After their encounter with the calamity of lightning Hadnox, Javal, and Cyran rested and went their separate ways to continue their adventures. During his downtime, Javal continued adventuring but after meeting such strong fighters like Leandros, Yasei, and Flint he decided he needed to become way stronger still. So in search of my strength, he decided to train under his previous master however as he was about to head out Nadia stopped him and said, “My liege why don’t you invite Sir Cyran to train with you and Master Emeraldcutter”.



He then turned to face her and said, “You know what you're right Nadia, I’ll do just that”.



He then sat down to compose a letter addressed to him, “Dear Cyran I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. After our last encounter with the lord of chaos, I have decided to seek more strength so we can destroy the other lords easier and not die. I am sending you an invitation to join me and train under my master's tutelage. I place my honor in saying that you will become even stronger than you are now if you decided to come and train under him. Meet me at my mother’s inn at Thorock, Dragon’s Cradle in a week and we can catch up and discuss what occurred before we head over to my master’s home".


Sincerely, Javal Zarrias”, he then wrote a cartoony version of his face to sign off the letter and gave it to his Songbird Griffin Kiwi to deliver to Cyran.

Cyran was often met with surprise from others when they learned he had no master to speak of when it came to weaponry, and the art of killing. The Specter’s quickness and surety during a contract, the precision with which he landed the killing blow, pointed to years of experience, likely honed under another skilled assassin. It was unfortunate that Cyran had not had a proper teacher, he thought. His skills were cobbled together from years of practice, hard lessons, and hours spent in an anatomy book learning the most vulnerable places on a human being. It took much trial and error for him to perfect his craft - become near-untraceable, a figure lurking in the shadows that struck quickly and painlessly. Efficient. Composed.

But that did not mean he was a master.

People, in his opinion, were works of progress. A culmination of their experiences and skills, and there was always more to learn from others. Perhaps he had not had a teacher, but he would do his best for others so that they would not want for survival skills. Whatever he could impart to others, such as Oriole and Andromeda, he would. And Cyran was never too proud to admit he had nothing left to learn.

Especially considering how recent events had left him feeling rather… lacking.

He’d never considered himself a boastful man. Far from it, in fact. But in the past few months - the past year, really - he’d been thrown every which way into situations he could not control and events in which he’d only been a hindrance rather than a help. Cyran was older than most of his companions, that much was true. But more often than not nowadays, he was acutely aware of this nebulous feeling that had been bothering him in the back of his mind. That with that youth brought limitless potential for growth, and he was as stagnant as ever, moving as slow as the gentle tide. There had been the battle against Ziev, the kidnapping of his partner and himself… and the list just kept growing.

It had been a few months since he’d seen Javal, but given their last encounter and the mission they’d undertaken together, the correspondence did not come as a surprise. There was always something that needed to be taken care of. Cyran figured it was only a matter of time before they found the next Calamity. The contents, however, were a pleasant surprise. He remembered that they’d spoken briefly of learning from one another, though he’d not expected the invitation to meat with Javal’s master. If it meant getting a little bit stronger, sharper with the blade, there was no reason not to.

Cyran thanked the little messenger bird who’d delivered the message with a treat and sent him back with a brief reply confirming that he would make his way to the Cradle.

Javal,

I hope this reply finds you in equally good spirits. I cannot lie and say that the same thing hasn’t been on my mind since our last battle in Skypeak. I wholeheartedly agree… I believe some mutual training would do good for both of us. And I have earnestly been looking forward to the chance to meet the teacher who helped facilitate the creation of the ‘Javal Style’. I will depart from my home in Darkveil soon after sending this letter - expect me at your inn within the next few days. I look forward to the opportunity to learn with you.

Best Wishes,

Cyran

The reply was signed with an equally shaky doodle of Kiwi that clearly was not rendered by artistic hands.

It didn’t take him long to pack his things and leave behind the orphanage with his apprentices, who were rather put out that their teacher was going on a learning journey without them. Cyran did his best to mitigate the hurt feelings with promises that he would bring back what he learned to teach them, as well. Only then did they reluctantly allow him to leave, making the journey from ash-filled lands to stormy ones. The way to the family inn was one he remembered well, having visited once before. By the time he made it to Javal’s home, the day had just broken, and the general ambient noise of the city was beginning to pick up and people were just starting to wake. Most paid no attention to the man draped in a dark cloak whom the morning shadows favored as he slipped through the streets and into a familiar, homey building, off to greet an old friend once more.

Javal stood outside of his mother’s tavern and inn sitting at one of her outside tables waiting for Cyran’s arrival. He was delighted to hear Cyran’s response and glad to say a very happy Kiwi.



He sat and waited until he saw a familiar hooded man approach him. He then hugged Cyran and said, “Hello there my friend, how’re you doing? How have you been?”.


After Cyran’s response, Javal says let’s speak somewhere more private in case of any prying eyes he then runs into the inn and walks up the stairs, and runs into his mother’s office.



He sits at his mother’s desk and says, “So Cyran what have you been up to? Have you gotten any stronger? Fought any other cool adventurers?”.



Aftering waiting for Cyran’s response he says, “Oh yeah Raoul has decided to leave Thorock and hit the ground running setting on his traveling journey in search for more cases. So we won’t have as easy access to information regarding the lords. Although perhaps we can communicate with him per messenger bird”.



He then remembers why they were here in the first case and says, “So are you ready to become stronger than you were before Cyran?”.

Cyran returned the hug with a fond smile that slowly crumbled as Javal pulled away. He wished he could say that everything had been bright and well, but that was not the truth. Though he supposed it had not been all misery, either. There had been hardships, and tense moments… but there had also been love and friendship.

“I’ve been as well as I can be, I suppose.” He replied. “Oh! I’ve gotten engaged, if you can believe it! I heard you met Del some time ago? She and I are to be married.” There was a bright, almost gushing smile on his face when he spoke before he put a hand on Javal’s shoulder. “And yourself? I hope you’ve been well? Staying out of danger?”

At Javal’s suggestion that they move somewhere more private, Cyran nodded. “Right.” He remembered the way to Javal’s mother’s office from the last time he had visited, but he followed the young swordsman up the stairs nonetheless. The room was how he remembered it - Cyran followed Javal’s lead and sat across from him, leaning back in the chair.

“Stronger…?” Cyran shrugged. “I don’t rightfully know.” It was difficult to quantify strength when he felt he had none. He’d allowed himself to get kidnapped, turned into an animal at the hands of a god-beast, even slain nagas. But the only thing that had truly grown stronger was Cyran’s connection to the shadows, as the darkness threatened to pull him further and further down. “I’ve been in a few scrapes here and there, but I haven’t fought any other adventurers…”

Traditionally, his skills didn’t lend to sparring. Cyran’s battles were more often than not life or death. He’d sparred a few times with people like C’leena, but that, too, had been cut short. He sparred with his students from time to time, but rarely did they like to battle with him head-on.

“What about you?” He could tell that Javal, since their last meeting, had been taking training seriously. There seemed to be more… confidence around him, in the way he held himself and even how he sat and spoke. “I’m assuming you’ve been busy yourself.”

He nodded when Javal spoke of Raoul leaving Thorock. Truth be told, he’d already had an idea of that. He’d done some digging of his own into the detective after their last meeting. Nothing too deep, but just enough to make sure that Javal’s friend wasn’t going to prove a danger to himself and his work. Last his information network had picked up, Raoul had been heading south to the Crescent Isles after some lead of his own. He rested his palm in his cheek as he responded. “Well I hope that wherever he is, he’s safe. As for the lords… I might be able to do some digging of my own.” Entry into the Winged Expeditionary Force had given him access to public records of destruction and rampaging monsters throughout Charon.

“But that’s not why we’re here today.” He murmured. Javal suddenly jumped back to the topic of training, clearly excited for this opportunity. The anticipation was infectious. “I’m looking forward to the opportunity to learn. I’m not much of a swordsman, though I relish the opportunity to grow stronger with my own blade techniques. So… where’s your master?”

Javal smiled widely as he heard of Cyran’s engagement, “Woah my friend I have not only met Del but asked her to take me on as a student because I was so impressed by her fighting skills”.



He then pats Cyran on the back with a wide grin, “I am so happy for you my friend, I hope nothing but the greatest for you and her, when’s the wedding and will I have an invitation?”.



He then responds to his question about his status, “I’ve been alright with a lot of learning and adventuring”.



As Javal sat in his mother’s chair he listened intently to Cyran’s responses to his questions, “I meet a lot of strong fellow adventurers. There was this one fellow named Leandros who squarely beat me in a spar, this other fellow named Yasei who also beat me but then he taught me how to handle my liquor a little bit more, and another fellow named Flint who spared me and I beat who I now call my rival”.



Javal smiled with excitement and giddiness and said, “Well, of course, we’re here to train now that we have caught up. Let us leave at once for my master’s place”.



He then hurriedly ran out of the room and down the stairs and was about to open the door and continue his way before hearing his mother call for him.



He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her. She smiled at her son and said, “Sorry dearie, could you do me a favor and cover those two tables on the right for me? Damien went out for some sort of investigation of his and forgot to tell me so I can have someone cover for him. Just cover those two tables quickly for me if you could”.



Javal smiles widely and says, “Of course Mother I shall do just that”, he then quickly walks over to the two tables and begins chatting it up with them and asking for their orders.



Paulina approaches Cyran and whispers, “Hello there Sir Cyran, may we speak as my son is busy at the moment”.



After waiting for his response she begins speaking, “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor to officially meet you Sir Cyran I’m Paulina or Paula if you’d like, and the mother of Javal. I’d like to thank you for looking out for him and keeping him out of danger. I appreciate you keeping him safe well as safe as and adventurer could be and being a good role model for him especially now. Javal’s always been looking for a male role model, especially after his father's disappearance his captain took on the role but unfortunately, he also disappeared and most likely died. He needs one especially now that my fiendish terrible father has returned to the picture and has been talking with him. I apologize for asking this but I ask that you look over him some more and make sure he is safe and on the same path of justice as always”.



Aftering hearing Cyran’s response Javal returns with a smile and hands his mom his apron and says, “Alright Mom I finished that table’s already left and Cyran and I have to visit Sir Ronrik’s place”.



He then hugs her and says goodbye before rushing through the door and into the city of Thorock in search of his mentor.

Cyran’s eye widened at Javal’s mention of training under Del. “I’m not surprised.” He laughed. “There are few as skilled as her in hand to hand combat. And of course you’re invited to any celebration there might be. You are a dear friend, after all.”

And then it was back to business as usual. Javal had no shortage of stories to share, as energetic and full of boundless youth as he was. Cyran was rather familiar with Leandros, a knightly fellow whom he’d fought side by side with many times before. Though he couldn’t say he’d ever sparred with the Lion, he’d seen Leandros’s prowess firsthand, and he could safely say that he would not relish being on the opposite side of the battlefield as the paladin. The other two were unfamiliar to him. And a rival? Was that something that the young folk had these days? He supposed in the spirit of friendly competition, it was helpful…

“It sounds like you’ve certainly been keeping busy.” Cyran noted. He couldn’t imagine living such a high-octane existence. But Javal was constantly pushing himself to be bigger and stronger like he had something to prove. Cyran was intrigued to learn how strong he’d grown with so much practice. And more than anything, he was grateful that Javal’s training had been taking place in controlled spaces against people who agreed to nonlethal battle, rather than through the school of hard knocks. Life had not yet beaten the innocence out of him. Cyran hoped it stayed that way.

He was interrupted from his musings by an unfamiliar voice calling out to Javal. The young fellblood went to go help whatever family member had summoned him, leaving Cyran standing near the entrance patiently when an unfamiliar woman approached him, calling him Sir like such fancy titles were meant for him. He nodded, a kind smile on his face.

“Of course. What can I help you with?”

He remained silent and attentive as the woman - Paulina - spoke. She introduced herself as Javal’s mother, which Cyran could have deduced from the similarities between the two, and Javal’s other siblings that Cyran had the pleasure of meeting his last visit here. He blinked, surprised, when she thanked him out of the blue for his friendship with Javal, and began spinning a horrible story. One of heartbreak. Losing a father and a surrogate one all at once, and the fear that overtook Paulina’s face when she spoke of her own family. That much, Cyran understood on a fundamental level - his heart ached for her. When she finished, Cyran pulled her in for a quick hug.

“I’m happy to be his friend. You’ve raised a good, honest kid - Javal is a delight to be around, and his sense of honor and goodness is second to none. I’m sorry to hear about his father, and your own.” He paused, thoughtful, before speaking. “As a father myself, I understand the desire to keep your child safe and away from bad influences. You can count on me to watch over Javal, and do my best to ensure that he stays on a good path. If your own father ever proves a problem, or your own safety is compromised, don’t hesitate to reach out to me, okay? I’ll take care of the problem.” Javal’s family had been good to him - they’d welcomed Cyran with open arms and treated him like family. The least he could do was return the favor and keep them all safe. “You can consider me a friend to the entire Zarrias family. Should you ever need me, write to Shade’s Valley Orphanage in Darkveil.”

He only hoped his words and promises were enough to assuage a mother’s worries.

A few moments later Javal returned, and Cyran nodded at the both of them. “I’ll take good care of him while we’re out.” He promised, patting Javal on the shoulder as the two set out for Javal’s master - this mysterious master who’d taught him swordsmanship. Cyran followed behind Javal, who knew where they were going, the assassin keeping a keen eye on their surroundings.

Javal ran into the Thorock streets knowing exactly where he was going he weaved and sidestepped the people in the streets who all yelled in happiness at Javal’s appearance. Thorock was his home he knew it like the back of his hand everybody here knew him. He made his way to the market district sprinting at this point trusting Cyran to be able to keep up with him. He eventually made his way to the middle portion of the district and stopped abruptly in front of a store with a sign on its roof identifying it as, “Namfoodle General Store” He opens the door quickly and hears a familiar bell ring.



He walks over to the counter and greets the gnome standing on it with a giant hug, “Oh it’s nice to see you too Javal I didn’t know you were in town. Oh and you’ve brought a friend with you here uh”.



Javal stops hugging him and then walks over to Cyran pats his back and says, “Yes Sir this here is my good friend Cyran he’s really strong and I was wondering if you could train us”.



The gnome fellow chuckles and cleans his bifocals and says, “Oh why hello there Mister Cyran is it, my name is Barbary Nanfoodle I’m just a humble general store owner don’t mind the boy he’s been in my store ever since he was a young lad the only training done with him is show him to stock shelves”.



Javal exclaims, “But Sir”.



Barbary coughs sharply signaling something to Javal he then quickly remembers something and says “Oh I forgot hey Sir can I get a flask of water from ya”.



“Sure my boy”, he responds gently.



Javal then walks over to get it and hops over the counter into the back of the store curiously disappearing from Cyran’s sight.



Barbary then chuckles, “Sorry about him he's always been a bit of a handful but enough about him. Would you like to buy anything? We have a great selection of items here, minor food and drink anything you’d like”.

Javal certainly possessed boundless energy. Half-jogging through the streets of Thorock after the swordsman, he was distinctly reminded of a time he’d once run after an energetic child through the sprawling halls of a manor where his only source of happiness was the child clapping her hands together and giggling with glee over the fact that she was evading him. A memory so potent that it ached, piercing at his temples like a needle…

Cyran shook his head and returned to his trek. People were greeting Javal with familiar smiles, only cementing the fact that he truly was a fixture here. It made sense, given how sociable he was. He treated strangers like old friends and friends like family. Eventually, they made their way to a general store - a rather nondescript place, but given he was a contract killer running an orphanage he knew better than to make snap judgements. He kept his hands in his pockets, nonchalant, as he silently followed Javal inside.

A gnome stood on the counter, brightening when he saw Javal enter. The two embraced, the gnomish fellow quite jovial. All in all, the picture of a reunion between friends, one that Cyran didn’t find particularly jarring. At least, not until the gnome started lying to him.^[1]

It was not Javal’s fault, really. He could not have known of the darker nature of Cyran’s profession, or that the assassin had a somewhat a cute sense of paranoia when it came to those lying to him. Or that when he’d lost his eye in that tomb all those months ago he’d supplemented it with some extra vision of his own - the ability to cut through lies like a knife, to ensure that he would never be made a fool of. And the moment the gnome offered Cyran his name and profession, the rune under his right eye obscured by the eyepatch lit up, a faint sensation in the back of his mind.

Lies, lies, lies.

Even Javal seemed to think the introduction strange, something that was quickly silenced by a harsh cough. Something that perhaps someone less keen would have missed, though Cyran was no amateur. He would not have the wool pulled over his eyes so easily. But for what purpose was the gnome lying to him? Perhaps some sort of hazing, or test. Yes, that had to be it. It was not… Cyran’s favored style of teaching but he was willing to play along. After all, he’d promised to come into this with an open mind and a desire to learn.

“I don’t mind.” Cyran assured with a small smile, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve been a parent - I know how to deal with handfuls.” He blinked at the sudden offer. Buy anything? He had most everything he needed, but again - he supposed he would play along here. He nodded, reaching into his bag for a handful of solars. “Sure. Javal’s supposed to be taking me to do some training today, so I’ll buy some water and snacks for him to make sure he doesn’t go hungry and overwork himself.” He grabbed a couple of metal water canteens, which cooled significantly when in contact with his cold skin, and some bread and dried meat. Still waiting for Javal, he handed the gnome whose name he still did not know a handful of solars, waiting for his change in return.

---

1. Insight Rune

Barbary nods agreeing with Cyran’s statement, “I’ve seen the lad grow up here before my very own eyes, ever since his father died I’ve tried my best to look out for him and his siblings. Me and his father were good friends when he and his wife made their home here in Thorock. His father never struck me as the unfaithful or evil type so when he disappeared it hit the community and me very hard”.



Barbary puts on a small smile on his face as he says, “Alright there stranger, I’ll be right back with your change”, and he hops down the counter off of a small set of stairs behind him and scurries through the door behind him where Javal entered and shuts it close.



Noises of drawers opening and solars being dropped can be heard as the gnome fellow opens the door and returns to Cyran with boundless amounts of solars.



The fellow struggles to carry it all while supporting himself with his cane but manages to walk up the small stairs and onto the counter.



He drops the solars on the counter and smiles, “Here you go good sir”, and sets down about triple the needed change.



If Cyran were to take a deeper look at Barbary he’d notice that Barbary wears dim bifocals and walks with a cane, one could assume the old gnome was probably blind.



The gnome smiles and asks, “Alright then is there anything else I can help with or will that be all?”.

Hearing the ‘shop owner’ talk about his relationship and care for Javal was rather sweet. It was nice to know that Javal had a lot of people looking out for him, especially given whatever happened to his father…

Because Cyran could not bring himself to believe that such a sudden and uncharacteristic disappearance was of the man’s own accord. It took a killer to understand when people were killed, and something about this didn’t sit right with him. Cyran pursed his lips, thinking back to what Javal’s mother had told him. Her father was supposedly an unkind, odious man. It was not uncommon for fathers to dispose of their belligerent stepsons.

But that was a query for later, not now. Cyran shook his head and returned his attention to the gnomish fellow, who’d already turned away to bring back change for the money Cyran had spent. Cyran kept a hand on the dagger on his belt, posture deliberately relaxed while he waited. Ready for some sort of ambush if that was Barbary’s game. But none came, and eventually, he returned with a rather large stack of solars in his hands. Cyran stared at the fortune, bewildered.

This… this was far more than he’d given the man. Was this some kind of joke? No, upon closer inspection the elderly man appeared to be blind. Perhaps he’d not seen how much money he’d taken. Liar or not, Cyran didn’t need this, nor did he have any inclination to rob someone who most likely needed this money. This was the man’s livelihood. Cyran was a killer, not a thief. He pushed the money back towards the man, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Um, there seems to be some sort of mistake. This is far more than I need. Please, take this all back upstairs before someone unsavory sees this. Do you need some help returning it to its proper hiding space?”

The gnome fellow begins laughing at Cyran’s suggestion of making a mistake and says, “Well well you sure know how to pick them Javal''.



Javal then comes slamming the door open behind the gnome fellow smiling from ear to ear and giggling, “Yay you did it Cyran you passed master’s test now you can train” and goes in for a high five at Cyran.



The gnome fellow chuckles, taking his dim bifocals off his face and revealing his silver-colored eyes, “Sorry for the test young man, usually I have all outsiders from Thorock take it. I learned my lesson after a student of mine went rogue. I can't allow my knowledge to be used by those who would use it to do evil. I was going to take Javal’s word about you at first but when you walked in the shop the large amounts of dark energy coming from you unnerved me so I decided to give you the test. Javal has a strange record of suggesting students to me one time he even brought me a regular squirrel”.



Javal interjects, “But master he looked so strong and I mean I was right now look at him he is one of Charon’s most well-known wrestlers. I think he’s about to have a match with Derek the Destroyer. I can ask him for front-row tickets for us”.



The gnome fellow then says now looking straight at Cyran, “Oh my apologies I forgot to properly introduce myself my name is Sir. Ronrik Emeraldcutter, former holder of the title Charon’s strongest swordsman for a time but that was a long time ago. I am quite past my prime. I'm 380, I come from the age of heroes where many adventurers explored the land and slew great beasts. I fought alongside many powerful heroes even being entrusted with their equipment after their deaths. After meeting my wife I decided to settle down here in Thorock specifically because there are quite several people after me still after all of these years another reason why I choose to test you”.

“Huh?” Cyran’s brows furrowed as Javal popped out of some back room, as excited as a child on the morn of Winter’s Crown. Passed the Master’s test? What in the world was he speaking about? Still thoroughly confused, Cyran held up his hand to accept the high-five, looking between the elderly gnome and the young fellblood as he started putting the pieces together in his mind.

He’d known that the gnome was lying about something, though he’d not been quite sure what. As the man pulled off his glasses, though, Cyran realized that this had to have been some setup on the gnome’s part. The elven assassin listened silently while the gnome offered his apologies, explaining that he’d been just as unnerved by Cyran’s presence.

Cyran rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. He’d never considered that the sheer power of the shadows that clung to him made others uncomfortable. Or perhaps the gnome could simply sense the blood on Cyran’s hands, and the lives he’d taken. Another cruel reminder that Cyran was not the mild mannered man he played at being. Or perhaps the person he wanted to be.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you in that way…” Cyran murmured, staring at the tips of his boots, blushing all the way to the tips of his elongated ears. “I understand the sentiment to protect your students, though. I do the same for mine.”

He manged a small laugh at Javal’s story about the squirrel, unable to tell if the young man was joking or not. Surely, it was in jest…? He hoped…?

Please, Lunala, let that be a joke.

He straightened as the man introduced himself, giving his true name this time. It rang a faint bell - back during his noble days, he’d likely heard word of this man’s exploits if he was truly as strong as he claimed. They were around the same age, though in terms of combat prowess and experience, this man was leagues Cyran’s senior. No wonder Javal was so versed in the blade.

And to hear that he’d been able to do all of that and retire…

Cyran offered the man a small smile. “As I said before, there’s no need to apologize. I would do the same for my students should they ever bring someone to my doorstep.” He’d made a promise to himself that he would come with an open mind to this venture, and he intended to keep that promise. “I’m sorry to hear about your student that went rogue. We can train the younger generations all we want and equip them with the tools to survive, like giving ourselves a piece of them. I understand that loss might sting, Master Emeraldcutter.” He offered a small bow. “And I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn what you have to offer.”

“It is alright young one, your unnerving presence just caused me to initially distrust you, you see I have fought countless necromancers and umbramancers before and I’ve never met a friendly one. I’ve never taught one either before”, he says before Javal interjects by saying, “Remember him master?”.



“Oh yes, you’re right he was a strange case himself to be fair so I forget that he technically is one as well”.



Ronrik then focuses back on the conversation at hand, “I will go to great lengths to protect my students and my loved ones even this old man has enough power in him to do that at least”.



Ronrik responds to Cyran’s comment about rogue students, “Yes for no matter how strong a person may be physically some people are weak-minded like that student in particular”.



Ronrik then smiles slightly hearing Cyran’s readiness to learn, “Alright then I’m excited to teach you two what this old bag of bones knows'".



“Oh how could I forget?”, he says, “Javal can you please get the building ready?”.



“Yes master”, Javal responds, walking over to the windows and closing them not allowing anybody to peek inside, and opening the entrance door to place a closed for the day sign.



Ronrik chuckles and says, “That’s better now let us begin”, he then walks down the stairs and moves a lever causing the entire building to shake for a moment.



The general store soon changes as its shelves and goods are replaced with shelves of weapons, scrolls, training equipment and such.



He sighs and says, “It’s been a while since I’ve had to change the store to its hidden appearance”.



He then faces Cyran and says pointing upward, “Upstairs is my wife’s sewing store. She was a well known kunoichi back in her days, we’ll talk further with her later”.



He then points down and says, “Downstairs is a training area for practical combat practice”.



“First things first, Cyran, what weapons do you use? Can you tell me your fighting style? What do you want to improve? I want to know what I’m working with before we begin. I know Javal’s fighting style pretty well due to being the one to train him so I have no questions about him”.

Cyran flushed at being referred to as a necromancer. Though it was not… a particularly incorrect notion that those of his arcane inclinations used their dark magic to puppet the dead, Cyran’s skills did not particularly lend to that type of practice. Nor did he have especially high opinions of necromancers. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. My magic isn’t something that I’m seeking training for.” He did not elaborate on why.

Cyran nodded as the master expressed his care and concern for his students. That was a sentiment that the both of them shared. Fostering a safe environment where students felt protected, and shielding them from the evils of the world until they were prepared enough to deal with them. Though Cyran thankfully, could not understand the pain that Master Ronrik expressed, he could sympathize. But even that sympathy was distant. Cyran did not have the hanging threat of losing a student to some nebulous dark side. Because where Master Ronrik raised heroes, Cyran trained killers.

The sound of Javal scurrying away to close up the shop brought Cyran back to reality. He blinked as the room around them began to shake, some sort of enchantment mechanism moving the walls and floors until the store was more akin to a dojo. Cyran appraised the new environment, taking in the weapons on the wall, training dummies propped up wherever there was free space, and scrolls hanging along wooden panels proclaiming statements in elegant Crescent Islander speech - a language he did not understand for all his familiarity with it.

“I’d be interested to learn what a kunoichi has to offer, certainly.” He’d not had the opportunity to learn much about the manner of stealth employed by the rogues from the southern island countries. Though Cyran had a vested interest in learning how to utilize all manners of stealth - in his line of work, adaptability was the name of the game. He could not afford to be slow.

Idly, he could not help but wonder if Del knew a little of the ways of the Kunoichi. From what he’d heard of Maruyama, the man seemed the type to impart upon her any tools she might need to survive.

Cyran pulled out a small vial from his pocket in answer to the swordmaster’s question - after a quick second, he’d shaped the bright blue slime from within to a familiar shape until it was near-indistinguishable from his own daggers.^[1]

“My fighting style is traditionally built around knives. I commonly dual-wield, and since I’m ambidextrous I can fight with equal precision in both hands. But I’m just as adept with one blade as I am two.” He explained, twirling the fake-dagger around in his hands. “I, ah, am more than happy to give a demonstration of whatever you’d want to see. I do warn you, I don’t fight with real weapons in combat scenarios.”

He did not sound particularly apologetic at that statement - merely matter of fact. He would not use lethal weapons in nonlethal scenarios - not when an assassin’s instinct guided him towards killing blows whose strength he could not mitigate.

Well.

He supposed Ronrik would see for himself soon enough.

Cyran shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting to see what the swordsman would ask of him.

---

1. Shaping putty

Ronrik’s eyes slightly furrowed at Cyran’s remark about his magic not needing training but moved on seeing as Cyran had already passed his test.



The gnome chuckled saying, “Yes aside from her unbeatable sewing skills she was widely known in her prime as the Crescent Isle’s Nightstalker due to her dangerous skills".


The gnome then ran his hands through his beard paying deep attention to Cyran’s responses to his questions after he stayed silent for a moment thinking of how he should approach the man’s training before saying, “Knifework is indeed a powerful skill to have especially as a combatant it’s quick and efficient style is second to none among the blade family".


He turns to face Javal and says, “I have an idea for how we can get started. I would like to see you in combat with Cyran and I also want to see Javal use all of his forms of my swordsmanship to see if he still knows them”.



Javal looks at his feet nervously feeling a little guilty about forgetting one or two of the forms before coming back and smiling widely and saying, “That sounds great sensei let’s get started”, he then opens the door he went into before.



“Alright then”, Ronrik says as he walks after Javal motioning for Cyran to walk alongside them, The room behind is very similar to the one before although it does seem to have more cloth and strange shiny sparkling balls.



They then go through the room and enter a hallway with two doors, the group walks to the door on the right side of the hallway and walks down a set of stairs before seeing a training room filled with puppets, dummies, and swords on the wall.


Ronrik stretches his arms out and says, "Here it is Fair Play's Training Room this room has produced some of Charon's strongest".