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The Aeolian Master - Book One - Revival


little destroyers," she said in her mirth.
The warden shook a chubby little finger at her. "That's right," he chortled and then repeating himself,
because he knew it was so successful the first time, he said, "And now to the serious business of having fun."
One by one and two by two the guests had finally gotten up and gone back to their barracks. The warden had
gone to bed. The dishes had been cleared and washed, and everything put back in order. Finally, Hasmau was
thoroughly reprimanded for his lack of attention during the party.
Now, Jacob, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, stepped into a karate stance. It was
the first time in more than three years. He remembered the thrill of the match, and he knew he was good at it.
His instructor had told him so. He turned slightly sideways and quickly kicked his leg out and back performing
a sidekick. He jumped and turned counterclockwise in the air with his foot kicking out and back before he hit
the ground, performing the roundhouse.
He loved the sport of karate in spite of the fact that throughout most of the Galaxy situ had taken over where
karate left off, making it almost obsolete. On Jacob's home planet, Altos, situ was the hand-to-hand combat of
choice, but karate was still practiced. There were karate clubs here and there. There were a few tournaments.
There were even championship matches with the winner being highly acclaimed and looked up to.
At the age of seven he became excited when he and his friends were talking about it in school. He started
hanging out with a neighbor two doors down—an older man, Saul, who had once been a karate champion. Saul
took him under his tutelage and taught him everything he knew. By the time Jacob was thirteen Saul told him
he had the fastest movements and kicks he had ever seen.
Still standing in front of the mirror Jacob's left thigh raised parallel to the ground. His foot shot out and
snapped back performing the front kick. He was just as fast with either foot. He thought back and remembered
his father, Jonah, chastising him when he found out Jacob had become involved in the sport. "Why can't you be
like your older brother, Edward," he would say. "Now there's a boy who's going to make something of himself.
There's a boy who's going to follow in family tradition and be great at it."
And his brother Edward was worse than his father. "What are you? A stupid namsey pansey. You wanna
be a sissy. You'll be a dead sissy when a situ man breaks you over his knee. And then your master will be dead
too. And you will have disgraced our family name."
Jacob couldn't understand why everything had to be exactly as tradition dictated. Just because his
grandfather used situ—did he have to do the same? His father thought so.
Jacob had come from a long line of menservants—as far back as the family tree extended, for at least a
hundred generations. And it was his father’s wish,—no, not a wish, a demand that his two sons follow in the
family tradition.
And so he would, but was he going to quit karate? No. After several confrontations with his father, Jacob
started sneaking to practice and tournaments. He would use every spare moment of his time at school doing his
homework, and after school sneak off to his karate classes. Later, he would tell his parents he was at the library
doing his homework.
By the time he was eighteen he was considered one of the best in his hometown, population of two million,
but he never participated in any championship matches because of the chance his father might find out.
Jacob looked into the mirror and did a few more kicks and then several mock punches and a judo throw. I've
still got it, he thought as he watched his moves in reflected harmony.
He remembered when his father found out he was still participating karate. He was a senior in college
studying to follow in his father's footsteps as a manservant. He was taking a karate class, which, of course, he
told no one. But his father came to school one day to tell him of a position opening up for a manservant at a
very wealthy estate. He could still see the shock on his father's face when he walked through the door and saw
his son in a karate stance—ready to match with an opponent.
They got into it right then, yelling and screaming at each other. It appeared to the spectators that they soon
might be watching a real karate match. But the two of them finally stopped yelling and just glared at each
other—father and son in a heated dispute.
The conflict was never resolved and that was the last time he had ever spoken to his father. After graduation
 
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