The weight of stillness
[02:08:36] Crow (melchior.wardell) had been watching. He had seen Arsus give the man a command. He had not intervened. There was no raised voice. No sudden movement. Only the quiet weight of his gaze settling upon the seeker. Crow’s eyes dropped briefly to the man’s feet before returning to his face. “You moved.” He allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, letting the consequence settle before continuing. “You were given one condition. Remain as still as the stones beneath you. You were told precisely what would happen if you failed.” His expression remained unreadable. “Do not explain it. Do not justify it. The reason does not matter.” A slight tilt of his head followed. “Now you have a choice.” Crow gestured once toward the pile of belongings. “Pick them up. Leave.” He would give there a pause. A pause in which a life could flash by. “Or remain where you are and accept that you have failed this particular test. Whether you are permitted another opportunity is not yours to decide.” He stepped back, giving the man no assistance and offering no further words. The test had never been about whether Zavier could endure discomfort. It was whether he could obey when every instinct told him to act.
[02:12:11] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) felt his jaw tighten, the answer rising instinctively to his tongue before he held it back. He had obeyed the campmaster, yet here he stood condemned for moving; the frustration showed briefly in his eyes, though his feet remained planted upon the stones. His belongings lay within reach, but he did not look towards them. “I will remain,” he said quietly. “I accept that I have failed your test.” He met Crow’s gaze, swallowing the bitterness of words left unspoken. “Whether I am given another opportunity is yours to decide. I am here to learn.”
[02:16:30] Crow (melchior.wardell) regarded him in silence for several long moments. The admission came without excuses, and that mattered more than the failure itself. Crow had seen the frustration in the man’s eyes, the instinct to defend himself, and then the deliberate choice to swallow it. His gaze remained steady. “Good.” The word came quietly. “Not because you failed. You were supposed to understand that failure would be possible.” He shifted his weight slightly, the leather of his sword belt giving the faintest sound in the stillness. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You now know where the weakness appeared. Not in your legs. In your mind.” Crow’s gaze dropped once toward the man’s belongings before returning to him. He stepped closer, stopping well short of invading the man’s space. His expression remained stern, but there was a subtle difference in it now. Attention. “Do not mistake that for acceptance.” The man would breath him. Perhaps smell the scent of burned wood and leather. His green eyes were like emeralds. Hard and sharp as if they were able to cut the man right there and then.
[02:23:22] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) held Crow’s gaze with tired sky-blue eyes, the scent of burned wood and leather reaching him as the man stepped closer. His jaw tightened briefly at the words, though he kept whatever answer stirred behind it firmly contained. Hunger had settled into a persistent ache since the night before; even while gathering wood, he had not stopped to find food, and the few mouthfuls of water taken from the nearby waterfall had done little to sustain him through the hours that followed. Now his throat felt dry, his legs heavy, and remaining still required more deliberate effort than he cared to show. He swallowed carefully, resisting the urge to ease his weight from one foot to the other. “I understand,” he answered, his voice roughened by thirst but quiet enough to carry no challenge. “I will not mistake it.” For a moment, he felt the pull of his belongings nearby and all that leaving would mean, but his eyes stayed upon Crow. He drew a slow breath and remained planted upon the stones, allowing the
silence to stand.
[02:30:11] Crow (melchior.wardell) remained still for a moment, studying the man before him. The signs were there now, the dry voice, the controlled breathing, the subtle tension in his legs. Crow had no need to be told what the body was beginning to demand. Yet he had not moved. That was what mattered. Crow’s gaze remained upon him, measuring rather than judging. “Then understand this as well.” His voice was quieter now. “Discipline is not proven when obedience is easy. Anyone can stand still when the body has no reason to move.” Crow glanced briefly toward the man’s belongings, then back to him. “You are hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Your body is asking you for relief, and your mind is looking for reasons to grant it.” He let the silence return for a long time. He was a man of patience. It had been beaten into him. And this man before him would feel the wrath of it clean and fresh. It must be clear by now that granting permission into the training was not an easy won thing. “Some men are considered worthless while they wait. Lower than slaves. As they can be commanded to do anything. Humiliated to the bone. All to test how eager they are …” he shrugged. “And here you are … only to stand still.” There was challenge and mockery in his voice. A slithering snake that hissed in the mans ear to give up and no longer endure the cruelty of those men that wore the black.
[02:36:13] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) felt the mockery bite more sharply than the ache in his legs, a brief tightening around his blue eyes betraying that he had heard it plainly. His empty stomach cramped beneath his ribs, and he waited for the worst of it to pass without bending or pressing a hand against it. There was little dignity in standing there while another man described how easily he might be reduced, but reaching for his belongings now would mean abandoning what he had come for. He drew a measured breath through his nose, careful not to turn it into a weary sigh. “It sounds a small thing when you say it,” he admitted, his voice dry and low. “It does not feel small now.” The words cost him a little pride, though he held Crow’s gaze as he spoke them. He wanted water, food, somewhere to sit; each had become difficult to keep from his thoughts. “But I still wish to be here.” With that, he fell quiet again, his feet remaining where they had been placed while he worked through the next stretch of silence.
[02:44:12] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied him for a long moment, the admission drawing neither approval nor ridicule from his expression. “Good.” The answer came quietly. “Then remember this feeling.” Crow’s gaze remained fixed upon him. “You have discovered that something which sounds small can become very large when it is placed between you and what you want.” He drew a breath as if to signify the words further. “That is why the test matters.” Crow let the silence settle again, but this time his voice held less edge. “You are not required to pretend that hunger does not hurt. You are not required to convince me that your legs are not tired.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are required to decide what you do with that discomfort.” Crow glanced toward the belongings resting nearby in a very obvious manner. “You already made your choice once.” He looked back to Zavier. “You moved because you feared the consequences of another … ” there was a devious smile playing on his features. “I always wonder … when it will dawn to candidates and seekers … which one they need to fear most.” he let the words hang there.
[02:51:28] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts): me’s brow furrowed, confusion showing plainly in his tired blue eyes as Crow’s words settled upon him. He had understood the order to stand still, and he had understood the campmaster’s command when it came; what troubled him now was how he was supposed to choose between them. His lips parted, then closed again as he considered whether a question would be taken for another excuse. Hunger gnawed at him through the pause, and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat before speaking. “I do not know,” he admitted quietly, keeping his feet planted. “I fear the unknown. The fear of not knowing. The fear that one day the seas would have turned their swells against me and my crew and left me dead. But those days are then, and this is where I feel I need to be now. This is the unknown for me. Consequences and actions mater – words are taken exactly as they are meant. I fear that my whole knowledge is … worthless here and now and yet I remain willing to be changed. Molded as a new man.”
[02:59:46] Crow (melchior.wardell) listened without interruption, his gaze fixed upon the man as the words came. This time there was no correction waiting at the end of them. No immediate challenge. Only silence. Crow had heard men speak of fear before. Most dressed it in courage until it became difficult to recognize. Zavier did not. He had finally stopped trying to give the answer he thought was expected and instead offered something far more useful. Truth. His eyes moved briefly over the man’s exhausted posture. “You have spent your life learning how to survive what you understood. The sea. Storms. Men. Hunger. Death. And now you have deliberately placed yourself somewhere where those lessons may no longer be enough.” Crow’s expression hardened. He took a slow breath. “I wonder … how were you sure that the man that ordered you to gather wood was a man of any authority?” A faint, almost humorless curve touched his lips. “Surely you wouldn’t just take any mans word for it?” He would draw his dagger slowly. He carried two: chaos and order. ‘Chaos’ flashed briefly in that little light here this deep into the forest. The top moving slow over the mans chest but there where the man could see it. “Would you step back if I were to cut you, I wonder?”
[03:08:00] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts): /me’s blue eyes dropped to the dagger as it passed before his chest, his breath catching despite himself. His stomach tightened with something sharper than hunger, and for a moment the urge to step away was so strong that he had to think deliberately about keeping his feet where they were. He could not keep that alarm from his face. “I took him for a man who had authority here,” he answered, his dry voice hesitant. “I did not ask him to prove it. I see now that I assumed.” The admission left his brow furrowed; he had acted upon a certainty that no longer seemed certain at all. With the blade so close, it was difficult to gather his thoughts. “If you cut me… I might,” he admitted. “I have experience pain before I even knew it was happening so I know how it feels, and do not like it. However, pain happens whether you prepare or not. I cannot promise you that standing here would stop that.” His gaze returned to Crow’s face, searching it with visible unease. “Am I meant to question a command when I do not know the man’s authority? To ask before I act? I am used to following instructions – the Captain’s command over a ship is final. Whether he has been a captain for 2 minutes or 50 years” He swallowed, leaving his hands at his sides. “I need to understand how to judge that.”
[03:10:26] Im Strange is offline.
[03:15:19] Crow (melchior.wardell)’s gaze remained on Zavier, the dagger held steady for another moment before Crow slowly lowered it. There had been no need to cut him. The reaction itself had told him enough. “You are beginning to understand the question.” Crow stepped closer, his voice quiet and deliberate. “On a ship, authority is visible. A captain has a crew. A rank. A vessel beneath his feet. The command structure is known.” His eyes narrowed. “Here, you cannot rely upon a uniform, a title, or the assumption that the loudest voice is the one you obey.” Crow tapped the flat of the dagger lightly against his own palm before returning it to its sheath. “You ask how you judge authority.” He would wait and than stated “First, you observe. Who speaks? Who stands with him? Who obeys him? Who does not? What does the situation tell you before you ever open your mouth?” Crow’s gaze remained unwavering. “Second, you understand that uncertainty does not give you permission to invent certainty. You assumed the man had authority. That assumption moved you.” A faint nod toward the ground where Zavier had failed the test. “You may ask for clarification. You may choose to obey. You may choose not to. But every choice has a consequence.” Crow let the silence return for several heartbeats. “An Assassin cannot afford to act simply because an answer feels comfortable. And neither can you. Unless you take up your belongings and go.” The fact Arsus was campmaster he let unmentioned as there was not yet anything to explain for the ranks of the caste when it came to a seeker.
[03:23:12] Zavier Montgomary (zandarletts) released a shallow breath as the dagger was lowered, though the tension across his chest lingered after it disappeared into its sheath. His eyes returned to Crow’s face, his brow still drawn as he considered the explanation. “This man did tell me he was the campmaster,” he said quietly. “That was why I believed he could command me.” He paused, conscious of how easily that might sound like another attempt to excuse himself. “But I took his word for it. I had nothing beyond that.” His throat worked through a dry swallow while he tried to make sense of the distinction. A title had given him something familiar to grasp in a place where he understood so little, and he had accepted it without considering the order already binding him. He remained upon the stones, the ache in his legs making the silence uncomfortable and he shuffled ever so slightly. “I understand the lesson now.” There was no satisfaction in the admission, only a thoughtful crease between his brows. “I will have to learn to look more carefully—and to ask when I do not know. Now may I move again? And search for something to quench the thirst? Or must I remain here til I learn another valuable lesson or die… from that.”
[03:29:42] Crow (melchior.wardell) studied him for a long moment, the faint movement of his own eyes betraying that he had heard the distinction. The man’s answer was not entirely wrong. He had been given a title, and in a place he did not yet understand, he had relied upon it. But the question now was not about the campmaster. It was about what Zavier did with uncertainty. A faint twitch touched the corner of Crow’s mouth at the final question. “Ah.” Crow’s gaze travelled deliberately from the man’s face, to his bare feet, and back again. “We men of caste hardly act upon what we belief. There is need for certainty.” he allowed this lesson to exist. Crow allowed the silence to stretch for another heartbeat before finally giving a small nod. “Yes. You may move.” His voice remained firm. “Drink. Eat. Sit if your legs require it. You have stood long enough.” he held pause as to see the relief upon th man’s face before adding “Of course … only when you do not want to continue with your wait.” There was a dark gaze one of intensity and perhaps even cruelty. This was better than a punch or a good kick in the nuts. With that he turned and left, leaving the man once again alone with all of his thoughts and questions.
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