Lyonhaerdt
The honor bound knight
"Like a moth to the flame, so are the threads of power all around us." The gruff, monotonous voice droned on. "You need but entice it to you for it to be yours. That's what you young folk don't seem to grasp, the threads of power are weaved into the tapestry of the universe. There is no such thing as a powerful Weaver, just one whose flames burn brighter."
The lecturer was curmudgeon personified, he was an ancient, bent man whose beard threatened to trip him up with each step as he paced back and forth on the time weathered dias. To the young ears before him though even a subject as interesting as the threads of power seemed boring, well for all but a young girl at the very front scrawling frantically on a worn journal that sat on her lap.
Elder Cavor gave the same lecture every few weeks, many students despised when he walked into the room. His mind was soft and he regularly got confused, his fire had all but burned out. But the fellow Elders refused to oust the man.
Few legends still lived, and even though Cavor was a shell of his former self, he was once the very best. Every child grew up learning of the tales of the Great Shaper, a man who could pull on so many threads of power that he could reshape the very fabric of reality.
Most Weavers could only control a few threads at a time, they could summon flame or douse a room in darkness. Simple spells that kept the Kingdom of Anth going and prospering, they were studious Weavers who worked hard to ensure they were doing their part.
Cavor would groan that their flames were simply not burning bright enough. But few took heed to the Elder's ramblings, everyone knew that it was through chants that the threads of power could be manipulated. A Weaver learned the words and their power was evident.
But the young girl who had been assigned as Cavor's aide realized it was more than that. She too had read the legends of all of the Great Weavers, their might, and above all of Cavor himself. She studied them all, trying to gleam what knowledge she could from their teachings.
Throughout the room a bell tolled, signifying that lecture time had come to an end. The girl remained steadfast until the children around her practically ran out of the room. She looked around realizing that she had been lost in her thoughts again. Before her, Cavor stood at the edge of his dias looking expectantly to the girl, she hurried to his side offering her hand to his. The old man hobbled down, leaning more than a little on the small framed girl.
"They never understand," He said to her groaning as he usually did after a lecture that fell on deaf ears. "Ironic that you are the only one who listens."
She watched him speak the words slowly and carefully to her, he ended his statement with a rare smile for her as well. She smiled back to him, beaming with gratitude. She worked hard to make Cavor's life easier when it seemed that so many had given up on him. She could still see a small kindling flame under his dull eyes, and for that she would continue to help the Great Shaper in anyway he needed.
For all of her love of Weavers and her desperate wanting to join their ranks, everyone knew that the words had to be spoken. Being an aide was the only way the girl could even be inside the hallowed halls of the Academy, for it was a place of Weavers and those in training alone.
The mismatched pair walked down the long marbled halls together, climbing stair after stair until they reached Cavor's chambers. The rooms were shadowed, casting an almost haunted light upon the duo. The girl guided Cavor to a large chair covered in furs, helping him sit down before going over to a huge fireplace.
She placed logs carefully before looking around for a tinderbox, she sighed and looked over her shoulder to see if the old man was watching her. She then focused back on her work and before long a flame was roaring that warmed Cavor's bones. Cavor stared into the flame with a curious look. He patted his pocket and looked to the girl smiling wide as he felt his only tinderbox still hidden away. Finally his suspicions had been confirmed.
"Yes, it is more than reciting lines," He said almost to himself, "it is will more than anything, the flame burning bright inside, that attracts the threads."
The lecturer was curmudgeon personified, he was an ancient, bent man whose beard threatened to trip him up with each step as he paced back and forth on the time weathered dias. To the young ears before him though even a subject as interesting as the threads of power seemed boring, well for all but a young girl at the very front scrawling frantically on a worn journal that sat on her lap.
Elder Cavor gave the same lecture every few weeks, many students despised when he walked into the room. His mind was soft and he regularly got confused, his fire had all but burned out. But the fellow Elders refused to oust the man.
Few legends still lived, and even though Cavor was a shell of his former self, he was once the very best. Every child grew up learning of the tales of the Great Shaper, a man who could pull on so many threads of power that he could reshape the very fabric of reality.
Most Weavers could only control a few threads at a time, they could summon flame or douse a room in darkness. Simple spells that kept the Kingdom of Anth going and prospering, they were studious Weavers who worked hard to ensure they were doing their part.
Cavor would groan that their flames were simply not burning bright enough. But few took heed to the Elder's ramblings, everyone knew that it was through chants that the threads of power could be manipulated. A Weaver learned the words and their power was evident.
But the young girl who had been assigned as Cavor's aide realized it was more than that. She too had read the legends of all of the Great Weavers, their might, and above all of Cavor himself. She studied them all, trying to gleam what knowledge she could from their teachings.
Throughout the room a bell tolled, signifying that lecture time had come to an end. The girl remained steadfast until the children around her practically ran out of the room. She looked around realizing that she had been lost in her thoughts again. Before her, Cavor stood at the edge of his dias looking expectantly to the girl, she hurried to his side offering her hand to his. The old man hobbled down, leaning more than a little on the small framed girl.
"They never understand," He said to her groaning as he usually did after a lecture that fell on deaf ears. "Ironic that you are the only one who listens."
She watched him speak the words slowly and carefully to her, he ended his statement with a rare smile for her as well. She smiled back to him, beaming with gratitude. She worked hard to make Cavor's life easier when it seemed that so many had given up on him. She could still see a small kindling flame under his dull eyes, and for that she would continue to help the Great Shaper in anyway he needed.
For all of her love of Weavers and her desperate wanting to join their ranks, everyone knew that the words had to be spoken. Being an aide was the only way the girl could even be inside the hallowed halls of the Academy, for it was a place of Weavers and those in training alone.
The mismatched pair walked down the long marbled halls together, climbing stair after stair until they reached Cavor's chambers. The rooms were shadowed, casting an almost haunted light upon the duo. The girl guided Cavor to a large chair covered in furs, helping him sit down before going over to a huge fireplace.
She placed logs carefully before looking around for a tinderbox, she sighed and looked over her shoulder to see if the old man was watching her. She then focused back on her work and before long a flame was roaring that warmed Cavor's bones. Cavor stared into the flame with a curious look. He patted his pocket and looked to the girl smiling wide as he felt his only tinderbox still hidden away. Finally his suspicions had been confirmed.
"Yes, it is more than reciting lines," He said almost to himself, "it is will more than anything, the flame burning bright inside, that attracts the threads."