Unspoken

Chapter Seven

Damn, my body can't take this relentless training much longer. Then again... If all the sparring's killing me like this, am I going to survive five minutes in Avartia's territory?
I shook my head in dismay as I returned my father's golden hilted sword—the xiphos—to its rack on my bedroom wall. Well, this fine sword had been getting just as much the workout as my body, since I'd spent the past month testing both their limits almost every single day. I'd been especially putting pressure on Fray, pushing him further and further in our battle training to see how far he could go, what potential he showed. He'd surprised me, though, I had to give him that. His prowess in combat was a far better show than that crash we'd witnessed, that was certain. But the day Fray broke down already felt like years away, not weeks. Why? Because Adara had been pushing him every day to practice his landings. According to her reports, he'd been showing steady improvement.

I suppose it just takes the right teacher, doesn't it?
Musing on that thought, I figured that since I still had a few minutes before I would be called for dinner, it was a good time to write an entry in my journal. I'd been lazy about doing this and hadn't updated it in quite a while. In fact, it had once been years since I'd even opened it. This journal had been given to me by my parents when I'd first learned how to write, so almost all the previous entries are from my childhood. Since the day I'd had the vision, I did write a few entries, but for the most part I'd been too exhausted from training.

But I need to remember to do it more often... Mother and Father always said it was a good habit to keep.
When I carefully set myself down onto my cot—no, my bed, I had to remind myself. I still couldn't believe I owned the thing, and just looking at it made me want to lay down and take a nap right then and there. It still shocked me to think that Fray had been so generous, what with going out and buying each of us actual mattresses and real feathered pillows. Well, the mattresses were still thin, but that was because Extorris wasn't exactly well known for 'furniture production quality', but I didn't care. Compared to that horrid cot I'd slept on for so long, it was a luxury, and for that I was grateful to Fray. He'd also gotten himself a part time job helping a fisherman maintain his shop, all for the goal of saving for a boat to take to Avartia. I'd noticing all of Fray's efforts to be productive and earn his keep and I appreciated it greatly, but...

It isn't necessary. He doesn't need to go the extra mile like this.
I'd recently tried explaining that he needn't try and prove himself so much, but it had been to no avail. "I understand, Phoenix, but I will still do it anyway," was his response.

Little brat, trying to win me over more and more with that somewhat amusing attempt at stubbornness. That's my thing...
Feeling amused, I reached over to my nightstand and picked up my leather-bound journal, which was peppered in nicks and tears, but at least it still held together. I made quick work of flipping to the first page in the journal that hadn't been written in yet, then reached back to the nightstand for the 'reservoir pen', or so that was what Avidians had called this little invention. They were so popular, you'd find them in every household these days... Though clan leaders still signed formal documents using the preferred traditional methods, an inkwell and feather quill.
And from what I remember, Avartians apparently refused all offers for access to the 'innovative and progressive inventions' Avidity have to offer.
Well, if anyone should have been skeptical about their inventions, it would be Aridor. We had a deep-rooted history of skepticism with, well, everything, but especially when it came to accepting their 'advanced technology'. But I had carried this little thing with me all the way from home, along with the journal. It had become rather precious to me, not to mention it was a convenient idea. A tool that could both store ink and have a tip which could be utilized for smoother and more stylish writing? Well, who could say no to that?