with me. "What's all the commotion?"

"Dewitt's giving Cassius a piece of his mind it sounds like," I inform her.

She curls up, hugging her lower legs with her front paws. "I don't like him," she bluntly replies.

Yeah, you and everyone else. "You can head back to Nik's if you want. If he makes you uncomfortable."

"That's your house next to him, isn't it?" the nimbat mumbles cynically.

"It unfortunately is."

Fidget takes off from my shoulder and hovers off to my side. "I think I'm going to go before I eat his face."

"Sorry, what?" I ask, unsure of if I heard that excuse correctly.

"Nothing, nothing," Fidget innocently answers. "Just saying, if you bump into him tomorrow, and his face is gone for some strange, unexplored reason..."

"Good night, Fidget. I'll see you tomorrow," I wave to the nimbat before she turns around and flies away back down the street. She probably wouldn't have wanted to stay with me anyways. Now that Cassius is close, I actually have new business with the commanding officer. I'm not going to enjoy it; I can tell that straight away. The quality of my life at the moment varies inversely with the number of times I see Cassius in a certain length of time.

But I have to put that behind me. At least for now. Because as much as I hate him, and as much as he wants to find a way to condemn the entire town, I think I need him. It's been on my mind ever since Nikolai dismissed me from the forge.

It's my parents again. I never found out the details of what happened that night. Who was in that scouting party. Why they were struck down. I haven't told Ginger, but it has been on my mind ever since Nikolai gave us the news. We're the kids. The survivors. We have a right to know exactly how they died.

And if Nikolai's words are true, that a Royal Army patrol got to them, who better to talk to than one of the highest ranking soldiers in the corps? I take a deep breath in, glance over at my house, and tell myself that I can go there as soon as I talk to Cassius. I start walking towards him.

Dewitt is still yelling at the soldiers and their leader, though I must have missed a good minute or two of his lecture lost in thought. He finally pauses for a brief moment to allow Cassius a rebuttal. "Mr. Dewitt, I understand you're a busy man, and I intend to let you go as quickly as possible, but I can assure you this will go by much more smoothly if you calm down and..."

"Calm down and what? Answer fifteen more questions that I already answered before? As quickly as possible, hah! If I didn't know better I'd say you're intentionally wasting my time!"

"As are you mine, I'm starting to think," Cassius calmly but angrily retorts with a tip of his hat. "Good day, Mr. Dewitt. Perhaps you'll feel a bit more cooperative tomorrow."

"I'm certain I won't with you around," Dewitt spouts off one last insult before slamming the door shut. Cassius just stares at it for a second before about facing and passing through the four-man patrol accompanying him.

He turns his head to the left and notices me in the middle of the street. He looks over his shoulder at the door again, and then back to me. "Did I cause a disturbance?" he asks professionally.

"Uh, no sir," I stiffly reply. "You'll have to forgive Dewitt, he's almost invariably like that." Invariably? Really, Jin? Relax, get your nerves straight, and stop talking like Sereth.

"I think we'd do well to keep that in mind next time," Cassius sighs as he takes out his pocket watch. "And he's put us well behind schedule as a result, it appears."

"Sir, we need to keep moving," one of the escorts notes.

"That we do," the commander blankly agrees as he claps the watch shut and marches past me. "If you'd excuse us, Jin."

I'm actually a little impressed he remembers my name. But that's not what I need to focus on at the moment. "Uh, actually, Commander," I try to get his attention. I personally think that attempt was a little feeble, but it gets Cassius to stop and look back at me.

"Yes?"

I softly clear my throat. "If it wouldn't be much trouble, sir, could I make a request?"

Another soldier pipes up instead. "Sir, we don't have time for this. You said it yourself, we're..."

"As admirable as your punctuality is, Sergeant, I think I can decide for myself what questions I do and don't answer," Cassius sharply interrupts him. I can just make out a penetrating glare from under his hat, directed squarely at the outspoken soldier.

"You will not speak for me again," the commander orders, with that same unnerving coolness he had used with Dewitt. "Have I made myself plain?"

The soldier takes a small step backwards. "Yes sir," he quietly answers. "Yes sir, you have."

Cassius leers at his subordinate for another second or two, then returns to me. "Now what can I do for you, Jin?" he asks. His tone hasn't shifted much if at all, but the sharpness present just a few moments ago has dissipated.

"I don't know if you'd be the right person to ask this to, but would you happen to know anything else about my parents?"

He relaxes his stance, spreading his feet and crossing his arms. "Regarding what, exactly?"

"Their deaths, sir. I don't know much about them apart from..." I catch myself just before I say anything about the military's involvement. Cassius tilts his head curiously as I restart.

"Ginger and I just didn't have time to look any further into it once we got the news," I correct myself.

"I see," Cassius responds. "How much do you know about that caravan incident?"

He's going to make me lie again. Easy, Jin. You did it before. Just do what comes naturally.

"To be honest, sir, I didn't even know there was one going out to begin with. The parents were gone when I woke up, and by the time I figured out they were running supplies..." I intentionally trail my sentence off.

Cassius pulls the pocket watch out of his uniform again. "I understand," he replies, to my slight surprise.

"Sorry, sir?"

"As I stated earlier, we are behind track at present. But the least I can do for you is help determine how your parents died."

"So, you can help me?"

"I suspect we will be back at our camp at about eight. Fifteen past at the latest. Do you know where we're set up?"

I almost say "yes," but then stop myself once I realize I wouldn't have a good reason why. "I think you're on the northern face, right?"

"Yes, there's a small dirt path on the east edge of town. Just follow it down and we'll be on the right."

"Yes, sir," I stammer. "Thank you, sir."

He turns to the two soldiers on his left. "Send word to the watch there, if you would. I expect company. Return as soon as it's done." The both of them nod and jog down the road to send the message.

The commander closes the watch and replaces it. "In the meantime, Jin, I must depart. But I'd be lying if I said you haven't renewed my interest in this matter."

"Understood, sir," I answer back. "And thank you again."

"Eight-fifteen," he blankly reminds me with a tug on his hat and a flick of his cape, as he briskly marches down the road with the rest of his escort. "Good evening."

Note From the Author

Hello everyone, and again thank you so much for reading and supporting the story! We're approaching the 350 view marker at the time of this posting, and I take that as a sign that this story is doing pretty well for a month and a half on the internet. So again, thanks for reading, and make sure you follow to keep up to speed with the new chapters.

On the topic of new chapters, I'm going to take this next week off. If you've ever been to college, you know that finals week is a rough one, and I need the time to sit down and get myself ready for my exams. So I appreciate your patience with me and the story as I get it worked out, and I promise I'll put up the new stuff as soon as I can. This will almost certainly be the only time I break from my weekly update schedule, before any panic ensues.

Once more, thanks for being patient as I get through the upcoming week, and I hope you've been enjoying the story so far!

Cheers,

WS