Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime, tag: barez

[Qhori Jyotis]

It was the second trip Qhori had made in the week to the barracks. But this time, she wasn't lying to the guard when she said she had come to see Barez Damask. The brief tour Isa had given her of the premises made it easier for her to navigate her way from the front entrance to the biggest building in the district, where he'd said the main offices were located. Someone there could surely direct her to the master mage.

She stood out like a sore thumb with her civilian clothing, though once again, the passers by seemed to think she might have been visiting one of the enlisted. Heck, maybe some of them even thought she was there to sign up herself, as she was going toward the administrative sector. Regardless of what they actually thought, it was fleeting; she drew no attention.

At least, not until she was three-quarters of the way there and at the far end of one of the training yards.

"Hey, isn't that Seaborne's girl?" someone said. Qhori didn't lift her eyes to look, but she could see a trio of recruits huddled together in the periphery of her view. Seaborne...isn't that what Isa said his surname was? But that was for all bastard children here. Maybe they were talking about someone else. She kept her head down and feet forward, letting her hair veil her face. That didn't seem to stop the chatter, though.

"What's she doing back here?" hissed another.

"He's not even around."

"So what?"

"Jaron... Don't. She's a mage," he whispered even lower, though she was still close enough to hear. It was so hard not to turn her head then, as they couldn't have possibly been talking about anyone else. They wanted something to talk about? Fine. Qhori stopped dead in her tracks and stared at them across the yard. In turn, the boys froze where they stood, two of them watching like deer before a crossbow.

She lifted an empty hand, and one of them turned and bolted immediately, nearly knocking over the young man beside him as he went. "Ewan!" shouted the apparently ringleader -- whom she now recognized as the boy she'd hit with the spell first -- shooting her one last dirty look before marching after him, last toady in tow.

Qhori was so preoccupied with watching them flee in terror that she didn't even hear the steady crunch of footsteps behind her.

[Barez Damask]

He'd been expecting her.

Of course she was free to decline his offer, but Barez knew she would come. Call it instinct—or just common sense. It was an opportunity few could ignore.

He wasn't the type for false modesty: Barez he knew he was good—maybe even the best at what he did. So when Barez Damask offered to teach someone, people took notice. No doubt she understood that now. If she was the type to do her research, she would know who he was, and why it was important that she takes this seriously. Barez Damask wasn't the type to waste his time. Nor was he type to waste her time.

So yes, he'd been expecting her.

But not in a hallway.

He watched her chase away the boys (whom he recalled from an earlier conversation with Miss Branth). Making a mental note of their faces, he strode towards her. Unlike the last time they met, he wasn't wearing his uniform. His shirt was loose and ordinary, and his pants were well tailored. He was also wearing his sword: a viciously curved creature with a heavily embossed pommel.

“Miss Jyotis.”

His expression was hard and serene at the same time. Perfectly neutral.

[Qhori Jyotis]

Qhori wasn't expecting him to find her. She heard his voice before she saw him, and his sudden presence startled her. The magelet took a couple steps back as she turned, taking in his ensemble and landing on the sword at his hip. Should that have made her as nervous as it did?

"Master Damask," she replied, head tilted up, meeting his cool stare. He was still was as semi-creepy as the last time they'd met, though she, for some reason beyond her comprehension, didn't find it as off-putting as others might. It was a powerful look. He was confident of himself, and not without reason. After that session, the other girls in the dorm had informed her of just how lucky she was to meet him. He wasn't just any battlemage. He was the best.

She envied that look he possessed, of utter calm and control, a self-awareness of his capability. Qhori had felt a sliver of that strength when she'd scared those boys off, but it had diminished completely in his presence.

Now, she was back to weighing every word carefully. "I...come to see you. For training."

Obviously.

[Barez Damask]

For training.

So her Escovan hadn't improved. It would. Slowly.

He nodded crisply, his gaze sweeping over her. It was as if Barez were making sure most of her was still there—no missing fingers, no bad haircuts.

“Very well. Follow me.”

He stepped past her, making for the little room they gave him to use as an office. It might have been small, but he'd made considerable effort to keep it clean. There was a simple desk, a chair, and a handful of shelves lining one wall. The desk itself was underneath a massive window which opened out into the training pits below. Not the best view—nor the freshest breeze—but appropriate. There were no wall-hangings or other frivolities. Well, none except for a handful of magical implements crowning a top shelf.

He took a seat in his chair. It was hard, rigid. A suitable place for a man like him.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble. “Might I ask how much thought you've given this, Miss Jyotis?” he asked. The tips of his fingers were pressed together in a pensive look and his eyes were watching her.

[Qhori Jyotis]

The room felt narrow, almost confining, especially in comparison to the cavernous space of the classroom they'd last worked in. He surely didn't expect to work on training here, did he? Qhori waited for him to settle before standing in front of the desk, opposite him. Even seated, Master Damask seemed incredibly intimidating, if not moreso.

She clasped her hands behind her back, standing at attention as he made his inquiry. How much thought had she given? She hadn't stopped thinking about it, even when she was sitting through other lessons. Even in her day-to-day life -- she'd told Isa about her lesson, about wanting to become a Battlemage, and even more importantly, she'd actually applied her knowledge practically.

"A lot," she answered, though it hardly seemed enough of one. He seemed a fairly concise, laconic man himself, but he'd expected more speech from her last time. She tried to elaborate, "I use spells you teach to me. Pull, push. They work."

In that exact order, too. But she wasn't going to explain when, or where. Not unless he asked. And when that moment came to pass (or didn't), she knew she couldn't lie about it. In fact, she didn't want to -- she was proud to have used those tools to protect her friends -- but it was hard to tell whether or not any instructors would have seen it as an abuse of her power. Magic wasn't a plaything.

But then again, she hadn't been playing either of those times. That thought emboldened her. "I want to know more. I try other magic. Is not as...strong, for me. But, I think—I know I am good at casting spell. I want to be Battlemage...if you will teach how."

[Barez Damask]

They work.

He didn't smile, but there was the impression that he was pleased.

In theory, all Barez cared for were practical spells; ones that could be implemented immediately. The more complex, subtle ones made good reading, but he rarely took the time to learn them, to force the world to bend to his will. In the end, he was a practical man, and it suited him just fine.

She spoke on and finally wound her way to the point of their conversation. She wanted to be a Battlemage, if he would he take her.

He steepled his fingers again, watching her.

“Very well.”

The next few seconds were spent explaining things.

“We will meet daily, at around this time. When you are not actively training with me, I expect you to shadow me for a few hours. Your chores will transfer over to me—that means you will clean my office, polish my armour and sword, and carry out any miscellaneous tasks I ask of you.” He paused. “And while I admire your willingness to use your magic, you are expressively forbidden to use it outside my presence unless it happens to be a matter of life and death. No displays of power, Miss Jyotis. You will practise magic when I give you leave to do so. I have already made arrangements for a room near the other Battlemages; though you are free to continue staying at the Academy.”

There was one more thing:

“And if, for any reason, I find you regressing, I will let you go so that you may return to the Academy.”

He left a few seconds for all that to sink in. He would dismiss her from his service if she started failing—or if she became a problem. He wanted to make that clear.

“Are we Understood, Miss Jyotis?”

[Qhori Jyotis]

It was a lot of information to process. Qhori almost wished she'd been prepared to take notes, although that probably wouldn't have helped much, either. She didn't know shorthand, least of all in Escovan, though reading and writing in any language gave her enough trouble.

So, the basic jist of it: yes, he would train her, no, she couldn't use her spells without his awareness or permission unless absolutely necessary, she was going to be spending more time in the barracks (was that a good or bad thing, given her connection to certain recruits?), and she'd be serving him personally. She would have liked to say it was an apprenticeship of a kind she never knew, but that wasn't entirely true. The exercises and assignments weren't the same, nor were the consequences of disobedience even remotely as severe, yet Qhori was prepared to follow his instruction and command to the letter, no further breaking in required. Adaptability meant survivability. Submission now for mastery later.

It wasn't a question of discipline as much as aptitude. The only way she could disappoint him was by failing to prove as magically capable as he expected her to be. She couldn't let that happen.

Qhori nodded. "Yes, sir. Is understood."

[Barez Damask]

He finally cracked a smile.

“Excellent.”

He pushed himself up off his chair and stepped left towards a stack of papers. He lifted one and quickly folded it in half. Then he extended this to her.

“Tomorrow morning we leave for the Mines, Miss Jyotis. This is a list of ingredients we will need.” He slipped a hand into a drawer and drew forth a pouch heavy with coins. This he held out to her as well. There were more coins in there than was absolutely necessary, but Barez wasn't one for monetary concerns. “Please purchase everything on that list later today.”

As for now...

“Follow me.”

He brushed past her, towards the door, and out into the hallway.

[Qhori Jyotis]

Qhori didn't even bother looking at the list; there was no point reviewing it now, as she had no other choice but to fill it, slipping the paper into her pocket. The pouch was even weightier than the last one she'd received from the Guild to purchase basic supplies. That was secured to her belt, underneath the flap of her coat, as she followed behind the battlemage.

Shopping, she'd understood. That was an easy task to take on. Maybe he didn't care much for monetary concerns, but Qhori wasn't going to be overcharged or let any coin go to waste.

It was the other part she didn't quite catch. They were leaving the next day for...what?

"Mines, sir?"

[Barez Damask]

He walked with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes, Miss Jyotis. Mines.”

Truth was, had she not shown up today, he would have left without her. Him and the three others they'd tasked him with. Recruits all of them. Two girls and one boy, all green behind the ears. He already knew Miss Branth was one of them. The others were unknown to him.

He glanced sideways at her.

“Those villages in the north aren't the only places that have fallen silent in this last week. There is a copper mine not far from here that's gone quiet as well. There has been no news.” He turned into a wide stairway and began walking down. Up ahead, the large doors were open, inviting in a cold breeze from the mountains. At the bottom of the stairs, he continued walking, coming to stop in an a large hall. It was empty save for a few soldiers mulling about in the corners. On one large wall behind Barez, there were weapons; dozens of them.

He faced her there.

“How capable are you with a weapon, Miss Jyotis?”

[Qhori Jyotis]

Gone quiet. That seemed...ominous, though she wasn't going to press him for more information. No news meant no news. If he thought she needed to know more, he would have said more.

There wasn't much time to dwell on the next day's task, anyway. Qhori had to pay closer attention to the present moment if she was to keep up with him. Their presence in the hall drew a few curious eyes, but none lingered. They obviously knew Master Damask, and knew better than to disturb him or his new pupil.

The wall they faced held a greater arsenal than the young mage had ever seen before. Even though she'd lived among soldiers before, as a girl, the Confederation's army never had such an organized and diverse collection of weaponry, though that was due in large part to being a mobile force compared to Escova's centralized base. About half of the armaments were easy to identify -- short swords, broad swords, morning stars, axes, polearms.

But only one type was something she'd ever actually wielded before. She pointed at a group of the smallest blades. "I use dagger, before."

[Barez Damask]

His hands were clasped behind his back.

Cocking his head to the right, he indicated the wall behind him. There were a few daggers there, amongst other, more exotic weapons. A few of the daggers were small and efficient; others were longer, like knives built to slice and hack into flesh and bone.

“Please pick a dagger, Miss Jyotis.”

He waited for her to grab the one she wanted. Then, while she was still facing the wall, he gave her another instruction.

“And pick another weapon—one you wish to learn.”

There were spears and crossbows, swords and hammers. There was even a vicious looking axe, the kind barbarians used across the sea. Hung from a few heavy pegs, it was larger than her, its cured blades wider than the length of her arm. A few weapons were smaller and a lot more difficult to wield. Barez turned to look at her, waiting, watching....

[Qhori Jyotis]

Pick a dagger, any dagger. There were so many different types to choose from that it was almost overwhelming. Her eyes gravitated first toward the largest, broad, curved and sinister, best for chopping—provided one had the strength and endurance for that. But she knew she didn't have the build to hack away at an enemy. Speed, agility and precision had always served her best.

She picked up a slim blade, sharp enough on its double-edges to slice, and tapered on its point to serve its primary function: stabbing. The grip fit her hand well, as did the weight of it, the length of the blade about three quarters of her forearm. It was close to what Isa had sold to her in the smithy, what he said suited her best, though this one wasn't Warded as she'd done to the other and felt impersonal by comparison.

That was one weapon, something she was already familiar with. Now for the other...

As long as it had taken her to make her first selection, it was twice as hard to make the second. Really, it wasn't as if she couldn't eventually learn another if this proved to be the wrong skill, but she knew how important it was to make the right decision. He was evaluating her at every step, trying to figure out her thought process, and knowing that made it harder to choose.

She could handle very short range, enough to somehow break from combat, but she wasn't built like Barez, or any other regular soldier, for that matter. Qhori knew she was small, lean and on the short side, lacking in the upper body strength that would have helped her wield a sword or any other swinging weapon. Even if she worked to build that muscle, she would still always be easily overpowered. So how could she make sure a fight didn't get that close?

Spells might do the trick, but a mage only had so much power in reserve before they began to burn out. She only glanced at the polearms; that, too, would require coordination to somehow skewer or knock an opponent away. No, she needed more distance than that. Qhori reached out for the crossbow. It would take longer time to reload than a longbow, but the bolts were powerful, learning it would take less time, and she still had magic on her side, which was likely going to be her greatest weapon, anyway.

She grabbed the weapon and accompanying quiver, turning back to the master mage.

[Barez Damask]

She returned with a dagger and a crossbow.

Barez's smile was faint, ironic. He was a swordsman, always had been. Strapped to his waist, the curved scimitar was about the only weapon he was any good at. The rest were passable.

He was a terrible shot.

He hadn't expected her to take a sword—like Miss Branth, she was much to slight to be any good in what was often a brutal, forceful situation. Talented swordsmen could move like lightning, but those skills were more inert nature based than training. In the end, it also boiled down to sheer strength. A swordsman fought with his body almost as much as he did with his blade. And that required a little grit. So a dagger then. And a crossbow. Fair.

His smile faded and he gave her a little nod. “Those are yours to keep. I have little skill in either but I will find you a tutor to get you on your way—once we return of course.” Maybe Mister Darkmoore would be available to help her. His hands were still clasped behind his back and his eyes paused on the wall only briefly before flicking back to her.

“Now, tell me, Miss Jyotis: given the chance, what kind of Wards would you add to your weapons?”

[Qhori Jyotis]

Hers to keep? And no one would mind? She couldn't help taking a glance around, as if it was a weird trick and someone might come out and yell at her to put those things down, but no one appeared. And...well, he wasn't exactly the prankster sort. She couldn't even envision that happening when he was a younger man. In fact, Qhori felt like he'd probably come into the world fully formed, just as he stood before her now.

Heavy, creased brow and everything.

She only knew how to perform a couple of Wards, as were given to her by the master mage before Barez. Just an introductory lesson, really. But, of course, he meant in theory. If she knew the Wards. All of this was about speculation, how she might react.

Well, going along the same line of thought that had drawn her to the crossbow, and the dagger, she would have to play to her own advantages. "Ward for slow, or stop. On blade, I move fast. Can hit more," she said, hoping that made sense without having to physically demonstrate by stabbing the air in a goofy manner. But landing one strike could be the key to getting in many more than her opponent would on her. "On arrow, give more time for cast spell."