Spirits of the Earth

Hakon's arms burned from the previous day's training, all her muscles cramping with agony as she sat on her knees in front of the Altar of Ansgar within the Mordecai Headquarters of Reajh. She was a Mordecai-In-Training, and struggling... Even back home she had never worked so had for so long- home.. Home...

The very word caused a lump to form in her throat as she hugged herself, hunching over her sore body- rocking slightly as her lips formed the words for the Basic Prayer over and over. This was punishment for coming in last in the dueling practice again- practice the Sutra of Ansgar until He decided she was worthy enough to win, or until the sun rose, whichever came first.
Her knees ached from the freezing stone floor. Eventually her gaze flickered to the door far to the back of the small shrine, maybe... Maybe she could just run, run home, return to mom, dad, Laramar and Purgatorio.

Pursing her lips, she turned back to the altar, watching the silver moonlight stream multi-colored through the window. Only a week more and she was supposed to be sent on her first mage hunting mission with one other... There was now way she could survive, was there? No way...

Said door, which she earlier plotted her escape through slowly creaked open, a hooded figure walking in. The robes were a deep azure. Ragged and tattered. Yet the massive armour was glinting in the moonlight between the cracks and tatters of the robes.

As this figure entered the shrine, air seemed to thicken ever so slightly, breathing wouldn't bebe as easy as before. A dull, grey light hummed from the greatsword on the back of this hooded figure. It was none other than the grandmaster of the mordecai.

Artorias Frostmane.

"I didn't imagine other mordecai being at the alter at this time. Normally, all are now restricted to. Their barracks." His voice devoid of empathy. Only strong and icecold authority in it. Yet, at the same time, his voice was surprisingly enough not threatening either.

Straightening slightly upon hearing the Grandmaster's voice and noticing her breath begin to fog slightly with the air, the 15 year old turned slightly to look at him, her entire body screaming in protest as she did so. Rumor had it he was only 19- that he had been a favorite of the previous Grandmaster, and thus- on the previous Master's deathbed, he had named Artorias Frostmane his successor... She remembered all the controversy and displeasure that followed- people arguing there were far more qualified Mordecai that didn't use 'magic' to get ahead. Just because shifters were biological, did not mean- to some people- they were natural. They weren't miracles of Ansgar, or else they wouldn't be discriminated so heavily against, right?

In truth, Hakon could care less- she just wanted to survive training and get back home. So she tuned that nonsense out. This was the first time she was seeing him up close- and she couldn't help but be in slight awe. Quickly snapping herself up, back cracking slightly as she sat straighter on her knees, she answered softly," I lost the sparring matches today, so... the Captain told me I need to pray to Ansgar, because..." She trails off bitterly, red hot anger squeezing her chest,"... Because only 'a miracle can make me a worthy Mordecai'.."

A myrthless chuckle left Artorias. "That man dares to ignore curfew orders," he snorted and pulled his hood off. "Move over, you're not the only one to pray," he answered as he moved over. Then it was visible. Half his face was littered with horrible scars, most of them clearly from fire.

He kneeled down next to Hakon, sighing softly as he looked up to the alter. "I've never seen you fight," he started. "Nor have I witnessed your willpower. You are weak. But you are by no means helpless. And that fool needs to stop thinking about miracles." He glanced at the younger girl. "Those do not make one's strength."

He glanced back at the altar, pressing his hands together and closing his eyes as he murmured several silent prayers.

Shuffling upon her knees, Hakon's knees screeched in protest, blood suddenly rushing back to her legs and feet. Nonetheless, she sat upon her knees again, clasping her hands in her lap- lowering her head slightly, short platinum locks shifting forward," If... You've never seen me fight, how do you know I am weak?" She answered softly, unable but to say those words. Ever since she had arrived hear, she had been so confident- she could ride better then any idiot here, she could swing a sword too! Just... Not very good at it is all.

Hakon interlaced her fingers, staring at the altar and shivering once, falling quiet. His presence only made everything freeze further- at this rate she would only get a fever, and get worse.. Right? Her brow furrowed- Ansgar... She missed home.

"Because even if he's a fool, he judges talent quite proficiently," Artorias answered with a soft snort. "Else he wouldn't be in the position he's in now." Artorias pushed himself up, pulling his hood back on. "I also believe it'd be wise to inform you now," he added. "Running now is equal to deserting. And you will be executed for that." He sighed softly. "And that is always a shame."

She stiffens slightly, immediately thinking rather accusingly- Magic... But slowly reasoning she was likely not the first crappy recruit to have thought and done the very thing she was comprehending. With a sigh, her shoulders withered as she stared at the freezing floor, tears already beginning to well up in her eyes.

" How do I get stronger? I thought I was at my peak before- but I'm just.." She scoffed weakly, in a cracked voice- hunching slightly before slamming a fist into the stone floor, blood instantly beginning to gush from her ruined knuckles. She took a shuddering breath but said no more- crying in front of anyone was humiliating, let alone the grand master.

"How do you get stronger?" The mordecai grandmaster snickered. "Firstly. By looking up with pride. When you look down, you'll only hit a wall." A soft sigh followed his words. "You also don't cry like a child over a bad outcome. You take it on the chin and learn," he shook his head.

"And you do not peak. You improve."

Hakon reached up, wiping her eyes with the dirty sleeve of her tunic, sniffling but managing to keep her composure relatively well,"... Can... Can you teach me?" She asked softly, voice cracking slight though she looked over at him- briefly noticing his white hair in the moonlight. It was strangely beautiful- and the sight calmed her further. Maybe because it reminded her of her beloved Purgatorio's mane...

"I can," Artorias answered with a soft, tired sigh. He turned around, resting his, hand on the helmet that hung from his belt. "But, why would I?" He glanced over his shoulder momentarily, snorting softly.

"What do I have to gain from it?"

She pauses for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought. The small girl swayed slightly as she thought, gaze lifting to rest upon the altar," ... I'll give you-" she pauses, suddenly looking at him with bright, determined eyes,"- the best knight in Connlaoth."

" if you can help me, then... I'll be the best." She nods firmly, her legs shivering slightly from the numbness of the floor," I.. I'll be loyal to you too- it would only be right- right?"

It's been a long time since he saw such determination. While she wasn't anything noteworthy, it reminded the mordecai grandmaster of himself. More than often was he kicked back down into the dirt because of his race. People often confused it with actual magic. But, nothing was less true. But that didn't make his life any easier.

Yet here he stood, as the leader of all Mordecai.

"And what if you don't manage to become the best?"

" Then... The-Then-" she stutters a bit before falling silent, hugging herself- rubbing her numb arms with number hands. Hakon wondered quietly if Ansgar would hear all this and give her the determination to do so- no matter how long it took.

Her hazel-grey eyes flicker back to the Grandmaster's face, noting the burns- she didn't know the whole story, just that there was a pyromancer involved. It didn't seem particularly disfiguring, maybe the beautiful white hair is what softened the scar to her... Nonetheless, she looks down at the floor, muttering," Then I'll just die."

"So be it," Artorias answered, taking a deep breath. "Go back to your barracks, head on about your daily exercises. I will be there tomorrow aswell to inform Arndeir," he waved his hand idly. "Dismissed."

Standing with a sigh of relief despite nearly keeling over as the blood rushed back to her legs, the girl nodded faintly, platinum locks bouncing nearly like water as she murmured a weak," Yes sir." Keeping her head low, the Ordecai in training offered him a salute. Her chest now filled with determination which began to warm her entire form as she moved quickly from the shrine.

As soon as the great doors shut behind her, Hakon began to run- across the yards and training fields back to her barracks. The motion causing steam to roll from mouth and nose in the freezing night air- but the action kept her relatively warm until she reached her meagre barracks. It was no longer nerve-racking sleeping with all boys, they wouldn't touch her and she them- perhaps when she was older there would be time to experiment, but until then, she simply fell dead asleep into the scratch sheets of her cot, shivering every so often as fatigue took over her mind.

/ - next morning - \

The morning began with the terrifying roar of the Captain Arndeir slamming his sword into an unlucky shield that had been dubbed 'the morning gong' and was beaten mercilessly to create the metallic bang that woke up the trainees every day. Quickly dressing, she did not bother to change from her tunic and pants from the previous night, sliding into the leather armor without complaint- grabbing the shield and training saber she was given and linging up with the others.

As soon as the captain noticed her within the line, he barged through several others, roaring directly in her bleary face," WHAT WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO BE DOING OUT OF THAT TEMPLE, GIRL?![/b]" this was not the worst thing she'd been called- not by a long shot. So Hakon could assume the captain had had a relatively good night. Even so- the spittle the rained upon her face caused her to wince slightly- remaining in rigid parade position as she answered with as much courage as she could muster:

" Sir! The Grand Master excused me himself... Sir!" Almost immediately the raucous laughter caused her face to flame with anger, biting her lip in order to stay silent though a thousand cursed danced upon her tongue.

"It's true, though," the same cold and mirthless voice resounded. "Arndeir, I don't imagine you having the committed rank and sufficient privelege to order a recruit ignoring curfew orders. I sent her back," he answered with a sigh, before glancing at the recruits. Some chuckled at seeing their superior being scolded chuckled and suppressed smirks, causing Artorias to sigh.

AND WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUNNY?! FULL ARMOUR AND TRAVELLING GEAR, OUT TO THE FIELD IN FIVE MINUTES! Artorias' voice boomed loudly, making even Arndeir whince ever so slightly at the sound. He glanced at Arndeir. "We shall await you recruits outside," he answered, before nodding to the Captain and moving out of the barracks. Arndeir followed him without question out to the field.

Of course, the recruits leapt into action- leaping like scared hares to the barracks to gather their things.

Hakon, alas- stayed still. Simply hunching slightly in order to withstand the onslaught of her comrades pushing past her. Already she had her armor and weaponry upon her, the traveling gear, alas- was something she often kept hidden- as it held perishable supplies that were quite valuable to every Mordecai and thus primary targets for burglary. She had learned that the hard way after going hungry many a time during long excursions.

Waiting until her comrades had left, the girl begins to speed walk across the yard- ducking behind a building to make sure she wasn't watched. Weaving about others, taking sporadic turns- it was not hard to locate the newly turned earth where the kept her things.
Strapping the training shield over her back, she began to dig with her fingers- eventually unearthing the pack and perishable supplies she had stowed here. Having saved many more packs within the hidey-hole should she be robbed again while on the trail.


Soon, Hakon was jogging back to the field, dirty pack slung over her shoulder- immediately spotting the Grand Master... He was rather easy to spot.

Both Artorias and Arngeir were seemingly having a pleasant chat when Hakon joined the ranks of the other recruits. Yet they didn't adress the mordecai in training just yet. There were still some stragglers gathering their things.

After another five joined, Artorias stepped forward and took a deep breath. "Today, I will oversee your drill and exercises," his voice was calm, neutral and ice cold as ever. Some might even argue this cold and calculated guise was even more haunting than the sound he could produce with screaming.

Every single recruit stood at attention as he spoke, completely silent. Some even seemed to hold their breath. "Some of you were late. I counted. So, drop down and give me sixty push-ups," most of the recruits sprang in action. "And an additional hundred ones. Since some of you were late." It sounded like a request. But each and everyone knew that it was anything but a request.

Hakon glanced about at first, noting most had slung off their packs as they dropped. She would have done the same had she not promised what she had the previous night. Quickly she dropped and began to push herself up and down.

Sooner, her arms began to burn, tremble and scream at her to stop- losing count already she simply kept going- the pack's extra weight making it all the worse. This continued until she simply could not move any further and simply sunk to the ground, her shoulders and arms straining to push her up once more but failing.

Frustration bubbled in her chest, slowly- she dared to look up.

Artorias was counting loudly, glancing over their ranks. And as soon as Hakon stopped, he repeated the same number once, twice, thrice, up until Hakon decided to get up and proceed the pushups. They were at seventy-six now.

Arngeir glanced at Artorias and nodded. Artorias returned the nod and sighed loudly. "Attention! To your feet! Combat position!" He called out. The recruits all bore various arms,. There were those with one handed swords, maces, zweihanders or warhammers, shields or parrying daggers. Some even with pikes and spears. And all took their assorted stance, ready for battle.

It was then that Artorias started to move past the line, inspecting their equipment. He stopped infront of one fellow, who had a rather lavish looking sword. "Present blade." He stated coldly, before being handed the sword. "A family heirloom?" He questioned the recruit, who returned a nervous nod. "The sapphire in the pommel outbalances the sword. The hilt's decoration is useless." He pressed the tip of the sword into the ground, unsheathing his own blade. "And inscriptions on the blade," he started, slamming the swords together to test durability. As expected, the family heirloom's blade split in two. "Make it useless," he threw the hilt down on the floor infront ofof the, recruit and, moved on with a soft sigh.

"You little twerps need to learn one thing. These mages will eat you for breakfast," he stated coldly. "Each and everyone came here with certain ambitions and dreams. Yet all I see is wasted potential. Trash that can only be used as a distraction."

Hakon couldn't help but speak out her next words. Indeed, she felt frustration she was being ignored thus far, merely being lumped in with the rest of the trainees. But not only that, she now felt the weight of nearly a year of abuse, being kicked in the mud- having been bashed away with rejuvenating hope given to her by Artorias.... Only to be slammed upon her once more by being made another... One of these invisible masses.

" Then help us be great!" she roared, the power in her voice nearly making it crack, giving even Hakon a surprise. Red hot rage burned the cold from her skin as her knuckles turned white around the hilt of her sword - shield upon her other arm seeming lighter with her anger. God! She was TIRED of this nonsense!!!

" Stop... Insulting us and teach us or just let us die! I... I won't take any more insult and no training!!"

Artorias glanced at Hakon, arching an eyebrow, a soft, menacing and mirthless chuckle resounding. "You think you can just snap your fingers and become stronger?" He walked over to Hakon. "You know nothing, you have not seen even one of your friends fall in battle. If these drills weren't nescessary, would we waste time on them?"

Artorias shook his head and took several steps back, unsheathing the large blade. "This sword is heavier than most of the gear you are all wearing now, not to mention my armour." He held the sword up with one hand, before sheathing it again. "Your armour is a second skin. Your armour is what stands between you and a panicked mage with a sword. Or sympathysers with bows. What you're all doing now, OR ARE SUPPOSED TO DO, IS PURE CONDITIONING."

He sighed softly. "Hundred. On the floor. With traveling gear. Each word of protest adds another twenty. And if you give up, I can give you other things to keep busy with."

As her comrades dropped to obey with their gear, spitting curses at Hakon- the young woman stood firmly but was in quite obvious turmoil. She wanted to resist more then anything but feared the consequences- but that was always the risk with rebellion wasn't it?

Clenching her fists, she glared back at Artorias, it seemed she had made up her mind on what she would do. Remaining standing as she did so,"... I'll do whatever else you have." She speaks quietly, forcing her voice to not shake or tremble

"Good," Artorias replied, sheathing his blade on his back. "Latrine duty? I'm sure the pit needs cleaning," he took a step back from Hakon and took a deep breath.

"If you don't wish to train. You will clean shit, you will herd cattle. Maybe get a trade. But without training, you will not be a soldier." Artorias shook his head. "It is as simple as that. And I stood among these ranks. On your side at one time. And I learned."

He let out a soft breath. "And so will you. But your willpower is admirable. Your insubordination, however, is a trait unbecoming of a true Mordecai."

Glares at him for several excruciatingly long moments taking a deep breath before speaking quietly," I'm not even supposed to be a Mordecai," wincing slightly a a nearby captain began to scream obscenities and herd her off.

Hours Later...

Night was falling, and needless to say, That strong will that had been praised mere hours earlier was breaking. She crawled from the pit, lying on her back for a moment- her nose now utterly immune to the rancid smell that clung to her as she stared at the icy stars. She didn't want to move even though she was freezing where she lay.

Tears had already begun to well up in her eyes,"..." she shouldn't be here- she wasn't strong enough. She wasn't... Smart enough to bend. A shudder passed through her,"... I don't know why I stay." she breathed to the night sky, fingers twitching slightly

"Gods, you smell," Artorias stated, stoking the fire he had created. Ignoring her words. Or perhaps his presence caused her to never say it. Hakon had been too caught up with cleaning fecies and other rather unmentionable bussiness to notice or even hear him. He shook his head and took a deep breath. "To be expected from latrine duty," he stated. As the soft scent of roasted coffee beans slowly filled the air.

"Hakon, there are times when you do as a superior asks," he huffed softly. "Contrary to your believes, we don't want to kill you."

Looks up abruptly, briefly shocked by his presence before letting her head thump against the ground once more with an exasperated sigh," Thats what happens when you're mucking out human shit... Another reason I prefer horses." She answers, pushing herself up shakily and sidling over to the fire, not daring to look down at herself, knowing she would have to drown herself in the nearby rivers just to get the first layer of stench off.

" I know..." she mutters quietly, pulling her knees up to her chest with a sigh,"... I know I have to listen in order to get out of here, to survive- but... I don't know," she shakes her head, looking toward him with tired eyes,"... Were you perfect here?"

Artorias let out a surprisingly warm, booming chuckle. "Prefer horse shit, or just horses?" He inquired with a soft shake of his head. He picked up a cup and offered it, "here, warm up," he advised, before leaning back.

"Perfect when I started? I wished," he snorted softly. "I was one of the better recruits. But I also was by no means perfect. I still am not a perfect warrior." He folded his arms. "Maybe you'll forget this. Or maybe it's a wisdom you'll never forget. But the perfect warrior is nothing but a sword. The wielder of a sword has a heart, emotions and motivations." He smirked underneath his hood. "I'd hate a perfect warrior. No judgement calls. No sense of right or wrong."

" Both, I guess-" she chuckles faintly in return, murmuring her thanks as she took the coffee, allowing her hands to thaw out about the metallic cup as she inhaled the familiar, exotic scent to try and push the digusting smell that clung to her still from her nostrils.

Looking up as he spoke, she furrows her brow slightly as she tilts her head,"... So why do we get trained to be perfect warriors then? It's like making the smal pistol over and over again, isn't it? Same parts, same everything-"

"Indeed," he answered, leaning forward, taking a deep breath as he glanced at the fire. "We make sure you are trained to be perfect warriors," he admitted. "But by no means does anyone expect you  to be one. We expect the opposite. For you to make balanced judgement calls. And not to blindly follow orders in most cases."

He glanced at Hakon again. "Balanced, as in. Properly reasoned ones. That's what all the training's for."

Looking toward Artorias, she tilts her head to one side,"... What happened, when- you know- you were made Grand Master? Was there a lot of fighting?" She asks suddenly, furrowing her brow inquiringly. In truth, she wanted to know how he dealt with it- Artorias surely has encountered and overcome massive waves of dissent so- how did he deal with it all?

"Lords and knights wanted to rebel. Break their oath," he chuckled mirthlessly, taking his own cup with a deep breath. "Even now, some mordecai believe my power to be magic."

He sighed softly.

"I had to duel, even kill, some of my most trusted allies. I was a good Mordecai. But few believed I would make a good leader."

" Do you think you're a good leader?" she inquires quietly, tilting her head to one side as she watches his features change to that of stony sorrow. Instinctively, she wiped her hand off against the frozen soil, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Her eyebrow furrowed faintly, watching him intently for his answer.

"Most of the time, yes," he answered. "Else I would not be where I am. Doing what I do. The Mordecai striving under me." He snorted softly, rolling his shoulder to brush her touch off. He needn't comfort from anyone. It didn't appeal to him. Seemed only like ashe waste of time.

"But it's hard to believe that when you are burying comrades. Or when you are explaining parents their precious child has joined Arnsgar's side."