Master Raguel was furious. Moreso than usual. He could be heard venting his anger throughout the monastery halls with an elevated pace in his step. Clearly, his audience with Highlord Mograine did not result in the outcome he desired. What in the light could they have been discussing to cause him such a reaction?
As he neared the sparring court yard, all the initiates scrambled from their eavesdropping back to their routines. The sound of sword on shield and arrow on bullseye began to slowly drown out the Master's ravings as he entered the yard.
I brace my stance and focus my gaze on the training dummy opposite me. Perhapse if I can execute the Master's new technique as he passes his frustrations will be replaced with awe at my potential. That would surely earn me a place in the Tyr's Hand elite guard.
I recall the teachings from the forbidden librams:
The light comes from within me
My weapon is an extension of my arm
My weapon is an extension of my will
My weapon is an extension of my wrath
I feel the rush of the light coursing from my chest to my hands, and with all the force in my body I bring my mace down onto the dummy, splintering its makeshift head in an explosion of tinder and straw. The initiates positioned either side of me stop their own training as shards fly past their own dummies and helmets. They are clearly impressed. Surely this demonstration has caught the attention of the Master.
As I expected, Master Raguel begins to approach. I knew he would see the potential within me. I await eagerly for his approval. He stands beside me, but his expression has not softened. He seems more fixated on the half-obliterated dummy than anyone else in the yard. Still furious, he speaks with harsh instruction.
"The wicked are not rendered harmless by losing their heads, and you still have 2 more either side of this one unaccounted for".
I freeze in place, overcome by mixed feelings of disappointment and confusion. Before I can open my mouth to apologise, the Master unsheaths his greatsword and swings a wide arc across the space between himself and the three dummies, his blade singing through the air in a blinding burst of light which emitts a wave of wrath before him. In a single motion, the Master obliterated all three of the timber figures.
The yard falls quiet save for the sound of shrapnel hitting the paving stones. Still fixated on the stumps before him, the Master speaks in a much softer tone: "This is the way to victory. Not with diplomacy or forgiveness. With divine wrath". He places his weapon onto his back and returns to the halls. Some of the initiates are stunned in place while others begin to nod their heads in approval. I am not sure how to feel about what I just witnessed.
I can think of only one other time I witnessed such vengeance. The wake of ashes left behind the Highlord at the last campaign for Andorhal. I thought such power only existed within the Ashbringer...
Master Raguel impresses me and terrifies me.