Hardel twisted and dived on the frozen grounds. The light fall of snow had began to appear again as the two sparred in the training yard.For every thrust Jason made Hardel span and struck the boy on the arm of leg. Shouting at him "AGAIN!" and retaking his stance of standing at the ready like a suit of armour in the cold. Whenever Jason would slow, Hardel would go on the offensive. When Jason countered, Hardel would flow seemlessly into his defensive dives and parrying strikes that threw the young Templar off his balance and always ending with Hardel hitting him hard on the arm of leg with the butt end of his spear. The man was as illusive as a ghost. He had completely ignored the fact that near every Templar and Warlock was now standing and watching the two fight it out in the central ground.
The final strike that nearly hit Hardel was struck away, but not by his spear. Jason had gotten too close this time for such a counter. Instead, Hardel held out his hand and cried out, in a tongue that flowed like music into the wind, a single word that sent Jason hurtling back to fall on the hard frozen ground. The impact alone would have no doubt left him breathless. there was Hardel, standing over the young boy as he leaned on his spear. "Never expect a single weapon, for the hidden blade is the one that will kill you." He held out his hand for Jason to lift himself off his feet. "Come boy, you shall be my student. This I command of you."
The voices began to raise around them. Hardel had not taken a student in decades, he had helped train others but never taken one on has his own, not since the death of his son and his family. It was something that all knew never to speak of, but now they could not help themselves. Hardel raised his gaze to the instructors. He did not need to say anything with his eyes glaring at them. They simply took him for what he meant and began yelling at their own students to return to their training. "What is you're name boy?"
-----The Library-----
The great library of the Citadel was not quite as great as some would have been lead to believe. It was just a vast hall that lead to smaller rooms, each wall covered in old books and scrolls with shelves arrayed along the floors to allow additional books to be housed. It was a difficult place to walk through, and breathe for that matter. The air was thick with dust, the large candles arrayed by each shelf end half melted away from being lit day after day. The few Warlock students that had been studying quickly vanished to see the commotion their friends had spoken of outside in the training grounds. all save two Warlocks remained in the library now. One, a young man who seemed too interested in the particular book covering the history of the kingdoms, and the other an old woman.
Her pale blue eyes shot up as Herunes entered her domain. "What can I do for you Daemon?" she said loudly, her voice carrying through the hall. She was no doubt a once beautiful woman, but those days had past her now. Her lover was gone, her dreams of adventure spent and her joints now causing her too much pain in the cold air to even try and go outside the walls this time of year. Yet she worked tirelessly to catalog all the books they had in her library. She carried a large pile of old tomes, placing them on one of the slim benches that ran through the centre of the library and taking a small number of them before vanishing down one of the alleys, emerging once more with a fresh selection. "Cursed students. They may be gifted in body but not of the mind. How hard is it to return something to its proper place?" she spat at no one inparticular, scratching her head before turning to face Herunes once again. "Well Daemon, I said what is it?"