Conversation · Trant Heidelstam

Lo Manthang stick fighting is a form of martial arts originating from the isle of Lo Manthang. It uses slender wooden sticks for confronting the opponent.

"A form of martial arts from the isle of Lo Manthang, right?"

"Actually, a great many cultures have their own version of stick fighting, such as the sacred Mabolo tradition of the Hali people, the name deriving from the butterfruit tree traditionally used for crafting the long, slender sticks -- whereas the sticks used in other cultures..."

You doze off, as he paints you a comprehensive picture of the history of stick fighting among mankind, seasoning it with unexpected pop-culture references.

Man, he's good at speaking. People must love him.

"But anyway," he says after a while with a charming, apologetic smile, "I am boring you with details again. You were saying?"

"I don't really remember what I was saying..."

"Then I guess everything got said, right?" He looks up to the sky. "The drizzle... it never seems to stop, does it?"

"Then I guess everything got said, right?" He squints his eyes in the snow.

"Then I guess everything got said, right?" He squints his eyes in the sun.

"I'm not really interested in the practice, I just want to know how often you work out. Now and then -- that's what, like once a week?"

"Lo Manthang stick fighting is a little like a pyrholidon addiction," he explains with a little smile. "I've been practising it for nearly 20 years now, so you could say that my doses have grown a little... peculiar."

Wait. What does this man know about pyrholidon addiction?

"Hold on. Pyrholidon addiction? What an interesting metaphor..." (Study his face.) "Or perhaps not a metaphor at all?"

"You got me, detective." He chuckles, before a shadow takes hold of his face. "But my history should hardly come as a surprise."

Here's a former junkie. I can recognize one when I see it.

Suddenly little Mikael opens up his mouth: "Dad's fighting with sticks every night after dinner for four hours. He has a special room for that -- and a special costume!"

"That's right, Mikael." Trant grabs his kid into a single-handed embrace, happy to change the subject. "It also has a meditative quality, helps to clear my head... But anyway," he says, swaying with his hand.

"So what is it, twice a week then? Every other day? Man is it difficult to stay on the right topic with you."

Suddenly little Mikael opens up his mouth: "Dad's fighting with sticks every night after dinner for four hours. He has a special room for that -- and a special costume!"

"That's right, Mikael." Trant grabs his kid into a single-handed embrace, looking slightly embarrassed. "It also has a meditative quality, helps to clear my head... But anyway," he says, swaying with his hand.

"I can assure you -- nothing in this world comes even close to being addicted to this devil."

"Oh, I know, detective." He chuckles, before a shadow takes hold of his pallid face -- he misses the devil.

"Oh, I know, detective." He chuckles, but a shadow takes hold of his pallid face -- what does he mean that he knows?

Wait. What does this man know about pyrholidon addiction?

"Wait, what's Lo Manthang stick fighting?"

"It's an anthropological heritage of the Lomanthang people, a martial art of sorts, but what not a lot of books mention is that it also carries a cultural significance among the Lomanthangs, as it used to be the best means of showing off to look for a bride, which..."

"... interestingly enough, brings us to the socio-economic structure of the traditional rural tribes of the Lo Manthang isles, which..." He goes on to give you a detailed overview of their way of life, the amiable, slightly nervous smile not once leaving his face.

I couldn't have said it better. This man is a fountain of knowledge!

"But anyway," he says after a while, "I am boring you with details again. You were saying?"

"Have you been talking to other police officers?"

"Me? Yes, at some point, I'm sure I have. There was this one rather, uh," he stops, smiling at the reminiscence, "memorable instance when I had a chance to meet the head of Dominion Police of Königstein."

"And, as you know, they have this very distinctive dress uniform with scarlet breeches and little cylindrical fur caps, I think these are called..." You daze off, as Trant tells you about the peculiarities of mounted police forces in central Occident.

Wait, what was it that you wanted to ask...?

"Do you have any advice on how to climb that ladder?" (Point to the one next to the mural.)

"How to climb that ladder, you say?" He turns around, eyeing the bleak metal bars next to the giant mural. "I do know that the Lomanthangs used sticks to climb battlements, there's even a special technique for that."

"Can you teach me? Do you have the sticks with you?"

"No-no," he says, immediately backing off, "I'm just speculating theoretically here... Of course, there's also the method ancient Iilmaraans used to get into the huts of their enemies."

"Wicked cool, can you tell me about this method?"

"If I'm not mistaken then it involved months of following a very rigid exercise regimen. No, years..."

"But I don't have years to spare."

"In this case I suggest looking into the Seolite invisibles class. The word refers to their remarkable ability to traverse any environment in the most efficient way possible. There's this excellent investigative piece of journalism by..."

"I don't have time to read any papers. Don't you have any practical advice?"

"Yes, I have!" His face lights up with excitement, bringing out the subtle laugh lines in the corner of his eyes. "There was this one time where I..."

Oh no. You've made el bigo mistako. He's going to go on forever!

Mark my words, all of this somehow ties to the history of Occidential financial markets.

"Okay, I'll look into that then."

"Okay. I have some materials at home I could share with you..."

"You know what, forget about it."

"Actually no, I should not forget it, I should look into it myself, there are some really interesting techniques..." He stops, as Trant Heidelstam junior jerks his coat hem with an excited, almost silly look on his face.

"Dad, can I go climb that ladder?" Mikael asks. "I want to go climb that ladder!"

"No, that doesn't sound like a very reasonable idea," replies Trant, narrowing his eyes, "physics, remember? But anyway..."

"The Lo Manthang thing was enough for me. I'm inspired."

"Great. Great to hear that."

Inspiration can go a long way in physical endeavours. You should try it again now.

"Yes, but we're not really dealing with huts here, are we?" (Look at the building.)

"From an evolutionary point of view you could see this building as a logical conclusion to the more traditional hut."

"No, not really."

"You know this is not what I meant."

"Something tells me I'm not going to climb the ladder with Lo Manthang sticks."