It'd been three days ago, in the bright early morning that the healer had found himself back upon the Estate at the outskirts of the town just behind one of the large smitheries of Myrkentown. He'd been greeted at the door my Senschal Keller, and had been told to head out to the back - where there had been construction down and the back dinning area had been enlarged and transformed into a rather large training area. And out back, there was even more of a training area of soft dirt, training dummies, and a few men meandering about with morning excercise. He'd come fit for training, and he'd arrived earlire then what he'd been ascribed to do. And so he merely looks as the manor over hangs them - casts it's shadow across the blank-slate of the red-clay dirt. He'd dressed in loose cotton, which shouldn't make him too hot. But the bag and his weapons are still on him as he waits.
There's many weapons laying about the training area - some of wood, some of light metal. There's armor sitting in piles - shined and ready. Sweat tickles at Alastir's forehead and scalp and he sits down neatly to wait patiently. Though, it's not much time before the dark-haired man with the lightning-blue eyes arrives. And that odd diamond-shaped mark over his left eye. And the man's grinning as he approaches him. He stands up sharply, and offers a small bow.
"Good morning, Messer Deost."
"Deost is fine. You're early. A glutton for punishment, eh? Good, I prefer people who truly wish to learn - to those who merely say they do, then balk and complain when they truly have to work for something." Deost laughs, before motioning for Alastir to follow.
And follow Alastir does.
"So, what have you learned so far, Savoy?"
"Just, rudimentary arts of unarmed self defense."
"Very well then, I shall assume you know nothing at all, and we shall begin there. First, put your bag down and your weapons. You won't need them today."
"Yes, Deost." Alastir does so, quickly before merely standing there.
"The first thing, I will assume that you are in no shape to do anything, so don't be insulted by that. You see the treeline over there? I want you to run as fast as you can there, and then back, as fast as you can. With this."
Alastir isn't sure what to make of this already. He should be insulted, as he looks rather fit for his height, and size - but assumptions are what they are. And he rolls his shoulders before beginning to sprint towards the treeline. This felt like freedom. It was easy, considering he'd ran like this before. But the treeline is farther then he's noted and his footfalls are heavy as he's making the return trip. Muscles ache, and strain - and there's a warm feeling creeping in him. It's the feel of hard work, the feel of exercise in the day's heat. He pauses, breathing deeply before wiping sweat off his brow and out of his eyes.
"So you have had breathing training already, I see. I assume that was part of your 'healer' training."
"Yes, we did it for --" But, Deost cuts him off of further explination.
"That's what I thought. They used running to do that, yes?"
"Well, yes."
"So, you're decently fit then. Very well. Here."
Alastir wasn't sure what to make of the odd-eyed man. And when he's offered a ladle of water, he takes a drink from it, readily. Then looks at Deost once more.
"Do the same run, now, but take a drink of water. Hold it in your mouth. I want you to run there and back, without spitting any of it out - or drinking any of it."
There's a moment of flabbergasted expression on the healer's face, but he nods faintly before taking a drink of water. Cheeks almost bulging he takes off for the forest-line once more. Halfway there, his throat is constricting - and his chest is burning. Breathe through the nose, not the mouth - is harder then it looks. Especially while running. And on the return trip, he swallows half of it on accident as he was trying to keep from tripping while running so fast. At the end, he spits it out and begins to pant, even as his odd-eyed mentor is watching him.
"Harder then it sounds, hmm? I want you to do that, until you can do it without swallowing, or spitting any of it out - during the middle of the run."
"Why?"
"You are a Master Yewman, are you not?"
"Yes."
"Then, you should know why already, shouldn't you? What is the most important thing to a person? For any activity?"
"Breathing."
"Of course, and this trains you to breathe - even under duress. Do I need to explain everything that I'm going to have you do?"
"I... I'll try again."
"Good."
Alastir understood, sort of - but wasn't going to argue with the mentor of Cinnabar, either. And so he nods and watches his odd-eyed mentor sit down and relax as he fills his mouth with another ladle full of water. And, this is how much of the morning is spent. Running back and forth, and it's after about the fifth trip that Alastir actually doesn't spill, nor swallows any of it. Flush with success, he ends and looks at Deost, who nods. And then he swallows the water, then exhales loudly.
"Good, I figured your breathing technique was already decent enough - but this is a better indication. You see the pile of rocks over there? I want you to carry them one in each hand with your arms out - back and forth across the training ground. Everytime your arms flail, or your elbows touch your sides - you must do it an extra time, over twenty."
Alastir makes no reply, there's no use in arguing at this point. He's already partly tired and he picks up a rock in each hand. They're heavy, but not too heavy. But then he's just begun. The first time is easy. But nearing to twent, his upper arms and forearms are beginning to hurt. It would be so easy to invigorate himself - restore some of his lost stamina. But, in his mind - wouldn't that be cheating? Wouldn't it not help him at all? And he's becoming tired nearing the seventeenth. So tired. His elbow touches his side. He looks at Deost, who holds up one finger. He gets halway back the next time, and does it yet again. This repeats, twice more. And now he's added an additional four times. The strain has turned his cheeks red, and his muscles feel like agonizing fire.
"Savoy, you can dismiss fatigue, can you not? At least from your own limbs?"
"I, what, what do you know about Yewman?"
"That they're exemplars when it comes to healing, and trained in Razasan. I was with a few on a campaign a long time ago. But, I will say something, Savoy - and you listen to me now. Put your arms down."
Alastir does, and nods, and listens.
"You have abilities far beyond the normal ken of most people. Use them. Don't hide behind them. In a fight, in a battle - any edge that allows you to survive, allows you to live - is allowed. The same will be extended to training."
"But, I want to learn how to fight, not just rely solely on my previous training."
"And you will, but when you learn to fight - you must learn - and you *will* learn that all your talents - all your abilities must come in to play. It is not enough that one has talents - but one must learn when, and where, and how to use them. Am I correct?"
"Well, yes..but.."
"But, you want to be like a normal man, learn like a normal man, feel the fatigue of a normal man, and the strain that a normal man would bear, otherwise you think it is cheating, am I correct?"
"Yes, exactly!"
"Stupidity."
"What?"
"That notion is stupidity."
"Excuse me?"
"This is Myrken. Nothing is exactly normal. If you have been here for any length of time, you've learned this, hmm?"
"Well, yes.."
"Then, you understand that things you will face - which you wish to defend yourself from will not care if you do all those things in that way, nor if you are normal or not. You are not limited to the restrictions of normal men. Your talents see to this. So, do not limit your training to that of normal men. A normal man could only do this excercise to a point his body fails. And then, he'd have to rest - and do it later. You? Could keep your body from failing and do this all day, mmm?"
"...possibly. But to what end?"
"You know the body, what would happen if you did?"
"I'd grow stronger?"
"Isn't that what you're here for, Savoy? Or are you just here to learn how to hurt others?"
"That's not it at all!"
"Of course not, so it's the other, hmm?"
"Yes."
"Very well then. Use your talents to help you train, when necessary, then resume your excercises."
It was almost clouded logic, Alastir thought, but there's some reasoning in it. Use his talents, and train harder? But wasn't that cheating? No, it was more like - acceleration - he understood it slightly, and nods before inhaling. There's a rush through his limbs and he turns to do the excercise again. And this continues for most of the afternoon. It wasn't until evening and his arms felt like they were about to fall off that he paused and put the rocks down. He could feel his arms rising upwards, and he kept them at his sides. It was a slow ache - but there was more excercising. The rest of the day, the rest of the night - he carried rocks - not just in his arms, but on his back. Until the mighty pile at one side was carried to the other.
"....Messer Calomel was right.."