Chapter 35: The Weight of Worlds, The Grip of Steel
The vast, shimmering expanse of the Leywin Library hummed with unseen energy. Crystalline shards of memories, each one a silent repository of forgotten histories and unimaginable truths, pulsed with soft light around Arthur, Jaehaerys, and Aegon. Regis zipped around them, a tiny, glowing nuisance of curiosity.
Jaehaerys reached out a hesitant hand, almost touching a particularly large, swirling shard that seemed to hold the echoes of a roaring fire. "These... these are actual memories?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not just stories?"
"More than just stories, Jaehaerys," Arthur said, his voice calm amidst the silent grandeur of the library. "They are experiences. Lifetimes. Battles, empires, sciences beyond your current comprehension. They are distilled moments of existence, made real by Aether."
Aegon, always more pragmatic, frowned. "How do we... learn from them? Do we just touch them?"
"Precisely," Arthur replied. "When you touch a shard, its contents will flow into your mind. You will experience what it holds, not just as an observer, but as if you are truly there, living it. It can be overwhelming at first, but with practice, you will learn to absorb and synthesize the information."
Regis zipped right in front of Jaehaerys's nose. "Just don't pick one about a giant spider infestation, icy boy! Or maybe a trip to the latrines after a particularly bad stew. Trust me, the memories are vivid."
"Silence, Regis," Arthur said, though a faint hint of amusement touched his lips. He turned to Jaehaerys and Aegon. "Choose a shard. Start with a smaller one, something simple, perhaps an insight into a forgotten martial art, or a lesson in diplomacy from a long-dead ruler. The goal is to attune yourselves to the process."
Jaehaerys, after a moment's hesitation, reached for a fist-sized shard that pulsed with a faint, disciplined glow. It felt cool, almost vibrating, against his fingertips. The instant his skin made contact, a torrent of sensation crashed into his mind. He saw a fluid series of movements, felt the weight of a blade, the shift of an opponent's balance, the precise angle of a parry, the crushing force of a strike. It wasn't just seeing; he felt the muscles strain, the breath flow, the calm focus of a master swordsman. The memory was brief, intense, and left him gasping slightly as he pulled his hand away.
"By the Gods..." Jaehaerys muttered, shaking his head. He felt a phantom ache in his sword arm, a strange sense of familiarity with techniques he'd never consciously learned.
Aegon, emboldened by Jaehaerys's experience, chose a slightly larger shard. His eyes widened, then squinted in concentration as he too absorbed a flash of intricate knowledge. He pulled his hand back, his brow furrowed in thought. "That... that was a detailed siege plan. Every rampart, every weakness, the logistics of feeding ten thousand men for a month."
"Impressive, right?" Regis chirped, zipping between their faces. "It's like cramming for a thousand exams all at once, but without the boring bits. Mostly. Don't worry, Princess has plenty of boring ones too, just in case you ever want to know how to properly file tax documents in the ancient city of Veridian."
Arthur ignored Regis. "The knowledge within these shards will be invaluable. You will spend time here, absorbing what you need. But knowledge without application is useless. The next seven years will be about forging your bodies and minds into weapons and tools."
The Forge of Seven Years: Steel and Mana
Arthur led them out of the library, the transition back to the more mundane stone of the Leywin fortress feeling stark after the ethereal glow of the shards. He brought them to a sprawling training yard, equipped not just with sword dummies and targets, but with complex arrays for mana manipulation and obstacle courses that seemed to defy gravity.
"For the next seven years," Arthur declared, his voice firm, "your primary focus will be on the practical. We will hone your physical prowess. This means intense hand-to-hand combat training. You will learn every strike, block, and grapple. You will understand how to use your body as a weapon."
He picked up a heavy, blunted practice sword from a rack. "And you will master melee weapons. Swords, spears, axes, daggers—you will train with them all until they become extensions of your own will. Every swing, every parry, every thrust will be instinctive."
"But physical might is only half the battle. We will simultaneously delve into Mana and Aether training. You will learn to feel the energies around you, to draw them into yourselves, to mold them to your command. From basic defensive barriers to offensive bursts, from enhancing your physical abilities to manipulating the very elements."
He looked from Jaehaerys to Aegon. "Your progress will be constant. Every day, you will push your limits. There will be no breaks, no leniency. This is not a game; it is preparation for a war that will consume everything if you are not ready."
"Sounds like a lot of sweating and not a lot of napping," Regis grumbled from his perch on Jaehaerys's shoulder. "You two are in for a real treat. Princess here invented a training regimen that makes a dragon's molting season look like a spa day."
Jaehaerys exchanged a glance with Aegon. The weight of the challenge was immense, but so was the promise. Seven years of intense training, guided by an immortal who could wipe out an army of the dead with a thought. The fate of Westeros, and perhaps much more, now rested on their willingness to endure the crucible Arthur Leywin had prepared.