Timeline

29 122 Venna 22th Jerrid's arrival at Othala (tavern)
29 128 Gwion 02th Jerrid's arrival at Monsegor (a curious letter)
29 152 Rayda 02th Jerrid visits McBlein (a small visit)
29 153 Rayda 03th Jerrid pledges allegiance to the House of McGreggor (the chest)

A first spar

Gavin had dismissed him without a further word - as usual - and Wallace had left his father's chambers quietly and a little ill at ease - as usual. He had had to accept their restrained kind of relationship but he had never been able to get used to his father's cold inaccessibility and although he would not want to admit it to himself the experience hurt him ever anew. A deeply ingrained sting that slowly transformed his bitter disappointment to a new kind of feeling that was now lurking veiled beneath his loyalty...

Wallace repressed his disgruntlement. His father was a very special man, he was the one who had been there before him and he was to respect his nature - end of discussion.

In the meantime Wallace' deep fatigue had changed into a nervous, headache-haunted hustle. Briskly he crossed the courtyard, fetched a sound blade from the armoury and went to see Jerrid. Now that the young one had cleared this most important hurdle it was time to find out about his abilities.

***

Minutes later they had made their way to a small hall - nothing to write home about still spacious enough for a decent spar and Jerrid's heart was pounding with excitement. The blade McGreggor had chosen for the young Zarkan was a well-balanced bastard sword - one of those blades that typically had longer handles with special "half-grips" which could be used by either one or both hands knowing this would allow Jerrid to chose his prefered combat style.

Holding his own weapon - a bastard sword also - at a low guard Wallace took a defensive combat stance. "Come at me" ,he invited the young man smilingly. How many times had he been in Jerrid's situation ? How many times had his master spoken these words.. always remaining the passive part, the defense.. yet the one who had gained the upper hand after just a few seconds. The lord interestedly watched the young man's moves as he took his mark.

Jerrid understood that he had to give and show a full engagement. How would this test go? How could he fully show aggression, if he had none toward Wallace ? He felt the hilt in his hand and it was at a perfect balance. The texture of the grip was exelent, and would hold tight to his hand for unorthodox manuvering.

Jerrid was now concentrating on his opponent, sizing him… feeling him out. Wallace was at a defensive stance. It didn’t look so at first… “So, he wants to feel the power of my strokes’, thought Jerrid. Trying to calculate what he knew of Wallace, his mind was racing. Before him was a fencing Master, and no doubt a tournament champion. The calmness in McGreggor also gave away that he had real combat experience and would be prepared for anything he could possibly volley at him.

Jerrid held the blade with balance, as he near circled Wallace’s left. Spotting a small snicker on Wallace's face, the young Kilian engaged. He faux a shallow thrust to his opponents left, then coming up quickly with a controlled aggressive swing to Wallace's face. He pared it off and both were at it in full contest now. Steel to steel… er... wood to wood. (how about changing your description of the wood swords?- will delete this later)

His thoughts were lost as his instincts took over. His blade was now following his predetermined calculations and strategy. He had only to provide the spirit. He was engaging like he never did before (with his father). The style was old, but solid and effective… He sensed Wallace had slightly backed a bit… This gave him more spirit, as he was gaining advantage. He was going deeper and giving his strokes more power. Yes, Wallace was backing. He’d have him soon against the wall. Jerrid’s spirit was at full confidence… This was working well…

Then laughter came out of Wallace and in 2 more pars…Jerrid’s blade had been knocked out of his hand! Wallace was still amused and relaxed his sword. A big grin was on his face. Jerrid was in an awkward situation. He had engaged Wallace with full intent of winning this match and wasn’t sure if Wallace took this as check. Jerrid was still side stepping empty handed and could see a curious look on Wallace. He was close to the wall that he had intended for Wallace. His thoughts were on the lance display hanging there. It was the closest arms he could get to at this time. He went for it…

Not the lance, but the shield! He swooped it off the wall and flung it horizontally at Wallace’s upper torso. Wallace had to duck… With this opportunity, Jerrid dove for the sword that had been disengaged from him! It wasn’t over!

As he gripped it and came up in one quick motion…. Wallace’s blade was at his throat already! Surprised…. Jerrid froze and held still…. “How did he get on me so fast?” Sweating out this thought,…and a moment of eternity… …Wallace, it seemed… Had toyed with him.

"Appearances are often deceptive." Wallace was pleased to find out Jerrid's style was effective and he would not easily surrender. It would serve as a solid basis for further improvement. In spite of this he would not praise the young man.. not yet. Premature commendation would only dampen his scholler's endeavour.

The young lord hisself had been trained by different kinds of instructors, each of them having his own methods and convictions. Some of them seeming reasonable to Wallace.. others agreeable.

'Sometimes greatest benefit derives from the lessons one hates the most.' By now he would have to establish his own teaching style, that was what gradually dawned on him and caused his grin to fade. "In the confident expectation of an easy victory thou headest for a fatal defeat" ,commented he seriously.

Finally the Othalan lowered his blade and stepped back, giving Jerrid enough space to pick up his sword. "Engage" ,ordered he resolutely. 'Let's see what thou makest of this realization.'

... A moment of eternity had passed. Jerrid was looking up at Wallaces face now. It had quite a smirk on it. Jerrids' heart still raced and his adrenaline was no weaker, but he knew to stand down. Wallace had made his point... to his neck, quite clearly.

Rising to his feet, Wallace had let him know the mistake he'd made. Overconfidence and loss of focus had cost many men their heads. Jerrid had just been shown not to let your head get ahead of itself... Or it just may roll. Jerrid understood now. He was a fast learner. He had to be. He had not been borne with a blade in his hand. He had been only 12 when he had started training with his father. Before that, it was just fun and games of knights and dragons with his brother.

He knew his form was solid, he had just got carried away. "Yes... Wallace could of had me at any time... but what would of been the point... he had to gage me." thought Jerrid as he was re-sizing his opponent again. He was now stepping and making his way to the center of the room. Wallace knew what he was up to and approved with a slight nod. At the center now and with plenty of room around them.

Jerrid was focusing on Wallaces' stamina. He had picked up a sense that Wallace was on overdrive. Could he wear Wallace down with a good strong spar? Jerrid engaged! He kept it clean and concentrated. Wallace was responding well... too well. Jerrid could not gain a step. This man was a solid wall!

Applying more power and strength in his assault... Was also not gaining him anything but a burning sensation in his arms. He was loosing stamina! ...Or was he?... No!... Wallace was putting more pressure on Jerrid. That is what he was feeling. "Don't loose it!", his thoughts screamed.

Jerrid was now two handing the sword and this enabled him to keep up his relenting onslaught with strength. But how much longer? Wallace wasn't giving... not budging. He also was two handing his bastard, but know Jerrid felt it even more. Jerrid had never lost focus, but had gained very sore arms. His muscles were screaming in pain... but he could not let up. "Wallace must be weakening by now!", his thoughts begged.

Ney... This went on for quite some more time, till Jerrids' strength was diminishing fast. And showing. "No!... Don't loose focus..." was his last thoughts before his sword started to swing without so much power as coming from a two year old. It wasn't long now...

Wallace simply pushed Jerrid on the shoulder with his free hand, after Jerrids' blade swung pathetically past his par. The younger man collapsed... er... stumbled to the floor. All his energy drained, but the minimal amount to be able to pick himself up off the floor. He just stood there sweating as if fire was all around him. Breathing like he had just run a marathon up the Monsegor Hills.

Wallace didn't show it, but it was a pretty long spar and he himself had gotten up quite a sweat. As he looked up at Wallace, Jerrid was still panting heavily. But at least he had stayed focus and held on to the blade. He finally nodded to Wallace and let his blade, which he was holding (as a crutch), fall...

Jerrid's endurance was above-average and he had put up a tenacious fight. Nevertheless he was the one who had almost been collapsing whereas the other man did not look very drained. He was sweating, yes.. but that seemed to be about all. The realization in fact was a bit disquieting to the youngster still the burning pain all over his body would not let him believe it was just a weird dream.

What he had just experienced was not to compare with any other spar he had fought in before. Usually his persistence and grim struggle would have weakened his opponent sufficiently to reveal shortcomings in his technique. Something, just a little instant off-guard that would have allowed him to make a breach. But his tactic did not work with Wallace - it seemed the lord simply never dropped his guard. What made Jerrid become aware of another disturbing detail... up to now Wallace had not even attacked...

Discontentedly he nodded his retirement.. as slowly an anxious question crept up from the dark depths of his soul.. 'Am i this incapable ?'

Observing the Kilian there was no need for McGreggor to interpret much - the younger man's body language and facial expression let it out. Astonishment. Unbelief. Uncertainty.

Jerrid was calling his ability into question - Wallace knew the feeling only too well. There were experiences in life one would never forget. Still these unpleasant occurences were crucial to a mans's development and would separate the chaff from the wheat - those who were blaming this or that for their failure and others who would overcome their frustration and used these valuable opportunities to reconsider, to correct theirselves and to improve. After all Wallace had seen and heard of his fresh scholler he was the wheat - and would now be ready to learn.

"There's nothing wrong with thy staying power" ,Wallace responded to the unspoken question. "Thou but trustest in thy stamina in a way that makes thee beeing lavish with thy strengh."

"Now according to given laws, what can i do to move more economical ?" It was just a rhetorical question, nevertheless it served its purpose. Jerrid was considering the subject before the answer was given and his expectation would either be confirmed or discarded. In any case he would keep it in mind.

"Exactly. I have to minimize friction. This is what we do when sharpening a blade. For - if thou thinkest it over Jerrid - whetting a sword means nothing else than to smooth out tiny irregularities - the smoother the blade the lower the resistance - no matter through what thou cuttest."

"The same is it with thy style." ,continued he after having given Jerrid some moments to reflect and to draw his own conclusions, "In order to become more efficient thou hast to polish up.. to become smooth and flowing like water. Thou canst move a lot more economical if thou takest advantage of some simple laws."

"As an example.." ,Wallace brought up his blade, "whenever something is moved it takes energy to start the motion" ,he swung back to indicate the process of building up momentum, "..and it usually takes at least the same mostly more energy to stop the movement..." ,a strong blow was awkwardly stopped it in midair, "..unless the moved object is hitting an obstacle."

This said he gave a nearby model a violent blow that would make the target sway.. while he himself stood firm.

"So the long and the short of it - do not parry where thou canst easily make way - rather let thy opponent carry out the double work when he hath to stop the blow he hath started to come back on thee. Furtheron do not attack while thy opponent is on his guard - it is unproductive and means wasting thy strengh. Instead of moving against such an obstacle put him off his guard before thou strikest the decisive blow. Pretending weakness is only one way to do so."

"In the end Jerrid" ,a little smile flickered across his face, "each contest is just a battle of wits."

And then Wallace did what Jerrid had feared he would - the Othalan returned to his mark. "And now get up ould man and engage." Spotting Jerrid's pained expression he winked amusedly, "I guess i forgot to mention that feigning weakness will of course not work with me.."

Eye... for in a real engagement, was he to give into retirement because he got tired ? He knew what Wallace meant. Jerrid looked at the bastard he hoped would not have had to be picked up again... Other than put back in its place for the day. But it wasn't going to be so. He wasn't here on a vacation.

Wallace was encouraging him to re-engage. This, Jerrid knew was necessary. Would one just lay his weapon down and expect his enemy to understand he was exhausted ? Would one have a time limit for fighting in a battle? "I'll fight till I'm tired, then I'll rest?" Ney... He had used his strength as Wallace pointed out too lavishly, too quick.

His training on Kilia 4 was based on a proven effective style. He couldn't understand fully what Wallace was really trying to tell him. Jerrids engagement was based on; "Hit your enemy hard and quick."

A Millennia past, this style was the only way to go against a Jedi. The only way to fight with a crystalen blade, against a hot saber. Sure... they were practicing with alloy bastards, but when engaging an enemy with the new light sabers, there was no time for fancy sword play. The crystalen infused blades would not last too long.

Your opponent must be in-capacitated quickly, or you'll shortly find yourself without a blade.

Jerrid had given and used up his full strength against Wallace. Wallace demanded more. Jerrid as tired as he was, picked his mark again and fixed his focus on his opponents eyes once more.

Jerrid now slowly walked over to the corner table... Wallace gave him a curious look. (Was he going to throw something else at him ?)... Picking up the pitcher of water while still eyeing Wallace, he chugged away part of his thirst. He poured the rest on the floor and reset the pitcher back, next to the empty cups.

Wallace smiled. Why allow your opponent more advantage. Yes... Wallace could of used some of that water. It was a good move for Jerrid. The younger man still eyeing his opponent, stepped back over to his blade. With his foot, he propped it back into his hand. Slowly he wiped the execs water from his lips. His muscels were slowly recuperating. The talk and instructions Wallace had given him, allowed him some rest.

Wallace was once again waiting for his engagement. Jerrid was a fast learner. A bit rusty, but a fast learner nevertheless. It had been two years since he had sparred. Two years since he left Kilia 4. This first engagement was a good unexpected refresher course. Many errors he had made. Mistakes that more than likely would represent themselves in other ways. His faults were becoming apparent. And... Thank Sheia, they were coming out in here, and not on the battle field.! "

The water, the blood of mother earth had quenched his thirst and revitalized him enough to regain what strength he needed now. These lessons were invaluable. He must flow like the water, as Wallace had indicated. The water that now Wallace had little of, left in his body. He had made sure to cut this supply from his opponent. "He's not sweating", thought Jerrid. He could tell by the parched lips on his contestant, that Wallace thirsted!

As he came close to within striking range, he re-engaged...

Jerrid had reflected upon Wallace's words. It was right - he had used up his strength and given his best to hit his opponent in a quick, decisive contest as he had been taught to back on Kilia 4. It had not worked with Wallace.

His second attempt had been to exhaust him -- still his own style obviously took more strengh than the Othalan's one. Now Wallace had explained something about fighting more 'economically' -- it did not sound bad still why should one keep his strength if the weapon would not survive more than two engagements ? This was what every swordsman would have to keep in mind if fighting a jedi and it probably was the reason why Jerrid had been feeling so tired after the second contest.. dead tired.

Mayhaps it had been caused psychologically a bit also - for now after this short rest and little refreshment he had recovered far enough to attentively circle Wallace in search of a gap in his guard.. this time it had to work. Jerrid had seen to it not to waste any advantage and due to simple laws, Jerrid had to grin with the thought, Wallace might soon commit a mistake...

..but for now he kept Jerrid busy through a nimble series of blows and although he had made more lunges than before the clash of blades was not heard as often and violent as before. Jerrid had made way where he could, always careful not to loose too much ground into one or the other direction. Wallace was pleased, yet he felt the fatigue of the earlier gos.

Jerrid but was getting tired of this game. 'Do not attack while thy opponent is on his guard.. put him off his guard before thou strikest.. .. alright..'. Observing his counterpart the young man had now turned his back on one of the sources of illumination... suddenly ducking to expose his opponent to the blinding light his blade swung inwards towards Wallace's tight.

The ploy had gained Jerrid precious splits of seconds -- Wallace flinched from the blade but his move was unsteady, time enough for Jerrid to lunge at him with a rapid succession of well aimed cuts. McGreggor gave way yet Jerrid would not lessen his attention or underestimate his adversary - not this time.

For this was the third try at Wallaces' defenses. Not often does one get a chance at a second, even a third try, to break through someone's resistance. But... this one body contact, indicated that Wallace could be penetrated. There was definitely a breach in this wall. For it had stood solid and ungiving, in countless onslaughts. Now Jerrid was determined, focused and unrelenting, as he felt Wallace was fending off his blows with less strength. He knew not to lose his focus, but a frustration had built up.

He had to break through now. A new energy was starting to fuel Jerrid. With each passing moment and his focus fixed on his opponent, it started to re-energize his tired mussels. He was feeling more efficient, more fluid and extremely fixed on crushing his opponent. There came this thought, this realization that Wallace was indeed being compromised. This new found energy... this strength.

Suddenly... Jerrid backed off and disengaged. This was Wallace... These were lessons! Jerrid quickly stepped back. This time... he wasn't breathing so hard. What had he allowed!

Wallace did not follow up, but rather stood there... staring at his opponent. At the possible point of victory, Jerrid had withdrawn. Just as this young man had started to flow like water... he stopped.

A fire within Jerrid had started to rage during this bout... and he did not take notice of when it sparked. (He was too fixed on Wallace.) It would of overwhelmed him...... Taken over him.

Victory was all he had focused on. And it brought forth something that he had not expected. He broke away to collect himself and quelch it. He was a Zarkan - The Dragon Fire would not dictate his actions. The victory would not of been his. Should he win or loose this contest, it would be by his own untainted spirit. Jerrid stood away from Wallace and lowered his blade and head.

It was very apparent Jerrid had stopped the offense while it appeared to be in his favor. "What stopped him?", was on McGreggors mind. "He had an edge and didn't use it" He had felt Jerrids anger in his frustration of the engagement. And it suddenly recollected and withdrew with Jerrids own disengagement. This young man before him purposely lost the advantage.

Then Wallace saw Jerrid recollect himself and refocus. His spirit rejuvenated. Jerrid had slapped the Dragon down and it was at bay. His thoughts and spirit were his own again. He re-engaged a surprised Wallace.

Wallace was surprised in a sense of finding this revelation about Jerrid. He sensed this young mans spirit in the renewed assault as genuine again. He had now just realized, that he had momentarily felt Jerrids dark side. It had tried to flare, but been quickly pushed aside.

"What's this?", Wallace was now thinking. He himself had now awakened to a renewed energy. This revelation had sparked his own fire. He was back at full par and had a renewed interest in this development.

This was no strange feeling that Wallace felt just a moment ago in Jerrid. "Yes... this one is fighting an inner force... and he's quelching it... holding it down." Wallace remembered all too well when he had this inner fight also. He had seen enough sword play for the day...

With some quick moves he met Jerrid's blade in the air.. seconds later they stood eye in eye - their blades crossed and immobilized in a close up combat stance. "Enough for now, Jerrid" ,Wallace said after some seconds. "This was a good fight."

Lord McGreggor slowly took off strengh, lowered his blade and stepped back. Still observing Jerrid's every single move. 'He does refer to the other thing..',somehow the young man felt Wallace' words were not concerning the fencing.. at least not solely.

Now that the clash of blades was no longer sounding through the hall they were surrounded by a smooth kind of silence. A faint movement of the air brought a little refreshment.. only now Wallave became fully aware of how thirsty he was after three comparatively long rounds. The water but was all gone.. spilled over the floor. Nodding at the wet floor the older man gave a little smile, "crafty bastard". He was dying of thirst still the things that had been revealed shortly ago were much more important than a cup of water.

"Now.. the past rounds were very interesting. I wonder.. if i had been thine enemy Jerrid, what hadst thou done ?" Wallace had been impressed to find the young one able to control the dark side once it threatened to overwhelm him. This was a rare gift. The fact he had such force and the willpower that was needed to do without even more so.

But why would the young one abstain from his dark force when it was coming in so handy ? Most adolescents would give way to that temptation. And hell, why was he thinking of adolescents ? The force was enticing to everyone. Only too well did he know the seductive voice... beseeching him, soliciting him to abuse the power he was given.

His green eyes were focused upon Jerrid and the young Zarkan felt there was a whole lot more to that question... 'I wonder who hath been thy mentor, young one..'

This exercise was over and Jerrid welcomed it. He sensed there would be more to follow. Perhaps daily... as it had been on Kilia 4. Repeatedly daily spars with his father. Unrelenting and always more to follow. Until now he had been in a two year hiatus.

How can he forget. He had chosen to grow up quickly and his father had showed no mercy in his drills. His days had been long and full of training. There had been no time for personal rest. Training, then retirement to the studies... till sleep overwhelmed him. Yes... there were many mornings he'd awaken, his head on ancient scrolls, still seated at his fathers library.

Jerrid handed Wallace the bastard, hilt side over to him. At this point there was no mistake, it was clear Wallace knew what had almost overtook him.

How could he explain to Wallace, of this cursed weakness that wanted to consume him? Yes... a weakness, a curse! A vile curse to have such a shadow that wanted to envelope his very own spirit... his very own strength. He was a Zarkan, and such weakness could not be tolerated!
Who would respect a soul that had the dragon fire beckoning at his door step ? Wallace had surely noticed, that it had momentarily gotten away from Jerrid.

This was now troubling Jerrid, as he sensed Wallaces eyeing him suspiciously. He must speak of it now, and set this right. Would Wallace understand what he was fighting within ? Jerrid had no choice. It was now obvious, he had to explain.

"My Lord... It tis true that the fire within my core had risen up to overtake my spirit", spoke the younger man. He hesitated and looked into Wallaces eyes. "It tis a curse that has overshadowed me since childhood, that I carry." He stopped to swallow and quickly continued, "I've always quelched the fire my Lord. It hast never gotten away or gone any further than it did just now."

"I had gotten it buried deep during my training on Kilia 4. It has been two years now, since my training, and it has gained some surface of late." Jerrid spoke apologetically. "With renewed discipline and training, my Lord... I can re-bury it deep, once more." "It is not a crutch my people want to stand up with. It is a weakness not tolerated in our True Teachings.

Jerrid knew the question Wallace had asked, needed to be answered. "I can't say I would know my Lord... what would of becometh of my actions, where thee the enemy that stoodest before me."
This said, he lowered his gaze. Whould such a Lord still welcome this pauper in his House?

The look that now Wallace had on his face, was as much a surprise as finding out this lad had a darkside to him. "Wouldn't know?" was going through Wallaces mind. "He's never been in real combat... Never extinguished a life." These were the words that Jerrid was speaking to him of.

"He's a good blade... see to it that you sharpen it!' ,had a whole new meaning now. Yet... Gavin was satisfied with this lad. He had probed his mind and was satisfied. He had found Jerrid benefiting to stay, here at Monsegor.

'Strong stock... Good blade... Sharpen it!' If Gavin knew everything, which there was no doubt that he did... then... Was Jerrid to be his apprentice? Had Gavin recognized his own son as a Master?

"My Lord?" spoke Jerrid. These words broke through Wallaces' deep thoughts. He had just realized he momentarily lost track of time and was starring past this young Zarkan... A great many things were learned today. This son of a Jerrid Tremor Zarkan, from a House of Othalas' past, had awakened many things in him. Many things had also moved ahead, than what he hadn't thought possible.

It was late evening now, and this day had gone quickly. So it seemed... Many events and revelations were to be meditated on... He'd better get his thirst quenched first, and do a lot of thinking...

"This is a serious matter indeed and we will deal with it" ,Wallace focused his eyes back on the young Kilian, "..all in good time". A lot of questions were whirling around in his head yet this was nothing to rush into. Jerrid's attitude towards the force was.. unusual and he would have to proceed carefully in order not to give the youngster a scare.

"First of it is now time for dinner" ,the Othalan put away the bastard Jerrid had handed him and girded hisself with the blade he had laid aside during the spar. The sword was a standard alloy sword, none of the rare cortosis altered blades yet it's quality lay above that of the weapons they had used in the spar and although it was not fit to fight any energy weapon it would complete his cover. Wallace would not want to draw anybody's attention to the lightsaber he was inconspicuously carriing within his vest and what would serve this purpose better than an openly displayed sword ?

Jerrid still looked insecure. After his belief he had just shown weakness and the Lord's words had not relieved his worries. Still he had said he would 'deal with it'.. whatever that meant.. and at least he had not shown any signs of distortion. Unsure about what was to come the young man went ahead after Wallace was done with the weapon. He felt naked without his own blade by now...

Dinner had already been prepared and it could have been funny to see Wallace emptying steins of water as if it was the most palatable mead ever.. yet Jerrid's mood was dampened with concern. He had had to admit he would not have known... whether he would have overcome his fire in the sight of the enemy and he felt feeble. Would they accept such a poor spirit around Monsegor ?

Questions and more questions. Wallace on his side was wondering what these 'true teachings' of the Zarkan were all about. From the tiny bit he had heard til now he had gained the unpleasant suspicion they were pretty close to the cadarian belief over here at Othala. A wicked faith the jedi had instilled into most of the clans mostly serving the purpose to control and bind those who could have risen to power. 'Like the Teshwan, the Tyragon, the Narshak and many more of the great Clans around these lands.'

The thought the Zarkan, this mighty old house might be fettered through the same insidious fetters annoyed him. 'Still i should not jump to conclusions before i know more about this conviction..' This thought in mind he finally signalled Jerrid to follow him to his quarters. "So now, young one.. tomorrow thou must tell me more about the true teachings and more important.. those who gave them to thee" ,Wallace urgently fixed him with these.. green eyes, "..and for what purpose. Meditate on this. I shalt expect thy answer."

With thise instructions he dissmissed a confused young Zarkan to shortly after find the sleep he was so desperatly in need of.

Jerrid & Wallace