BES: Chapter 2

The next morning, I headed to my first lesson of this new curriculum meant to prepare me for life as a son of Kublai Khan. Leung Shun was waiting for me in a training hall that had been built for the purposes of training the family of Tolui in martial arts. It had not been used since the palace finished construction in twelve-thirty-seven, as even the youngest of my uncles was a man grown by the time it had finished, and the campaigns in Europe, Anatolia, Syria, Tibet, and elsewhere had kept many of my Uncles more than sharp on their martial skills. Even Dorji and I had not used it, as our father had decided to have us trained in wrestling along with the sons of various Noyan in order to build camaraderie with prospective fellow future commanders. It had sat gathering dust until my father had made his deal with the Shaolin Temple, at which time it had been renovated in order to accommodate Leung Shun.

The man himself was waiting for me. Leung Shun was a large, muscled man, not full of corded muscle like you would see in a bodybuilder back in my previous life, but lithe, purposeful muscles. His saffron tunic did little to hide it, as it was currently little more than a sash and pants. His bald head, shaved in the custom of the temple, was countered by the full beard he wore. At his wrists, he wore a pair of leather bracers. He peered at me sternly, as if sizing me up.

"Your Lord Father has arranged for me to teach you the Shaolin Arts. Learning will not be easy. It will take much sweat, toil, and pain before I even teach you to throw a single punch. The way of Shaolin is not for the faint of heart. It is not meant to be the passing fancy of noble scions. Only the dedicated will be able to excel. When I was told of the deal your father made with Abbot Xueting, I spoke against it. I fully expect you, who was raised in this palace and who lacks for nothing, to quit. I wonder if you will prove me wrong?" He intoned.

"I will." I fired back.

"Will you now? We will see. For now, it is time for conditioning. Strip down." Responded Leung Shun.

"What?" I questioned.

"I said strip down. I must apply the conditioning tincture. It will promote Chi flow and prevent damage to the body from the conditioning exercises. Unless you wish to try them without it? I am certain you will survive to train again, though it will not be pleasant." Explained Leung Shun.

I shrugged and began to strip down to my undergarments. Once I had done so, Leung Shun brought forth a wire brush and a jug of something that smelled extremely acrid. He began to brush the foul-smelling concoction onto my torso, legs, arms, and hands with the brush until I was covered in an even coat of the stuff. I was smelling something familiar underneath the main scent of the tincture, but struggled to place it. Finally, just as he was finished, it clicked.

"Did you just cover me in vinegar?" I queried in disbelief.

"The Shaolin Temple uses vinegar as a base for the tincture. It is stronger for it than the alcohol used by the Taoists of the Wudang Temple in Song lands. Now, I will show you a stance, and you are to hold it for as long as possible. I will strike your legs while you do so. This is the beginning of Iron Leg training and will condition the legs to withstand blows and promote chi flow and muscle growth. This is your last chance to back out." Cautioned Leung Shun.

"Show me the stance." I insisted.

So began my training in the Shaolin Arts. Leung Shun had me hold a horse stance while he slapped my legs and checked to see if I was holding the stance properly. This went on for two full hours before he allowed a fifteen-minute rest break for water and to reapply the tincture. Then we switched to slapping my stomach, back, shoulders, arms, and chest while having me hold the stance again. Two more hours passed before another break ensued, this time a full half an hour for lunch and a third coat of tincture. We moved to a different exercise afterward, as Leung Shun had me punch sacks filled with mung beans for another two hours. Leung Shun watched me the whole time, correcting my form when he needed to on stance or punches with a bamboo stick.

By the end, I was an exhausted mess, my body ached in multiple places, and my legs felt like jelly. I knelt in front of Leung Shun, sucking in great mouthfuls of air as the Shaolin monk gazed at me sternly. He seemed torn between being grudgingly accepting of my will to work and characteristically stern, just like you might expect from an ancient, stoic master type. I was willing to be that at least part of it was the religious orders he had taken that were making him more strict with me. Of course, part of it was likely also the fact that my father, Khublai Khan, had effectively forced the Temple into compliance through force of arms. It wasn't exactly the best groundwork for a Master-Pupil relationship, but I was determined to make it work. However, it was clear that this was going to be more grueling than anything I had ever undertaken before, just as a matter of course.

"Do the monks at the temple do this much conditioning?" I asked between breaths as I knelt in front of Leung Shun.

"They do, though it is spread out over a longer period. You began conditioning later in life than many, and we do not have decades to teach you to be a proper warrior monk. Some things will be expedited. You may quit if you wish. I am certain your Lord Father can find a different use for my talents." Responded Leung Shun.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of." I huffed.

"You have spirit, good. Let's see how long it lasts. Every day you have with me, we will begin with conditioning, then four hours of form training before I allow you to return to your family. It is a longer day of training than most, but you are only with me three days every week. We must make every moment count if you are to be considered acceptable by Shaolin standards." Nodded Leung Shun.

"You're going to teach me forms now?" I questioned.

"Yes. We will begin with the basics, Taming the Tiger Fist. Everything I will teach you is recent developments by newer brothers. The ancient style of the Arhat's Eighteen Hands will remain solely with the Temple. I have been given leave to teach you only some of the petals of the sacred lotus, not its root." Intoned Leung Shun.

As he began drilling me, I realized what he was teaching me. This was the original form of Hung Gar Kung Fu, the form brought out from the Shaolin Temple by Chi Sin Sim Si and taught to the laymen in the Sixteen-hundreds. Had I accelerated the spread of it out of the Temple by four centuries? If so, it was possible that the proliferation of various Shaolin descended styles outside the Temple Network might be jump-started a hell of a lot earlier. Butterflies seemed to be already happening.

After 4 hours of forms training, with Leung Shun using that bamboo stick to correct my form every time I screwed up, I was finally allowed to leave the training hall. Leung Shun gave me a calculated gaze for a few moments before nodding once.

"Acceptable. You are dismissed for the evening. I will see you in two days' time." He intoned.

I made my way back to my quarters for a long soak in a bath, then went to go eat after dressing. Tomorrow I would have my first lesson in tactics, then the day after would be riding class with Dorgon Donggo, then another session of martial arts training. The next day would be a joint class with Dorji under the tutelage of Liau Yong Cho, followed by history and customs, then one last martial arts class the day after. The class schedules would change on a week-to-week basis, but I would have precious little free time until my tutors deemed that I had a good enough grasp of the basics. I would then be rewarded with days off. It was a lot to put on an eleven-year-old, but with Dorji's schedule being similarly rigorous, if far more academically focused, it seemed almost as if our father was trying to manufacture another Chinggis or Subotai through training more than anything else. We would be run ragged for Kublai's Ambition, it seemed.

As I slunk into the dining hall for dinner, I noticed that Dorji was seemingly unblemished. Intellectually, I knew this was because his classes were those of a scholar more than a warrior and general. Emotionally, though, I just didn't care. The bath and tincture had done a lot to soothe my aching muscles, but I was still dead tired. It must have shown on my face because he shot me a quizzical look from across the table.

"Be glad you got the scholar's coursework." That was all I said, waving off his look.

"Cheer up, brother. It should only take a few months of this schedule before we can have a free day again." He replied.

I just nodded back and dug into my meal of korkhog and chicken fried rice. The hearty food was washed down with qatarzimat, an early form of lemonade that I enjoyed, the recipe of which had made its way east to former Jin lands after the conquest of Khwarzemia. I didn't want to drink too much kumis or other alcohol with this training schedule, so I decided not to even risk it by drinking any. An hour or so later, I slunk off to bed, bone tired. Tomorrow would hopefully bring less physically taxing training so that I could rest up. I would awake to hear the news that King Gojong of Goryeo had refused to pay tribute again and that my Uncle Mongke was going to send an ultimatum.

If King Gojong refused, it would mean another war. . .

XXXX

AN: Yeah, turns out most Shaolin disciples start Iron body conditioning as kids. As young as eight years old, even. Conditioning is even called a Childish Skill in the Temple. The SI has a couple of years to make up for here. He's willing to put in the work, though. Granted, the modern forms of this are more akin to sport forms than combat forms, but this is the stuff that's effectively pre-sportification. The SI will also be injecting his own stuff he learned in his own time as well, such as Jiu-Jitsu and Muay Thai, effectively creating an entirely new style.

As to the Martial Arts themselves, the Shaolin Temple created a lot of martial arts since its founding under the Sui Dynasty, but doggedly refused to share them with laymen for centuries. When they finally did, thanks to the Qing Dynasty destroying both the Northern and Southern Temples, it was basically the beginning of a renaissance in fighting culture in China. Previously, most laymen had wrestling, a few styles from the army, and that's it. Kings and Nobles would be taught other styles sometimes if they were connected, but not any of the Shaolin stuff. Here, that's getting jump-cut by the deal Kublai made with the Abbot of the Northern Temple.

For anyone wondering, korkhog is mutton cooked in a milk container and is a popular Mongolian dish for parties. I figured the Toluid Palace would cook some regularly.
Meanwhile, the thing with Goryeo is as OTL. IOTL, Mongke was convinced to hold off his planned campaign until twelve-fifty-three. It's only twelve-fifty-one right now, so we'll see if that still happens. If it gets delayed, you can expect the SI to be sent along on campaign as an aide as a test of his capabilities.

At any rate, the next chapter will introduce another of the SI's tutors, the General Uriyankidai, son of the famed strategist and general of Genghis Khan, Subodai. If the SI is sent to the war with Goryeo, it will be as Uriyangkidai's Aide, or the aide of a general of similar rank. He is a Prince, after all, and not one born from a Concubine. He would be sent to learn under men of talent and rank.

Stay tuned. . .