Chapter 2
Sweat barely dripped from my forehead, yet I was two hours into my training. Grassed bent beneath my buckled boots, making a soft feeling of natural carpet which was relaxing to my otherwise alert nerves. I breathed in deeply, the clean, fresh air providing new energy with every breath. Seizing up my opponent, I prepared to launch an attack. Running my fingers along Firestarter, my longsword, I slowly felt the hilt and closed my gauntleted fingers around it. Clasped to my side, I prepared to use the momentum of my full swing to crush the guard of my sparring partner.
"Keep your feet apart, or you'll lose your balance!" Advised my mentor, a broad-shouldered knight by the name of Kalin. His brown eyes and hair matched perfectly, and the scars running along his cheeks and his forehead merely accentuated his power. His gaze was enough to stare down most of the bravest men. But I wasn't just brave.
"Don't tell ME what to do, old man!" I warned, but moved my feet back slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice. I seized the initiative, dashing forwards and swinging my sword with all my strength. I was surprised by the speed to which he deflected the blade, but I countered regardless. Reversing my swing, I brought it over my head and used my momentum to dash it downwards towards his neck. He ducked under the blow, and with the blunt end of his lance, caught my stomach hard. I gasped in shock, and fell backwards from the blow. Bastard was too fast, but I knew I was much faster.
"Not bad, not bad at all, just not fast enough." Laughed Kalin. That pissed me off. I was way faster than most punks my age and he knew it.
"Oh yeah?! We'll see!" I let my anger take control and launched a savage counter attack, swinging and thrusting the point of my blade forwards. He successfully blocked or dodged all of the attacks, but I was pushing him back into an old oak tree. I thought I was on the verge of finally defeating him, but I should have seen it coming.
"Stop using your anger!" Kalin cautioned. Like I said, I was too pissed to even care about his safety. He backed up into a tree and I foretasted victory and swung my sword as hard as I could. He stepped swiftly aside at the last moment and my blade embedded itself in a tree. *Dammit!* I thought. I tried to withdraw the sword with all my strength, but to no avail. I felt cold metal press against my neck, and knew I'd lost. Again. To the same person.
"You should have taken my advice." Spoke Kalin in an annoying I-told-you- so voice. "If this were a battlefield, you'd be dead long ago."
I snorted in reply. "I went easy on you. Didn't want you to know I had surpassed you. I'm going to go somewhere else, I'm bored." I knew he was better, and so did he, but after every lesson I got better and stronger and faster. One day, I'd be the finest knight in all the known world, and he'd be asking me for help.
He didn't reply as I walked swiftly away. Once I got at least two walls between me and him, I clenched my teeth hard and pounded against a wall so hard it cracked a bit, which hurt me a lot more than it was supposed to. Clutching my hand in anger, I kicked out against the wall and turned and stomped off.
I hated losing. Absolutely, positively hated it. It always made me feel so weak, and so useless, and I knew I wasn't. I was already renowned for my skills. But losing, damn it, it was so humiliating! I was the son of the King of Pherae, the most powerful country in the Lycian league! It was us who destroyed the armies of Darin fifty years ago. It was us who conquered Darin one month later. It was our hands that stopped dragons. Yet I always lost my duels with Kalin. I was so into hating myself for my loss, that I didn't even notice when Lily walked and stopped in front of me until I nearly bowled her small frame aside.
"U-um, Sir Erian?" She stuttered. She was a new servant to me, only working here for a month or two. Shy and weak were the best ways to describe her. Oh well, at least she was attractive, otherwise I would never had hired her. Still, I wouldn't sully myself by sleeping with a useless pheasant-born. She wasn't worth me.
"What do you want, slave?" I replied through anger. Talking to me when I was angry was like insulting an Ogre. "Make it quick, would you? I'm trying to keep myself from being bored. Speak!"
"W-well, the King requests your..." She coughed and drew herself up. "...presence in the Throne Room."
"Is that all?" I replied impatiently.
"Y-yes..." Lily replied.
"Then get out of my way and I'll do it!" I shouted back. Lily kept her eyes down, like a good slave, and hurried away. I thought I heard her whimper a bit. Surprisingly, I felt a little bad after talking to her that way. But still, she was a slave, nothing more. I dashed off to my father after reflecting on these thoughts and making sure I had no regrets about my actions.
When I got to the Throne Room, I knew by the expression on my fathers face that it couldn't have been good.
Sweat barely dripped from my forehead, yet I was two hours into my training. Grassed bent beneath my buckled boots, making a soft feeling of natural carpet which was relaxing to my otherwise alert nerves. I breathed in deeply, the clean, fresh air providing new energy with every breath. Seizing up my opponent, I prepared to launch an attack. Running my fingers along Firestarter, my longsword, I slowly felt the hilt and closed my gauntleted fingers around it. Clasped to my side, I prepared to use the momentum of my full swing to crush the guard of my sparring partner.
"Keep your feet apart, or you'll lose your balance!" Advised my mentor, a broad-shouldered knight by the name of Kalin. His brown eyes and hair matched perfectly, and the scars running along his cheeks and his forehead merely accentuated his power. His gaze was enough to stare down most of the bravest men. But I wasn't just brave.
"Don't tell ME what to do, old man!" I warned, but moved my feet back slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice. I seized the initiative, dashing forwards and swinging my sword with all my strength. I was surprised by the speed to which he deflected the blade, but I countered regardless. Reversing my swing, I brought it over my head and used my momentum to dash it downwards towards his neck. He ducked under the blow, and with the blunt end of his lance, caught my stomach hard. I gasped in shock, and fell backwards from the blow. Bastard was too fast, but I knew I was much faster.
"Not bad, not bad at all, just not fast enough." Laughed Kalin. That pissed me off. I was way faster than most punks my age and he knew it.
"Oh yeah?! We'll see!" I let my anger take control and launched a savage counter attack, swinging and thrusting the point of my blade forwards. He successfully blocked or dodged all of the attacks, but I was pushing him back into an old oak tree. I thought I was on the verge of finally defeating him, but I should have seen it coming.
"Stop using your anger!" Kalin cautioned. Like I said, I was too pissed to even care about his safety. He backed up into a tree and I foretasted victory and swung my sword as hard as I could. He stepped swiftly aside at the last moment and my blade embedded itself in a tree. *Dammit!* I thought. I tried to withdraw the sword with all my strength, but to no avail. I felt cold metal press against my neck, and knew I'd lost. Again. To the same person.
"You should have taken my advice." Spoke Kalin in an annoying I-told-you- so voice. "If this were a battlefield, you'd be dead long ago."
I snorted in reply. "I went easy on you. Didn't want you to know I had surpassed you. I'm going to go somewhere else, I'm bored." I knew he was better, and so did he, but after every lesson I got better and stronger and faster. One day, I'd be the finest knight in all the known world, and he'd be asking me for help.
He didn't reply as I walked swiftly away. Once I got at least two walls between me and him, I clenched my teeth hard and pounded against a wall so hard it cracked a bit, which hurt me a lot more than it was supposed to. Clutching my hand in anger, I kicked out against the wall and turned and stomped off.
I hated losing. Absolutely, positively hated it. It always made me feel so weak, and so useless, and I knew I wasn't. I was already renowned for my skills. But losing, damn it, it was so humiliating! I was the son of the King of Pherae, the most powerful country in the Lycian league! It was us who destroyed the armies of Darin fifty years ago. It was us who conquered Darin one month later. It was our hands that stopped dragons. Yet I always lost my duels with Kalin. I was so into hating myself for my loss, that I didn't even notice when Lily walked and stopped in front of me until I nearly bowled her small frame aside.
"U-um, Sir Erian?" She stuttered. She was a new servant to me, only working here for a month or two. Shy and weak were the best ways to describe her. Oh well, at least she was attractive, otherwise I would never had hired her. Still, I wouldn't sully myself by sleeping with a useless pheasant-born. She wasn't worth me.
"What do you want, slave?" I replied through anger. Talking to me when I was angry was like insulting an Ogre. "Make it quick, would you? I'm trying to keep myself from being bored. Speak!"
"W-well, the King requests your..." She coughed and drew herself up. "...presence in the Throne Room."
"Is that all?" I replied impatiently.
"Y-yes..." Lily replied.
"Then get out of my way and I'll do it!" I shouted back. Lily kept her eyes down, like a good slave, and hurried away. I thought I heard her whimper a bit. Surprisingly, I felt a little bad after talking to her that way. But still, she was a slave, nothing more. I dashed off to my father after reflecting on these thoughts and making sure I had no regrets about my actions.
When I got to the Throne Room, I knew by the expression on my fathers face that it couldn't have been good.