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Chapter 18 - Basic Training

Within the next four weeks, our entire class had successfully broken the boards. It was no surprise that Kavea and Kigo were among the last to succeed. I am still shocked that Arlett wasn't among them. Arlett was fairly boney, similar to me. But to be fair, we were all boney. We were kids. So perhaps I simply mean that she didn't have muscle.

By the time the new year came, we were fully engrossed in a new type of training. Martial arts. I would be lying if I said it wasn't kind of fun.

My friends and I celebrated Dana's birthday as it came and went. I gave Dana the gift I had planned: a slingshot. She loved it. She was still getting into trouble with it years later. And Ettrail threw a massive party celebrating the new year, inviting the whole village. The winter months were full of festivities. I mean, what else is there to do when the snow is three feet thick and you sink a few centimeters every time you take a step other than constantly party? Assassin's training was always lenient during winter. And I loved it.

"Come on, children. Punch like you're punching through your opponent's skull!" 

I had heard that one before, but this time it did not come from the same mouth that had said it the first time. Originally it was Vox who'd said that. This time it was Finnēhad. And knowing Finnēhad, Finnēhad was...bad at originality and pep talks.

Finnēhad, Immeril and Hallor watched curiously as Master Ako taught us different strokes of punches. None of them were wholly interested in us, especially Immeril and Hallor. Hallor and Immeril were distantly related—second or third cousins. From what I witnessed as a kid, Hallor and Immeril barely spoke. Their minds were preoccupied by...other things. They got along okay, sure, but their idle chit chat was definitely no family bond. I'm sure if I had family besides my parents, I would've been speaking to them every day.

Uh, to clarify, I never knew what happened to my paternal grandparents. They were never around, never spoken of. I don't even know who they were. I suppose if they were among the living, they did not live in Ettrail, as I'm sure I'd have been smothered to death by an old couple at least once a week by then. Obviously, Dad had to have been raised by somebody as he said he was not an orphan.

Dad didn't avoid the subject though; mostly he just shrugged whenever I brought up the topic, never really having anything to say. Mum always said that they'd buried that hatchet and preferred not to bring it back into their lives. I understood their reasoning and was happy to just have them. Yet her words had always left me wondering...but it never really felt to me like Dad had lost them in a traumatic experience to me. There was just a missing piece of the puzzle that I never had access to.

And I heard Mum's parents scorned her for giving birth to me. I wouldn't figure out their reasoning until much, much later. They wanted a grandchild and were ecstatic to be grandparents...but their dream kind of fell apart when the druids came along. Before finding out their fates, I had always thought they simply hated my dad and had no idea who could've been against such a pure love. My parents were the same age and they were best friends, so no real problems there. My maternal grandparents were said to have died not long after, leaving our little family of three. Mum believes the druids ended them and I would not be surprised if she is right.

Thus my family only consisted of three people ever since I could remember—at least until Athlin came along.

"I like your energy, Tridiel," Master Ako said as she punched the air again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tridiel's brunette hair thrown around in a whip-like motion. "Yours too, Elbereth."

I felt a grin form on my face. I wanted nothing more than for people to be proud of me. I was part of the way there with Master Ako complimenting me.

My jabs were raw power. Raw energy. Despite being a small, skinny kid, I was putting every fiber of my being into our training exercises. I had broken the most amount of boards in our first training—five—and Khi had broken four. Some of the other children had managed to get all the way up to three before we moved along to the next point in our curriculum. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't really glad to find out the number of boards increasing wasn't just for me.