2nd of Ymiden 719
As they rode along, Alaiwa blew on his ojobgon kazoo horn. The abrasive sound of the instrument sounded across the streets, bouncing off of the mud huts and vegetation, even as it rained all around them.
"I say, is that very necessary, Alaiwa?"
"Master, you need a herald to let people know that a very important knight is coming through. The common folk cannot be expected to know how to treat with someone of your importance!" Alaiwa beamed proudly at his master, which brought a fit of humility to Kisaik's mind. He knew he wasn't worthy of such praise, at least not yet. He still had miles to go before he could be considered anywhere near the knight that Alaiwa and Rabu saw in him. He might never be satisfied.
"Pish tosh, young Alaiwa." Kisaik waved his hand dismissively, "I'm a mere learner myself. And I'm hardly very important, at least as things stand."
Alaiwa shrugged, and kept blowing on his kazoo regardless, blaring a bombastic tune to accompany the approach of Madara Kisaik. The kazoo blared loudly through the square as they entered the veiled canopy of the First Tree. The shade was a welcome relief, though Kisaik loved the sun, he loved just as equally the cool shade beneath trees. It always made him feel safe.
The tunawa were there in the square, under the shadow of the First Tree in order to learn the ways of the blade. Specifically, the lengthy thrusting Toseorun sword Kisaik had brought. It was a long thing, yet light on the hand. About twice Kisaik's body length, thin and wide in the blade. Definitely not the sort of thing that would withstand a parry or contact with any big folk weapons. Yet the smith had insisted that many of the Eternal Embrace Tunawa swore by these swords. So he'd acquired a Toseorun blade of his own in the past cycle.
Kisaik had been gifted a good one, from some friends that ran a school beneath one of the Toseorun trees. It was sharp and light, and it wouldn't rust. When he'd tried its edge against a rock, the blemishes that resulted had only needed a trial of water to regrow from the damage. Apparently it was enchanted or blessed in some way.
So as he entered the clearing, Alaiwa's kazoo blared as Angus ran over toward the side, standing on guard as Kisaik entered his new teacher's midst. The teacher was another tunawa, about the same height maybe more than Kisaik. He stood, stoic beneath the shade of the First Tree.
He lifted his hand to his brow, and squinted at the warrior in front of him. "Say, are you the teacher I'm looking for? I have the nels you asked for in payment..." Kisaik was riding along on his Cat slate's saddle. He had oft relied on the felines speed to outrun beasts and danger, as well as run them down when necessary.
He wondered if his teacher would need him to dismount in order to learn.
"I am Cheite." Said the instructor. Who was named Cheite, apparently.
The tunawa knight brightened up at that, and stuck out a hand to shake the teacher's hand. Cheite merely looked at the hand and shrugged. "You've spent too long among the fleshy folk, my student. It's time you came back to your roots?"
Kisaik's smile faltered for a moment, and then he withdrew his outstretched hand, and nodded with a shrug of his own. "I er, suppose?"
"The first rule of Toṣeọruni Az'vi is that there is no advantage you won't seize upon. No window of opportunity you might allow for the opponent to crush you. The world is big and dangerous, and all too willing to destroy us small folk, if not take our Earth-given freedom."
Kisaik nodded, and then clambered down from Slate's saddle. Once he was on the ground and next to his teacher, he nodded toward Alaiwa, that he should step aside and observe.
The next few moments the instructor took Kisaik through the motions, learning the basic exercises and warmups that were involved in the most basic of training of Toṣeọruni Az'vi.
Kisaik was made to hold his sword, his form observed, corrected, and observed once again. Put through review after review. Kisaik began to wonder when he would have a chance to learn how to actually fight. "I say, Master Cheite, when do we learn to swing our sword?"
Cheite smacked Kisaik upside the head, playfully but the force was evident behind the smack. "When you've learned the basics of holding that toy sword."
"Toy?" The tunawa knight frowned, looking at Will'o Wit in his hand. It was a strong blade, and had special properties all its own. He'd wielded it successfully through many trials, and knew it to be an effective weapon. "I'll have you know, this here blade is worthy one."
"Perhaps, but its master is not, and so it might as well be a toy"
Kisaik shrugged once more, and went through the exercises.
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Ten Minutes Later...
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Ten Minutes Later...
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Their toseoruni blades clacked and clattered against each other as they went through the paces of the final stages of their training session. Kisaik felt he was doing well here, and pressed his advantage everytime he found purchase. His arms were getting stiffer, stronger, his bark was reacting and stretching and conforming to the motions of his blade's arc, developing what he supposed fleshy folk might call 'muscle memory'.
Kisaik became almost defensive of his lead here, and fell back into a defensive posture, clacking away the toseorun blade of his instructor every time it flew after him. This defensive posture gave way to a shift in momentum in their final fight, to the point where Kisaik began pressing the offensive once more, fearing that he might be overcome by his teacher.
Finally, when the teacher stuck his sword in the mud, Kisaik thought he saw his advantage coming clear again. He pressed what he saw as an advantage, and brought his sword down on the dominant arm of his instructor. Will'o'Wit struck the limb from the instructor's shoulder, and Kisaik gasped. 'Oh my! I didn't..."
His teacher didn't grant him a second of explanation, as he drew the blade from the earth with his offhand, and retaliated as Kisaik's guard was lowering. He struck the tunawa knight's head from his shoulders.
The last thing Kisaik heard before he fell from consciousness, was the shrill shrieking of his squire.
Moments later, or perhaps it was breaks, Kisaik felt the impact as his head made contact with the sap of his neck. WIth a bit of pressure, Kisaik's squire was able to reattach the head to his master's shoulders and neck. Kisaik was careful not to twist or bend his head, at least until it formed a connection with the neck once more, and the bark regrew.
His eyes, nevertheless, cast down in shame at his defeat. He'd lost his head, in more ways than one.
Even so, his instructor patted him on the shoulder, to reassure him. "You actually showed more acumen than many students I've known. And that's quite the fine blade you've got there."
Kisaik shrugged, and felt his head shift on his shoulders. Feeling panick, his hands shot up to his head to stabilize it. Kisaik's squire began applying a congealing balm to his neck as he held his head on tight. "Really, teacher? I thought losing my head was a pretty significant failure."
The tunawa master smirked at that, and waved his hand dismissively at the point. "You've got spirit, and that's half the battle with most of my students. We tunawa are a peaceful folk. It's rare we find those who are bold enough to take up the toseorun blade. And you showed real acumen on the pressing of offensive."
"Do you think I might be ready to defend justice and honor? I'm anxious to begin my career as a knight..." Kisaik said, humbly.
"It depends on what it means to be a knight." His mentor confided, "Here, have this seed. With it, you can grow your own Toseorun tree. But only once you've reached mastery. Perhaps cultivating it might teach you a thing or two about patience, which are paramount in our fighting art." So saying, the mentor handed over the seeds, which came in the form of a small toseorun-leaf sack.
Kisaik bowed his head, as well as he could with it nearly falling off. Afterall, he'd need his head to puzzle through these lessons, and ponder his failure.
