The Lost Vanguard

The sound of the door creaking open cut through the tense silence of the room. My mother and I both turned as Kaldar stepped inside, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. Snow clung to the edges of his cloak, melting into small puddles where he stood. His gaze swept over the room, landing on me with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

"I heard what happened," he said, his voice low and measured. His cloak shifted slightly as he crossed his arms, the motion revealing the faint glint of something metallic at his wrists, bracelets perhaps, though their purpose was lost on me. Kaldar's presence filled the room like a storm cloud, heavy and unavoidable. He didn't need to speak loudly to command attention, his very stance was enough.

My mother stepped forward, her voice sharp. "What of it? He's already paid for it, hasn't he? Look at him, he's hurt!"

Kaldar's gaze didn't waver from mine, his expression unreadable. "I didn't know you could fight," he said simply.

His words hung in the air, heavy with something I couldn't quite name. Was it curiosity? Disappointment? It was impossible to tell. His tone was calm, but his eyes carried the weight of something deeper, something he wasn't saying outright.

"I didn't either," I admitted after a pause, my voice quieter than I intended. The words felt strange on my tongue, like they didn't belong to me. It was the truth, though. I hadn't known I could fight, not like that.

Kaldar's lips twitched, not quite a smile but something close. He stepped further into the room, pulling off his cloak and draping it over the back of a chair. Without the heavy fabric, the full extent of his armor became visible. It was unlike anything I had seen during my time in the village. The others wore practical layers of wool and leather, built for warmth and function, but this… this was something entirely different.

The slate-gray hide of his armor seemed to shimmer faintly in the firelight, its surface marked with scars and patterns that hinted at something ancient, something beyond ordinary craftsmanship. Jagged plates of what looked like frosted steel reinforced key areas, catching the light in a way that made them appear both beautiful and deadly. Draped over his shoulders was the thick, coarse fur of some immense beast, its texture rugged yet oddly majestic. The whole ensemble seemed to carry the weight of countless battles, a blend of function and dominance.

It wasn't just the armor itself—it was the way he carried it. The room seemed to shrink around him, his presence filling the space with a quiet intensity. The firelight danced along the edges of his figure, casting fleeting shadows that flickered like restless spirits. I felt a tightness in my chest, a mixture of awe and discomfort. Standing in his shadow, I couldn't help but feel the depth of his strength, a force shaped by a life I couldn't begin to comprehend.

Kaldar's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could sense my thoughts. "Let's see what you've got," he said, his tone even.

"What?" my mother snapped, stepping between us. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her stance protective. "He's injured, Kaldar! He needs rest, not more of this—this nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense," Kaldar replied, his voice steady but firm. "The boy's got something in him. Something he needs to learn to control. Better he does it now, with me, than out there where it might cost him his life."

"I'm fine," I said, surprising myself. The ache in my chest hadn't disappeared, but the thought of fighting again stirred something within me—a restless energy that refused to be ignored. I didn't understand it, but I couldn't deny it.

My mother shot me a look, her expression torn between worry and frustration. "Fine," she said at last, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "But if he gets worse, it's on you, Kaldar."

Kaldar nodded, his expression unchanging. He moved to the corner of the room where a rack of weapons stood, pulling out two wooden practice swords. The wood was dark and worn, the hilts wrapped in rough leather for grip. He handed one to me, its weight unfamiliar but not unwelcome in my hands.

"Outside," he said, already heading for the door.

The cold night air bit at my skin as we stepped outside, the snow crunching softly beneath our boots. The village was quiet now, the distant glow of fires casting long shadows over the snow. Kaldar turned to face me, raising his sword in a ready stance.

"Show me what you've got," he said, his voice calm but commanding.

I hesitated, gripping the hilt of the sword tightly. Standing across from him, I could fully appreciate his presence. He was a giant of a man, his broad shoulders and powerful frame outlined against the faint light of the village. Every movement he made was deliberate, controlled, as though he held a world of power just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

The first strike came quickly, a sharp downward arc aimed at my side. I barely managed to parry, the force of the blow reverberating through my arms. Kaldar didn't relent, following up with a series of quick strikes that left me scrambling to defend myself. His attacks weren't meant to harm, but they were precise, testing my reflexes and forcing me to adapt.

I found myself moving instinctively, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. It was like something inside me had awakened, guiding my movements. My strikes were clumsy compared to his, but there was a raw energy behind them, a force that seemed to surprise even him.

"You're holding back," Kaldar said, his voice sharp. He sidestepped one of my attacks with ease, his wooden blade tapping against my ribs in a move that would have been devastating if it were real. "Don't think. Just fight."

His words struck a chord. I stopped hesitating, letting my body take over. The next time he struck, I deflected the blow and countered with a swing of my own. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to push him back a step.

Kaldar's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something that might have been approval crossing his features. "Better," he said, his tone grudging.

We continued like that, the sound of our wooden swords clashing filling the air. My chest burned with exertion, but I refused to stop. There was something exhilarating about the fight, something that made the pain fade into the background. For the first time since I'd woken up, I felt alive.

When Kaldar finally called for a stop, I was gasping for breath, my arms trembling from the effort. He lowered his sword, studying me with a critical eye.

"You've got potential," he said finally. "Rough, but it's there."

I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. I simply stood there, trying to catch my breath as the weight of his words settled over me.

"Tomorrow," Kaldar said, turning toward the house. "We'll go on a hunt. It's time you learned what it means to survive out here."