Sunlight filters through tall trees surrounding a clearing. Rue stands in the center, eyes closed, arms relaxed.
Small stones hover nearby, and slowly, gently, they shift position in a smooth flow. A breeze swirls, and Rue directs it like a conductor.
"Flow isn't just control. It's understanding the natural path and moving with it. You aren't forcing the river; you're becoming it." Varis says while watching from a distance.
Varis approaches, hands clasped behind his back.
"Feel the air, the energy, the subtle pull of things wanting to move. Your body senses it too. Flow isn't magic. It's harmony."
Rue opens his eyes and smiles faintly.
"I want to get better. I want to protect those I care about."
Varis eyebrows, raised, Rue's statement bringing a familiar warmth to him. For a moment, he sees his former eldest son, Alaric in place of Rue, Rue's statement mirroring Alaric's ideology. Varis shakes his head and returns back to what's really in his eyes.
"That's why you'll succeed. Flow isn't just power, it's purpose."
Rue focuses again. A larger branch lifts from the ground, swaying under his will, then gently detaches itself.
"Good. Now, let's move on to controlling more than just what you can see."
"Sparring time?" Rue smiles.
Varis nods and gets into a stance.
Training grounds under the bright sun, Rue and Varis face each other, both in relaxed combat stances.
"Show me what you learned, Rue" Varis says calmly.
Varis lunges forward, launching fast and precise punches and palm strikes. Rue centers himself, concentrating on "Flow" of the punches thrown.
He redirects Varis's attacks; the trajectory of each blow subtly bends away. Varis's punches miss by inches. Rue counters with a quick strike, stepping in with a jab to Varis's torso.
Varis parries with his forearm rather easily, showcasing his veteran skills, then tries another palm strike counterattack to Rue's chest. Rue backsteps, with some help from his flow ability.
"You have control, but flow isn't just deflection. It's anticipation, intuition." Varis says approvingly.
Varis suddenly speeds up his attacks. Rue tries to redirect the attacks but struggles. Varis catches Rue's wrist with a tight grip, pushing Rue, making him off balance.
Rue recovers quickly, breathing heavily, resetting his stance again. Varis lowers his fist, signaling the end of the sparring match. Varis nods approvingly.
"You're ready to start learning how to become more than just the current. You're ready to learn how to become the river itself."
Rue smiles, having a new sense of self-determination. Rue, wiping sweat from his brow, nods respectfully to Varis. Varis chuckles. A rare sound to Rue's ears.
"You're quicker than last time… Still not quicker than me."
"Did I get quicker, or are you getting older, gramps?"
Rue, now in light travel gear, is walking the outer path of Lagaar. Sprawling farmlands, aging towers, and peaceful but modest life.
"Lagaar, one of Astel's six regions… Not known for strong warriors. Not known for strong champions. But… It's my home…"
Rue is approached by a group of four other contestants heading to the pre-qualifiers. They look flashier, cockier, more eager to prove themselves.
Lanard, clearly the leader, steps forward. Tall, broad shoulders, blonde hair slightly curled, polished armor. Voice oozes confidence.
"You're Rue, right?"
"...Yeah." Rue says cautiously.
"Didn't think they'd let anyone weak "warriors" into the tournament… Guess Lagaard's scraping the bottom."
Rue hears the others in the back laughing. And looks annoyed, clearly annoyed.
Lanard walks in circles around Rue.
"The Flow guy, right? Pretty cool, redirection pebbles and sticks. I'll have you know, I'll be the one becoming the Champion of Lagaard. You? Well, I hope you don't have high hopes."
Rue doesn't take the bait and smirks lightly.
"Sounds good. Excuse me."
Rue walks past them all, bumping the shoulder of one in the back, but not out of aggression, but unbreakable resolve.
The group watches Rue walk toward the distant tournament grounds.
"He'll break before we even get to the finals." Lanard says calmly under his breath.
After the minor confrontation.
Rue sits at a quiet hilltop, gazing down at the lights below. The wind moves softly.
"Astel thinks Lagaard is weak. That I'm weak. We'll see."
Rue looks at the ocean.
"We'll see who's weak."