Varis sits on a tree stump, his blade resting across his lap. He sharpens it slowly, rhythmically. Sparks flickering off the edge, catching the golden light.
Rue leans against the doorway, arms, watching.
"Last night, when you said I wasn't ready, was that what you thought all along?" Rue said softly.
"No one's ever ready. That's why we prepare." Varis responds without looking up.
Rue watches the sparks. His face is unusually still. He's often hopeful; this is the first time he truly understands the value of Varis's expectation of him.
"And what if I lose?"
"Then you lose. And you learn. And next time, you don't"
Rue glances down, pondering, looks back to Varis, and hears his continued speech.
"But if you walk in afraid of losing, you already did."
Rue continues to lean against the doorway, sighing after a moment.
"I… uh, never mind. I'm gonna go to the market, just look around, cool?"
Varis looks at Rue, he digs in his pocket and gives some money to Rue.
"Treat yourself."
Rue stores the money, not expecting that. He nods at Varis and goes to his room to properly clothe and prepare himself for the trip.
In his room, he sits on the bed, staring at the floor, his mind replaying a hypothetical loss in his fight tomorrow. After spending all day at the day festival today, his nerves and doubts kick in.
"Why am I nervous? I… does it matter if I lose? What would even change if I did? I'll still be… well, whatever I am now. Why do I want to become a champion anyway? I talk a big game… Champion is one living beyond themself. What a load of crap I was talking about. I have no clue. I have no clue about myself."
Rue gets up and puts on his going-out clothes. Before leaving, he looks in the mirror and pictures himself losing, bloodied, beaten. Rue huffs, annoyed that the thought won't leave his head. He leaves his room and says goodbye to Varis, waving as he leaves the front door.
Rue walks through a dirt path to the market, hands in pockets. The thought of losing, buried in his thoughts.
Defeat
Defeat
Defeat
All that corrupts his mind. But why was he nervous? The question that plagued his mind.
Scared of being a failure? Embarrassed?
Rue thinks, but he for sure knows that isn't the answer. He wants to be a champion. Losing tomorrow will take that away. So now the question is… why?
Why does Rue want to be one of Astel's six champions?
Glory?
Fame?
Political power?
Rue has never been that type of person to seek fame or glory; he doesn't care for it. And political power is something he never even considered when deciding to be a champion.
Caught up in his thoughts, like a fly in a spiderweb, Rue finds himself at the market.
Rue walks alone throughout the market, seeing night festival lanterns go up in anticipation of the tournament. Kids play with wooden swords, mimicking former champions from both Lagaard and other regions of Astel. Merchants sell pendants of the six regions. This is the cultural heartbeat before battle.
Rue goes up to a merchant, smiling as he approaches.
"Hi, may I get… hmmm… may I have a Lagaard and a Tarkia [1]pendant?" Rue nods
The merchant smiles and grabs the silver Lagaard Pendant that showcases the Lagaard flag, and then grabs the Tarkia pendant that showcases the same.
"Here you go, young lad. If you don't mind me asking, I get the Lagaard pendant as you're from Lagaard. But why that Tarka pendant?"
Rue pulls out 2 shillings. And gives it to the merchant.
"I like Sorcery, and mages sound cool."
The merchant hands over the pendants and takes the money.
"They're cool, I suppose. I like the dragons from the Arcane Vale[2] region. Rough, gritty. You know?"
Rue tilts his head, nodding.
"Not a bad choice, not for me." Rue walks away.
"Have a good day!"
Rue watches a father and son laughing as they swordfight with wooden swords. Another direction is three girls laughing and shopping at their heart's content. Another view is a group of adults, telling old stories and enjoying festival food. A couple on a date. Friends running around. Noise being made, life being had all around Rue, and it clicks in Rue's head.
He wants to live for them.
He wants to be their champion. He wants to preserve this. Rue smiles at the sights and livelihoods being portrayed in front of him. It's a beautiful sight. A sight that cleared his fogged mind.
Rue then goes home, a pep in his step, though the clearance came with drawbacks; the nervousness came back harder. With a goal in mind, a why in mind, the personal stakes are raised,
Rue enters his home and notices Varis has gone to bed. Rue goes to his room, taking off his shoes and shirt. He lies down and shuts his eyes.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, and anxiety the immediate answer to his unwanted awakening. Rue lies awake, eyes on the ceiling. He slowly leans up, finally sitting up, rubs his eyes, and gets up. He looks for a wooden box underneath his bed, opens it, and inside is a small medal. An old keepsake from Varis when Rue was younger.
Rue then remembers.
As a kid, sparring with a wooden sword, being tossed aside again and again by Varis. But never giving up.
Rue closes his eyes and returns the medal to the box.
Quietly.
"I'll win. For him. For them."
The next day, Rue's up early. Earlier than he ever has been, willing. He's in the training grounds of Varis's house. He's shadowboxing like he's fighting a real opponent. Practicing multiple techniques garnered over the years. After a while, he fixates on controlling his flow ability to a higher degree. He begins to try to misdirect a falling rock.
A thrown apple from a self-made mini catapult.
He eventually tries to use his flow ability to misdirect big objects, but it's harder to do than with smaller ones. He tries regardless. Because in a few hours, he has to lay everything on that battlefield.
He stands shortly across from a large rock that has been at Varis's house for years. He pushes the rock to get some movement going, as he can only misdirect things that have already been moving. Then he uses to flow to make it move forward. Rue grunts and grits his teeth, the weight of the rock being too heavy for Rue to handle right now, but he keeps going, and going.
The rock moved.
Rue's eyes light up. He's been trying to move this rock with his ability for years; today, he's done it.
Rue yells in excitement, relief, and renewal of being.
After, he goes back to shadowboxing and sandbag training. He's focused. Precise. Stance sharper.
Varis watches from a distance, unseen, nodding once before turning away.
Hours later, Rue and Varis travel to the Arena, where Rue's fight is today. As they arrive, large banners of each region flap in the wind. Crowds are assembling. Drums echo. A deep horn sounds. Rue's preliminary tournament is about to begin. Rue enters Varis, and before they separate, Varis pulls him to the side.
"Look, it's fine if you lo-"
"I got it, Gramps. Just watch me do what you taught me. To win." Rue stares at Varis with a new confidence, Varis had never seen.
Varis nods and leaves to sit with the crowd. Rue enters the fighters' tent along with other fighters from Lagaard with a similar goal.
To become Lagaard's champion.
Rue's expression is serious now. No cockiness, no false confidence. But a hardened resolve.
[1] One of the six regions in Astel.
[2] One of the six Astel regions.