“Now, on to other things,” Oreius said briskly. “The first thing I taught you is that peace is the only thing worth fighting for. When I asked you what you saw and felt, what all did you sense around you?”
“The river,” Relam said immediately. “The smell and the sound.”
Oreius smirked. “Yes, the smell has gotten better but it’s still there, despite your father’s efforts. What else?”
“The wind in the trees,” Relam said quickly. “And the fountain behind us. I could smell the flowers, the grass. I felt the stone beneath me and the pavers under my feet.”
“Not bad,” Oreius allowed. “Anything else?”
Relam frowned, thinking. “That’s all,” he said slowly, glancing at Oreius.
“That may be all you sensed but it is not all that is there,” Oreius growled, pushing to his feet and walking to the center of the grove of trees. “Come.”
Relam followed quickly, trotting to catch up. “Lesson number two,” Oreius said, stopping and turning abruptly to face Relam. “You have to be aware of everything around you. You remember the battle in the forest, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, what was your overall impression of that battle?”
“Chaos,” Relam replied.
“Were you able to keep track of everything?”
Relam shook his head.
“Not even close, right?”
The prince nodded reluctantly. “I was able to keep track of my area of responsibility though,” he pointed out. “The wedge of space immediately in front of us.”
“That’s good, but that is not your area of responsibility, as you put it,” Oreius countered. “It is only a very small part of it. You are a prince, Relam, approaching your twentieth name day, upon which you will be confirmed as the heir to the throne. You will be a leader of men. A general, a commander when you step onto the battlefield. Not some soldier responsible for a small space and a minor task.”
Oreius fixed Relam with a penetrating stare. “As a leader of men, you are responsible for everything and everyone. And therefore, you must be aware of everything and everyone, even in the heat of battle.”
“That sounds difficult.”
“Nearly impossible, actually” Oreius corrected. “And not a skill one easily perfects. I have, however, and I will pass this knowledge onto you if you are willing.”
Relam nodded gravely. “I am.”
“Good. Stand here, in the center of the grove, and close your eyes.”
Relam did as he was told, falling into darkness once more.
“Now, what do you sense?”
“The river,” Relam said, for the gurgling of its passing was even louder now that he was closer to the bank. “And the trees. The wind is weaker now, though. I hear people, on the River Road beyond the house, and an oxcart-”
“An oxcart?”
“Yes, their gait is more ponderous and plodding than that of a horse.”
If Relam thought to impress Oreius with this bit of information he was disappointed. “Not bad. What else?”
“A blacksmith,” the prince continued as he discerned the ring of steel against steel on the air.
“A rather piercing noise, hard to miss,” Oreius said dismissively.
Relam frowned. The sound of the river had changed slightly. “A ship?” he asked uncertainly.
“You heard the water along its hull, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well done, boy. Keep going.”
“Birds,” Relam said as he heard the flutter of wings. “And squirrels, chattering at the birds.” As he finished, one such noise exploded directly above his head. “I hear the fountain, though it is harder at this distance. And the scent of the flowers is weaker. I feel the grass beneath my feet, the way the earth yields gently to my weight but still supports me. I hear the creak of rope tethering smaller craft to the bank.”
“Open your eyes.”
Relam did so, looking around. Oreius had disappeared.
“Looking for someone?”
Relam looked up in amazement and saw Oreius perched on a thick branch, looking down at him.
“How-?” Relam started to ask.
“Did you not notice me climbing up here?” Oreius finished, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, no,” Relam admitted.
“Because you did not expect to hear me climbing the tree,” Oreius grunted. “You listed all the sounds and smells that you would expect to sense where you stand, things that could be confirmed by your past experience in the city and on the river, even experiences from your first visit to my house.”
Oreius swung down from the branch, holding on with his two hands over his head, then dropped the remaining two meters, landing in a crouch to absorb the impact. “A battlefield is full of the unexpected,” he said sternly, joining Relam in the center of the glade once more. “You must be aware of everything, and everyone.”
“Yes, Oreius,” Relam said, wincing. Of all the embarrassing sounds to miss, he had missed an old man climbing a tree! It didn’t hardly seem possible.
Oreius nodded, watching Relam keenly. “You are frustrated, good. You expected to do better, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Get used to disappointment, boy. My training will push you beyond your limits, to the point where you question if you really have enough to survive. It isn’t meant to be easy, and you will fail. Repeatedly.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Anyway, by the time we are finished here your skills will be beyond what you could possibly imagine right now.”
“That sounds promising,” Relam said hopefully.
“But are you willing to put in the work?” Oreius whispered, moving to stand on Relam’s other side.
“Yes,” the prince replied without hesitation.
“Automatic, good. But anybody can say that,” Oreius said suddenly, flicking his hand dismissively. “Prove to me that you mean it. Close your eyes and listen again.”
Relam did as the old warrior instructed, listing the things he heard and felt as they came to
