On his way back to the training ground Sjorn was mulling over what Alvar's grandparents had told him and how he was going to breach the topic with the lad.
Lost in his thoughts the man soon arrived at the training ground and came upon the sight of his student slashing away wildly at the wooden dummy. At least he was doing something with all the emotions that must be rampaging in the lads heart right about now.
"It's alright if you want to vent but that doesn't mean you should lose your form while doing so! Do you think an enemy will care about your emotions so long as they aren't a hindrance to him ramming a sword into your guts? Come on lad, position!" Sjorn spoke as he came to a standstill next to the heavily panting Alvar who at first wasn't quite sure what his instructor meant as his head was still muddled to some degree but none the less he complied without any protest and began swinging at the dummy once again.
Meanwhile Sjorn had walked over to a nearby tree where he sat down, crossing his arms before his chest.
"You know, when I was 22 years old I went onto my first campaign outside of Hoelbrak. We were sent out to deliver a message to the Charr who have a garrison not too far from our capital, in which our scouts informed them that a raid was imminent onto their small garrison. Before we could reach there though the attack had already commenced and so our commander at the time decided promptly that we would come to the Charrs assistance. A foolish decision, now that I think back on it, as we didn't know anything after arriving at the scene." Sjorn spoke, his eyes resting on the ferociously swinging Alvar, though his gaze seemed to look far away into the past.
"We didn't know how long the attack had been going for, we didn't know the enemies numbers, nor our allies numbers. We walked into a death trap, literally." Sjorn's words seemed to have some effect on Alvar as he still swung at the dummy but regardless of that the story must have roused his curiosity, as the lad was throwing glances towards his instructor from time to time while the man continued to talk.
"At the time I was still a young lad, barely having finished my tutelage as a warrior. I was not as green as some man who holds a sword for the first time of course but no matter the training you receive, you can only barely prepare someone for their first real battle when it's about life or death…" That statement seemed to rip Alvar out of his emotional state as his mind began to work properly again.
"Why is that? I mean can't you come at a trainee with the intent to kill? What's the difference?" Alvar asked with a rugged breath, shortly stopping his practise, until he began swinging again.
"Heh, you would think so, wouldn't you? Yes, you can come at your apprentice with the intent to kill but said apprentice will always know at the back of his mind that you will not truly want to cause harm, of course there are exceptions. For example if you barely know your instructor. It is different on the battlefield because you have no security in the form of an instructor, nobody to watch your back all the time and men at your front that truly wish to ram a spear into your heart! It is difficult to explain but once you are in such a situation you will understand." Sjorn spoke with a small, sad smile.
At his words Alvar began to think about the possible differences that a true battlefield and a training ground could pose and came to the conclusion that Sjorn may be right, in some points at least. You could always argue that any place could become a battle field, provided a true enemy on it of course, but none the less his instructor's point held true.
"Once we stormed the backlines of Jormag's troops our formation quickly scattered into the uncontrolled mess that a battlefield usually is. Men dying left and right, the blood soaking the soles of your feet while the adrenaline is pumping through your veins until everything around you begins to disappear behind a slight veil of red, only killing more and more being on your mind in order to survive. That's where I witnessed friends, I had been training for years with, die one by one, fuelling my rage until only a few of us remained. We later found out that the garrison had never stood a chance at surviving as Jormag had sent his champion and some of his best troops to take care of the garrison as he wanted to stifle a possible pact between Norn and Charr in the bud at all costs, which he succeeded in." Sjorn narrated.
His instructor's words resonated curiously with Alvars vision and he couldn't help but wonder how Sjorn must have felt that day. Maybe similar to himself right now? "How did you escape? You said you were outnumbered. Did the enemy not chase you down?" Alvar asked, the dummy standing silently at his side as Alvar's attention was now fully on his instructor.
"Luck I suppose. Only a few of us managed to escape though at a steep price as we could see and hear our comrades die while we fled into the hills. Did they send troops after us? Possible. We were rushing back towards Hoelbrak as fast as we could to warn our people of a possible invasion and not too soon as we later would find out. Have you ever heard of the long night?" Sjorn asked his student back while his gaze returned back into the present, now resting on his trainee fully.
"Only in passing. So Jormag's troops really attacked Hoelbrak directly then? How did we survive?" Alvar asked while sitting himself down opposite of Sjorn, wiping his sweat covered face clean with his sleeve all the while.
"Yes, they did attack us the following night after our return. We had barely managed to rack up our defences in the short period of time given to us. That night the moon was covered by thick clouds and icy winds rained down onto our heads, which was the cover Jormag's troops used to charge at our gates. Under sounds of rolling thunder and cracking like moving glaciers his troops consisting of corrupted Norn, known to you as Sons of Jormag, and beings made out of purely corrupted ice barrelled into our defences. We held strong but a few men and constructs made of ice managed to enter our home. Before we could act in the chaos of battle these beings had begun to kill or corrupt our people. Many died that night and many went missing after Jormag had stretched out his mind and began to corrupt some of our people which caused them to either join him or go insane. You pick for yourself which option appeals to you more. That night, due to the feeling of never seeing the sunlight again, was baptised 'the long night', and rightly so." Sjorn narrated after which Alvar sat opposite his instructor in silence.
"When was this night? I've never been told before." Alvar asked after a few minutes of contemplative silence.
At first Alvar thought his instructor was not going to answer as the man seemed to debate whether or not to tell his trainee but in the end he seemingly decided that Alvar would find out sooner or later anyway so there was no harm in telling the lad.
"today is the third day in the beginning of May. 12 years and two days ago the long night took place. On your birthday, Alvar." Sjorn said in a solemn tone which in turn caused Alvar's eyes to widen in surprise.
It seems his birthday was cursed somehow. His mother first and now his uncle. Alvar couldn't help himself but wonder, was that a coincidence or was there more to it? He truly hoped there wasn't…
Didn't come out as good as I had wished but I still hope you enjoyed the chapter :-)