No Training Required

Garit Sariori is the son of a High Lord. For his age, he is the most athletic of all the youth in the city of Kallia. His ultimate goal is to become a renowned warrior and legend. To become such, he knows he must find a mentor of equal renown to teach him. His quest has brought him to the small town of Faletti, where Shan Nathe, the hero of the Battle of Bald Ridge, lives.


Garit was surprised at how far away Shan lived from any real city. He thought Shan would want to live within the boundaries of a large city in order to relate his stories of valor to anyone who would listen.

Garit approached a small cottage on the edge of a wood. It was the sort any poor, inconsequential family would live in. The townspeople must have made a mistake in sending Garit out this far, but rather than travel back to Falleti, he decided to ask the occupants if they knew the whereabouts of Shan.

An older man, thin and balding was cutting firewood when Garit approached the outer fence. He looked to be at least seventy.

Garit dismounted his horse and called to the man, “Excuse me, sir.” 

The man paused his work and looked up. A visible sigh went through his body.

“What can I do for you, young man?” the older man asked, resting his axe on the splitting stump.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m looking for Shan Nathe, the hero of the Battle of Bald Ridge. Do you happen to know where he lives?” Garit asked. He made sure to show proper respect to the elderly man and bowed his head slightly.

“What do you want him for?” the man asked, squinting his wrinkled brow.

Garit smiled. “I wish to apprentice under him. My name is Garit Sariori, son of High Lord Athlin Sariori. I wish to become a mighty hero, just as he was.”

He was confident in his capabilities and barely boasted of them. He truly wished to be valiant.

“A High Lord’s son, eh? Do you plan to take Shan away to your keep? Hide him away forever?” the man asked, approaching the gate.

“No, sir,” Garit replied. “I will train with him wherever he wishes. I’m no one to make demands of a respected hero of the realm.”

“I see.”

“Do you know where I might find him?” Garit asked once more.

The old man leaned on the gate for support. “I’m Shan Nathe,” he said dryly. His eyes focused sharply on Garit.

Garit didn’t know if the man was serious or not. He could have the sickness of the aged. He was too old to be the Shan Nathe.

“The Battle was only twenty years ago,” Garit said, unbelieving.

“I was already an old man when I fought at the Battle of Bald Ridge,” Shan said. “I’ve been visited by countless young men who have all wanted to be heroes, and I’ve told them all the same thing. You can’t train to be a hero.”

Shan’s tone was so matter-of-fact that Garit didn’t know how to respond.

“Why not?” Garit asked. “I have trained with my father’s soldiers. I can learn anything you have to teach me.”

Garit didn’t like to boast, but he really could do anything.

“That’s the problem then. I can’t teach you to be a hero any more than you can teach me to be a High Lord’s son. It just doesn’t work that way. Look at me,” Shan said, holding his hands out to the side. “Do I look like a hero to you?”

Garit realized that Shan hadn’t looked like a hero from the first moment he saw him. His demeanor didn’t reflect a mighty warrior. Shan didn’t look like he could have been as strong as Garit himself, even in his prime. He was short and wiry. How could Shan have ever been a hero of any battle, Garit thought. He didn’t fit the legend.

“How did you do it then?” Garit wondered.

Shan shrugged. “We were losing. I took my men and charged the enemy line, knowing it was suicide. We fought just as hard as we had for three days. We did what we knew had to be done to protect the flanks of the main army. A lot of my men died." the old man paused, as though reliving the event in his mind. "It was a hard day. I often wonder if there wasn’t something else I should have done that could have saved them. You call me a hero because I took a chance, and made one last effort.” Shan’s voice shook with emotion. “You can’t learn luck. I knew many good and brave men who fell beside me, but I survived.”

Garit understood. He could never become a hero through strenuous training. Shan’s physique was proof of that. But Shan had something else that Garit hadn't thought of. Shan had been determined to protect his people, up to the point where he would give up his life. Most men would retreat rather than continue an impossible fight. He had the kind of loyalty to his country that men should have. Shan had proved himself .

“Master Shan, thank you for your time,” Garit said, extending his arm gratefully. “I think I understand what you mean.”

Shan accepted Garit’s arm and watched thigh Lord's son as he mounted his horse and headed back to Falleti.

Shan nodded his head and smiled before returning to his cottage. Calli, his wife, rested in a padded chair by the fireplace.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, when he put his hand on hers.

“A young man who was looking for Shan Nathe.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.”

“And he believed you?”

Shan nodded. “I could see it in his eyes. He understood better than any of the others. He’ll be a hero one day, even if no one recognizes it.”