NOVEL WEB Some For You
Silas woke up the next morning.
Diog stirred beside him, stretching out his legs and yawning widely, Silas rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, feeling the slight ache in his muscles from yesterday's training.
"Morning, buddy," he murmured, giving Diog a gentle pat on the head. Diog responded with a playful nudge.
A knock at the door announced Bonereghard’s arrival. The skeletal steward entered with his usual air of calm authority. "Good morning, my lord," he greeted, his voice steady. "Today, we will continue the training. There is a tournament approaching soon, and we must hasten our preparations."
Silas nodded, recalling Bonereghard’s words from yesterday about the importance of mana affinity. "We'll go with Mana Control Meditation," he decided.
Bonereghard’s hollow eyes flickered approvingly. "A wise choice, my lord. Strength without control is wasted power. This path will ensure Diog’s magic matures with precision. Follow me to the summoning chamber, where we shall begin the day’s training."
Silas and Diog followed Bonereghard through the estate’s winding corridors.
Silas followed Bonereghard through the estate’s winding corridors, his thoughts drifting to their previous visit to the summoning chamber. It was here that he had first summoned Diog, sacrificing the Grey Owl and a few precious ingredients he hadn’t known the value of at the time.
The memory felt surreal.
“Take your positions within the central circle,” Bonereghard instructed once they were in.
Silas positioned himself within the summoning circle, Diog settling beside him on one of the plush meditation cushions. The room, bathed in the soft glow of floating mana crystals, exuded an almost ethereal calm. Bonereghard stood at the edge of the circle, his bony fingers steepled together.
“Begin by closing your eyes, my lord,” Bonereghard intoned. “And breathe deeply. Let the mana in the air flow into you.”
Silas did as instructed, inhaling slowly. He could almost feel the invisible threads of mana weaving through his lungs and into his veins. He peeked at Diog from the corner of his eye, curious how his companion would handle this part.
Diog lay on his cushion, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Silas could sense a shift in the room’s energy as Diog’s breathing synced with his own.
“Now,” Bonereghard continued, “focus on your bond with Diog. Picture it as a thread connecting your minds.”
Silas concentrated, imagining a shimmering silver thread stretching from him to Diog. The connection felt tangible, pulsing with a gentle warmth.
Diog’s ears twitched as if sensing Silas’s focus. The Fenrir cub's breathing grew deeper, more measured. His fur bristled slightly, a faint glow emanating from his form.
Silas closed his eyes, his mind slipping into a deeper state of concentration. He envisioned the thread connecting him to Diog, guiding the mana flow with an intent focus.
As he did, a vision started to form in the back of his mind, a landscape filled with snow and ice, where a massive wolf prowled.
This was no ordinary wolf. Its fur was like a frozen lake under the moon eyes glowing with an otherworldly blue. Silas’s breath caught in his throat as he realized he was staring at the true essence of Diog, the primal Fenrir, the wolf that would devour the world.
Diog was this best.
Yet despite its fearsome appearance, Silas felt a familiar warmth emanating from the Fenrir. The creature looked at him with the same eyes that had looked at him since Diog had been summoned and bonded to him.
“Good,” Bonereghard’s voice was steady. “Now guide Diog’s mana flow through that thread.”
Silas directed the mana towards Diog, feeling it merge seamlessly with his companion’s energy.
The Fenrir responded instinctively, howling and absorbing the ambient mana like it was water.
Diog’s form grew brighter.
"Alright, that's it for now," Bonereghard called out.
Silas blinked, the trance-like state dissipating. He glanced around the room, expecting to see only a few minutes had passed. "That was quick," he replied.
Bonereghard shook his head, the motion somehow conveying an air of exasperation despite his lack of flesh. "No, it really wasn't. You've been here for the entire day."
"But… how?" Silas asked, genuinely perplexed.
"Time passes differently when focusing on mental training to strengthen magic and mana," Bonereghard explained, his tone patient. "The deeper your concentration, the more you lose track of time in the physical world."
Silas looked at Diog, who appeared equally exhausted and invigorated. The Fenrir cub’s fur shimmered with a faint glow, evidence of the mana they had both channeled.
"How do you feel, Diog?" Silas asked, scratching behind Diog’s ears.
Diog responded with a soft growl, his eyes bright and alert despite the long session.
"Well," Silas said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. "I guess that means we’re making progress."
Bonereghard nodded. "Indeed. However, this is only the beginning. Consistent training will be necessary to harness and control Diog’s full potential."
Silas let out a sigh but smiled nonetheless. "One step at a time then."
They left the summoning chamber, heading back through the estate’s corridors. Silas’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
"Bonereghard," Silas began as they walked. "Do you have any recommendations for dinner? I’m starving."
"I shall have the kitchen prepare something nourishing to replenish your energy," Bonereghard replied smoothly. "Perhaps a hearty stew with fresh meat straight off the bone."
"Sounds perfect," Silas said gratefully.
Bonereghard then turned to Silas, "And for you, young master, perhaps some bread and water."
Silas's eyebrows shot up. "Bread and water? What am I, a prisoner?"
Bonereghard’s monocle titled forward. "Hardly, my lord. Merely ensuring your dietary habits remain aligned with your current financial constraints."
Silas sighed. “We're not that desperate yet, go ahead and get me something a bit more substantial today.”
The skeletal butler seemed to smile. “Very well. I shall have the kitchen prepare something more appropriate.”
**
Upon entering the dining hall, Silas noticed a long table set with silverware that had seen better days but was polished to a silver finish. Bonereghard directed him to sit at the head of the table.
"Please be seated, my lord," Bonereghard said with a slight bow. "I shall inform the kitchen of your amended request."
Silas took his seat.
Moments later, Bonereghard returned with a steaming bowl of stew that smelled richly of herbs and spices and meat on the bone and placed it in front of Diog.
Silas eyed the bowl of stew set before Diog with envy. The rich aroma of meat made his stomach growl more.
Bonereghard returned, placing a wooden tray in front of Silas. "And for you, my lord," he said, with what could almost be mistaken for a smirk.
Silas glanced down at his meal. A piece of buttered bread lay on the tray beside a glass of water that had a suspiciously cloudy appearance. "What’s this?" Silas asked, lifting the glass to his nose and sniffing cautiously.
"Water with vinegar," Bonereghard replied. "It aids digestion and ensures your hydration is met with some semblance of flavor."
Silas grimaced but took a sip.
The taste of vinegar followed and made him wince.
"Lovely," he muttered sarcastically, setting the glass down.
Diog was already digging into his stew, making short work of the tender meat and thick broth. Silas tore a piece off the buttered bread and took a bite, savoring the creamy richness. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
"Do not underestimate the value of simplicity," Bonereghard said, observing Silas’s reaction to his meal.
Silas looked up from his bread and vinegar.
Bonereghard stood nearby, watching him with an intensity that felt out of place.
"Bonereghard," Silas began, half-jokingly, "I appreciate the dietary suggestions, but are you sure this is the best way to prepare for training?"
Bonereghard’s usually dry and sardonic demeanor seemed to evaporate in an instant. His took on an aura of complete seriousness.
"Once," Bonereghard began, each word weighted with a somber gravitas that Silas had never heard before, "before a battle that determined the fate of this city, vinegar and buttered bread was all I was granted."
Silas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He set his glass down carefully. "What do you mean?"
Silas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He set his glass down carefully. "What do you mean?"
Bonereghard’s skeletal frame seemed to straighten even further, his monocle catching the light. "It was during a time when battles were fought still for survival," he began.
"Before one such battle, the soldiers were granted only vinegar and buttered bread. It was said that too much food, and too rich of food, spoiled a warrior before battle."
Silas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Spoiled how?"
"Too much indulgence dulls the senses," Bonereghard explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "A warrior needs to be sharp, focused, and agile. Heavy meals slow the body and cloud the mind. The simplicity of vinegar and bread ensured they remained alert and ready for combat."
Silas took another bite of his bread, chewing thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense," he admitted. "But this isn't exactly a battlefield."
"Every day here is a battle in its own right," Bonereghard countered. "You may not be wielding a sword or casting spells in constant skirmishes, but you are fighting for your survival and that of this estate."
He took another sip of the vinegar-laced water, wincing at the taste.
"Alright," Silas conceded, setting his glass down with a small thud. "I get it. Simplicity keeps us sharp."
Bonereghard nodded approvingly. "Precisely, my lord."
Diog finished his stew and looked up at Silas expectantly.
Silas chuckled and reached down to scratch behind Diog's ears.
"Thanks for the lesson," Silas said to Bonereghard. "I'll keep it in mind."
Bonereghard gave a slight bow. "It is my duty to ensure you are prepared for whatever challenges lie ahead. However, should you win the next cup, we can see about a proper meal." "