Castle Wulfenburg Main Courtyard, 2340 IC
"Is there…a reason, you picked that one?" Magnus asked carefully.
Ori looked up at him unblinking, the rest of the weapon pile completely untouched from since he had first laid them out. Alexandra's gift of size scaled weapons was proving itself yet again this year. In the past, father had done his best but hadn't had the sheer scale and breadth that Alexandra had offered when she'd first dropped them off. Still, it was the inclusion of one that had never been more than touched, examined, and left behind by all the rest of the Herd who had been able to first touch live steel as of yet since then. Karola had barely accepted picking up a quarterstaff, a spear. Frederick, Arthur's son, had happily gone for the sword and shield at first before expanding his learning to try and encompass the sheer variety that his namesake possessed – an internal arsenal of memory that even Magnus had not yet completely covered. Trudi, Arthur's daughter, seemed happier to focus on ranged weaponry and an Estalian fencing blade of all things.
"Because I need to," Ori said with complete calm.
Really, Magnus didn't even know why Alexandra had included it in the first place. Well, no, that was a lie. She was devoted to thoroughness when it came to her projects. An incomplete assortment would not have satisfied her. Keeping the entire training bundle maintained was a long-term duty assignment for the servants, and occasionally for some of the older children when they required disciplining. But for some reason, as he looked into his own daughter's eyes, he could not help the sense that there was something distinctly different about this session. More than any of the others. Others of the Herd who had gone through the process, their first taking up of a true weapon, had generally had childish glee and interest in shiny dangerous things – things that needed to be tempered sooner rather than later. Karola had been the first major divergence, the most resistant he'd ever seen, and to this day she only sparred with training dummies when made to, never in contact with anyone else in the family except when completely forced.
"That's…why do you think that?" Magnus said, rocking on his heels slightly.
"Because I need to," she repeated as she carefully held the facsimile of Brain Wounder.
It wasn't a true enchanted blade, of course. But Alexandra, ever a perfectionist when it came to her craft, had made it appear in every way save for its size to be a perfect replication of the Runefang of Ostland. Ori was holding it one-handed, her harm not even trembling slightly like even Frederick's had the first time around. It was perfectly still, just like the rest of Ori save for her quiet even breathing. Her blue eyes, the exact same as his own, met his own without hesitation. When he'd come to get her out of bed for this, early in the morning, she had not screamed with delight, or cheered, or even cried like Karola. There had been a simple murmur of acknowledgement before she'd begun dressing herself and following him out.
"That's a replica of Brain Wounder," he reminded her.
"I know."
Her lips moved, but the rest of her did not.
"It's a blade meant for the ruler of Ostland, and some day their heir, and so on," he continued.
Oh, sure, stories were told to the Herd of the blade, how could there not be? Stories of victories, of defeats, of history of the family and the Empire. Religious stories had also featured heavily since Arthur and Serhild got really involved, ensuring that all knew of the Gods of the Empire, as well as the minor Gods of Ostland and other deity's from beyond their borders. But for those of the Herd under ten, even those beginning combat practice, they didn't get into the truly gritty things. Not just yet. But even so, Magnus was relatively sure that they'd certainly impressed upon all of them of the sheer importance of the blade.
"Yes," Ori finally nodded, the first body movement she'd made since she'd picked up the replica.
"Which means that one day – a long time from now, Sigmar willing – it will be mine."
"Yes."
"And after me," he slowed his words down, enunciating carefully, "It will be my heir's to wield."
"Unless you die first."
Magnus paused, mouth closing over his next planned words.
"What was that?"
Ori slowly blinked, once, before re-committing to her ongoing gaze.
"If you die before grandfather, the blade will remain in his possession as it currently is. It might pass on to your presumptive heir, but you might never wield it."
"Well, that's…,"
"Or our entire branch is killed for one reason or another, and the sword will pass on to Frederick, as Arthur's presumptive branch heir and the next viable Hohenzollern candidate. Or Tasha, possibly, as the daughter of the eldest living children of the main patriarch and matriarch of the Hohenzollerns."
His daughter paused at that, the faintest tensing of her brow the only sign of her thinking hard before it smoothed out once more.
"No, that's unlikely," she declared softly. "Prejudices against foreign faiths are strong, and while magic is more acceptable to Ulricans than Sigmarites…hmm. I can't say, I guess."
It was, in that moment, that Magnus realized that he might well have missed something somewhere at some point. The Hohenzollerns were a large family, not simply because the work of his father and mother, but with others as well, himself and Sabine included. His attentions were split in so many directions, not just with trying to get Karola to accept more training, but with combat patrol duties in the province, with his new youngest children, with the duties of being the heir presumptive for his father. Somehow, despite being only a year younger than Karola, Ori had slightly slipped between the cracks. At least, that was the only conclusion he could come up with as she looked at him expressionlessly.
It wasn't that she was incapable of such, but more than anything he was getting the oddest sensation of déjà vu towards none other than Anna herself.
"Okay," he crouched down on one knee, "Ori-,"
"You can call me Ortrud, father, Trudi isn't around to make it confusing."
Magnus let loose a small, bemused huff.
"But I like calling you Ori. May I continue to do so?
"Yes father. I am sorry I interrupted you."
Not that it seemed to show on her face or in her tone.
"Okay," Magnus nodded. "Now, Ori, you do realize that Karola is my heir, right?"
That, finally, got Ori's face to screw up slightly, something that gave her the confused appearance of the young girl she was.
"Yes? I know that. You know I know that," she eventually said, tilting her head at him.
"Right," Magnus nodded again, "So do you want to tell me why you picked that weapon first, before any of the others? Wouldn't you like to start learning other weapons, rather than something you'll hopefully never have to wield?"
That got her face to smooth out again.
"Because I need to," she finally said, repeating what she had at the beginning, causing Magnus to hang his head for a moment.
"Would you like to tell me…anything more than that?" He said, voice somewhat strained.
"I don't understand."
"You need to start learning how to wield Brain Wounder first and foremost of any other weapon," he gestured to the weapon in question, "Because…," he trailed off meaningfully.
Her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widening somewhat.
"Oh. Yes. I need to because Karola won't."
She said it so calmly that Magnus almost swore he'd misheard her.
"Excuse me? 'Karola won't?' Karola won't what?" He said slowly, looking Ori up and down.
"Wield Brain Wounder?" she replied promptly, looking at him with some faint approximation of concern on her face. "Father? Are you all right? You look-,"
"I'm fine," Magnus lied to her, "What do you mean that Karola won't wield Brain Wounder? She's reluctant to fight, yes, but that does not mean she won't wield it at some point in her lifetime."
This, finally, got Ori to frown outright while shaking her head.
"No. That not true."
"And why is that, Ortrud?" Magnus said a little more harshly than he'd intended to, something slipping in and then out of Ori's gaze faster than he could properly register.
"Karola is too weak," she replied, the statement so forcefully said that it would have made him stumble if he hadn't been kneeling.
"What?"
"She's too weak," she repeated. "Karola fears fear, and she's afraid all the time. She cries in the first hit, and she cries to make it stop, and it works. Logan used to hit her hard enough that she could end spars early, but he's gone now and that's why she looks like she's sparring more, which is why you think she's getting over it. She's not, Frederick just won't do it and Tasha schedules her yard time so she doesn't have to make the choice."
Words attempted to come out of his open mouth, but somehow Magnus could not say any of them.
"Whenever grandfather brings up battles of the mind, she freezes up and can't contribute, or she tries to retreat. Whenever there is cannon testing at the school, she hides inside and flinches every time. She doesn't like being outside the city, outside the walls. She doesn't even carry her belt knife," Ori gestured at her own, currently sheathed, "Completely ignoring utilities outside of bloodletting, unless prompted. She's nice, and kind, and everyone pities her."
"Pities her," Magnus echoed softly.
"Yes," Ori stiffly nodded before she waggled the blade replica in her hand, running the tips of her fingers along the flat. "She is your heir, yes. But she won't wield it," Ori said while shaking her head before blinking at Magnus as he rose from his kneeling position. "So I will."
"Because you need to," Magnus paraphrased, mind awhirl. "Won't that make her look even weaker?"
Ori raised her free hand, the one not somehow almost treacherously holding the scaled down Brain Wounder as if it was meant for her hand, and waggled it in the air.
"I checked the library. Stewards and champions have, in the past, represented Electors when the Electors proved incapable of personally leading in martial matters."
Then she lowered her head for a moment before looking back up at Magnus.
"These were regarded better than those that didn't appoint such individuals while remaining incapable. So…this," she held the replica up to the sun, letting its light glint off of its surface.
Magnus didn't quite know what to say to that.
"Because I need to."
