A Different Perspective - Part 1 (Attn Visar)

[Sangreal]

Sandre had felt guilty a moment for waking Visar in the middle of the night with the orders to go to Shienar to train as Heavy Cavalry and assist in any campaigns they might find. Sandre remained quiet as they traveled all night and all the next day. The images of Edana and Bryiam still too fresh in his memory to let go. Visar was taking the exhaustion well and not questioning Sandre at all about his obvious bad mood. After about a week of staring blankly ahead he finally spoke up.

 

"Edana and I have gone our separate ways... she loves another and did not want to hurt me to did not tell me. I found out and have decided to leave to make it easier on her. I needed a friend so I pushed for the option to bring you. My cousin has agreed to further our training when we get there. We will be learning how to fight in the Blight. If the last battle really is coming we should know how it is done."

 

He turned to Visar and gave him a slight smile. Both had been feeling the pressure of their skills and training not seeming to advance them any further.

 

"This will be good for us I think. Shienar Cavalry are the best heavy cavalry in the world. When we leave we also will be among the best heavy cavalry in the world." Sandre patted Heart, his horse, on the neck. The animal was bred to be a Shienaran heavy warhorse.

 

OOC: This is part one of our Wake-up Call mandatory RP. I can start the others as well if you wish and you are ok with having about three threads going?

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar's eyes fluttered open, as a dark figure woke him.  His orders were explained, and though he was mildly surprised, he got up and did what he was told.  Everything for his journey was prepared for him in advance; even the horse was saddled and provisioned.  He had once in a bout of depression asked to be assigned outside of Tar Valon, to better the variety of his training experience.  He didn't think that they would take him seriously, however, and events had led to him learning secondhand about Sandre going to Shienar.  But Visar still did not know exactly why...

 

Now he would probably find out, as they rode out the northwestern bridge, leaving Tar Valon behind and following the stars to the Borderlands.  Their journey was quiet.  Visar was tired and disgruntled at having been woken so suddenly, though he said no word of complaint.  He didn't have to say anything else, either.  Sandre seemed caught up in his thoughts, and didnt want to tell him anything yet either.  So time passed slowly, and night faded into the dawn of the next day.

 

Autumn was already creeping up upon them, and Visar had already donned a coat to keep off the night's chill.  He had grown used to Tar Valon's colder temperatures to an extent, but winter there was far beyond anything he had experienced in Tear.  And they were headed north, to winter in one of the coldest places on earth.  Visar wondered what rumors were true or false.  Did the trees really crack from the freeze?  What about people that were caught unawares out in such elements?  Did they crack too?  What about trollocs, and fades?  Did they really exist?...

 

Visar had never seen one to this date, though he supposed if they were as real as Shienarans said they were, he would meet them soon enough.

 

The journey continued, both riders completely lost in their thoughts, yet Sandre appeared to be in worse condition.  Visar had attempted to start a conversation once, mere smalltalk about bird types this far north, but felt his partner's chill mood and did not try again.

 

Finally, Sandre said something.  Visar leaned in his saddle, trying to take in every word, as if at any moment the spell of muteness would return and they would be tortured to travel in silence forever.  He listened as Sandre recounted briefly about Edana.  Visar had not known Edana well, but had certainly heard Sandre talk about her.  It was too bad that had ended.  Though Visar had no words to say for encouragement.  He nodded and continued to listen.  Leaving made some sense, he thought.  As it made sense for himself.

 

The Blight.  The horror stories of countless monsters entered Visar's imagination once more.  Was the place really as bad as they said it was? 

 

Visar's response to training to be heavy cavalry was dull and unenthusiastic.  "Heavy Cavalry...  A year ago I could barely ride a horse properly, much less fight on one.  You might leave as one of the best, but I don't think I'll be able to learn that quickly.  I prefer to fight on my feet anyway."  Visar glanced at Sandre's warhorse, and at his own, a much smaller palfrey designed mainly for traveling.

 

"I'm sure fighting in the line will suffice for me." he said, referring to Shienar's equally formidable infantry formations.  While their heavy cavalry took all the praise for their battle prowess, Visar knew that hard working infantry were often the unsung heroes of the day.

 

Experience in either would certainly be refreshing in any case.

 

"Tell me Sandre, what sort of person is your cousin?" Visar asked, trying to learn as much as he could about where he was going before he was thrown into the system.

 

 

[Sangreal]

Sandre was glad the conversation changed. He nodded to himself quietly in approval. "Hes gifted at knowing the strengths and weaknesses of every single soldier under him. Maximizing how effective they would be at any task they are needed for. He has a touch for keeping moral up as well." Sandre turned to Visar with a light smile "The man knows how to throw a party. He takes the unit to Saldea through our patrols, times it just right for some of the major festivals. Most of the soldiers come out of it happy... or married." A few more minutes passed before he spoke up again. "While I am thinking about it... some of the Kaldun women like to play matchmaker... just dont let yourself be caught alone in the bath house and you should be fine." Sandre smiled. Those women were going to have Visar for breakfast.

 

At the rate they were going Sandre was confident they would reach his family lands before the first winter snow storms. The cold weather and the breath before the big chill however felt very much like his mood. The sun was not seen once in the later half of their trip. When the manor was in view he pointed it out to Visar. "There we are." It was large and made of stone. There was no wall around it which was uncommon and there was a large field of crops behind it that stretched as far as the eyes could see. Women and servants were active around the house as were men at arms. The training facility was based mostly around the manor and down the road a ways was a village where the soldiers main barracks were located. The Soldiers nodded for the two to enter and stable boys took their horses. They were met at the door by a servant. "The masters will see you later tonight. In the mean time relax from your trip. Master Sandre your cousin A'tal wishes you to look over the campaign plans in the map room." Sandre nodded and pointed to the stairs. "Someone will meet you up there to give you a room. Im going to get started on those maps. Have a look around or feel free to train with the men at arms."

[Visar Falmaien]

Their journey continued, the weather overcast and close to freezing the whole time.  The only way Visar would have been able to survive was Sandre's continuous advise, telling him how to keep his extremities warm.

 

Visar thought he would not be able to take much more of this frostbitten weather when they finally arrived at the Kaldun manor.  From the outside, it looked stark and uninviting, a practical stone hulk surrounded by farms.  Hard eyed men greeted them, and allowed them to pass once they recognized Sandre.

 

Once their horses were taken care of, Visar glanced around, nervous about being in a new place with unfamiliar people.  Sandre was asked to visit the map room.

 

"Someone will meet you up there to give you a room. Im going to get started on those maps. Have a look around or feel free to train with the men at arms."

 

Visar nodded dully.  He was not invited for a family discussion of whatever strategy it was.  That was alright with him, however; he did not think he had much of a gift for that.  Training could wait.  He wanted to see what he could see, though it would help if he knew where his quarters were to start with. He got the attention of the servant, who was just about to leave.

 

"Uh...goodman, would you be so kind to show me to the barracks? I'd like to get situated."

 

"The barracks?  Nay, you need not bother with such humble accommodations.  My lord has already prepared a guest room for you.  It is just this way, if you please."

 

Visar frowned.  He was not used to being treated like a lord.  "The barracks will do fine..." he began his protest, but the servant cut him off.

 

"Nonsense!  A friend of Sandre is a friend and honored guest of the family!  Right this way."

 

Visar grudgingly accepted, convincing himself that it was a temporary set up.  He would ask Sandre later to be accommodated with the men-at-arms.  He would probably feel more at home there than in a room by himself.  Following the graying servant, Visar noticed that the inside of the manor was much more inviting than the outside.  For one, he had to remove his coat; it was so warm in here he was sweating!

 

Finally, they reached the door to his room.  The servant ushered him inside, then gave final directions.

 

"The bathhouse is down those stairs and on the left side of the corridor if you wish to cleanse yourself from your journey."

 

Visar thanked him, and the man left.  Visar took a look around.  His room was not large, but it was certainly a good deal more spacious than his room in the Tower barracks.  Everything was already laid out, including his saddle bags, which had somehow beat him here.

 

Visar put down the rest of his things, and stretched out on the bed.  A short nap wouldn't hurt, he thought.

 

He woke up two hours later, feeling dirty, sore, and hungry.

Right...where was that bathhouse?  And by the Stone, where are the kitchens?!  He got up and left the room to explore the manor.

[Sangreal]

Sandre had a tough time making it to the map room. Family and cousins stopped to talk to him or hug him. Not caring about the fact that he had not bathed in days. Some were surprised and barely recognized him. Last time he had been here he was pasty white and skinny, not to mention covered in acne. Now he stood taller than most of his Shienaran relatives and was covered in muscle. His aunt, Lane, joked about finding him a wife that could handle his strength to which he responded he wasnt anxious to jump back into another relationship. His uncle Tyr, A'tals father, caught him a moment outside the map room and commented that he didnt look Andoran at all.

 

In the map room they brought him hot tea to take the chill out while he made a few minor changes on the maps for battle plans. He was not a commander though and would have to run any major changes by A'tal and Tyr. As he made the adjustments Lyse, A'tal's sister walked. "Who was your friend?" Sandre looked up. She had grown and grown beautiful. One day she would be head of the women of the manor. A formidable woman already though by the looks of her. "Go easy on him Lyse." he smiled. "Hes not used to the forwardness of Borderland women I dont think." Population numbers were hard to keep up. He knew women couldnt afford to not be aggressive. The next generation of warriors had to be born as soon as able or they would all die. She glided in and rested her hands on the table "You should worry about yourself... your aunt will not stand for an unmarried Kaldun male for long."

 

It was a veiled threat to either give her what she wanted or they would tie him up and marry him off before his training was done. "Hes probably taking a bath. Hes quiet and likely will do anything you ask him too bordering on physical intimacy."

 

Lyse smiled triumphantly and headed towards the bath house.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar sighed in contentment as he soaked for a while in the steaming bath house.  It had been a while since he had enjoyed a bath like this.  Usually in the Tower baths had to be heated manually, but here apparently there was a hot spring that heated the waters naturally.  It had been a little too hot initially, but Visar had gotten used to the temperature.  He closed his eyes and forgot about why he was here and what he was about to get into.

 

His mind drifted, and he found himself humming an old tune, something from a simple Tairen fisherman's song, really, but he wasn't really thinking about anything.  He almost didn't notice the soft splash beside him.

 

"What song is that you're humming?  It's beautiful."

 

Visar's eyes snapped open at the sound of a female voice, and his eyes darted to his right.  He tensed, wondering in a slight panic whether he had walked in the wrong bath house.

 

Oh wait, this is Shienar!  They do public baths together, don't they?

 

He forced himself to focus on the speaker, even though he felt his face heat up, and not from the temperature of the water.  The pale skinned woman had nothing on, and Visar realized he didn't either.  And she was smiling, and not the least bit embarrassed!

 

"Nothing much." he forced himself to answer.  His mind raced and his heart pulsed like the wings of a hummingbird.  Maybe Sandre sent this woman to me as a prank!  Or maybe this is a test!  To see whether I can resist temptation!  If they caught me doing something I shouldn't...I'd be lucky to get out of here alive!  "I don't remember..." he said, and then he remembered.  It was called the Stork's Flight.  He didn't tell that to the woman, however.

 

"M-Might I ask-k whom I'm bathing with?" he tried to stall, glancing around to get a better grip on his surroundings.  She was approaching him slowly, like a leopard stalking its prey.

 

"I'm Lyse, and you must be Visar. Tell me more about yourself.  You have such a lovely voice..."

 

She had maneuvered him steadily backward, until he reached the wall of the bath behind him. The water grew steadily shallower at this end. Cornered, he had no choice but to wait as she approached. He was at a loss for words, his eyes darting lower to more exposed skin, and then back up, as if he shouldn't look. She wasted no time, and reached out to his shoulder.

 

"What's wrong? Can't think of anything to say?  You don't have to you just can rela..."

 

Her grip tightened on his shoulder, and finally Visar could not take the situation anymore.  He swiftly brushed off her hand, and used his other to splash water into her face.  Momentarily free, he grabbed the ledge and climbed out of the bath.

 

She shrieked with surprise, but her alarm quickly turned to laughter, as Visar frantically searched for a towel...for anything to cover his exposed self.  It seemed his old clothes had been removed while he was napping.  Possibly by this Leyse.

 

Finding a towel, Visar tied it over himself and got to the exit just as Leyse was coming out of the water.  She shouted after him, but Visar did not bother to hear what she was saying.

 

Minutes later, Visar slammed the door to his room, shivering violently.  The temperature was much colder outside of the bath house.  He felt like he would freeze to death.  Finding a fresh pair of clothes already laid out, he changed into them and huddled underneath the thick covers of the bed.

 

A knock came at the door.

 

Oh no it's her again! he thought in panic, knowing if he allowed her in his room he would not be able to escape.  He briefly wondered if he even wanted to escape, but he forced himself to shove those thoughts from his mind.

 

"Who is it?" he asked.

 

"Sandre sent me to tell you that dinner is ready, Master Visar."  the voice was thankfully male, and Visar thought he recognized the voice of the servant from earlier.

 

"Thank you! I'll be right out!"  Visar leapt out of bed, remembering that he was starving, and didn't even bother to remake the bed.  As he joined the servant who showed him the way, Visar glanced to either side, making sure that Leyse was not trying to follow him.  He wondered who Leyse was...was she just a servant that Sandre thought would be funny to torture Visar during their stay?  Or was she someone more important?  She didn't look like the kind of woman who had done a lot of labor in her life...perhaps she was part of the family?

 

He found out soon enough, as he joined the table near Sandre.  Leyse smirked at him, almost winking, as if to say, "I'm not done with you yet." When he was introduced to everyone, however, she smiled politely like nothing had ever happened in the bath house.

 

Visar glanced suspiciously at Sandre.  Had he had anything to do with this?  He didn't want to ask his friend in front of everyone though.  Exposing  A'tal's sister as being too forward would get him nowhere, and might be just as much trouble as being caught with her in his bed.  Visar did his best not to dwell on the topic, and he launched into his food as if it were a life line saving him from destruction.

 

[Sangreal]

Visar walked in looking red as though the springs in the bath house were too hot. However Sandre knew better. He wondered how far Lyse had got with him. Obviously not far if he was on time for dinner. He was blushing though. Sandre was not sure if he had the heart to tell him that would only encourage them. By them he meant that now he was likely to have ever single woman in the house trying to make him blush. As long as they kept him out of it though, he was fine. Visar they may try to make blush, Sandre they would force into an arranged marriage. As though reading his mind he saw Lyse staring at him. She was beautiful. He had to give Visar credit for resisting her. When Visar dove into the food he probably did not notice everyone looking at him. To cover for his friend Sandre spoke up. "I starved him on the way here." he said as a jest and the table boomed with laughter and people patting the two on the back. Frankly though it seemed as though they were wondering if to believe him or not. "A strong man needs a healthy appetite." Lyse added as she seemed to be sizing Visar up. One of the servant girls bent over to take Visar's first empty plate and may as well have not been wearing a top at all for the view she gave Visar and when he turned red she smiled without even looking at him. By the time Visar left Shienar he may be wearing that color permanently.

 

When dinner was done Sandre showed Visar around the manor. "These are the women's quarters. We dont enter there unless invited and I feel sorry for the man that goes in uninvited. Also the women can enter any room at any time without knocking so be wary of that. If one joins you in the bath dont forget to offer to wash her back or you will dishonor her. Depending on how deep she takes it you may have to marry her to make up to her." Sandre had to stop from laughing as he finished that last. It wouldnt go that deep but Visar didnt know that. "I would rather face Trollocs than be in the sight of a Shienar woman who had it in her mind to marry you. Especially a Kaldun." Sandre shrugged. "You have been quiet tonight. Something wrong?"

[Visar Falmaien]

Having barely survived dinner, Visar had a feeling that this family and their servants wanted to provoke him into doing something foolish.  But Sandre had not been in on it, he thought.  He thought his friend might try to convince some serving girl to go to his room for a night, but...certainly not his own cousin.  That seemed to be Lyse's own idea of fun.  Or rather, teasing Visar into believing that was a possibility...it would be foolish for a moment to think that a woman would be that easy without demanding something unacceptable in return.

 

For the dozenth time, Visar shoved such feelings of confusion and embarrassment from his mind, and focused on Sandre giving him a tour.

 

"You have been quiet tonight. Something wrong?"

 

Visar blinked, and tried to think of something to say.

 

"No..." he started, even though there did seem to be some thing wrong.  "Ah yes, it seems your family has me in a guest room...I thought I was to be with the garrison?  Perhaps it would be better for me to be transferred to the barracks with the men?  It would be best to know those I'm going to train and serve with."

[Sangreal]

Sandre stopped and looked at Visar like he still had food on his face. "You will be spending the rest of your life in barracks or near barracks if an Aes Sedai picks you up. You have a chance to enjoy for once living like the noble you of all people should have been born as. Besides if you do want to be useful to an Aes Sedai one day I am sure she will have you in this situation more than the two of you will be sleeping in barracks. Believe me friend you will need all your wit to play this game but I thought of you because you would gain so much by learning it. You need to learn how to survive the nobility as much as you do the Trollocs... or you may get an Aes Sedai killed."

 

Sandre hoped that struck home for Visar.

 

Sandre looked at the yard where the training went on. It wasnt much. Large three story stables made from stone held the horses. Visar would have to learn to ride which would be a blast to watch. Shienarans also emphasized more on how to properly wear your armor which Sandre was looking forward to. The Master at Arms introduced himself as Danz and seemed like he never smiled a day in his life.

 

"You men are from the Tower and command respect for certain. Here though we are going to teach you how to survive the Blight, to fight in a way that each man draws strength from the others. You will learn how to fight on the line against Trollocs, you will learn how to do a tactical retreat and how to ride as heavy cavalry and Light protect you should ever have to... how to make a last stand if you are surrounded and alone." Danz said.

 

What he had not mentioned is that on the line the Shienarans were defensive fighters against their larger foes and so stamina training was an absolute must. He knew both of them would be exhausted every night until they were in shape enough to be able to fight as long as required on the line.

 

"Im going to retire for the night Visar. I will see you here in the morning for training."

 

 

[Visar Falmaien]

"You will be spending the rest of your life in barracks or near barracks if an Aes Sedai picks you up. You have a chance to enjoy for once living like the noble you of all people should have been born as. Besides if you do want to be useful to an Aes Sedai one day I am sure she will have you in this situation more than the two of you will be sleeping in barracks. Believe me friend you will need all your wit to play this game but I thought of you because you would gain so much by learning it. You need to learn how to survive the nobility as much as you do the Trollocs... or you may get an Aes Sedai killed."

 

Visar stopped as Sandre did, and listened.  He did not like thinking what he might have been like if he had been born into nobility.  While Sandre was certainly a welcome exception, Visar thought most nobles had little to no understanding of those who were born into poverty and need.  They cared for little save for their own arrogant pride and their petty Game of Houses.  Yet Sandre had a point, as he always did.  If Visar was to know how to protect someone in any circumstances involving such a dangerous situation of feuding Houses, he would have to learn how the system worked, however much he despised it.

 

“Very well.  I’ll stay in my guest quarters, and if you recommend, I would like to spend time getting to know your family.  Learn what I can from them, as you suggest.  Can’t hurt, as long as I don’t let myself get carried away…”  Visar trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.  He had been startled enough to ‘resist’ Lyse in the bathhouses, yet he doubted whether he could resist such temptations for long if they continued to present themselves.  The only deterrent he could think of was to train as hard as he could in the company of men, and if he was to be in female company, do his best to avoid situations where the two of them might be alone.

 

They made their way to the Kaldun yards.  It was much more compact than the great network of training yards the White Tower possessed, yet training in more enclosed spaces would suit Visar just fine.  Sandre introduced him to the Master of Arms there, by the name of Danz.  The grizzled, stern man seemed to have a speech already prepared for them.

 

"You men are from the Tower and command respect for certain. Here though we are going to teach you how to survive the Blight, to fight in a way that each man draws strength from the others. You will learn how to fight on the line against Trollocs, you will learn how to do a tactical retreat and how to ride as heavy cavalry and Light protect you should ever have to... how to make a last stand if you are surrounded and alone."

 

Visar nodded.  He had heard most of this from Sandre already.  He knew it wasn’t going to be easy fighting in the line with men who were on average a good hand or two taller than he was.  And it was going to be even harder adjusting to learn how to fight in heavy cavalry formations.  His riding skills weren’t nearly the equal of Sandre’s, he knew that much.  Thankfully, their hosts did not feel it necessary to train them in the hours of darkness. 

 

Visar bid Sandre a good night, and headed back to his own quarters.  He was exhausted himself, and was almost relieved to find that there were no women hiding under the covers when he turned in.  He was asleep in moments.

 

Dawn came all too soon the next day, and Visar struggled to get out of bed.  Washing his face and wetting his hair, he dressed and reported to the training yards.  The morning had an almost intolerably icy chill, and Visar wished he had put on more layers.  He hoped he would be worked hard enough so that he wouldn’t notice his nose and ears freezing.

[Sangreal]

He woke early and made it to the yards. He stretched and ran a little to warm up before heading outside. He hoped his food had settled enough for what was ahead. They first had to dress in the most itchy chain mail and heaviest awfully made plate he had ever seen. They were punished with exercise when it wasnt put on the way Danz wanted it on. Tight where Danz said it should be tight and loose where Danz said it should be loose. When both were already tired and finally in the armor Sandre did notice it was a lot more comfortable than he was used to despite the weight.

 

They ran, and sparred, then ran some more, then sparred, both very exhausting and both done in full plate and mail. The mail chaffed his skin and stopping to run in place with knees high or do pushups did not help them. The ground was already icing over and Visar did not seem to enjoy that at all. Thankfully they were forced to drink plenty of cold water. Entire skins on every break. They would have to compensate to drain the water of course and would usually end up putting the armor on wrong and get punished for it. Much like his first day on the yards when they day was done and both were collapsed by the well too tired to do anything but drink water Sandre turned to Visar.

 

"Im starting to wonder if we made a huge mistake."

[Visar Falmaien]

It was a grueling day, not helped by the fact that it felt freezing, even while in full plate armor.  Visar was surprised that they had armor that fit him, but did not find it funny that the armor he was wearing had once been worn by Dante (?) when he was still a boy.

 

As he continued plodding onward in the monotonous and exhausting drills and spars, Visar briefly thought of giving up.  Then he sternly reminded himself that the people here were merely trying to break them in, test their limits, see what their strengths and weaknesses were.  It was for their benefit to push themselves to the limit.

 

Yet even that small comfort did nothing to help have any energy left at the end of the day.  Sandre seemed to feel the same, as they crashed by the well.

"Im starting to wonder if we made a huge mistake."

 

Visar looked over at him and blinked.  His friend seemed discouraged, though not unusually so for having traveled without training much and having dismal thoughts about his previous relationship.  Visar tried a smile.

 

"Not at all." he said, trying to keep the weariness and frustration out of his voice as best he could.  "Besides the armor I'm not used to, this is not even close as bad as when I was first "broken in" at the Tower.  Me, they want to see if I have what it takes I'd imagine, and you...I think Danz is doing us a favor by running us through this."

 

Visar rose to his feet, and groaned as he felt tendons all over make a popping sound.  He was bruised and many of his muscles were cramping, but somehow he could still stand.  He attempted to help Sandre up, but fell back down.

 

"What am I saying this is insane...How do you people fight in this weather, much less weighing half your weight in steel?!  I don't even want to think about tomorrow...I just want to take a hot bath and fall asleep, and not wake up till spring comes."

 

It was then that Sandre helped him up.

[Sangreal]

"You are right that it is for our benefit." Sandre said as he pulled Visar up and realized he was having issues with walking. "We may be expected to fight all day in armor. We do not have the benefit of cycling men out every fifteen minutes and with the campaign ahead we will always be horribly out numbered." Sandre dumped the contents of the water skin over him despite the cold before refilling it and slinging it over an already sore shoulder. The two helped each other out of each others armor though that led to more falling and laughing by both sides. By the time they were done both were covered in mud and had to head straight to the bath house.

 

They were not alone in there. Though they were the only men. Even Sandre blushed at that. When the women saw how sore they were they insisted on bathing the two of them though both protested as much was proper and both were too weak too fight back which seemed to amuse the women so much that it took an hour to be washed. Both the men sat in silent acknowledgment that neither would every bring this particular trip to the bath house up... ever.

 

The springs did wonders for the bruises and sore muscles. Enough to make it to their own beds at least. Though getting up the next morning was an adventure of its own. Both were starving and thirsty despite all the water that had been shoved down their throats.

 

Day two was thankfully... riding.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar managed to crash to the ground in a manner which did not break anything.  Groaning, he got back up and glared at the horse which was giving him trouble.  Or maybe it was he who was troubling the horse?

 

Sandre and he had been riding their horses in the country side with the rest of the banner, in full armor the whole way.  One misstep outside of the column formation and Visar would have to dismount and run for a few minutes, trying vainly to keep up with the trotting horsemen.

 

They arrived back at the Castle, Sandre looking just fine, but Visar was exhausted.  His legs burned as if they were on fire, and he knew he would have trouble sleeping later that night from the blisters that were forming.

 

Their next activity was riding at a fixed opponent in tilt.  The object was to hit the hideous trolloc-looking thing in the chest and ride past fast enough to avoid its swinging club.  Sandre, well practiced at this sort of thing, had already run his quota of pass by's, and was allowed to take a short break by the well.  No such luck for Visar.  He had only managed to hit and ride by unscathed three times.  This was the dozenth time he had been hit, and the fifth time he had fallen right out of the saddle.

 

"Come on Visar! saddle up and try again!" yelled Danz, already short of patience with the short Tairen.  Tower trained indeed, the grizzled veteren snorted under his breath.  Visar adjusted his armor from uncomfortable to slightly uncomfortable, and grabbed the reins, mounting up.  The horse was a smaller breed than most of those practicing today, a young stallion charger that wasn't fully grown, meant to train with a growing young man from an early age.  This one had a personality, to say the least, and he did not seem to like Visar's...personality.

 

"Whoah, there. Steady Baijan!" Visar tried, as the horse nervously stepped around.  It took a while, but finally the horse settled down, and Visar could take up the blunted lance and start riding at the tilt again.  The practice stick was much heavier than a war lance, and even though Visar had done some jousting before, it was still difficult to hold it steady and aim it just so.

 

He kicked his heels in the horse's side and rode at the target, steering closer to it this time.  The three times he had managed it before were done at an angle, he and his horse too far from the target for the club to hit.  But Danz, while acknowledging that tactic of hit and run, insisted that Visar know how to charge straight in as well.

 

The lance wobbled slightly as Visar neared the target, and he spent all his energy trying to steady it, to aim it just so.

Wham! Visar hit the target dead on, but he didn't think he was going fast enough.  Anticipating the counter, Visar ducked his head, earning only a glancing blow from the club.  He somehow managed to slow the horse to a walk.  Maybe Baijan is getting tired? he thought.

 

"Not bad, but you should still be able to time it without flinching like that.  Do it again."

 

Visar sighed under his breath, and rode around to do it again.  He passed Sandre on the way, and raised his visor in a friendly salute.

 

"I'm lucky, I get to do this extra!" he told Sandre, half serious and half trying to keep himself in good spirits.

 

The next time Visar attacked the target, he rode at a good speed, but didn't hit it right.  It was enough force to cause the club to swing round and hit him right in the back of the helmet.  Visar fell off the horse in a rather ungraceful manner and landed on his face, completely stunned.

 

He woke some time later, freezing cold water dumped on his face.

"Dyeh buh wha?" he gasped.

[Sangreal]

Danz had always been the type to let someone figure something out on their own. It wasnt always the best strategy. Visar seemed to be getting steadily worse at this. When he knocked himself out Sandre decided to step in. The cold water they through on him could have woke the dead. It wasnt that Visar was doing something wrong. It was just that Tower Training had a tendency to make you more graceful than blunt. Sandre still struggled with that as he himself was very straight to the point, Visar needed to make his technique more hard and less flowing. He got him up.

 

"One more Visar. I think I know the problem. I cant make you a professional in one more tilt but I can make sure you survive the day." He helped him on to the horse. "Dont tense your legs so hard you will confuse the horse. Do you see how the saddle has no horn? Thats because you can control it with your legs." When he relaxed he moved on to the next topic. "Your fighting the lance. Do you remember when we were told to never tense until the moment of the strike? Same rules apply to the lance. Keep it loose until the last moment. Lean into the charge, that will be easier with no saddle horn."

 

He only had to do it right this one last time and they could finish for the day.

[Visar Falmaien]

After being helped up, Visar listened closely while Sandre gave him advice.  He had to work on how to send the signals he wanted with his legs to the horse, which he wasn't used to at all.  And he wasn't familiar with the heavier practice lance either, but it could be managed, if with some difficulty.

 

"I'll give it a shot." said Visard, and he mounted the horse again.  Stay calm, keep the legs loose. You're not afraid, and neither should your mount.

Visar calmly rode his horse around at a slow walk, letting the animal get used to him being on it, letting it trust him, and in turn trusting it.

 

"Alright, how bout you get me past that target fast enough so I don't get hurt, huh?  I'll give you an extra apple" Visar told the horse, with an encouraging pat on the mane.  The chargers ears pricked up slightly at the word 'apple', and snorted.

 

Visar took up the lance again, and got into position.  He had to just ride right at it, as fast as he could, and hit it squarely, lean into the attack, and he would be fine.

 

Go, Visar thought as he nudged the horse forward with a shift in his weight and a slight squeeze with the legs.  The horse knew the drill all too well, and broke into a gallop as they neared the target.

Stay loose, and calm.  Aim.  Let the target come to you.  Visar slowly steadied the lance, and finally had it in a position he thought would hit on the mark.  The target slowly seemed to approach Visar, offering him the chance to kill it.

 

Now!  Visar tensed his grip, leaned forward, and extended his arm ever so slightly, letting the horse's momentum do most of the work.

 

Thud! went the target and it swung around.

 

Whoosh! the club hit nothing but air.

 

Visar exhaled sharply as he passed the target unscathed.  He had finally managed it.  As he dismounted, he took off his helmet and grinned at Sandre, who was also smiling.  Danz didn't give either of them a grin, but he did give a slight nod to Visar.

 

"That's the way it's done, lad."  The master of arms glanced at the sky, the sun beginning to set already.  "We break for supper now.  Visar, Be sure to be here bright and early tomorrow so you get it down.  Only plenty of practice will let you be consistent enough to ride with us into battle.  Sandre, I believe A'tal wanted you to work on something else for tomorrow.  You'd better report to him first thing while I get Visar here up to snuff."

 

Visar nodded.  Although he didn't like the fact that they had to train separately at times, they did have different talents, and this was Sandre's home.  They would obviously hold higher expectations for him as part of the family.

 

"See you at Dinner." Visar told Sandre after they had removed their armor for the day.  Sandre stayed to have a word with Danz, and Visar went ahead to the dining hall.  On his way there, he literally bumped into Lyse in the narrow staircase.  Begging his pardon as politely as he could manage, she winked at him as he let her pass. She must want to talk to Sandre about something, Visar thought.  Hopefully it didn't have anything to do with him, although he could already feel himself blush from their brief contact.

 

Visar picked up his pace, and went to his room.  Splashing cold water on his face, he shook his head, trying to shake inappropriate thoughts from his mind.  He changed into clean clothes already laid out for him, and went down to supper.

[Sangreal]

The lengthy meeting with A'tal was more about Sandre's trading than anything. Looking around and using the quiet of the Blight to take the time to put up some defenses wasnt the worse idea Sandre had heard. A'tal wanted walls around the villages though Sandre warned those could work just as well to trap someone inside as well as out. Sandre proposed a large single entrance tower in each village reaching three stories and made from reinforced stone, and door and a small portcullis. A'tal compromised that as long as there was a wall on the borders of the family lands facing the Blight, Sandre agreed though the wall he wanted to put up would better suit a castle. Thick enough to allow horse drawn carriages to pass each other up top for faster troop movement and three sections high and deep with filler in between. It would take years, a life time of work with what they had. However Sandre was willing to commit some of his trading profits to get it done sooner. Who knew when the last battle would come?

 

At dinner they once again dove in as though starving. The men would be gathering tonight to spar in the training yard. It wasnt official training, they did that during the day. This would be a social event. Several men drinking wine and gathering around to spar. When he was younger Sandre was not into the idea of fighting and so never joined. Dante is was rumored was another matter entirely. In addition to the normal sparring there would also be hand to hand.

 

At the end of dinner the males of the Kalduns went to the yard. Sandre was sure to tell Visar of the event. Sandre spent most of his time talking with the men. He often forgot in his time in the Tower that he was a noble. Here it seemed the men were very appreciative that he chose to speak to them as equals.

 

Sandre took a few turns sparring, fought two at once to show them the Path of the Blade which specialized in fighting multiple opponents. They were skilled. Recruiting for the Kalduns had always been so slow that no one was allowed to campaign without a certain degree of skill and even then they had to do their first campaign in the spear lines protecting the archers and those rarely saw combat. They had to get used to the idea of Trollocs though. Sandre fought a man name Scorio from Andor, H'Etell from Shienar and a couple others at once. Finally A'tal challenged him. That got them all worked up. A'tal was years his senior in combat but Sandre was tower trained. A'tal tried to wear him out knowing that he wasnt accustomed to long term fighting like you had to be in Borderlands, however Sandre it turned out had passed him in skill. It took twenty minutes but Sandre landed a solid blow on A'tals neck that made a loud crack of the lathe that brought winces. Had the blade been real it would have been his head.

 

When it was done the bath house was thankfully empty and it would be dawn and time to train again in a matter of hours. Later that day Sandre would be learning how to throw a slender spear that the infantry carried for just that purpose to thin the ranks and weaken the Trollocs before they engaged them.

 

***

 

The spear throwing was relaxing compared to what they had been doing. Several straw dummies were set up to represent a Trolloc fist and Sandre and Visar spent the day throwing the spears, retrieving them, then throwing them again.

 

"There will be a tournament in the spring... just a few months away. Archery, a large melee, one on one melee, riding, a horse race, contests of strength and tactics... you want to go? You shine in it you may be made a noble, Im sure nothing would please you more." The last he said sarcastically.

[Visar Falmaien]

Dinner passed by almost without incident.  The men, Visar included, were famished from their training, and the women were for once pleasantly quiet.  Visar threw a few curious glances at Lyse, but she seemed to be intent on her food for once.

 

After dinner, the men got up and went to the yard for a social event.  Slightly confused, Visar went along.  Sandre had explained they did this sometimes, to test one another in contest for fun.  Not that Visar was unused to this sort of thing.  The Kalduns seemed intent on sparring each other for the most part.  Visar wasn't sure if he was invited to spar or not, so he refrained from asking for one for the time being.

 

Sandre participated, if not as frequently as some of the other members of the family.  While he was fighting his epic duel with A'tal, Visar felt a light touch on his shoulder.  He turned, and was surprised to find Lyse standing next to him with a couple other women Visar recognized, but not by name.

 

"How do you find my cousin, Visar?  Is he well?"

 

Visar blinked, not expecting such an even question.

"Yes, h-he's...he's well as far as I can tell." he began, yet he remembered the ride up, Sandre's awkward silence and brooding.  He seemed to be doing fine now in the company of family, but then Visar was not so sure.

 

"To be honest, he didn't seem himself on our journey here.  He mentioned that he had ended a relationship with a woman he trained with at the Tower.  He didn't say much more than that, didn't want to talk about her.  He seems to be as well at home as he can be here though.  Why do you ask?"

 

"He does seem to be well, and most people would be convinced.  But I've known him for longer, and I can tell that his time at the Tower has changed him, and whatever happened recently has deeply moved him, I suspect."

 

Visar looked at Sandre again, concentrating.  His movements weren't much different, but his attitude in sparring seemed to be more of apathy.  There was a final flurry of blades and Sandre landed a solid hit on A'tal.  Visar smiled, and grinned back at Lyse.

 

"I think him being here is helping, at least.  Maybe he just needs time away"

 

"Yes, and I think you being here is helping him too.  Though if you're ever interested in helping yourself..." Lyse moved closer to him, and slid a finger along his neck, making Visar's spine shiver.  "You know who to ask."

 

With a final sultry smile, Lyse departed, leaving Visar standing there poleaxed.

 

Sandre finally came over, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder that jolted him to his senses.  Visar recovered, and congratulated Sandre on his victory.  They bathed and retired for the night, but Visar could not get to sleep, however hard he tried. 

 

He could not make the courage to walk out the door and ask for Lyse, and remembered Sandre's warning about going to the women's quarters unbidden.  Yet the thought of actually caring for a woman...they seemed more attractive than they had ever been.  For one of the first times Visar wondered why on earth hadn't he found someone in Tear when he was growing up.  Or why hadn't he found someone at the White Tower?  He tried to shove these thoughts aside, tried to force himself to sleep.  But he could not.

 

******

 

Morning came all too soon, and Visar knew he would regret staying up.  He had circles under his eyes and while he was not tired yet, he knew he would be. His aim with the javelins was terrible, and although he kept shrugging it off as being out of practice, sooner or later Sandre would ask what was up.

 

"There will be a tournament in the spring... just a few months away. Archery, a large melee, one on one melee, riding, a horse race, contests of strength and tactics... you want to go? You shine in it you may be made a noble, Im sure nothing would please you more."

 

Visar smirked at his sarcastic tone.

 

"There are probably less painful ways to try to qualify for nobility, like marrying into a family, say, but a tournament sounds just fine to me."

 

Visar threw another javelin, and winced as it sailed over the 'trolloc's head.

[Sangreal]

Visar seemed a little more distracted than usual. He figured he knew why. He wasnt sure how forward Lyse was being but the women of Shienar rarely didnt get what they wanted. They also enjoyed making a man's blood boil though. He wasnt sure which she was doing to Visar but if he kept blushing at her she would keep making him blush. His modesty must have been a great amusement to them all.

 

"Get her out of your head or Danz will notice." He said. He couldnt exactly tell Visar this when right after he let go of a javelin it sailed end over end and bounced of the ground destroying a straw trolloc and the one behind it. "Your looking as bad as Dante did before we left. Has Lyse got under your skin that much?"

 

He walked to retrieve the javelins with Visar behind him. "I hate to break this to you but the Game of Houses also includes words and wit. If shes getting to you learn to hint but promise nothing. Remember in Shienar too they come to your bed. A man who can resist but not be insensitive and return the gesture without overstepping is considered strong and intelligent which is what the women of Shienar look for." He wrenched the javelins out of the dummies and turned to Visar with a small smile. "Looks have nothing to do with it."

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar frowned as Sandre gave him advice on women.  He didn't think this factored much into the Game of Houses, but he mentally thanked Sandre for his advice and managed to focus on his present task.  He would have to learn more about the Game, especially if he was going to be involved with an Aes Sedai that interacted with nobles frequently.  Perhaps Lyse, if she was willing, would help teach him some of these things, but he doubted she was playing with him with teaching in mind.  But Sandre was right, Visar could not afford to foolishly throw himself at a woman he could not hope to marry or stay with, with his lower class and his obligation to the Tower.

 

"Looks have nothing to do with it."

 

Visar raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, but gave no more than an amused grunt.

 

They set up again, and this time Visar was able to get all three javelins in the target, though one of them would have been no more than a glancing blow.

 

"Just need to find my focus, that's all." he commented to Sandre, and they continued to practice, Visar getting better at accuracy with each round.  The next day, they would drill most of the day in infantry formations.  It would be dull and repetitive, but it suited Visar's tastes far more than Sandre's.

-----

 

After a few hours in the morning drilling in pike formation, the men were allowed a short break.  Visar and Sandre headed to the well straightaway, and Visar could tell that Sandre seemed to relapse into the mood he was in on the ride up: stone faced and silent.  Visar wasn't feeling too much better himself; their pikes were heavier and longer than what he was used to, and his arms ached from just holding them still for so long.  After finishing a drink of water, Visar went over and pushed at Sandre's shoulder to get his attention.

 

"You alright there?  Haven't heard you say a thing all morning.  You aren't too bored with the phalanx are you?  It's repetitive to be sure, but I dare say I almost like being in formation.  It feels powerful to be part of a team, the many acting as one."

[Sangreal]

Sandre removed the helm he was wearing and used his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. They couldnt break for long or the sweat would almost freeze on their bodies. "I always hated drill... I understand the need for it but that doesnt mean I have to like it." Sandre would never have to fight on the line so he didnt know why he was included in this. He was Path of the Blade, his talents would be wasted on a phalanx line. "I am glad you are enjoying yourself though." He was itching for actual sword play. He reached back and touched the Bastard Sword on his back for a second as he often did when he was thinking about using it. As soon as they had a bucket of water and a ladle he pulled the heavy wool cloak around him and sat next to the well.

 

"My Uncle Tyr says the Blight is eerily quiet... he says there are small attacks but they come for food rather than slaughter. They are likely meeting up somewhere and then moving what they capture to another location to feed the tribes. So he says that if we can deal with the foraging parties that we can starve the Trolloc.... nation... or whatever you would like to call it. Its too good of an opportunity not to take advantage of."

 

He knew his thoughts were dark. A complete opposite of Visar who was happy with the drill. They relaxed a few more minutes before Danz walked up to the two of them.

 

"Your not bad on a phalanx Visar. If you can get Sandre here to stop moping long enough to teach you some squad tactics and your role in the upcoming campaign I will tell Lord Tyr to give you a squad. In the mean time. You both know whats needed from you. You have until the tournament to become proficient." and with that Danz walked away. The learning was done... well for Sandre at least. Now they had to work on what they learned.