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-6-

Brunhelm led Ethelred to a remote room in a remote building on campus and sat down on a stool that seemed to creak audibly under his weight, "Ok, Ethelred, show me what you can." Ethelred stood for a second, thinking about what he ought to do before he did what Laimonuit had taught him. He summoned a ring of lightning before Brunhelm smiled and stopped him by saying, "Ah, so not only do you know about Eischomyuir, you also have a piece, from Laimonuit, I dare to guess." Ethelred grinned, not realizing that this had been a test. "Sir, was that a test?"

Brunhelm chuckled, "A test of what? My dear boy? Everything's a test. But it's good to see that I don't have to explain about reagents and the conversion of one from of energy to another. Wonderful. Now, do what you were doing, but push it toward me." Ethelred summoned a new ring of lightning and attempted to push it at his master, who dodged it with ease. "Now, my dear boy, this magic is powerful, but you have no idea how to fight with it. For example, if I were to charge at you, what would you do?"

Ethelred paused, "Well, I'd from a new ring and attempt to grab your armor. If you're wearing mithril, my attack is almost a guaranteed k. o. if it lands."

Brunhelm smiled, "My dear boy, what if someone comes after you with a flail or a halberd and has you out of your reach? What then?" Ethelred smiled, "Then he's too close to dodge and his weapon's too heavy for him to leave in time without it." But here, Brunhelm smiled, "My boy, let's test that, shall we? Let's go get you a coat of mail."

The clerical forge was southeast of the university, close to the eastern gate of the city. It was a hot and dry place--there seemed to be almost no humidity or fresh air in the place--caused by the many small forges that smiths seemed constantly in these days of war to be burning. And there in the center of the room, lay a large drake, about 20 feet long (the room was massive, and he could lie down quite comfortably asleep and still leave the smiths plenty of room to work) and a brown the color of dead pine-needles.

The drake Thranazar lay comfortably in his dry room, awaiting the tutelage of Iliagan. Suddenly, one of the smiths walked over to Brunhelm and hugged the tall horse. The smith was only an inch or two shorter than Brunhelm and had a similar hair pattern, "Ethelred, meet my brother, Anwhrim. Anwhrim, my new student, Ethelred." The smith smiled, said hello, and shook Ethelred's hand, "And what can I get ya," he whispered, turning to Brunhelm, "Well, Ethelred needs a proper coat of mail. Mithril if you have enough." Anwhrim nodded, "Indeed, I do. It can be made ready in about 2 days time. Check back then."

Brunhelm smiled and here he leaned in, "Do you know of any we could borrow between now and then? I'd feel more at ease if Ethelred had a coat of armor." The burly smith looked Ethelred over and brought out a tape measure and measured Ethelred at his neck, waist, bicep, skull, and thigh. Here, he grimaced, "I don't know, you know how things are for you. Come on, let's see what we can find."

Here, Brunhelm grimaced, "I'm a few inches taller than you are, so there's not going to be anything back there in my size, and neither of us is thin, exactly, so I can't exactly know what we'll find."

A few minutes later, Anwhrim returned with a slight frown, "Well, see, here's the thing: normally, there would be a suit in your size, but it's wartime, and this armory has been plundered by the army, so your options basically are mithril chain mail or steel scale mail. The choice is really up to you." Ethelred was about to speak when Brunhelm ginned wickedly and spoke first, "For my purposes, the steel would serve better as training armor." Anwhrim looked very confused for a moment before he went in the back and got the steel scale armor.

The armor was indeed very tight about the waist, which Ethelred had Anwhrim loosen, but even at its loosest notching, Ethelred's stomach still rubbed against the armor. It was also heavy and hot, much heavier and warmer than Ethelred had anticipated. "Well, how does it feel?" Brunhelm asked mirthfully. "Well," Ethelred responded, "It's now very warm in here and this armor rubs against my torso, making it a tad difficult to breathe." Brunhelm stood grinning like a madman while Ethelred attempted to move in the armor. It was clunky, heavy, and slow. He felt like he was stuck in a bog of sticky clay, and he made the mistake of saying so. "Excellent!" Brunhelm laughed, "Now, take off that helmet and let's go!"

Brunhelm ran at a consistent pace back to the university. Had Ethelred not been wearing the armor, the pace would have probably had him breathing a bit heavily by the end, but nothing that a minute's rest couldn't fix. But instead, by the time Ethelred got to the university, his arms were numb, his legs felt like they could spasm and give out at any second, and his throat felt like a field after a long drought. Ethelred couldn't hide his breathing as the master and apprentice pulled up to the university campus. Brunhelm was panting and laughing at the same time, while Ethelred nearly collapsed. "Your body needs to be in shape as well as your mind and will, Ethel...Ethelred. Now do you see what I mean about running in armor?"

Ethelred physically could do little better than gasp, "I thought mithril was much lighter than steel." Brunhelm smiled, "Oh, it's lighter, but if you aren't used to it, it can still be a burden. Better to train with the heavy stuff so that if time should come when you need it, you've got it." Ethelred's body still felt like jelly, and the second breakfast he had eaten felt like it wanted to come up, but he kept it in. Ethelred then noticed all the other clerks on campus, the numerous apprentices, and the two dragons doing maneuvers overhead. Brunhelm then took Ethelred into the classroom they had practiced in earlier and spent the next two hours going over with Ethelred various methods to conserve energy in battle. "Remember," Brunhelm insisted, "You never want to use more magic than you have to. I know this seems to you like a lot," and he patted his gut for emphasis, "but you also have to remember that you'll never know when you'll need it." Then, Brunhelm taught Ethelred how to draw energy from his fat explicity, rather than from his stomach, "This way, if you have to do any fighting, you won't have an empty stomach."

After eating the remainder of the oatmeal from the morning for a midmorning snack, Brunhelm led Ethelred out to a field and set up some targets. "Ok, my boy, show me what you've got." Ethelred stood, formed his ring of lightning, and using the ways Brunhelm had taught him, fired a series of 3 rings at each of the targets, each moving quickly enough that it would be difficult to dodge if Ethelred had the element of surprise. Brunhelm smiled, and insisted that Ethelred do what he had done again and again. But with each attempt, Ethelred saw no improvement in his attempts. Here, Brunhelm intervened, "Ethelred, you need to concentrate more. Pull the energy through your finger tips. Here, let me see how you convert energy through your body. This is a technique that you'll learn later, but it's one that I need to use to see how you're converting energy."

Now Brunhelm placed his hand on Ethelred's shoulder and bid Ethelred to try again. And Ethelred did. "No!" cried Brunhelm, "that's not what I taught you! Pull energy from around your liver, not near your stomach! Your liver is much more metabolically efficient for this!" And here, Ethelred grinned sheepishly, having indeed forgotten this basic tenet. He tried again, and found his discs flew better. But now he felt in desperate need of a toilet, and he expressed his need in quiet to Brunhelm, who laughed devilishly, "And just how do you expect to shit in your armor? Squatting over a toilet? You'll just have to wait until I release you!" Ethelred's face went pale. His bowels would not be pleased. But his master commanded him to attack again. And with each passing shot, the sensation grew more desperate until it was difficult to even concentrate.

Suddenly, Ethelred's attack went awry and missed his target, scorching the nearby grass, which Brunhelm stamped out quickly. Brunhelm turned, but Ethelred could see that the mirth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, wintery frustration. Brunhelm walked over. "Next time, idiot, try aiming," he nearly spat, "the last thing we want is to set the city on fire. It is always better with magic to take more time than to be hasty and wrong. Remember this. Now go; we're done for now."

Ethelred was too distracted by his urgent bodily needs to seriously consider the words of his master, but sitting down later, he reflected on his carelessness and took his master's words to heart. After washing up, Ethelred went looking for Brunhelm to apologize; but finding his master nowhere, Ethelred went doggedly back to the inn, collected his things, and left for his little room at the university.

The room itself was not terribly large, but it had three beds, and two closets--clearly it had only been designed for having two beds in a room, but Ethelred guessed that the university was trying to make way for the refugees by cramming all its remaining students into one dormitory. Ethelred didn't find it too terribly bothersome--in fact he was quite curious to meet his new roommates. Suddenly, Ethelred heard a thump muffled by the hallway's carpet. He rushed to the door and opened it to find another houyhnhnm fumbling in the pocket of his mithril mail for a key. Ethelred smiled, took the stranger's bag, and asked, "Do you also live in room 243?" The stranger nodded, "Well, I've been assigned here because of the war. I'm Rorhimn son of Hanhimn. And you are?" Ethelred introduced himself and ushered his roommate inside. Rorhimn smiled, "So why are you in steel mail? Are you a new student?" Ethelred turned his head aside and blushed, "I am."

Rorhimn laughed, "Well, congratulations! This is my fourth year here. And what do you want to study?" Here, Ethelred smiled, "Well, I'm here studying conversion of chemical to electrical potential energy." Rorhimn smiled, "Oh, fun, I'm here studying how to convert chemical energy to mechanical energy. You should see some of the things we've built here. They're something. So what materials do you use?"

Ethelred again laughed at himself before he chuckled, "Adipose." Rorhimn smiled, "Well, I'm not thin myself, and I'd say that you've got plenty of that to spare." And it was true, Rorhimn was not thin, but Ethelred's swaddling reserves were more than what most people had. "Well, that tends to happen when you're a baker," Ethelred laughed, before he remembered the fate or Mrahina. Rorhimn seemed to know immediately what was going on and hugged Ethelred, "I'm sorry man. They've got your family too, don't they?" Ethelred, having recovered from his initial surprise, smiled, and hugged Rorhimn ferociously in turn. The hug lasted for about a minute before both men wiped their eyes and smiled.

Suddenly, they heard another muffled thump before Ethelred sprang to the door with a quickness that surprised Rorhimn given Ethelred's size. Before them both stood another houyhnhnm, tall and thin, with eyes that seemed very much to gaze down at them in a reserved, lordly way. The look wasn't necessarily patronizing, but it seemed domineering--it seemed designed to do that as well, because the houyhnhnm flashed a small smirk when Ethelred frowned a tad at the look. But it didn't seem insidious, it merely seemed a bit smug and sarcastic. It was not a face Ethelred enjoyed looking at

"Good afternoon," Ethelred smiled, looking at his new roommate, "I'm Ethelred son of Erenred, and this is Rorhimn, son of Hanhimn." The other man smiled briefly and declard, "I'm Mihrihn, son of Huirihn." But he said no more before Rorhimn spoke, "Muirihn, Ethelred, would you like to go eat together?" Ethelred turned and agreed, which prompted a snort from Muirihn, "of course you would, Ethelred." Ethelred turned, now a slightly angry and hurt, "Well, if you had cared to know, Muirihn, you would have known that eating is critical to my magic." Muirihn smiled, "Of course it is, but only because you built it so. My guess is that your shape came first and your magic second."

Rorhimn sat and glared at Muirihn, "We get it, Muirihn, you don't want to get dinner. Don't be an asshole." Muirihn sat, staring coldly at Rorhimn, "I'm sorry, I thought this was all in good fun! Besides, my parents are having me for dinner tonight. The campgrounds can't compete with that." Ethelred inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. To have to deal with more of him would have broken him.

Ethelred and Rorhimn left, both content to leave Muirihn behind. "So where do you study on campus?" Ethelred asked his new roommate, curious to see if the apprentice still studied with a master. "Well," Rorhimn smiled, "I work down in the forges, trying to make new machines that we could use in the defense of the city. I just started this line of work recently, but we've come up with some fascinating stuff if you want to swing by after we eat." Ethelred was now indeed quite curious about what his roommate was working on, so he agreed to go after they ate.

Rorhimn seemed mildly surprised at the amount Ethelred ate, but he shrugged and smiled. His two plates of food seemed nothing in comparison to Ethelred's four. Rorhimn smiled, feeling quite satisfied after what he had eaten, but Ethelred felt pleasantly full, but not overfull.

So the pair set off to the great forge of the city where Ethelred had gone to have his armor made by Anwhrim. The city was still alive at night, however, with people moving about, businesses bustling and preparing for customers, and here, Ethelred smiled, even with the coming elven army, Ethelred felt no qualms or threats of war.

Upon reaching the forge, Rorhimn carefully opened the door and peered inside. Then, he motioned for Ethelred to quietly follow him. Ethelred was now fully curious about what was going on inside, but Rorhimn held a finger to his lips and motioned for Ethelred to turn away. The two moved nearly silently down the hall, when in the twilight, Ethelred tripped clumsily, and nearly fell. He caught himself, but not without an audible gasp and the scraping of his corset on the stone floor. Rorhimn looked at him and gave him the nastiest glare Ethelred had yet seen him give, and beckoned him to hurry. The two then hurried down the corridor into the room Rorhimn had intended to lead them before Rorhimn closed the door behind them.

"And what was all that skulking about for?" Rorhimn turned and looked angrily at him, "I know that you're new, but do you really not know that dragons hate being spied on, especially when they are doing things revered to their kind?"

"What? Is Master Iliagan going to shoot a jet of flame at us?" Rorhimn wheeled on Ethelred, and pinned him to a wall, "No, idiot, but she'll certainly wheel on you, and you'll be lucky if you suffer a few cracked ribs." Ethelred nodded, now understanding the severity of the situation, "What right has she to do that?"

Rorhimn rolled his eyes, "The king's special permission. She need merely notify us not to enter, and she basically has free reign over everyone but Thranazar." Ethelred nodded, again beginning to see the picture. "I'm sorry; I had quite forgotten about that." Rorhimn's anger subsided, "It's fine, but just remember this in the future. Also, don't annoy Master Iliagan. I work with her, and then I won't associate with you. Is that clear?" Ethelred nodded resolutely. Rorhimn nodded, "Ok then, where do I start? Oh! Here we go, this is a sort of pulley system that we can use to marshal soldiers up the wall if needed! It's rather handy! And that," here he gestured to a mass of mithril coil that was wrapped around itself and attached to a wheel. "And this is our in-progress lightning-driver! We hope that we'll be able to have carts that can propel themselves when driven! Granted, this is expensive and requires a lot of lightning to use, but hey! We're making it more efficient--or trying to anyway."

Ethelred laughed, "Maybe I could try and help you with that!" Rorhimn smiled, "Maybe when you get better at your conversion, we'd consider hiring you as a test subject." Ethelred smiled, "Watch me." They both laughed, thinking it amusing that each should have the talents that he had. When they had finished looking about the workshop, the two houyhnhnms peered out of the workshop only to find the hallway torches lit again, to Rorhimn's delight. The two sauntered on down the passageways out again into the main smithy area. There, Iliagan sat, head swiveling in every direction, and Thranazar to her right seeming to plead with her. As the two approached, they began to hear the talking, "Master Iliagan," came a deep voice, "it isn't worth the effort to pursue the spies, and besides, the sound came from down the corridor anyway." Iliagan turned, and with a voice so deep that it was barely audible, rumbled, "It does not concern me--the intentions of these people--if they be unknown, consequences will be severe."

Before anyone could say anymore, Rorhimn spoke loudly and clearly, "Master Iliagan, excuse us! It was my friend you almost assuredly heard. He is also a clerical student at our university. I was showing him the workshop and he fell in the dark. We had no aim to spy on you, and we certainly mean you no harm." Despite a few quavers in his voice, Rorhimn held his voice calm and level, but loud enough that the dragon could hear down the hall. Iliagan had turned at her summons and stared in the dim light at the two houyhnhnms that walked toward her down the path. Iliagan looked at him, and a look of deep mistrust and inscrutable thought came over her. Ethelred smiled, and stood silent, unsure of what to say to the dragon. He decided to let the dragoness lead the discussion.

Eventually, Iliagan grew impatient and bellowed, "Well?" Ethelred recoiled at the outburst and started stammering out an introduction, "I'm sorry, Master Iliagan, I-I a-am Ethelred son of Erenred of the Brownmane clan, from a little village in the northwest called Mrahina. You wouldn't have heard of it--it's really too small for that. I am here studying the art of converting chemical energy to electrical energy. Please ma'am, forgive me, today was my first day of class under Master Brunhelm." Iliagan nodded, but continued frowning. Iliagan sat pensively by and seemed unsure how to judge Ethelred, "You seem simple and straightforward, not a schemer or plotter," she finally sighed, "I will forgive you this once, but do not enter here again while I am teaching my student." She motioned to Thranazar as she decreed this. Ethelred nodded, and apologized again.

On the way home, the two were silent, still a bit rattled from their encounter with a furious dragon, and nothing of note happened to them either. Cleaned and ready for bed, the two houyhnhnms lay awake awaiting their comrade to return. "So what are the dragons like?" Ethelred finally asked Rorhimn.

"You mean Thranazar and Iliagan or the dragons more generally?"

"Both, really."

Here Rorhimn smiled, "Well, Thranazar and Iliagan don't say much about their own pasts, only that the dragons they knew had grown lazy, undiligent, and rather stupid, frankly, but that's about all either would say. They themselves are reserved, pensive, and observant but also secretive, tight-lipped, and punctual, never saying or letting on more than they mean to. I know, for example, nothing of their pasts--their lineage, their personal stories, hell, even where they came from! They reveal nothing, and the last person who asked innocently is still in ICU in a full body caste." Ethelred winced at the revelation.

He nodded, thanked Rorhimn, and went to bed. Thus ended his first day of training.