The Lufian Family 2

Win sits against the empty shelf in the library, working his way through the books in his pile. The current text he holds regards the history of the Lufian territory. He has trouble understanding it, not being aware of many terms the book takes as a given. He makes a note of each one so he can investigate them later.

He's taken to the library even more now that his sister has been born. His parents are busy with her, and they'd like it if he spent time with the infant girl, but he cannot. She's unpredictable and temperamental, like most babies are. He can't stand it when she cries. He wants to be alone. However, Marcus again arrives to take him away.

“Young Master Win.”

“I don't want to go.”

“Don't be moody, Young Master.”

“I need to clean up.”

“Don't worry, Young Master, I'll handle it.”

“You put them in the wrong order.” Marcus can't imagine he'll be able to move Win without dragging him along.

“Very well. Clean up quickly.”

Win slowly works through his large pile of books. He checks each title thoroughly, searching around for the next book to place back on the shelf. Marcus watches over him kindly.

When Win finishes, Marcus starts to walk off, Win right in his heels.

“Well then, Young Master, today your father hasn't asked for you. Rather, he asked me to begin your instruction.”

“Instruction?”

“Yes. You see, I was telling him of your fondness for the library, and he decided that if you're already so curious we might as well begin teaching you now.”

“Teaching me what?”

“Something you can't learn from books. Your father believes that strength is paramount to maintain the peace of the march. So you might be a good margrave one day, he asked me to train you in combat.”

“Why you?” Marcus chuckles at the question, then smiles with satisfaction.

“Perhaps I'll tell you after we begin.”

Marcus takes Win out to the yard. A small earthen sword emerges out of the ground. Marcus grabs it by the dirt hilt, then flips it around to grab it by the blade. He hands the blade to Win, nearly pushing it into his hands. Win takes it and watches Marcus assume a stance.

“Try to copy my form, Young Master.” Marcus performs a single overhead slash, bringing down his metal blade in a simple arc.

Win tries to mimic the slash, but even he can feel it wasn't quite the same. Marcus pokes and prods at Win, moving his body around and giving him guidance. Win keeps swinging. With each swing Marcus feels him getting closer. Eventually he has no more manipulation to enact.

“That's good, Young Master. Several more times, just like that.”

Win obliges without a word. Now that he's felt it once he can replicate that same slash several times over without fail. Marcus is shocked. Win, believing the task to be too easy, begins to grow bored. His swings don't lose their form but do lose their vigor. Just as Win is about to quit, Marcus intervenes.

“Alright Young Master, that's enough. Try to land a blow on me. But watch out, I'll be defending myself. Though not with my sword of course.”

Win doesn't understand how Marcus could defend himself. Even with longer limbs, Win is sure he could strike with the dirt blade first. He charges straight forward. He feels a tap against his temple and in the next moment he's on his back.

Win lost, without even being able to see how. Indignation swells up in his chest. He won't let it end like this. He stands back up gripping his sword tightly.

“Do it again.” The sword crumbles and returns to the Earth.

“I cannot. My body isn't built for fighting anymore. Actually, since you've seen it now, why don't I tell you about why I'm the one teaching you.” Marcus pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. “In my youth, I was a spellsword of the Pacaster Kingdom on our border. I was always getting into trouble. One day, I took quite a beating. I couldn't walk right, and I was told I wouldn't be able to perform my duties anymore. I didn't know what to do, so I started wandering until I reached here. Then your grandfather hired me as a butler. So, in short, although I'm now a butler, I'm strong. And your father wants you to be strong as well. On that note, tomorrow I'll begin teaching you magic.”

“Tomorrow? Can't we start now?”

“Young Master, little boys like you need their rest.”

Late at night, while he ought to be asleep, Win gets out of bed. He sneaks out of his bedroom and makes his way to the library. In the dark of night, there's nobody who might stop him.

He closes the door behind him as he enters the library. He turns on the lamp sitting on the table in the center and begins his search. He's looking for books on magic, for grimoires. He's too impatient to wait for Marcus.

He finds one such tome, one titled “Pyrobolus.” He quickly finds the details on how to cast the spell and begins to incant it. Magic comes naturally to Win. Power begins to flow from his body. Win can feel his strength sapping. A large pillar of flame forms in front of him. Its light more than overpowers the lamp. Win gets frightened and loses his focus as the pillar begins to swirl.

Meanwhile, Dagobert, awakened in the night by a foreboding premonition, walks through the halls. His instincts haven't failed him yet, so he searches around for what might be bothering him. As he walks past the library, he feels surging magic. He opens the door to see Win and the pulsating pillar of flame.

Dagobert dashes forward and shields Win with his back to the flame. The pillar bursts, fire exploding out. The flames slam against Dagobert’s back.

When the fire dissipates Win begins to cry. Dagobert picks him up and cradles him against his chest. Win just keeps crying. Dagobert strokes his head.

“What a foolish boy you are, Win. Strength is something you build day after day. There's no need for you to rush.”

Win keeps crying into his father's chest as he gets brought back to bed.