Legend of Ransera

Sated in more ways than one, Aurin just teased bits of Torin's body while he dressed.

"Well, I was going to teach you some grappling basics, which we could do here, but you're getting dressed and it's early, so we could walk out to the Lake and do it out in the open. I suppose the weather's nice enough for it." After a little more groping, he started pulling his trousers on as well. If they found a remote and private enough spot near the lake, they could strip down to less than their trousers for the lesson. It would be distracting, but there were always distractions in a fight, so it was best to practice with them.

Then again, he didn't know that it would be helpful for Torin to get aroused whenever he fought someone, his body remembering who he practiced with. He exhaled through his teeth, thinking he would have to focus on making sure the young smith could protect himself before he had his way with him again. The young man was strong, no doubt, and full of energy, but someone with training knew how to minimize those advantages. At least if Torin knew some shortcuts to take someone down and keep his own feet, he might have some more advantages. If he was going to stupidly throw his lot in with Aurin, there was always a chance old dangers could come back to haunt him and they might target Torin.

Unarmed combat first, then he could learn some weapon skills. He ought to know the basics of the weapons he created, at least. But there were things one could learn about fighting that ran the gamut of weapons or lack thereof. Aurin was confident he could teach Torin some of that, then perhaps he might hire some experts to teach Torin the use of various weapons. After all, education was one of the things that had drawn the country boy to the worldly man in the first place.

Rather than take food with them, he opted to pick something up en route. He let Torin lock the door behind them with an ash steel key, and then they were on their way. There was food enough for a late luncheon by the water tucked into a rucksack, and then they ambled toward Lake Udori. When they neared the shore, he showed a bit of largesse.

"Find us a place to stop." They had gone camping before, of course, but they hadn't hired horses to take them farther from Kalzasi this time.

The walk was nice. Part of him wanted to run, to sprint and see how fast they were, how much stamina they had. He used to push himself until he was ready to vomit, but he didn't often push himself that hard anymore. Perhaps Torin was making him soft—though that thought almost made him laugh out loud.

He listened to Torin speak his business into existence, paying close heed to every financial bit he offered, cobbling it together in his mind and asking cogent questions. Some of them Torin had answers to, others he hadn't considered. It was good; Aurin could assure him that there was time to figure those things out so he didn't need to beat himself up for not thinking of them in the first place. That was why he brought his ideas to people like Aurin, who had some experience to offer him. But by and large, Torin was thinking along the right lines and was eager for input, which was good. It was difficult to learn when one thought one knew best all the time. He was proud of Torin, and he told him so.

"House Leukos," he said, searching his memory. "Sworn to House Briathos. Cintamani Pavilion? I think that's their home in the Promenade, but from what I understand, they are rarely in the city. Of course, I memorized a lot of shit about the powers that be that hasn't yet been exceptionally useful for me, but House Briathos is all about the magic. They basically run the Circle of Spells. Not a bad contact for the world's best runeforger-to-be to have."

When they arrived, Torin was quick to strip down, which made Aurin smirk as he watched. A coppery eyebrow rose when he left his trousers on and his smirk sharpened, but he crossed his arms over his chest and walked a slow perimeter around the young man, who would have been formidable if Aurin didn't know he was basically a big puppy.

"Don't I always?" he asked archly from directly behind Torin, though he didn't touch him. When he was before him again, he faced off. "All right. For now, I just want to teach you a few things that I hope will become knee-jerk reactions for you. We can talk about stance and space and all sorts of different things, but if tomorrow you're walking late at night and someone comes at you from the front..." He stepped close and took Torin's hand, bending it back and manipulating it to do what he was telling him. "Heel of your palm up under their nose." He brought the heel of Torin's palm up under his nose so he could feel where to aim. "You'll break their nose and they'll likely tear up and hunch over, and then I want you to fucking run. Don't feel bad. Don't look back. Any medic worth their salt will be able to set a broken nose."

He made serious eye contact with Torin. "Do you understand?"

"Of course," he said. "I'll dig up an old peerage roll. It won't have all the latest deaths and births, but we can chart out who owes fealty to which Great House. It's good to know how power works above us. It helps us to prepare for when it might affect us."

When things turned toward pugilism, his eyes grew hard and sharp. If he was going to teach Torin these things, he was going to drill proper technique into him so he was able to hurt those who needed hurting and not those who didn't. Torin could do some damages with wild haymakers, but people he didn't intend to hurt might catch a fist. Precision was as important as strength.

"You'll feel it and you'll hear it," he said matter-of-factly. "Bones breaking, they're like a wet snap. Bones bend a little before they break, too. They're wet when they're inside us. It's only after we die that they dry out." He nodded along, letting Torin speed up, but they stopped before he got as fast and as hard as he could go. Even if you miss, you could catch their chin. Enough power and their head will snap back. Not likely to break their neck unless you go all berserker on them, but it'll still stun them a bit.

"If you need to put them down for good, though, a little combination can work. Break their nose with your fist, then jam it up into their brain with the heel of your palm." He wasn't too solemn, but he was certainly serious when talking about mortal issues. The only scenario in which he could see Torin actively trying to kill someone was in defense of him, or possibly Timon. That was a little daunting, but it wasn't as though Aurin hadn't killed people before. It was a little strange to know someone would kill to protect him.

"We can jog back to the city," he promised. "Do some sprints along the way, perhaps. Best to start slowly so you don't hurt yourself. I know you know, but strength in the forge will help you with some things, but not with others. So yes, we can train that too."

Aurin gauged Torin for a moment, then nodded.

"All right, just relax. I'm going to give you a hook, so it's going to come in from the side. That'll make your head whip around, but probably it'll just leave you with a sore jaw. Don't want to give you a black eye or a bloody nose or a split lip for you to explain to your master." He made a fist and showed Torin what was going to happen. "Thumb goes around the knuckles so it doesn't break. Going to hit you with the first two knuckles because they're the strongest, and they make a straight line all the way to the elbow. If you miss and hit too hard with the weaker knuckles, you could break your hand. That's counterproductive. All right, are you ready?"

When Torin gave him the go-ahead, he assumed an easy stance, one foot ahead of the other for balance, twisted to get his whole body into the torque, and popped the big blond in the jaw. He didn't go easy on him, but he didn't put a lot behind it. The fact that he used his whole body made it seem like he was doing less, but the strike landed squarely. In a real fight, Aurin aimed to cause as much pain and damage as possible to put the person down. If it got to the point where his silver tongue couldn't prevent a fight, he wanted it over as quickly as possible.

"All right?"

Aurin was getting better at reading Torin even when he wasn't using a magic trick. The younger man didn't hide things well, and Aurin had spent enough time observing how he reacted to things that he knew his tells and his twitches. And so he noted the flicker of fear when he mentioned berserker rage, but it wasn't a truth he would spare the apprentice. One had to know what one was capable of and how to prevent that outcome if possible.

He smirked at the groan.

"Good thing you didn't back-talk," he said slyly, "or I would have to find a nice stick and whip you all the way back to town."

That Torin's master wouldn't believe him capable of getting into a fight made parts of Aurin shift. He was a good man; Aurin would try to make it so he could be a good man always, even when life tried to throw things at him to make that difficult. After he struck that lovely face and Torin recovered, he stepped in, set his hand gently over Torin's jaw.

"I know you know," he said, "but I hit you because you asked me to. Not because I'm angry or you've done something wrong." He forced eye contact and waited until Torin could acknowledge that before moving on. "Next, I'm going to punch you in the gut." He put his hands on Torin's body to help him connect what he would say with what he wanted his body to do. "I want you to tense up your muscles here when you know it's coming. They can tighten up into armor for your guts. If you don't, a punch can do real damage. Here, around back, your kidneys are back here. You don't want to get punched there or you'll be lucky to just piss blood for a week. Try not to flinch. It's not about acting brave or tough, but it won't help you do what you can to minimize the pain and damage. Try to turn a little so I catch you here on the side. It might crack a rib, but those are there to protect your insides. I'm not going to hit you hard enough to crack a rib, all right?"

His hands came up to tousle Torin's hair, again forcing eye contact and waiting for confirmation before he stepped back, assumed his casual fighting stance, got some torque going again, and paid close attention so he could pull the punch if it was going to hit where he oughtn't.

That using Torin as a punching bag required some steeling of his will might not have surprised anyone else, but it did surprise him. It troubled him as well, knowing that vulnerability could be an exploitable weakness. He took some efforts to maintain distance from the people he cared about: Arry, Ashoka, Elwes, Torin. It kept them safe, kept him safe, and even if safety was an illusion, it allowed him to sleep at night. But expediency used to be enough for him to do things; now he had to push past a desire to protect even from the little things.

He would think more on that later. Torin's enjoyment of pain amused him, provided leverage. But he noticed when it unlocked beasts from the deep dark, and he watched as Torin fought them back down.

The training went well, he thought. He could be an exacting taskmaster; all his had been and he knew no other way that didn't feel like useless coddling.

Aurin laughed at the question. "Have you ever turned down food for a bath?"

But he was quickly pulling off his boots, doffing his trousers, and running into the water to sluice off hours' worth of sweat. He swam out far enough that he had to tread water rather than touch the ground below. He liked the feeling of weightlessness. And he could put off eating until it was convenient. That might not have been healthy, but he was expedient even with his own health. Everything was a calculation, even his relationships. He knew that was odd to anyone else, but it was the only way he knew how to be.

When Torin came closer, he asked archly, replying to a question ignored hours previous. "But if I beat you with a stick before we run home, won't you trip over your own wood?"