Groaning, Noah crawled out of bed. Today would probably be another day of cleaning, and organizing. Honestly, he'd prefer fighting for another twenty battles than to clean out the latrines again.
Pausing, he noticed that the bed under him was empty. That in itself wasn't strange. It could've meant Arthur had woken up early for once. But, where was Arthur?
Frowning, Noah turned to Felt. "Hey Felt, have you seen Art today?"
Felt turned away from making his bed. He had already gotten ready long before Noah had woken up. "Arthur? He's going to be away for these next two months."
"What? Why?"
Felt shrugged. "Don't know. All I was told was that Arthur was going to be away for at most two months. And to expect him once a week for briefings only."
Frowning further, Noah turned away. He knew instinctively that if he asked anyone, he'd receive the same answer. Even if they did know why.
'Guess I'll just keep my head down.'
After changing, he made his way outside of Fort Lanai into the courtyard where Officer Mara was waiting for him as usual to assign him the day's tasks.
Immediately he tensed upon seeing her. There was a different gleam in her eyes today. And experience told him that any sort of damn gleam in her eyes meant pain. A lot of damn pain.
"Officer" Noah saluted stiffly.
"At ease" she replied casually.
"So...what are my jobs today?"
Officer Mara grinned. "No jobs. Today we'll be starting your training."
"Ahhh." Noah felt his heart sink. While he was looking forward to the training. He wasn't looking forward to her training him. "So...what am I doing first?"
"First? First is spar, to see where you're at." A smile blossomed on her face as she said it, a smile like an unsheathed sword.
"Casual huh?" He muttered softly. "Don't feel so damn casual to me."
......
Arthur's POV
I followed Syar through the mountain pass. But instead of going any further into rebel territory. He turned, leading me back down another pass into the mountains. Frigid air hammered against my thin clothes.
Every moment I spent following Syar was spent cursing myself, and him for not having thicker nightwear.
Syar seemed to feel the cold. He walked slowly, casually, as if he was doing a midnight stroll down a summer forest.
After a while of walking through thin passages, worming our way deep into mountain territory, we finally stopped.
Only then did Syar speak for the first time since we had left Fort Lanai. "We're going to climb this mountain together." His tone made it clear, it wasn't a question. A mere statement. This is what I'd be doing, whether I liked it or not.
"Alright."
Looking up at the mountain he chose, I shivered. Not because of the cold. But because Syar had somehow found the most daunting mountain to climb in the entire range. Large didn't seem like a word that could fit how colossal it was. Dwarfing the other mountains as if it was their ancient ancestor.
I doubted even if I lived there my entire life, I would never be able to traverse it all. And yet, strangely, I saw stairs. Stone stairs, half worn and covered by the snow, but most definitely stairs.
"Do you live here?" I asked incredulously.
Syar laughed. "Here? No, but I live somewhere similar."
'Similar to this?' I wondered inwardly. 'Is there anything that can be considered similar to this?'
"Come on," Syar urged, "let's walk up."
Resigning myself, I took the first step. The steps felt slippery, as if I could slide off at any moment. As I climbed, my lungs began to burn. Each step felt like dragging fire into my chest.
Yet Syar never slowed, and so neither did I. Like hell if I was going to collapse before he did. Cursing myself, I pushed on. Stumbling every other step as my legs grew leaden and weak.
Despite the pain, never once did I slow. Or ask for a break. I wouldn't, not before Syar did. Spite was such a motivational emotion.
But spirit alone wouldn't sustain me forever. Soon, much too soon, my legs gave out. Dropping to my knees, I gasped. Feeling as if there was no air for my lungs to breathe in. Limbs trembling as if each one had suddenly gained a thousand pounds.
Syar turned back to me with an amused snort. Eyes glittering as he stared down at the pitiful sack I must've looked like.
"Like...hell!" I growled, clawing at the steps with my hands. If I couldn't walk, I'd damn well crawl.
'One more. Just one more' I repeated to myself. Focusing on the words like a mantra.
Soon, I couldn't even stay on my knees. Completely collapsing onto the stone stairs.
'One...more....just....one....'
Heaving, my fingers curled around the next step. My muscles strained. Breath came in short bursts. I pulled, fighting against....against...
What?
Why was I doing this?
Why am I here?
What was stopping me from just climbing back down. It was safer there. Better there. Why shouldn't I just - "No!" I growled, cutting off my thoughts.
Pushing through it all, I finally managed to move, struggling until I reached the next step.
As soon as I did so, I felt a colossal crushing pressure slam into me. As if the mountain itself was stepping on me. Completely paralysed from the pressure, I could do nothing but pass out, as darkness consumed my vision.
The last thing I saw was the next stone step. Right there in front of me. So close, and yet it might've well been worlds away.
....
Syar's POV
Syar allowed his expression to drop as soon as the boy fainted. A small smile now flickered on his lips as he stared down at Arthur. This had been an unfair test, that much was true. But it was the only way he could see it. See it the way he imagined Skelter must've seen it when he decided to sacrifice himself for the boy.
And see it he did.
Grit. That was what most people lacked. True grit. To struggle day in and day out, with no hope of light at the end of the tunnel. No hope for a better future, or that it'd get easier. And yet still struggle.
Arthur did not disappoint in that regard. Syar didn't care about the boy's talent. Nor his affinities or blessings if he had any.
Only if he had that grit. That special thing that made ordinary people great and made monsters out of men.
The ten thousand steps was an old practice. Ancient even. Long discontinued, even by the most orthodox of masters. It was an ancient trial given to a prospective disciple in the old ways. To see if he was worthy of inheriting the Knight's teachings.
Yet, long ago it had been stopped due to the strain it placed on the disciple. It was considered an unnecessarily dangerous method of choosing a successor.
To Syar's knowledge, not one person had even managed to go pass three thousand steps. Only the most skilled of students could even get close to the number before giving out.
And yet, Arthur had done three thousand and ten. The three thousand wasn't that impressive. Prodigies had existed before. But those extra ten steps were.
That had shocked him.
Because those last ten weren't done on two feet. No, they'd been done through crawling. Scrambling on all fours until his body gave out.
And that, well that was the very definition of grit.