Chapter One Hundred and Eight: Complications (Part Four)
“Why is the rope around my body so much tougher than the one that bound my hands?”
Alistar was glaring at Tramon with all the exasperation he could muster. It was midmorning of the next day, and not only were his arms lacking all sense of sensation, but he was covered in sweat and also had to pee so badly that at this point the rope was actually helping him to hold it in.
“Still here, huh?” Tramon had woken up a short while ago and was now sitting on the wooden chair from the day before, munching on an apple that seemed crunchier and juicier than all others in the world. Hearing Alistar’s grumbling stomach, he continued, “It’s not my fault that you can’t do such a simple thing. I honestly thought you’d be gone after a few hours.” Yawning loudly, the sword master stretched out his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“You’re lying,” muttered Alistar, who doubted that Tramon had thought it would be so easy. “With that smaller rope, it felt as if I were cutting through rock. With these ones, it’s like a sheet of iron. Where did you even get these ropes?”
“Since when has my disciple had such a sharp tongue?”
“Since he had to pee so badly that he didn’t get any sleep last night!” As things were, Alistar was moments away from soiling himself.
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Tramon stood up and retrieved a bucket from inside of his home, which he placed beneath the branch where Alistar sat. Without ceremony, he hopped up onto the branch like a feline atop a fence and spun Alistar around so that he faced an extension of lawn and then a wide expanse of white wall.
“Okay,” said Tramon, dropping down to the ground with silent grace. “Figure the rest out on your own. Now that I think of it, I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be disappointed if you’re still here when I get back.”
“When aren’t you disappointed?”
“What was that?”
“H—have a safe trip.”
Alistar saw no point in the bucket, since he lost hold of his bladder the moment that Tramon began to walk away and completely soaked his trousers. The relief felt so good that he forgot that he was sitting in plain view of several people, though thankfully none of them were paying him any attention as they were all rushing some place or other along the cobbled pathways at his back. As soon as he finished peeing, he summoned a large globe of moisture from the soil down below and focused intently as he willed the water to swirl this way and that, laundering his clothes while he wore them. He didn’t make any effort to dry himself, since the water felt good in the midmorning heat.
Okay, he thought, time to finish up and hurry home.
He was very worried about his cousins, but also a bit curious as to why neither of his uncles had come by to reprimand Tramon for humiliating their family members. Resolving to think about such things once he had freed himself, he attempted to resume cutting at the ropes when his vision went black and he suddenly fainted from fatigue.
Alistar awoke in the early afternoon, his body numb and his mind groggy as he blinked his eyes open to find himself sprawled on the grass beneath the tree, his ankle sprained where it had been caught between the bucket and a gnarled root. Evidently the branch had broken after he’d lost consciousness, meaning that he must have fallen over its edge in the moments following his blackout.
His stomach grumbled from a sort of hunger that Alistar hadn’t felt since his days in the mines, his breath heavy in the hot sun. The sudden pain of his injuries along with the developing malnourishment caused countless memories to run through his mind. The dull taste of the porridge that he’d had no choice but to eat for every meal, the musty smell of earth and decaying wood that had perpetually clung to him like precipitation on a cool window, the clanking sounds that had constantly tickled at his ears in an endless chorus of tragic toil. The warmth of his mother’s embrace, paired with the reassurance of his father’s rough, powerful hands. The companionship of his most precious friend, crybaby though she might have been.
When Alistar’s vision came back into focus, it was immediately blurred out by a barrage of tears. Taking a deep breath and staring up at the healthy foliage above, he squirmed around until he could place a hand on his injured ankle, but felt a sudden sense of inspiration and simply activated the basic mending spell with the point of focus being his foot. Miraculously, his injury was healed in a matter of moments, during which time he had the epiphany that so long as he circulated his inner energies according to the mending spell’s formula—that is, condense his inner energies to a desired consistency and arrange them in a specific pattern throughout his body or in a localized area—that he could heal any part of his body without relying on using his hands as a medium. It was similar to how he could now gather water from his surroundings without making any outward motions.
Mama, Father…
Though he had stopped crying, his face was still wet. Feeling the breeze on his cheeks, he wondered why thinking of his family had helped him to understand a subtlety of healing magic that neither his teacher nor any of the books that he had studied on that particular affinity had ever made mention of. It seemed that in this situation, sadness gave him clarity.
Climbing to his feet, he walked to the nearest fountain to gather more water with which to clean his face, not intent on draining Tramon’s lawn of all of its moisture. Tired as he was with the fire of hunger in his stomach, Alistar didn’t want to think about what kind of picture he painted as he ambled over to the fountain, upper body bound by an enchanted rope while he dragged a large, leafy branch along in his wake.
He took his time cleaning himself, enjoying the coolness of the water as it washed over him at the behest of his will. He caught the eyes of a few disciples that were heading towards the training grounds, all of them looking confused and caught off guard at the sight of him standing within a floating globe of water that was slowly tracing over every part of his body. Wearing an awkward smile, he nodded at them in passing and continued on with what he was doing, though he was interrupted a short while later by a surprised voice at his back.
“Alistar, was it?”
Turning, he saw Treves, the young man dressed in the same white practice robes that all of the other disciples had to wear during their lessons.
“Ah, Treves. How are your shoulders?”
“Better, thanks to you. I—um, can I ask why you’re all tied up? And what’s with the branch?”
“Ah, Master hung me from a tree after what happened yesterday. I’m not allowed to leave until I can cut these ropes with my swordsman’s aura.” Letting out a helpless sigh, he added, “He just had to use enchanted ropes.”
“Sword Master Tramon did such a thing?” Treves looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How can he treat his own disciple in such a way?”
“It’s just how he is.” Noticing a leather sack that the young man was carrying, he felt his face heating as he asked, “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”
“I do…” Treves looked at him with open pity, not hesitating to hold out the bag and then awkwardly place it in Alistar’s hands, which were still behind his back. “There’re two apples, some dried beef and a piece of bread in there. I hope it’s enough.”
“It’s more than enough!” Alistar caught himself drooling at the thought of the food that the other disciple had just mentioned. “But I can’t just take your entire meal…”
“It’s no trouble, trust me. I can just eat in the cantina, and Master Ashel always has a sack of potatoes on hand for anyone that isn’t able to bring their own lunch.”
“I’ll return the favour soon, I promise.”
“No need! You’re the only one who stepped in yesterday when things went sideways. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
Angered by the memory, Alistar said, “Before I came to live with my uncle Caedmon, I suffered plenty at the hands of nobles like them. Thankfully Master arrived when he did, else I might have done something I’d regret.”
Reading his expression, Treves rested a big hand on his shoulder and fixed him with an appreciative smile. “It’s good to know that not all nobles are like those boys.” Just then, a loud bell began to ring from nearby. “Blast it, lessons are about to start. If I’m not there on time, Master will…” The young man trailed off as he took in Alistar’s pitiful appearance. “Ahem, I should get going. Best of luck to you, Alistar.”
“You too, Treves. Take care, and thanks for the food.”
Alistar returned to Tramon’s lawn and emptied the contents of the bag onto the grass, laying down on his back and eating without the aid of his hands as if he were a pig at a trough. The meal was one of the most delicious he’d had in recent months and did well to reinvigorate his body. Once his stomach had settled and he had regained his stamina, he resumed his attempts at cutting the rope that at this point had chafed his skin raw in many places.
It wouldn’t be long before he finally freed himself, at which point he would return to the estate and whatever situation awaited him there.
Chapter One Hundred and Eight: Complications (Part Four)
“Why is the rope around my body so much tougher than the one that bound my hands?”
Alistar was glaring at Tramon with all the exasperation he could muster. It was midmorning of the next day, and not only were his arms lacking all sense of sensation, but he was covered in sweat and also had to pee so badly that at this point the rope was actually helping him to hold it in.
“Still here, huh?” Tramon had woken up a short while ago and was now sitting on the wooden chair from the day before, munching on an apple that seemed crunchier and juicier than all others in the world. Hearing Alistar’s grumbling stomach, he continued, “It’s not my fault that you can’t do such a simple thing. I honestly thought you’d be gone after a few hours.” Yawning loudly, the sword master stretched out his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“You’re lying,” muttered Alistar, who doubted that Tramon had thought it would be so easy. “With that smaller rope, it felt as if I were cutting through rock. With these ones, it’s like a sheet of iron. Where did you even get these ropes?”
“Since when has my disciple had such a sharp tongue?”
“Since he had to pee so badly that he didn’t get any sleep last night!” As things were, Alistar was moments away from soiling himself.
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Tramon stood up and retrieved a bucket from inside of his home, which he placed beneath the branch where Alistar sat. Without ceremony, he hopped up onto the branch like a feline atop a fence and spun Alistar around so that he faced an extension of lawn and then a wide expanse of white wall.
“Okay,” said Tramon, dropping down to the ground with silent grace. “Figure the rest out on your own. Now that I think of it, I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be disappointed if you’re still here when I get back.”
“When aren’t you disappointed?”
“What was that?”
“H—have a safe trip.”
Alistar saw no point in the bucket, since he lost hold of his bladder the moment that Tramon began to walk away and completely soaked his trousers. The relief felt so good that he forgot that he was sitting in plain view of several people, though thankfully none of them were paying him any attention as they were all rushing some place or other along the cobbled pathways at his back. As soon as he finished peeing, he summoned a large globe of moisture from the soil down below and focused intently as he willed the water to swirl this way and that, laundering his clothes while he wore them. He didn’t make any effort to dry himself, since the water felt good in the midmorning heat.
Okay, he thought, time to finish up and hurry home.
He was very worried about his cousins, but also a bit curious as to why neither of his uncles had come by to reprimand Tramon for humiliating their family members. Resolving to think about such things once he had freed himself, he attempted to resume cutting at the ropes when his vision went black and he suddenly fainted from fatigue.
Alistar awoke in the early afternoon, his body numb and his mind groggy as he blinked his eyes open to find himself sprawled on the grass beneath the tree, his ankle sprained where it had been caught between the bucket and a gnarled root. Evidently the branch had broken after he’d lost consciousness, meaning that he must have fallen over its edge in the moments following his blackout.
His stomach grumbled from a sort of hunger that Alistar hadn’t felt since his days in the mines, his breath heavy in the hot sun. The sudden pain of his injuries along with the developing malnourishment caused countless memories to run through his mind. The dull taste of the porridge that he’d had no choice but to eat for every meal, the musty smell of earth and decaying wood that had perpetually clung to him like precipitation on a cool window, the clanking sounds that had constantly tickled at his ears in an endless chorus of tragic toil. The warmth of his mother’s embrace, paired with the reassurance of his father’s rough, powerful hands. The companionship of his most precious friend, crybaby though she might have been.
When Alistar’s vision came back into focus, it was immediately blurred out by a barrage of tears. Taking a deep breath and staring up at the healthy foliage above, he squirmed around until he could place a hand on his injured ankle, but felt a sudden sense of inspiration and simply activated the basic mending spell with the point of focus being his foot. Miraculously, his injury was healed in a matter of moments, during which time he had the epiphany that so long as he circulated his inner energies according to the mending spell’s formula—that is, condense his inner energies to a desired consistency and arrange them in a specific pattern throughout his body or in a localized area—that he could heal any part of his body without relying on using his hands as a medium. It was similar to how he could now gather water from his surroundings without making any outward motions.
Mama, Father…
Though he had stopped crying, his face was still wet. Feeling the breeze on his cheeks, he wondered why thinking of his family had helped him to understand a subtlety of healing magic that neither his teacher nor any of the books that he had studied on that particular affinity had ever made mention of. It seemed that in this situation, sadness gave him clarity.
Climbing to his feet, he walked to the nearest fountain to gather more water with which to clean his face, not intent on draining Tramon’s lawn of all of its moisture. Tired as he was with the fire of hunger in his stomach, Alistar didn’t want to think about what kind of picture he painted as he ambled over to the fountain, upper body bound by an enchanted rope while he dragged a large, leafy branch along in his wake.
He took his time cleaning himself, enjoying the coolness of the water as it washed over him at the behest of his will. He caught the eyes of a few disciples that were heading towards the training grounds, all of them looking confused and caught off guard at the sight of him standing within a floating globe of water that was slowly tracing over every part of his body. Wearing an awkward smile, he nodded at them in passing and continued on with what he was doing, though he was interrupted a short while later by a surprised voice at his back.
“Alistar, was it?”
Turning, he saw Treves, the young man dressed in the same white practice robes that all of the other disciples had to wear during their lessons.
“Ah, Treves. How are your shoulders?”
“Better, thanks to you. I—um, can I ask why you’re all tied up? And what’s with the branch?”
“Ah, Master hung me from a tree after what happened yesterday. I’m not allowed to leave until I can cut these ropes with my swordsman’s aura.” Letting out a helpless sigh, he added, “He just had to use enchanted ropes.”
“Sword Master Tramon did such a thing?” Treves looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How can he treat his own disciple in such a way?”
“It’s just how he is.” Noticing a leather sack that the young man was carrying, he felt his face heating as he asked, “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”
“I do…” Treves looked at him with open pity, not hesitating to hold out the bag and then awkwardly place it in Alistar’s hands, which were still behind his back. “There’re two apples, some dried beef and a piece of bread in there. I hope it’s enough.”
“It’s more than enough!” Alistar caught himself drooling at the thought of the food that the other disciple had just mentioned. “But I can’t just take your entire meal…”
“It’s no trouble, trust me. I can just eat in the cantina, and Master Ashel always has a sack of potatoes on hand for anyone that isn’t able to bring their own lunch.”
“I’ll return the favour soon, I promise.”
“No need! You’re the only one who stepped in yesterday when things went sideways. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
Angered by the memory, Alistar said, “Before I came to live with my uncle Caedmon, I suffered plenty at the hands of nobles like them. Thankfully Master arrived when he did, else I might have done something I’d regret.”
Reading his expression, Treves rested a big hand on his shoulder and fixed him with an appreciative smile. “It’s good to know that not all nobles are like those boys.” Just then, a loud bell began to ring from nearby. “Blast it, lessons are about to start. If I’m not there on time, Master will…” The young man trailed off as he took in Alistar’s pitiful appearance. “Ahem, I should get going. Best of luck to you, Alistar.”
“You too, Treves. Take care, and thanks for the food.”
Alistar returned to Tramon’s lawn and emptied the contents of the bag onto the grass, laying down on his back and eating without the aid of his hands as if he were a pig at a trough. The meal was one of the most delicious he’d had in recent months and did well to reinvigorate his body. Once his stomach had settled and he had regained his stamina, he resumed his attempts at cutting the rope that at this point had chafed his skin raw in many places.
It wouldn’t be long before he finally freed himself, at which point he would return to the estate and whatever situation awaited him there.
