The Grey Tower

The grey-haired guard jabbed his sour-faced companion roughly in the ribs. "I swear, one day you're going t' let one of these pups stray, and you'll be out on yer arse Heb."

Heb grunted dismissively in response, meandering back to the guard post without a glance back. The grey-haired guard threw his hands up in exasperation with a loud sigh. "Fine," he muttered, turning to the new arrival. "The name's Mordjen. Pleased t' meet you. I'll take you to where you ought to go. If you'll follow me, please?"

Mordjen stepped out in front, taking comfortable but ground-eating strides. As he walked, he chattered amiably with the newcomer. The entrance road was somewhat long, and Mordjen only went halfway down before veering off to the right. He cut across a field towards a large four- or five-story building. It looked like a dormitory, and faced the tall glass Grey Tower itself.

"I never tried t' be a Warder meself," Mordjen continued. "Me wife, Liz, bless 'er. Well, she would probably cry herself t' sleep every single night if I told her I wanted t' try t' get myself bonded to some fancy Aes Sedai." The guard chuckled at that, then cleared his throat after stealing a glance at the man striding alongside him. "No no, I watch the front gate, and help carry firewood when there are special occasions. That is more than enough connection t' the One Power for me, yessir. But if I could learn some of the way of the Warders, like how they fight with their bare hands, I would very much enjoy learning about that. I think it would make me better at being a guard." Mordjen seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a moment, his pace slowing briefly.

"Anyways," Mordjen perked up, "Master Darrow said he would be seeing t' inviting me and some of the boys to a class with his trainees. 'pparently there's a Blademaster for that now. I am sure that will come about when the time is right. Master Darrow always seems to be busy now he's back, but I think he's a goodly soul." They were walking into a hard packed dirt yard, between four buildings spaced far apart. To their immediate right was a barn-sized building all on a single story, with a few people around it. The men and women practicing various forms of fighting styles were spread from there all the way across the Yard. At the opposite end were two newer structures, made of unweathered stone, although the purposes of either was not evident from the exterior. Immediately ahead was the large dormitory hall, and it was towards that and a large set of doors that Mordjen led them. "Master Darrow is a good man, but a hard man too. Don't be letting on what happened with Heb back there, if you please. He's a trial for most, but this Tower is probably the only thing keeping him from finding an arrow wi' his name on it. He didn't mean no harm; I'll keep on at him. The Master of Training's office is upstairs." Mordjen pointed at the set of stairs that ran central through the large lobby. The foyer had a tiled floor and wood panelled walls, with several tables, chairs and benches set out, occupied by groups of trainees in the various greys of the Warder Yards.

Mordjen turned and clasped his hands behind his back, bouncing up once on his toes. "He usually has open hours in his office from a couple of hours before High, until a few hours before Low, if he's no out running an errand. If he doesn't happen t' be there right then, there is usually a book with a pen. You can scribble a request for a meeting, and then come back. Right now, it is about four hours after Early, so he is probably already there." The guard grinned broadly, and nodded. "It is good to welcome you to the Tower. Good luck!" Patting the newcomer jovially on the shoulder, Mordjen retreated back the way they had come.

In the moderated-sized office he called home, Ravak Darrow lounged in his leather-backed armchair, a ledger propped up on his lap. Behind him, a fire crackled in the large fireplace, set behind the Shienaran's chair and desk. Once he had preferred the cold, but a long year in the Three-fold Land had made him more accustomed to the heat. Not a beat of sweat sat on the Warder's face, although the room was as warm as standing in the sunlight on a summer's day. Using an iridescent quill, he made corrections and updated in his ledger, referencing various papers sprawled over his desk. A lot had changed in a year, and the growing rumours of a gathering darkness had the Master of Training slightly on edge. That and the flurry of punishments lain out for him upon his return.

The room's furnishings had been carefully returned to their former glory. Everything was Shienaran in style, if not in manufacture. Hard edges and clean lines were everywhere, all built from solid oak. The desk had solid sides as opposed to spindly legs, so the lower half of the Master of Training was hidden from view. Two newer chairs sat on a Taraboner rug for the Gaidin's visitors. A weapon rack in one corner held Rav's weapons. The Tower-forged longsword was placed so that the Great Serpent on its crossguard was visible. Beside it rested a stout sword-breaker, a long quarterstaff made of silvery wood, and a simple longbow. There was a second table, covered in more sheets of paper being weighed down various throwing daggers. Lastly, a small stand held a teapot and cups.

Ravak undid another button on his shirt, so that it was only half done-up. The heat may not cause him to sweat, but he still felt it like everyone else. He pulled at his collar, revealing well defined muscles underneath. He had joined the Yards as a slip of a boy. Now he drew the eyes of quite a considerable number of onlookers, especially now that he was unbonded. The reasons behind that dismissal were not public knowledge, although most drew conclusions from the length he had been away, and the lack of the Accepted he had disappeared with.

Ravak heard the floorboards outside of his room creak. Not everyone would pick up on that, but this was his office, and he was used to its quirks. He placed the ledger in a desk drawer, page marked by a letter opener, then sat up straight to greet the new visitor.

Artur walked through the city of Hama Valon in awe of the grandeur of the buildings and the people. He had visited many villages and small towns but nothing of this size or importance. He passed buildings in odd shapes and weird colors. The people were from all over the world, he walked past a small gaggle of Domani women that all batted their eyelashes at him and swayed when they walked in their low-cut dresses that hugged their bodies. Men and women in cloaks that gave a person vertigo if they looked at them from the fact that they blended with the surroundings and made limbs disappear when the cloak covered those areas of the body.

He bowed past more than a few men and women that left wakes in their paths, their faces ageless. The legendary Aes Sedai and Asha’man. The reason the town had been built to support the Grey Tower and it’s residents, the Channelers and their guardians the Warders. The men and women’s grace made Artur feel like a bumbling fool. The Warders that trailed behind the Channelers even walked with a deadly grace.

His mind reeled from the effort that he would have to take to succeed and grow enough to call himself a Warder. It was a daunting prospect and he stopped more than once on his journey through the town to second guess his decision to train at the tower. Artur wanted desperately to belong and be accepted for who he was. He wanted the means to defend himself and others. He needed this life.

He walked through the town, it was slow going as the streets were packed with groupings of people all muttering rumors some about the White Tower declaring war on the Grey others about the possibility of an imminent attack from the Seanchan. Most put the blame squarely at the Towers feet, something about the Channelers throwing off their oaths. None of the talk made any sense to Artur. His face scrunched in worry at the prospect of battle at the Tower. He hoped to call this place home and he did not want to flee a war that started shortly after he started. He especially did want to die if he was put on the front lines of that battle.

The sun was passing its zenith when he arrived at the tall walls surrounding the great crystal tower. A majestic sight, people passed through the gates and past the guard house in both directions. No one looked at Artur twice, he was just another peasant seeking the aid of the Tower.

He walked slowly to the guard house and tried to calm his face of the expression of worry and fear he knew rested there. Two guards greeted him when he approached the guard house.

“Who goes there boy and what be your business at the Grey Tower?” A older gentleman in a light set of armor with grey cloth over it and a flame and fang on the livery asked bruskly.

“I seek tra- a- a - ining in the great Tower.” Artur stumbled over the words in his rush to get them out and his nervousness showed plainly on his face.

As an afterthought he continued in less haste, “The names Artur sir. Artur Baeyn.” He attempted a slight bow to the guardsman but wobbled slightly. His face lit up in embarrassment. “I was hoping one of you good sirs could lead me to whoever I would need to speak to.”

One of the guards had a face that spoke of his uncertainty towards Artur. The other smiled slightly and jabbed his sour-faced companion roughly in the ribs. "I swear, one day you're going to let one of these pups stray, and you'll be out on yer arse Heb."

The two looked as if they had done this song and dance many times before.

Heb grunted in response, meandering back to the guard post without a glance back. The grey-haired guard threw his hands up in exasperation with a loud sigh. "Fine," he muttered, turning to the Artur. "The name's Mordjen. Pleased to meet you. I'll take you to where you ought to go. If you'll follow me, please?"

Artur did not know what to make of the guard Mordjen that walked away intent on his directions. The man was odd, Artur could tell just from the quick exchange. He was different then the village folk he had encountered before. He sprinted after the older guard and fell in step behind him. Mordjen took Artur down a long road that showed off the glass tower in all it’s majestic glory. As they walked his breath was taken away and he let out a long breath in amazement. The place was huge and beautiful. He had heard stories for years of this city and this place but they never truly spoke of the beauty of the grounds and building.

The guard led him off the road and over a field towards a much smaller building but bigger then any building he had ever seen. As they walked the guard was talked but Artur gave his words no thought, he was lost in the majesty of the experience. At one point in the conversation Artur looked over after Mordjen cleared his throat and caught a look of his face. Artur tried to smile reassuringly. It seemed to be the correct response. Mordjen continued to talk as if nothing happened.

The only words Artur caught of the blather the man spoke was about the one power and some anecdote about firewood. He was getting frustrated with the guard. He would not shut up. On and on he talked. After years traveling place to place spending most of his waking hours alone with his thoughts the talking was giving him a pain in his head. A dull pounding was starting.

They walked along a dirt yard between some buildings some of stone others of wood. People in grey were scattered around the yard some sparing others running. All forms of physical activity showed in the residents that were in the yard.

The man continued on about a man he referred to as Master Darrow. The man must be the one that they were going to meet. Artur’s spirits lightened at the knowledge that he was going to be away from his irritating companion soon.

The pair walked through the doors of the large dormitory hall and Mordjen said sweet words in parting, “The Master of Training's office is upstairs.”

Mordjen patted him on the shoulder and Artur walked away past an assortment of chairs, benches and tables most occupied by women and men of a spotting of ages in the grey of the tower. He took the stairs two at a time in an effort to put distance between himself and the man that talked incessantly. He spotted an open door up on the landing and approached it.

The little he could see of the room was two chairs in front of a large solid desk and a man with short red hair and a striking face seated behind it avid on the task in-front of him. .

Artur approached the doorway and knocked lightly on the door.

The tall man took his time to put away his ledger he had been reading from and sit up straight to greet Artur.

“Hello sir my name is Artur Baeyn and I come seeking to train with the best. I hear that you are the man I need to speak too. I ask for a few moments of your time.” After he finished his introduction he tried to do a curt bow but wobbled slightly.

Sharp grey-blue eyes scanned the stranger. The Gaidin recognised the look of a man who was used to tracking through the wilds; there was a certain way a person moved and looked around an unfamiliar location that gave them away. That, and the weathered face that spoke of exposure. Had the Shienaran had a regular sense of smell, he may have detected an earthen scent from the newcomer. Instead he smelt nothing. Minor crimes he could overlook, but vicious criminals had to be integrated before he allowed them in the Yards. It was fortuitous this wasn't going to be one of those times.

"Take a seat, Artur Baeyn." Rav gestured to the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. "A fellow Andoran, unless I miss my mark?" Rav kept his face passive through the lie, curious to see the man's reaction. Everything on Ravak Darrow's face may have said he was an Andorman, but his accent was as Shienaran as one could get. Light, Rav hadn't been outside of the walls of Far Dara before his eighteenth nameday.

"Well, on your first point you are certainly correct. I consider the men and women of the Warders' Yard to be the finest fighters between the Aryth Ocean and Shara. We prepare ourselves for the truest causes under the Light: to defend the innocent; to cease war in its tracks; to destroy Shadowspawn and all of the Dark One's agents; to prepare for the Last Battle. A heavy responsibility." Rav didn't look grim after delivering that sermon, merely resolute. It was all the truth, more or less. "Even those who take this responsibility upon their shoulders can break. There are many steps on the path to becoming a Gaidin of the Grey Tower. Many challenges." When Rav grinned, it wasn't entirely friendly. "How does that sit with you?"

The Master of Training gestured at two chairs facing the desk and said, "Take a seat, Artur Baeyn." Artur walked slowly across the rug spread on the floor towards the chairs that faced the desk. He took the room in as he walked. The furniture was in a style he did not recognize from his time in civilization. The heat hit him upon sitting in the chair, he wondered why the man had a fire going so strong. Sweat popped out of his forehead, he wondered how the man seated across from him was not drenched in sweat.

"A fellow Andoran, unless I miss my mark?" The man asked calmly, nothing showing on his face. His voice held an accent he had never heard before. He did not know much of the world. He had traveled often but stayed away from people unless he needed something, his travels mostly took him to different areas of Andor and Cairhien. This man spoke as none other he had heard.

"Aye I hail from the great nation Andor. I don't believe I've heard your accent before though?" He said in a questioning tone. His eyebrows rose inquiringly.

"Well, on your first point you are certainly correct. I consider the men and women of the Warders' Yard to be the finest fighters between the Aryth Ocean and Shara. We prepare ourselves for the truest causes under the Light: to defend the innocent; to cease war in its tracks; to destroy Shadowspawn and all of the Dark One's agents; to prepare for the Last Battle. A heavy responsibility." Artur took in the Gaidin's words as he spoke. The man looked ready to spring into action at a wrong movement. His eyes widened as the man went on, "Even those who take this responsibility upon their shoulders can break. There are many steps on the path to becoming a Gaidin of the Grey Tower. Many challenges."

The Master of Training grinned in an eerie way that sent chills down the young mans back. He shivered lightly. "How does that sit with you?"

Artur got the sudden feeling of being in a wolfs den, an experience he had not felt in a very long time. Where there was one wolf there was always more. He got the feeling one wrong step would put him in danger. He would have to face that fear of danger if he was going to succeed in this path of life.

He took a deep breath and tried to settle his nerves before answering the question posed to him. He wanted to learn, he needed to and he wanted to belong but the responsibility the Wolf set was a hefty charge. He would accept that challenge with dignity if not grace. He needed to.

"I believe I could do good here, I need to learn to defend myself and others. I want to learn and I am ready for any responsibility that comes with that learning." His voice became more steady as he talked. Lack of talking over the past years of his life had not dulled his skill with the verbal word.

"Is there anything you need to know of me?" His words were light as his sweat rolled down his face.

The boy, lad, man - whatever - was nervous. Probably as well he should be. No: that was the old Ravak Darrow talking. He knew what he had been like before the Waste. Things had changed a lot since then. He wiped the nasty grin from his face, and listened to the answers carefully and respectfully.

"Any responsibility?" Rav asked, an eyebrow rising questioningly. "You will learn about responsibility in due course, Artur, but don't go promising the world before you know what I shall ask of you. And others shall ask more from you than I ever will."

The Master of Training pulled open a desk drawer to his left, and lifting out a wide ledger with a blue dustcover. Holding onto a gold strip of fabric, he pulled open the book at a blank page. "Yes, there is information I need from you." With his left arm, Rav gripped hold of his quill. The iridescent pen glistened with all of the colours in the rainbow, and he dipped it casually into the inkwell. A thin near-invisible rivulet of ink flowed through the air between the tip of the quill and the inkwell. A ter'angreal, it was a creation of a dour and serious Seanchan Dedicated Rav had known. Whatever had happened to Daelar? Maybe he had been lost to the test for the Cord. Either way, it had been a few years since he had heard of the fellow.

In a scratchy hand, Ravak filled in some of the information he knew already. Artur Baeyn. Andor. Height and weight he could estimate. "Your age?" Rav wrote the answer into his ledger. "What weapons are you trained in?" He could see the man with daggers of either variety. Maybe a quarterstaff? Guessing at weapons was not easy. "What do you know of Warders, Artur? Do you have any interest or intention of becoming a Warder, with all that entails; Bonded to a channeller until the end of your days, or the end of theirs?"

Artur listened intently to the Master of Training, the older man spoke of responsibility. Artur wanted to learn, he did not know much of responsibility but he knew that he would have to obey if he wanted to get all he could from the tower. He understood it would not be easy, never easy.

Ravak took out a large book and started to write in it as he asked questions of Artur. Anxiety made Artur shake ever so slightly and his face hardened.

"Your age?" Ravak asked.

"I am 20 years old sir." Artur spoke lightly but clearly

"What weapons are you trained in?"

"I have a dagger, it was a gift years ago by the man that taught me all I know of survival. I would not know the first thing of fighting with it. Every time there has been a threat I have ran or slunk away. Thats one of the things he taught me sir is how to shadow prey. I used the technique to track rabbits and small animals to survive on." He closed his mouth with a snap, shocked that he had spoken so much. He had not spoken that much in one setting since he was a young boy.

"What do you know of Warders, Artur? Do you have any interest or intention of becoming a Warder, with all that entails; Bonded to a channeller until the end of your days, or the end of theirs?" The last question the Master of Training asked was more complex and caused Artur to be silent for several minutes as he thought out a complete answer.

"I know what the stories say. I know, well I believe that Warders protect those that can channel the one power. I have heard that means that they can sense each other even over long distance. There has also been rumors that it grants great strength and speed. I find the last part laughable but no one has ever told me different." He paused before continuing to gather his thoughts.

"I could see myself bonding to another and being their warder. I have always been weak so I would want to protect someone that could not fully protect them selves. I have been there it is a hard place. I hope that I would be given the choice to choice who I bond with."

The pen moved over the blank page, the Master of Training adding in the details Artur provided. He was a very poor judge of ages, so the man opposite could have been five years his senior as opposed to his junior. And a trained tracker. Most people came with some working knowledge of a weapon, but not so many knew how to track and hunt. Rav added a brief note in the margins of the page, to delay any wilderness training for a bit. He would need to learn how to fight with a knife against people, instead of using them on animals.

The comments on Warders were interesting. Oh yes, everyone knew the stories, but how much and what people believed was the part that kept him asking. No-one knew the truth aside from the bondmates themselves. Rav missed the nights when he could live off only a few hours. That and the lack of an assuring presence were the biggest things he missed. He shook the thought from his mind.

"Weak, eh? Not exactly an attractive proposition for an Aes Sedai or Asha'man." Rav smiled warmly. "Being bonded does not infer great strength or speed. That comes with the training, in preparation of becoming a Warder. Trust me, I never used to have these muscles. But that is what we here at the Yards are for; making you into a Gaidin, suitable for properly serving the will of the Tower. No brother or sister will be weak, not if they have earned the cord or the shawl, but I understand part of what you're getting at. And as for choice, you will certainly have that." Rav scratched his beard. "We are not the White Tower. Gaidin aren't plucked out from anywhere and bonded without much choice. Everyone is on an equal footing at the Grey Tower."

The last of the writing was finished. Rav turned the book to face Artur, and pointed to a blank line with the back of the iridescent quill. "If you wish to join the men and women of the Warder Yards, you need only make your mark here." Rav offered the quill to Artur, and took it back as soon as the man had signed his name. He dipped the quill back into the inkwell to deactivate the link.

"Artur Baeyn." The Shienaran's voice was ceremonial in tone. "You have just taken the first step on the path towards the fancloak. A small step. You'll have a few days to pick things up, but the training process will see you getting the proper training in whatever weapons you choose." The Gaidin's voice turned serious, but not unfriendly. "I shall warn you now Artur, you will be hurt. You will be broken. Even practice weapons can leave their mark, and their sting will be unkind. If you haven't experienced the touch of Healing before, you soon will." Rav had lived for months with his body a colourful tapestry of blues and browns and yellow bruises. "You shall also undertake daily lessons in the strategy and tactics of warfare. You will also be sharing in the chores that keep this place running." He added it like a casual afterthought, although it was the least pleasant truth about being part of the Tower. The Gaidin had duties rather than chores now, and whilst they were as hard and exhausting, at least he wasn't cleaning chamberpots or scrubbing floors like Artur soon would be.

The brawny Shienaran rose from his chair smoothly, deftly retrieving his longsword and sword-breaker from the weapon rack. The two weapons couldn't have been more different in design, the longsword ornate, the other simple, but he slid them into matching scabbards. "Come," he gestured towards Artur, then towards the door. The fancloak on his back shimmered brown, attempting to merge the Warder in with the walls.

They moved back through the Warder Hall. "You have now started your training here at the Warder Yards with the rank of Drin'far'ji. As the Master of Training, you report to me as your superior. Your lessons and other training will be directed by teachers. Some of these will be Gaidin, others Ji'alantin and Ji'dar. Regardless of your rank and theirs, if they are the teacher, you obey."

Ravak led the way back down the stairs into the great foyer. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai - the black of the Dragon's Fang conjoined with the so-called Flame of Tar Valon - was inlaid in the marble flooring, a striking impression on any that entered these halls. Leaving through a set of double doors, he continued the introductions without looking to see how far, or if, Artur was lagging behind. "As I mentioned, we are not the White Tower. Here, Gaidin are equals with an Aes Sedai or Asha'man. Likewise, you stand equal to a novice or soldier." A slow grin crossed his face. "Well, almost equal. Drin do have a liberty or two more. As you are pushed to your physical limits, you have free access to the Mess Hall. Novices and soldiers have prescribed meal times, but whenever you need food for energy, you can go to the Mess. I wouldn't have you falling over from exhaustion."

Now out in the cooler day's air, the sonorous percussion of wood striking wood and barked instructions filled the air. Trainees and teachers were sparring, practicing, and exercising in small groups, whilst others laboured alone out in the expansive yards. "You have a slight start, knowing something of the weapon that you carry. I would suggest thinking about what weapon or weapons you wish to gain mastery in. I have my swords, but you can see plenty of other weapons out there. Hammers, axe, pole arms, bows, throwing daggers of course." He grinned again, his hard face becoming genuinely warm. "Or you may also wish to learn how to use your own body as a weapon. If you end up disarmed or caught without a weapon, you still have to be able to defend yourself and your Asha'man or Aes Sedai. You will find postings for various classes later, but he sure to look up Unarmed Combat as one of them. We actually have a... Blademaster for that course." Rav shrugged at the unasked question. "I don't know how you become a Blademaster of fists, but Dakson Gaidin has done so."

Ravak stood and watched the scenes of training before him. He had a lot of pride invested in the regime that saw all of these men and women practicing before him.

The stoic Master of Training finished writing in the large book and spun it so Artur could sign his name and officially join the Tower. "If you wish to join the men and women of the Warder Yards, you need only make your mark here."

Artur took the offered quill and stared at the book for a moment as he took in what he was doing. It was a monumental moment, a change in his life. He could get up and walk away, no one would stop him. He breathed a deep breath and signed his name in the book. He handed the quill back as if it was a viper in his hands. He needed time to process the change. He was free to go anywhere moments before, now was bound to the tower.

The Gaidin spoke briefly to Artur, he listened with one ear and thought hard on the action he had just taken. When the other man rose from his seat and grabbed his weapons Artur rose and followed him out of the office. The pair walked through the Warder hall and the Master of Training spoke. "You have now started your training here at the Warder Yards with the rank of Drin'far'ji. As the Master of Training, you report to me as your superior. Your lessons and other training will be directed by teachers. Some of these will be Gaidin, others Ji'alantin and Ji'dar. Regardless of your rank and theirs, if they are the teacher, you obey."

Artur listened intently to the Gaidin as they walked, he was used to having superiors boss him around. The orphanage had not been kind, obedience was drilled in.

The pair walked the path Artur had taken before to enter the office, he took in the building in all it's grandeur as they walked. The walls were paneled wood for interior walls and stone on the outer walls, the wood made the building seem homey while spartan. The floor in the main hall foyer was stone with the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai engraved in more stone. The dragons fang and Tar Valon Flame inter woven, balance between the sexes. They passed suits of armor on display and left the large building. They walked around the Yards while the older man spoke of the ranks of other learning ranks.

The paired walked through the spacious yards and watched groups of men and women exchange blows with a collection of weapons. Artur took it all in, he had never seen some of the weapons. Men wailed on each other with hammers while a small group of women competed in archery. People from all the nationality's fought with sword or axe, even many with their hands and feet. One pairing of two women practiced stances with what looked to be fans with metal tips. The Gaidin spoke of learning whatever weapon Artur wanted. His hand instinctively went to his dagger at his side.

"Sir, I want to learn how to use my dagger correctly, I may never be able to lead an army into battle with a sword upraised but I am willing to fight one on one and fight in the shadows. Under the light, Teach me that and I will be eternally grateful. I have am interested in unarmed combat as you say. Also in throwing daggers, I have seen them thrown before it always looked to be fun." His face let a glimmer of a smile flicker pass.

"Will I share a room with another or room by my self? Also will I be taught of horses. I have never ridden one but I have seen many with them. They never let us ride them at the orphanage." Upon mentioning the orphanage he stopped talking and looked down at his boots. Heat flared on his face. He was ashamed of the place and angry for them not telling him more of the world.

"I wouldn't rule yourself out yet, Artur." It was an understandable reaction, believing one's self to be less able to do something when presented with so many examples of excellence. At least, that's how it probably appeared to be to the new Drin'far'ji. "If you want to lead an army in battle, sword aloft or otherwise, that is something that can be taught. You will learn of tactics and strategies during your time here, so hold off on any early judgements." The Shienaran's tone was soft. You had to nurture some things. "As for your current predilections, we can also assist there. As I mentioned, Dakson has a solid class when it comes to Unarmed. You will find plenty of choice when it comes to sparring with daggers, and plenty of teachers too."

Ravak beckoned for Artur to follow, as the red-haired Gaidin set off towards the large barn-sized building that flanked one side of the practice yard. "As for your accommodation, you will be sequestered alongside another Drin. Only once you have proven yourself worthy of the status of Ji'alantin will you merit your own room. But having someone to talk with during these early years should be of some comfort. As for horses, well, there are classes on that too. The only limitations on what you can or cannot learn will be your own motivation to doing so, and the number of hours in the day. Anyways, you will have a few days to settle into the routine here, and in that time you'll have a better idea of how things work around here."

Rav pushed the door open, moving into the large vaulted hall. "The Armoury." Along half the length of the building were racks upon racks of weapons, forged from everywhere between the Aryth Ocean to beyond the Spine of the World. Swords, axes, short bows, longbows, polearms - all of those and other weapons Ravak didn’t know how to use or pronounce could be found here. A couple of Drin were amongst the weapons, polishing them as the Gaidin had personally instructed. He kept a much closer eye on whom he assigned here after the incident.

"In here, you will find every weapon imaginable, and likely a few that you haven't imagined. Have a look around, I'm sure you'll find something of interest. Even if you don't take to something, it’s always good to know about what you may face off against. Not everyone in the world uses a sword. Farmers will hit you with shovels; Aiel will pierce you with spears and arrows; and Trollocs...” Ravak fixed the Drin with a stony gaze. "Sufficed to say, you want to be prepared for anything."

Artur listened to the Gaidin speak of lessons and accommodations. He was at ease in the room of weapons for an unknown reason, not unlike the feeling of sitting under a tree. Quiet and calm. The weapons that glittered in the torchlight could maim and kill but at rest were just ornaments on a wall.

He walked the large room as the Gaidin talked. He examined large spears with metal tips, that sat propped next to plain quarterstaff's with years of wear and tear. He walked along the weapons to examine axes with giant blades and hammers with heads bigger then his. He stared in awe like a country bumpkin at his first festival. Some weapons held gilt fit for a king others looked plain with years of use etched in them. All of the weapons looked ready to be used at a moments notice.

He moved down to look at the large collection of swords. He ran his hands over two handed swords and one handed long swords. Falchions and Broadswords next to Katanas. The blades were the same as the other weapons some covered with gilt and intricate designs in special holders and many plain swords ready for an average soldier to take into battle. More then one held a heron mark.

Round and square shields followed, both metal and wood. Each different from the last with emblems and colors to match the owners desires. Many with the symbol of the grey tower set on them.

A glittering collection of knives were housed next to the shields. The small blades drew his eye like a hungry beggar to a feast. Artur picked up more then one dagger and held it in his hand to test the weight disbursement. He felt a longing in his bones to carry the brightest blades into battle to wet their thirst.

A thought passed his mind as he examined the weapons, "Would I be able to have a weapon from this collection if I learned to use it Gaidin Ravak?"