(First chapter of my first story, really really open to criticism and what should be done better in the next chapter. I know this is a little rough)
Chapter 1
My name is Charles Eamen, I'm fifteen years old and currently I'm learning how to rip a spine out in the most efficient way. Scarlet tapestries hung ominously from the stone walls as if blood itself was seeping from the old stones and the droning deadpan voice of my instructor Articus in the front of the room made the current violent act we were learning seem oh so mundane. On a stone slab that rose to my waist was a recently deceased heretic caught trying to steal from our grain, almost identical things were in front of the rest of my class. They were all toiling away at the gruesome work while I just grimaced morosely at the fallen man while my partner Damien went to work with his scalpel cutting open his flesh to reveal his spine. Grieving thoughts couldn't help but fill my head, why did we need to learn things like this? Why couldn't we go about learning information in a more peaceful way? Why did I have to be forced to do this in the first place? I had always wanted to learn how to heal and show compassion to my fellow man but it was decided by the powers that be that I would instead learn how to bring him to his knees and grovel. That's not at all what a son of the Light should do!
Quickly however, I was torn from these thoughts by Damien when he patted my shoulder roughly to get my attention "Charles boy, get the chisel and hammer. I already got the points on the spine marked for you, bud." I nodded solemnly and sighed as I got the tools for the job. If there was any consolation it was the fact that Damien understood my turmoil and tried to make these lessons easy on myself. In return I always did what he had left for me to the best of my ability, I'm not one to repay kindness with poor work. The center of the man's back was flayed open for all to see and held open by steel restraints with specific weak points marked with black ink at the top and bottom of what was available. I placed the steel chisel right in-between the bone at the top driving it in firmly so it would hold it's place, the bone resisted this but once I got my wooden mallet and started applying small but consistent raps on it the bone started to chip away. I kept at it like this as Instructor Articus went around the room inspecting the work of the apprentices, once he made it over to our slab his gaunt features subtly scowled "Apprentice Charles, you are using that mallet wrong. This method is supposed to be quick and efficient not slow and steady, give that here and I'll show you how to do it." Reluctantly I handed him the tool as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was quite often that this sort of thing happened. Instructor Articus used quick and harsh raps to easily break apart the bone then handed me back the mallet and gestured for me to the next part. I replicated what he had done to the best of my ability and the Light must have sent me a blessing as sure enough the spinal cord gave way to my strikes. Articus gave me a satisfied smile "Good, now rip it out. Damien can't do all of the work." With that he left us to our work.
After training the sun was hanging low in the sky so I went to the evening ceremonies in the cathedral as usual then traveled quickly back to my dorm room. My room was quite barren in decoration but had all of the text I needed for studying and many Light text for me to read at night when I had spare time. As I usually did I exercised and worked out in my room doing the same regimen the squires would do in their combat training to be a paladin, I found the physical activity to be cathartic in helping my vent my frustrations and it helped greatly with my physical health. After that it was time for dinner with the other apprentices in my classes. I stayed away from most of them however, I found their company to be concerning. Most seemed true enough acolytes but whenever discussion turned to our studies I found a sick sparkle in their eyes as a morbid interest started to take root in them. Because of this I usually just ate my dinner with Damien though I always wanted to get a chance to talk to the healing acolytes but they scorned me and my classmates for the career we were given. After dinner I did my cleaned myself up for bed and switched into my night clothes and began studying hard so I could get better so Damien wouldn't have to carry me through training.
The moon rose high in the star-studded sky and as I laid in bed I could hear the wind howling across the farmland outside. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but now with no distractions a storm of thoughts rushed forth keeping me from peacefully sleeping. At first they were just about my current situation but as time went on they started to turn towards the past. I missed my parents and older sisters dearly. My oldest sister Kariah seemed like such a giant when I was a boy, she was a head taller than father even and Heather looked a lot like mother. I tried to picture them as they were, beautiful and happy but a morbid image kept filling my head. An image that haunted my entire childhood after it all happened, an image that I just kept seeing everytime I closed my eyes. Their faces screaming, crying out in agony. Their flesh bubbling and bursting as it was seared past recognition. Mother and Father trying to comfort them as they faced the same death. Heretics was what they were branded and what I was forced by the powers-that-be to call them. Heretics or not, which I highly doubt, my heart to this death still wept at their loss. St. Forlund, Patron Saint of the Night's Vigil must have shed a tear for me because sleep suddenly wrapped me in its loving embrace and took away all those thoughts for now.