A few hours later and night had set in fully. The grounds were quiet. Gen climbed down from the roof and quietly eased open the door to the west dorm. There were no lights, but Gen's night vision was good enough that he could make out the walls from the moonlight filtering in the windows at the end of the hall. He found Aaron's room and slowly tested the latch. It opened quietly and Gen whispered thanks to whoever had oiled it recently. Aaron had left the shutters in his room open and the moonlight shone brightly into the room. Aaron lay stark naked upon the simple bed in the room, snoring loudly. Gen cursed himself for not bringing any rope with him, but he didn't have any in his pack and didn't know where to get any. He would have to improvise. It took time, but he managed to quietly ease the sheet out enough to tie one of Aaron's hands to the headboard. He used his shirt to tie his other hand up. He found Aaron's small clothes on the floor and picked them up in his left hand. He held the cloth close to Aaron's face then quickly slapped the boy, hard across the face. When the boy's eyes opened, Gen shoved the small clothes into the boy's mouth. It wouldn't be the best gag but it would do for now. Aaron tried to yell through the gag but nothing more than a muffled murmur escaped. Gen drew his small knife and held it before Aaron's eyes. He let the moonlight reflect in the well polished blade. Aaron stopped fighting and grew still.
“You see this?” Gen turned the blade in the moonlight. Aaron nodded his head, his eyes wide.
“I don't have time for you or your little games. If you mess with me again, I'll cut your throat. Do you understand me?”
Aaron was frozen with fear. His eyes were locked on the knife.
“Maybe you didn't hear me. Perhaps I should give you a louder, more permanent message. Gen dragged the tip of the knife down the boy's chest and stopped above his pelvis. “Perhaps I should cut this off so you are always reminded?”
That got a reaction. Aaron shook his head violently from side to side.
“Good. Then we have an understanding. Goodnight.” Gen flipped the knife over and jammed the hilt hard into Aaron's head, right behind his jaw. He was out in an instant. Gen removed the gag and untied the boy. He put his shirt back on and felt for Aaron's pulse. It was still strong and his breathing was regular. Gen left the room quietly and walked the grounds. It wasn't safe to sleep in his own room tonight.
II
A loaf between friends
Sunshine poured its warming glow down through shimmering leaves to land reluctantly upon a thin boy sleeping up in the branches. Gen awoke to the sound of crying. He didn't move while letting his ears focus in on the sound. Heartfelt sobs came from the other side of the trunk below him. He sighed and slowly climbed down from the branches. Since he wasn't going to get any more sleep, he may as well find out what was wrong. Walking around the trunk, he discovered the source of the annoyance. A boy about his age was leaned up against the tree, his face buried in the crook of his arm. He had tan skin and tightly curled black hair. He wore dirt colored robes that appeared to be torn in a few places and stained with dirt and grass.
“What's a guy gotta do to find a quiet spot to sleep around here?” Gen broke his silence though he kept his tone light and jovial.
“I'm s-sorry.” The boy looked up scared and made to run away.
“Now hold on a moment here. It's rude to wake someone up and not even tell them your name!” Gen put on a smile and tried to look friendly.
“T-Thomas.” He tried to wipe his face on the inside of his robes but it did no good. His face, now that Gen could see it, was covered with cuts and bruises. One of his eyes was swollen nearly shut.
“Let me guess. Aaron's work?” Gen spit to the side.
Thomas nodded. “I don't recognize you. Are you new here?”
“I arrived here yesterday. Come with me. Let's take care of this.” Gen grabbed Thomas' hand and walked back toward the buildings of the Schola.
“Take care of what? Who are you?” Thomas just stumbled along after, too confused to do anything else.
“I'm sorry. How terribly rude of me.” Gen stopped and turned to Thomas, bowing slightly in an odd manner. “Gen Hothman.”
“Nice to meet you, Gen, but what did you mean you'll take care of this?”
“I mean Aaron. I think he's had free reign of this school for too long.” Gen's voice sounded cold to Thomas. It didn't seem to fit his young frame. When he met Gen's gaze, his eyes reflected that same cold. Thomas shuddered and retrieved his hand.
“Why would you do that for me? No one else seems to care what Aaron does to me. No one else but Meeka anyway, and she's not always around.”
Gen stopped and thought for a few moments. Finally he looked up. “How about a trade of services. I'll take care of Aaron and in return you show me around this place. Tell me how things work here. Deal?”
“I would do that even without you helping me. Though I don't know how you are going to help me. You aren't much bigger than me.”
Gen turned and walked away again. “Where did you see him last?”
“They were behind the kitchens, chasing the chickens there.”
Gen stopped to let Thomas catch up to him. “Lead the way then.”
They walked into the Schola proper through back alleys and paths that Gen made sure to pay attention to. He would have to come back later and explore all the ways in and around this place. Even with Thomas taking his time, they soon came to the back of the kitchens. Gen heard the sounds of panicked chickens and laughter. Well at least they were still there. Thomas stopped dead and Gen had to grab his hand once more to pull him around the corner. It didn't take long for Aaron's friends to spot them.
“Look who's back for more! And he's brought a friend! Look how they are holding hands. Isn't that cute!” Aaron turned from the chickens but his smile vanished when he saw who was with Thomas.
“Aaron. This one is mine. Touch him again and you will regret it.” Gen's voice was again like ice and Thomas could have sworn that he saw Aaron flinch at the sound of it. Who was this child? He couldn't be much older than he was. Why was he so scary?
“Ooooo looks like the new kid doesn't know his place. Show him Aaron! Yeah Aaron! Show him!” The laughs from Aaron's friends grated on Gen's nerves but he kept it from showing. This would go one of two ways. He didn't care much which way it went. The end result would be the same.
“I don't have time for this, Aaron. Call off your dogs and be gone from here.” Gen's eyes never left Aaron's. He kept them hard. He hadn't played the intimidation card much in his life yet but he had seen others do it many times. He hoped he got it right.
“Come on, guys. Lets find something else to do. This place stinks all of a sudden.” Aaron turned to leave.
“You're gonna just let him boss you around like that?” a skinny child with sandy blond hair and brown robes asked. Aaron grabbed the boy by the front of the robes and slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand.
“Are you trying to tell me what to do? Get outta my face before I break yours!” Aaron pushed the child back and stormed off, his friends following quickly after. Thomas stood in stunned silence for a long time.
“How? How did you do that?” Thomas finally asked.
“Aaron and I worked out a deal last night,” Gen said, nonchalantly. He shrugged and walked toward the kitchen. “I think I could use a bite to eat. You hungry?”
“Don't change the subject. What kind of a deal did you work out?” Thomas moved to stand between Gen and the kitchen door.
“A simple one really.” Gen locked eyes with Thomas. “He stays out of my business and I don't cut parts of him off.” Gen stepped around Thomas and entered the kitchen. Thomas sat on the ground. Had he just made a powerful friend, or was he worse than Aaron? He sat and thought till the kitchen door opened and Gen returned with a large loaf of bread. He tore it in two and sat down next to Thomas, handing him half and taking a bite of his own. A friend then, thought Thomas.
III
Staff Training
The summer sun beat down upon the children seated in a semi-circle. They all wore simple cotton pants and short sleeved shirts. A lone adult stood at the focus of the circle. Sweat beaded upon his forehead but he seemed not to notice. He wore simple, soft leather armor and held an old and battered quarter-staff.
“The staff is the first weapon you will learn here. Can anyone tell me why?” The teacher’s voice rang out strong but was answered only by silence. Finally, one of the children raised his hand.
“Yes Thomas?”
“Because it's just a stick?”
“You are partially right. The staff is common and can be found easily upon the battlefield. Anyone else know why it is the first you will learn?” After more silence, a thin boy at the right end of the semi-circle raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“Many of the techniques are the same between the staff and other pole-arms.”
“Very good. You're Gen, correct?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Master Ambern. Welcome to the Schola.”
“Thank you.”
“Well it sounds like you know a thing or two about the staff. Would you care to demonstrate?”
The boy stood, walked to the center of the circle, and picked up the spare staff off the ground. He backed up a few paces and stood to the side, the end of the staff pointing at the teacher's face.
“Attack when ready.”
Gen started a slow circle facing Master Ambern studying his opponent's movements. Ambern was middle aged but well muscled. His forearms were over-sized, telling Gen he most likely trained with a longbow more than melee weapons. His boots showed wear more on the balls of his feet than the heels, telling him his opponent wouldn't easily be thrown off balance. He played out the combat in his mind and several ways he saw that he could win, though the man's greater size and obvious experience weighed heavily against him. He decided to play dumb and see how that went. Gen rushed in at half speed and took a basic thrust at the teacher's face. Ambern countered it easily and Gen let his staff swing to the ground. He made a show of pulling it back to the ready.
“Good attack. Nice aim. Attacks at the opponent's face will sometimes throw them off.” Ambern spoke loudly over his shoulder to the group. “Again!”
Gen attacked again, this time with a slow feint to the teacher's feet followed by an attack again at his face. It was so irritating to project his movements and he hoped his irritation didn't show. Ambern once more blocked the blow easily, not fooled by the feint.
“Good. The feint can be useful if performed correctly.” Ambern bowed slightly to Gen. “Thank you. You may sit with the class again.” Gen placed the staff back on the ground and resumed his seat.
Master Ambern spoke at length about the weapon and went over some basic attacks and defenses. An hour later the bell rang from the tower to signify the end of class. Gen got up to leave with the rest of the students. He stopped when Ambern called his name. Gen walked to the teacher and they waited till the other students had left.
“Yes?”
“You were holding back today.” Ambern's expression held a deep frown.
“Why do you think that?” Gen kicked himself mentally for not hiding his irritation better. He would have to work on that.
“I know a thing or two about fighting.”
“I see.” Gen met the teacher’s gaze and dropped his masked expression. He went over the calming techniques and let his mind focus only on the present.
“I want you to fight me again without holding back. I have to know where your skill level is before I can train you.”
“Rules?”
“Three strikes determine the winner.”
“So be it.” Gen picked up the other staff again and stood at the ready.
“Attack when ready.” Ambern grasped his staff in two hands and prepared to defend himself. He had just grasped it properly when the boy charged, the tip of his staff jabbing toward Ambern's left eye. Ambern pulled back, but a bit too slowly. The tip caught him under the eye. Pain lanced through his skull from the impact. He reached up to block the second hit but it came into his stomach instead. The air burst from his lungs and he started to bend over from the surprise and pain. His training finally came back to the fore and he dodged to the side and spun the staff in a basic defense. A few clacks of the boy's staff bouncing off his as it spun and he caught his breath again. He closed his watering left eye and finally brought his focus back to the boy. The boy's eyes held nothing but cold, like staring out across the plains after a heavy winter's snow. The sight shook him and he lost focus on his defense. His knuckles screamed in pain as the boy's staff smashed into them. He opened his hand and let the staff drop. Holding his hands up and open.
“I yield,” Ambern cried out. The boy halted. “I must say that I was not ready for that. It has been a long time since I've had to fight like that. Give me a moment.” Ambern picked up his staff and leaned on it. When he caught his breath fully he brought himself to the ready.