Introduction

The Iuvenesco Project is an extensive undertaking purely for the audiences enjoyment. The Project is comprised of the cumulative narrative which will be updated daily.

An explanation on the meanings of words:

iu·ven·es·co v. [yoo-ven-es-koh] To reach the prime of life.

pris·cus adj. [pris-kus] Former, Old Days. (THIS DIFFERENTIATES FROM THE CONCURRENT CHAPTERS THAT WILL BE AVAILABLE IN THE SCIENCE FICTION FORUM.)

With that, enjoy the show...

PRISCUS - I -

i.

“ . . . his feet are the tell. Look at neither torso nor arm; focus only on his foundation. It is the fundamentals of movement. If mastered, be assured you will achieve victory.” Upon completion of his discourse, the Instructor observed idly his sixty-eight novices as they engaged each other in pairs. The beginning class seemed to be progressing fairly, even so early this season. Striding through the expanse of youths, he observed their practice. This one is acceptable; to the next, juvenile footwork; a third, not even looking at his feet! Looking skyward to the heavens, he determined it near an hour since exercises had begun. He is soon to arrive.

The Instructor’s assistant was on the reverse of the yard. He made his way toward the Mentor. The assistant was very much his junior, though a talented swordsman. His sturdy frame matched the features of his face—not necessarily chiseled, yet having the potential. Upon approach, the Instructor hailed the man.

“Maintain these exercises for half an hour more; direct as needed. I must attend to our visitor.” The Mentor merely nodded in response, already occupied with two adolescents.

Walking en route to the Military Institute, an austere structure of plain stonework, he progressed through the dreary halls. Each corridor he strode through was a facsimile of the last, each one having cadets pay respect to him with the occasional fellow instructor nod in passing. His excursion ended when entering the coupled barracks; his destination being the refectory. The hall was filled with the Institute’s intermediate trainees; the Instructor scanned the tables in an attempt to locate a familiar face. As the Instructor slowly paced between tables, each recruit left their lunch meal to stand in respectful acknowledgment. One such recruit approached him; this was the Cadet he sought.

“Sir Instructor! May I be of service?” The Cadet maintained a gaze straight ahead.

“I am in need of your service, Cadet. If you could follow me . . . ” He turned and, assuming the Cadet would follow, began to walk back the direction he came. “We have ourselves a guest attending our Military Institute, as you may have heard. Knight Gallant Sighard shall be giving this Institute an appraisal; I simply require you to prime a room for his stay.” The last words were followed by the Instructor facing the Cadet, a pause, a salute, and the Cadet started for the second floor.

The Instructor continued on to his office to retrieve a document sent just a week prior. He wished to reread the manuscript for the last time before his superior’s arrival. Upon entering, he ignored the insignia of the King’s Martial Swords on each wall, the dark indigo banner behind each heraldic shield. He walked around the thick oak desk, the unembellished chair scraping against the flagstone flooring under his grip.

Taking his place within the seat, he ruffled through the few pieces of parchment and found the letter he intended. The wax seal remained at the top—it was the same dark indigo as the King’s, though embossed with the ring of House Sighard. The sunlight revealed penned script to which he read:

Sir Instructor,

By the order of King Leaghyne III, all Military Institutes under the King’s Martial Swords shall be placed under scrutiny, as done annually. Lord Sighard of the Command of His White Heaven shall be the judge of the facility in location of Garrison Aureau-

A knock at the door roused him; the Cadet was standing at the entrance.

“Sir Instructor! I’ve been instructed to notify you on the arrival of Lord Knight Gallant Sighard, sir.” The youth maintained posture and sight erect as he stood.

“Lord Sighard? He has arrived?”

“Sir, he has, sir. Also, preparations for the Lord Sighard are complete, sir.”

“Thank you. Do leave.”

At that, the Cadet stamped his foot and departed. The Instructor walked out to the Military Institute’s façade, straightening his attire to be the most presentable in the attendance of nobility. Exiting through the open doors of the foyer, he walked from stone stair to gravel pathway, down the descent and to the stable yard where a lavish man stood. Two men dressed akin—obviously subordinates to Knight Gallant Sighard—were assisted by three novice recruits to stable the horses.

“Lord Sighard of The Command! The trip was fair, I hope?” The Instructor extended a hand accompanied with a warm smile. Lord Sighard was a tall man. With streaks of gray just above his ears, this knight had seen his share of battles—the most of which he came out victorious.

“’twas fair indeed, my comrade.” Lord Sighard accepted the Instructor’s gesture; the two embraced hands, a quick grasp and release as it had always been done. This was the sixth year the Lord Sighard had come to rule on this Institute.

“Come, come. There is daylight, yet.” The Instructor led the way up the gravel path, into the entrance hall, and out through the corridors to the training green. As they walked; “Just a quick tour as we have every other year.” A chuckle.

The last exercises were underway as the sun reached past the lofty watchtowers of the surrounding keep. The two stood for a moment under the shade of a wooden awning supported by timber shafts, the construct extending over a stone deck. Lord Sighard situated himself, arms crossed, the Instructor leaning against one of the joists.

“So, sir, what have you to show me this season?” the Knight asked with a hint of lighthearted challenge.

Upon inquiry, the Instructor straightened, recalling something substantial. “Something very interesting, indeed, my Lord. In fact, I think he might be readying for practice as we speak.” A wide grin was on the Instructor’s face as each eyes met.

“Oh? You intrigue me, sir. Do lead on.”