Hey! Alright, so I wasn't sure if there was any interest in this story, but seeing as I got a review, I shall continue. Thanks to loretta537! For showing some interest. As to your question, I'm not entirely sure when this is set just yet. I'm thinking just after the Herald Collegium was set up. Probably the generation after that. Any suggestions would be welcome, though. So! Onto Chapter two.
Chapter 2:
"You're late, Jenkel!" Master Ourich growled, not taking his eyes off the current match. "Get your gear on and warm up!" He ordered. "You're next!"
Adriel winced, quickly rushing to do as he was told. He HATED this. Maybe he really was weak, like his father said… He put on a helm and the padding, before grabbing the smallest sword. It was the only one he could lift, and even then his muscles strained to grasp it. He stepped to the side, prepared to lose yet again.
It wasn't that he didn't try! It really wasn't! He practiced as often as he could in his free time, but it never made any difference. As soon as he was in the ring with another fighter, the moment one of his blows landed, be it his blade or fist, he started to feel sick. Horribly sick. He hated it. And the more hits he got, the worse he felt. He would get hit by waves of nausea, followed by a piercing headache if the fighting continued long enough. In the end he always ended up either yielding or actually passing out. Either outcome was met with severe punishment. His back still hurt from yesterday's Circle.
It helped that he was the smallest, though. So, many of the fights were quick, and involved him losing without landing more than a glancing blow. The worst days were hand-to-hand. There was no such thing as yielding in those matches. Master Ourich believed that yielding was for the weak. In sword practice there was no choice but to have it. He couldn't have them dying, after all. But in hand-to-hand you fought to the last, up until someone had you either in a death lock, or until one of the fighters lost consciousness. Inevitably, those were the ones Adriel passed out during.
Luckily, it was swords today. Unless he managed to do something stupid and upset Ourich, he should get away from Circle with no more than a few extra stripes on his back. He waited for the current match to finish up. They were pretty evenly matched, so it was taking longer than usual. He watched as one of the boys twisted and feinted to the left before thrusting his sword at the belly as hard as he could.
Adriel winced, swallowing. Belly thrusts… Those were low. In battle it was one of the worst wounds you could get. No one could heal a belly strike. Not even a healer. Not once the stomach was opened and leaked all over the rest of your guts. It was exactly the kind of blow he expected from Derek. Adriel had yet to meet a crueler or more sadistic person, and Master Ourich loved him for it. He was the best at fighting. Top of the class, and ourich's second. Master Ourich didn't say anything to stop Derek. Not even when poor Mikel doubled over, gagging. Instead of stopping, Derek then brought his sword down on the Mikel's collarbone, with enough force to... Adriel felt sick, hearing the cracking bone from outside of the circle. Mikel crumpled to the ground crying out in pain.
Ourich's gaze hardened, hearing the cry of pain. "Take it like a man, boy!" He growled.
He shook his head sharply at the other boy as he raised his sword again. "Enough, Derek!" He entered the circle, looking down at Mikel in disdain. "You accept the pain and you move on!" He ordered. "Do not show your enemy your weakness! Never show your enemy such weakness!"
"Derek!" He growled, turning to the other boy. "Your match. You get Mikel's rations tonight." He said simply, before nodding to the carriers. They quickly moved forward and picked Mikel up, dumping him onto the stretcher they had before heading off to the healers.
"I expect you at morning rounds!" Ourich called after Mikel, before turning back to the remaining boys. "Next match!" He growled.
Derek smirked at Mikel and the carriers as they disappeared before stepping out of the circle. Adriel kept his gaze down as Derek stepped out. He didn't need to attract attention from him.
"Jenkel! Are you deaf?!" Master Ourich growled, glaring at Adriel.
Adriel jumped a bit, quickly looking up. "No sir." He mumbled, heaving his sword up and moving hesitantly into the circle.
His opponent was Kevron. He was, like everyone else, bigger than Adriel. Skills wise he was about the middle of the class. Of course, that was considerably better than Adriel's place at the bottom of the class. Hopefully this would be quick… At least Kevron wasn't cruel like Derek.
"Begin." Master Ourich ordered.
Kevron immediately moved forward, bringing his sword up and aiming for Adriel's sword arm. Adriel blocked it with his sword, taking a deep breath. They exchanged a few more blows. Adriel's arms quickly started aching from the weight of the blade and the jarring blocks. Kevron came at him with a swing from the left.
Adriel reacted automatically. He blocked the strike, then twisted his blade, catching Kevron's right under the hilt and tugging. The sword went flying away from them. Adriel blinked in shock. He had won! And he hadn't even had to hit him! He let out a startled cry when his head suddenly exploded in pain. He blinked dazedly before realizing that Kevron had kicked him. What?! This wasn't supposed to happen! It was just swords tonight!
"Stop!" Ourich ordered. Adriel's shoulders slumped a bit in relief. As he stepped away, rubbing his head and letting his sword drop.
"Well… Since Adriel has finally managed to disarm one of you, I believe we will continue with just hand-to-hand." Ourich informed them. "Take your gear off and put your swords away. Then we'll continue."
Adriel's eyes widened in panic. Good feeling gone. He couldn't make his feet move. He was too scared. He didn't want to fight Kevron!
"Jenkel! What are you doing?!" Ourich snarled. "Get moving!"
That startled Adriel into motion. He stumbled out of the circle, and over to the racks. He put his sword away and then pulled the padding off of his person, trying to breath. He had thought he was safe for tonight…
"Jenkel! Get over here!" Ourich growled.
Adriel forced himself to swallow, before slowly trudging back into the circle. Kevron was already there, stretching out his muscles and waiting.
Ourich nodded. "Good. Begin." He ordered. Kevron immediately straightened from his stretching and aimed a roundhouse kick at Adriel's head. Adriel ducked, moving away from Kevron and trying to focus. He didn't see how he could win this…
Kevron darted back in again and aimed two quick jabs to Adriel's stomach before sliding back and adding a side kick to the mix. Adriel managed to block one of the punches, but the other punch and the kick landed. He grunted in pain, forced back again. He saw how dangerously close he was to stepping out of the circle and quickly stepped to the side, moving to the other side of the circle. The harshest punishments were reserved for those who left the circle in the midst of combat.
Kevron spun around and followed after Adriel. He swung his leg at his head again. Adriel tried to duck but the kick caught him, making his ears ring. Kevron aimed another punch at him. Adriel quickly blocked and countered automatically. He caught Kevron by surprise and landed a hard blow to his chest.
Adriel immediately regretted it as his stomach began to turn. He didn't have much time to think about it, though. He had to duck again. Adriel must have hurt Kevron or something, because Kevron quickly followed it up with a series of relentless jabs and punches.
Adriel tried his best to block them, but he soon had to revert to attacking as well. He needed to distract Kevron somehow. The nausea slowly got worse with each punch. Soon it was accompanied by a throbbing headache. Adriel gagged, pulling away from Kevron and swaying slightly.
The older boy took his advantage and swept Adriel's legs out from under him, sending the younger boy crashing down into the dirt. Adriel didn't know whether Kevron actually cared that he was beating Adriel to a bloody pulp or not. There wasn't much that either of them could do about it, though. Those were the rules. He couldn't back down, or else he would be in even more trouble than the loser of the match.
Kevron's face was like stone as he kicked Adriel viciously in the ribs several times. Adriel curled up, trying to protect his head with his arms and gritting his teeth to keep from crying out in pain. His head was throbbing horribly. He desperately kicked out at Kevron, and must have hit his mark, because the kicking stopped and another wave of nausea hit him hard. He rolled over on his side and gagged, emptying his stomach of his meager lunch. He coughed, tears in his eyes.
"Pathetic!" Ourich growled. "Enough!" He ordered. "You disgust me, Jenkel. You can't even take a simple sparring match. You'll be absolutely useless in battle." He sneered. "Derek." He barked, turning to the oldest in the group. "Toughen him up." He ordered.
Derek smirked sadistically, immediately moving for his favorite… tool. It was not a good evening for Adriel.