Cultural Exchange Ch. 02

The program started with tests of strength and skill, like lifting rocks and an archery competition. To my amazement, I saw Silna throw her spear through three burning rings the size of my open hand and hit a target right in the middle. The crowd was cheering for her while she looked for me and pointed at me with her finger with a wide smile.

Given the shape and size of the Arena, horse or carriage races were not possible. So instead of that we had a game of "Shield and Lance." It was game played between two teams of five players, one with a shield and the rest of them unarmed. It was vaguely similar to Handball, but using a spear. The team member with the shield was in charge of guarding the three rings used as goals while the rest of players tried to disarm the one carrying the spear and use it to score by getting the spear through one of the opponent's rings. As I was instructed, the middle ring scored three points because it was lower and was the easiest to guard from the enemy, while the rings at the sides scored two points each one. Additionally, there was a penalty of one point to the enemy team if you broke the spear while trying to steal it or if you used the tip of the weapon to attack. It was amazing to see the fighters (hard to call them players in a game like this) using hand-to-hand combat moves to block each other, to try and steal the spear from the enemy team. The one holding the spear had an obvious advantage, using it in sweeping moves to throw opponents to the ground and feinting different thrusts before throwing the spear at one of the rings. The game was usually played up to twenty one points, but this time they had shortened it to fourteen to leave time enough for the main event of the evening.

While we were enjoying the match, I had the chance to lean to Oner and tell him, "You know? In my world there were Arenas like this one long ago. Some of them were built almost entirely of stone and were so big that they allowed chariot races."

Oner was surprised at that, but he couldn't answer due to a loud scream of the crowd. "Ah, the match has ended. We can talk more calmly now while they get everything ready for the main event."

"Maybe a fight? The Arenas I was talking about used to have fights between gladiators or between gladiators and beasts."

"I think I'm going to need you to explain that to me. Here, a Gladiator is a class of close combat fighter that mixes the use of one different weapon in each hand with the Battle Cries they learn from a Barbarian," Oner said frowning.

"Ah, they were slaves. Nobles and rich merchants used to have some slaves trained in different arts of combat. There were those who used spear and shield, short sword with a small shield or even some of them combined a trident and a fishing net. The result was that in the Arena they had their slaves fight to the death with the slaves of their rivals. There was a huge business behind the fights of gladiators." Seeing the expression in Oner's face, I saw myself forced to say, "But that happened centuries ago, now it is considered a barbaric thing."

"Then maybe you won't enjoy very much what is coming now. My father has arranged for a fight between Knights. Do you want me to have them cancel it?" answered Oner with a doubtful look on his face.

I had misread his expression, but I recovered from my stupor just in time to say, "Please, don't do it. In my world Knights are things that only exist in fiction. For many people it would be a dream made true to be able to see them in real life."

Oner sighed before answering, "What a relief. Do you know, little brother? Exhibition fights between Knights are very expensive. You not only have to offer a prize big enough to pique the interest of the fighters, but you also have to give them an opening pay enough to make them feel sure they can pay the repairs to their armors even in case they lose."

A thumping noise like that of giant drums started to be noticeable. Not long after that, it acquired a metallic tone and finally the outer doors of the Arena opened and I was able to see them both walking side by side. Armors seven meters tall that walked like armored giants. Obviously they didn't move fast as a normal person would, but their moves seemed to be faster, more precise and elegant than one could imagine by their size. They knelt in front of the honor seats and their chests opened with the hissing sound and the white clouds of the pressurized steam to show the cockpit inside them and the pilots who stood up to pay their respects to us.

A little later than everyone else, I stood up to greet both fighters. One of them was an Elf with blue hair standing in a stylish Knight painted in a faint blue tone, while his opponent was going to be a dark red knight piloted by a tall and muscular man with twirling horns at the sides of his head. Maybe noticing my curiosity, Oner whispered, "The Elf is an Undine. His opponent is an A'Jin like Yalgir, but this one belongs to the Ram Kind."

I nodded my head and took the chance to ask, "Why are they wearing those suits instead of armor?" They were dressed with tight leather suits that only had metal protections on the shoulders, wrists, hips and ankles.

"Armors are uncomfortable inside the command seat of a Knight, and even though those suits may look odd they are Contact Suits. The metal plates are connected directly to some of the inner systems of the knight. For example, without the connections on the hands it would be impossible to get the feeling of how you are holding your weapon and it would be easy to drop it or have your enemy disarm you."

"It would be great if I could use one of them one day. I mean, I can barely fight on my own two feet, so I don't expect in the least that I can do it right now. But one day when I am skilled enough, why not?"

Oner patted my shoulder and looked at me apologetically. "Not everyone can ride a Knight, little brother. You must have the right amount and flow of Spirit to be able to interact with the systems of a Knight and be able to become part of it. As far as we know, people from your world have low amounts of spirit."

Did that mean that I wouldn't also be able to use any magic? I was mulling over that a little disappointed when I noticed that both armors started moving again. Each one of them moved to opposite corners of the Arena to retrieve their weapons before coming back to the middle and wait for the start of the fight. The A'Jin pilot was armed with a two-handed war hammer that had a ram head opposite to the flat side of the hammer. On the other side, the Elf was wearing a more exotic weapon. It consisted of a short sword with a broad blade and a dagger with the same shape, tied together by the handles with a chain.

Both contestants started circling the Arena, measuring their opponent's guard when Errom spoke. "Children, who would you bet for? Bran?"

It took me by surprise that he asked me first, the one that had less combat experience, but I tried to answer the best way I could. "The blue one looks lighter, which gives him an advantage in speed and maneuverability. Also, his weapon may give him a bit of advantage in range attack if it works the way I think."

Yalgir's voice came from the other side of the room. "But the A'Jin has a more powerful weapon and is better armored. He can finish the Elf almost at the first strike, while the Elf is going to need many stabs of that weird-looking sword to make any real damage."

"A big weapon can be very hurtful, but only if it gets to strike its target," I retorted almost without thinking. A little late I thought that maybe limitations of weight didn't affect the speed of these machines.

"I agree with Bran," Errom spoke appreciatively. "The Elf can make use of his agility to turn this into a victory by exhaustion." He lifted his right arm to sign the battle could start.

The red Knight charged shoulder first rumbling the ground like an earthquake and tried to strike his enemy in the head with his hammer, but the blue armor jumped back and evaded cleanly. The hammer slammed the ground lifting a cloud of dust and sand from the Arena, and the blue armor emerged through it with his sword up. This move proved to be a feint by the A'Jin Knight, because he was waiting to strike the Elf with the hilt of the hammer. In the same motion, the Elf jumped back again but this time using the chain to spin the dagger and hit his enemy in the gap between the shoulder and the breastplate. I was surprised to see the "wound" spraying a gooey blue substance. The A'Jin fighter tried an arc attack using only his left hand to describe circles around him with his weapon and give himself a little space.

Yalgir almost screamed. "Forced to use containment moves so early? What a shame!"

Oner had to rise his voice too so he could be heard. "There's no helping it, Yalgir. He has received a strike in a conflicting spot. Who knows what damage he may have suffered in that joint, and the right shoulder no less. Your fellow countryman may be forced to yield because of inability to keep using his weapon."

Seeing as I hadn't been very wrong the last time I spoke, I dared to say what I thought once again, "Or maybe it's just a feint. The A'Jin warrior might be feigning worse damage than he really has to provoke overconfidence in his opponent."

I received a light punch from Oner, who said, "You are showing a keen eye for these things, little brother. My hopes on you are getting higher and higher."

A scream from the crowd turned our heads to the show. The A'Jin had attacked using his hammer only with his left hand to force an opening in the Elf's defense so he could throw a low punch to the belly with the right hand. The Elf responded swinging again the dagger at the end of the chain, but this time the rider of the red armor was ready and lifted his weapon getting the chain entangled in the hilt of the hammer. The A'Jin took advantage by punching him over and over, bending and cracking plates. The red armor was pushing back the blue one, which started to ooze a thick clear green fluid from some of the fractured armor shards.

Yalgir spoke again. "Ah, the Elf is done for. He can't use his sword freely with the chain entangled in the pole of the hammer. The A'Jin is going to punch him down until he yields." I couldn't see him well from my side, but I think I noticed satisfaction in his voice.

"Let's hear what Bran has to say time, Yalgir. Do you mind?" said Errom, tilting his head to repose his chin on one of his closed fists. Yalgir's response must have been a mute one, because Errom said, "Go ahead, Son. Having the battle commented from the point of view of someone from the Earth is proving to be interesting," without taking his eyes off the battle.

This time I took some seconds looking intently before saying, "He's not good at fist fighting. His attacks aren't well aimed. See? He's punching the big areas of armor instead of aiming for the joints to cripple his opponent's movement. I don't know anything about the mechanics of the Knights, but in a living body, his tactic is like hitting muscle: painful, but not really incapacitating."

In the Arena, the Elf was able to pull some kind of mechanism in his sword to separate it from the dagger, which stayed along with the chain in the A'Jin's weapon. The Elf used the surprise effect to cut deeply into the red armor's left shoulder, making it rain blue fluid.

"Even with that, he is pretty badly beaten," Melfa said.

"In my world, there was someone who said 'A wolf can bite you even after you cut its head off'." I thought for a second and added, "No offense intended, Yalgir."

"Don't worry, I take it as a compliment," he answered with a smile in his voice.

"Son, you have forgotten the 'Van' when speaking to someone of high ranking that has not specifically given you permission to address him in a friendly manner. You are now counted as an Elf, and we Elves adhere strictly to the forms of treatment. Right now it doesn't matter because we are family and we are in a private location, but with another person or in public it can be taken that you have purposefully tried to offend. Keep it in mind and be more careful." Errom lectured me openly.

I was going to answer him apologizing when the battle came suddenly to an end. The A'Jin tried to smash the blue Knight's head into his body with a hit of the hammer, but the Elf evaded the attack to thrust his sword... into the ground? Then I realized that he had used the hand guard of the sword to pin the hammer down to the ground, preventing his owner from moving it. Then the blue armor grabbed the dagger still entangled to the hilt of the hammer and pulled it making sparks fly at the friction of the chain and pointed the dagger to the center of the chest of the A'Jin's armor. At first I thought, why not the neck? But then I understood that he was pointing to the zone where the pilot was sitting.

Errom raised an arm to signal the fight was over. With the end of the main event, everyone stood up for a short ceremony where Errom congratulated both fighters and gave them their prizes, and little by little the crowd left the Arena to prepare themselves for the dinner party at the Fortress.

Ralya's voice was heard for the first time in the whole evening. "I am surprised at Bran's sharp analysis of the fist fighting movements of the A'Jin, and I agree completely with him. Muscle attacks can make them go numb, but it can take time and it's safer to attack joints and other points where the effects are more immediate. Father, can you ask him how he knows so much about hand-to-hand combat?"

Instead of repeating the whole question, Errom just asked, "Son?"

"During his youth, my father practiced Martial Arts. Let's say he learned several ancient styles of close combat. Since we were around seven years old he used to make us get up and practice with him every time he saw any of us lazing around. Along time, we ended up turning it into a competition sport. We even went to real competitions as spectators to learn other people's moves"

A metallic cup hit the table and Ralya's voice sounded strained. "But he swore on his name and rank that he had never received any training! How could he make such an important promise on a false base?" Even though she was obviously angry and wanted to reprimand me directly, she could not do so due to the protocol.

I tried to excuse myself, "It was not formal training. Of course as kids, and later as teens, we had to practice what my father showed us on each other. As I already said, we made a competition sport out of it, but that was all. We never went to a training school or had any other real training. Learning at home from my father and fighting with my brothers can hardly be called a regular training. It is true that I have never been officially trained by the army or anyone else. I excuse myself if there was a misunderstanding."

Yalgir barked a laugh and said, "Let me get this straight. You learned combat more or less the same way the peasants learn to fight in case they have to go to war, and you used it to kill a Chief Orc and one of his personal guards alone? Cub, if that's what your world calls 'Competition Sports' I would love to learn 'Real Battle' moves."

"I would also like him to teach me some of his moves," said Ralya with a much calmer voice.

Oner retorted, chuckling, "I know you want him to, little sister, but that will have to wait until the wedding night."

All of us laughed at that, even Errom who said, "You have made it too easy for him, my little girl!"

At that, Ralya just mumbled, "I'm not a little girl, I will turn sixty in two months." That added one more thing to my list of worries.

Zirilla said, "In the end, Bran was right and the Undine Knight won the duel, even though he had to resort to trickery."

Yalgir retorted, "Ha! A Cave Elf talking about trickery? In the end, the Undine did what he needed to do in order to defeat his enemy."

At the exit of the Arena there were two carriages waiting for us, as it was customary that men and women arrived separately to the celebration. As the landscape changed rapidly from the forest to the city, I breathed in deeply and spoke to the three men in the carriage with me. "Er... I think that I must clear another misunderstood before it leads to an awkward situation like the one before. I don't think that I deserve so much praise for my fight with the Orcs. I was just lucky with a stab to the face and I tricked the bigger to lock shields and stabbed him with my knife. I don't think I deserve so much praise, or the high expectations you have put on me."

It was Errom himself who answered. "I appreciate your humility, Son, but you are underestimating yourself. I am aware that you felt a change within you while climbing the Tower of the Worlds. That change was the awakening of your Spirit. The Spirit is a measure of inner energy moved by your willpower to alter the reality in small events. Spirit is mostly used to fuel magic, but it can also be used to fortify physical skills. During the fight, you used your Spirit unknowingly in a life or death situation. Your first attack was a Power Thrust, one of the two most basic sword attacks that make use of the Spirit Power. It is not that your strikes were lucky, just that attacks improved by Spirit rarely fail." He came closer to put one of his big hands in my shoulder and look at me in the eyes. "You deserve praise for not giving in to your fears. You deserve praise for fighting a superior foe in order to defend a fallen comrade, and you deserve praise for not letting it get to your head and boast about it. It is going to be an honor to have you as one of my children."

I started to feel really proud of myself, at the same time that I tried to follow Errom's advice and not get overconfident. Oner joined the conversation. "I have intentionally piqued Yalgir's interest in you because your training is not going to be a normal one. You are obviously at the stage we call 'Reduce the wisdom of the fool' what means that we have to strip you of what you think you know in order to start teaching you the real lessons. The problem here is that you know combat moves and tactics we have never seen or heard of. It is going to be tough to differentiate what is useful and what is not."

Yalgir intervened as well, "This is going to be a process where both you and us will end up learning from each other, that is one of my main reasons to help in this task. I think that the best should be to start with your choice of weapons. But it is better to save that for tomorrow when we hit the training grounds."

"Bran, now that we are talking about choices I would like you to take a moment to think about the Icon that will represent your Household."

That took me off-guard. "An 'Icon', Father?"

"Yes, Boy. An Icon, your personal emblem will be as well the emblem of your House and all who will serve under you." This time his voice sounded a bit impatient.

Along the years, I had used many personal emblems in several online games. However, this time I had no doubt and took my favorite, the one that had the best meaning to me. "A star. A black star made of eight arrow heads."

Errom looked at me seriously before replying, "That has been fast. Any specific meaning to it?"

"Yes, Father. An eight-pointed star can have many interpretations, but for me is a symbol of hope. The way I see it, the star points the eight main directions of the compass. To me that says that there is always a direction to take, an open path to take."

"Blind optimism," said Yalgir in a grouchy tone.

"Don't be so harsh, old wolf. I like your way of thinking, little brother," said Oner.

Errom cut the conversation saying, "Get ready, we are arriving. Bran, I'll have an artist show you some draft designs before making the ring you will be wearing in the middle finger of your right hand." At that, he showed me his right hand so I could see the ring with the shape of a green shield with a white deer.