The training grounds spread over a vast expanse of green land. Roy saw that the field was divided into plots where Altean knights worked in units, perfecting various aspects of combat. In one area, men practiced technique with wooden swords. In another, weaponless men sparred with their respective elements. Around the edge of the grounds, a line of soldiers ran. In the very center of the tumult of bodies, captains led units of men in synchronized exercises.
Marth led Roy across the field towards a man with broad shoulders and a strong back. Only his white hair and the wrinkles around his eyes betrayed his age.
"How do they look, Commander?" The man turned at Marth's voice and a warm smile crept over his lips as they approached.
"Very fine, my boy. Energetic as ever." The commander clapped a fatherly hand on the king's shoulder and gave a hearty chortle. Roy thought of his own father. He had no memories of him, but he imagined that he was very much like this man. As Roy wondered, those soft brown eyes fell on him. "And who's this? A new recruit?"
"Of sorts." Marth beamed at the fire user. "This is Roy."
"Jeigan, Commander of the Altean Knights." The man extended a calloused hand, which Roy took. His shake was firm and friendly, but Roy felt the authority in it. He gave the boy a nod of approval and released him. "Are you a user, Roy?"
"Fire, sir."
"A fire user, eh? Altea hasn't had a fire user since before Cornelius' reign." The commander inspected the boy a second time; Roy felt fear under this man's scrutiny, as if his disapproval would bring terrible consequences. It was ludicrous, of course. Marth was clearly interested in his safety, and as king, would have it, but for the first time since his arrival at the castle, he felt that he was in the presence of a true ruler.
When Roy met Marth, he had expected to find a tyrant. Instead, he found a kind, if not somewhat naïve, young boy who had stumbled upon power. An equal, maybe a warrior, but no king. He had never feared Marth. Jeigan was a man, a commander who demanded respect and obedience.
"You'll make a fine knight, Roy." The fire user couldn't help but smile at the sanction. Jeigan turned to address the boy king.
"I suppose you'll be needing your space then."
"Yes. I'd like to avoid harming the other knights should things get out of control." The commander nodded his understanding.
All at once, he had the attention of the surrounding knights, waving them in different directions, bellowing orders and clearing the southwest corner of men. They reacted hastily, rearranging themselves as directed and within moments, the grounds settled back into the disciplined rhythm of combat training.
Marth thanked Jeigan for the favor and led Roy to the vacant area. While the two boys distanced themselves, Marth removed his cloak and belt, suspending Falchion high in the air with ice ringlets.
"No weapons?"
"Not today. Before weapons, we need to clean up your fire control. But first, we'll warm-up a bit; how much do you know about hand-to-hand?"
He knew much more than Marth expected. Like his swordsmanship, Roy's fighting style was swift and aggressive, his motions unpredictable. The young king delighted in dodging unexpected blows, exploiting defensive weaknesses and adapting to the boy's unique ability. But unlike their previous fight, Roy seemed relaxed and his liquid movements became more formidable for it.
When Marth was satisfied with their warm-up and thoroughly convinced of Roy's proficiency in close-range combat, he decided to test the extent of the boy's control.
He started Roy on something simple, something Marth had already seen him do. The young king erected an ice wall and had Roy send wave after wave against it in constant intervals, steadily increasing the tempo.
The fire user quickly got a feel for consistency, so Marth took him to the next level: accuracy. He condensed the ice wall into a hovering sphere and told Roy to try and hit it. The boy struggled a bit with the exercise, missing the snow-sphere completely the first few tries, but managing to master the skill as quickly as he had the first.
The young king had not expected such natural ability, but was delighted with his fire user's progress. He eagerly ran him through more drills. By sunset, Roy could manipulate streams of fire, launch fire in short projectile bursts, use fire defensively and accurately produce a flame at any point within a 30-foot radius.
"That's enough for today. We should head back." Marth panted in sweaty triumph. The pace was exhausting, but at the rate they were going, Roy would be a first-class user within a week.
Marth gathered his cloak and sword and the boys followed the departing knights toward the castle on foot. The course was slow but satisfying; they walked in the silent camaraderie of accomplishment.
As soon as they returned, a messenger greeted them with a summons for Marth; the council requested his presence immediately.
"Has Commander Jeigan been informed?"
"He has, my king. The commander departed only moments ago." The young king gave the messenger a nod of dismissal and turned to Roy. He didn't have time to escort the boy back to his room, but he didn't want to send him wandering alone through the castle either. It couldn't be helped.
"You remember your room?" Roy nodded. "And the kitchens?" Another nod. "Good. Go get something to eat, then head straight to your room and lock the door. You still have the dagger?" Roy placed a hand over where the trinket still hung and gave a third nod. Marth ran an anxious hand through his hair, still hesitant to let the fire user out of his sight again. "When I've finished with this, I'll come by to check on you." He smiled tentatively at Roy, hoping to appear more cheerful than worried. "So don't bother with running away this time."
Roy gave the boy king a reassuring smile as he departed. In fact, he had been thinking of running away again. Those beasts still had his mother and now that he could fight without risking her harm, he wanted to burn them all alive.
But if Marth was going to look in on him, Roy would have just a few hours at most before the king realized he was gone and tracked him down. He clutched at the dagger beneath his tunic.
He could leave it.
But what if he was still too weak?
Roy growled his frustration and let his hand fall away from the dagger. Not yet. He could only hope that his mother would last a little longer.
Marth arrived to find a room full of men in the same state as he: dirty, exhausted and keen on keeping the meeting as short as possible. He heaved an inward sigh as he took his seat; with his captains as irritable as they were, the meeting would most likely only result in heated tempers.
"The situation in Elibe is becoming more desperate." Garnef pursed his lips together as he spoke. "Though the Houses of Lycia are standing their ground, they fight a losing battle. Without immediate aid, Bern will soon take them and it will only be a matter of time before Zephiel expands into Akaneia."
"Then our decision is made. Altea will send support to Lycia." Jeigan's expression was stern as he spoke, but Marth knew that the commander was relieved that the threat would be dealt with.
Unfortunately, a more sinister threat lurked within Altea's capital. Should Altea send its knights, the terrorists Roy had described would surely exploit the opportunity. Not to mention the neighboring Doluans. The young king had seen those battlefields six years ago and he knew how thirsty Dolua would be for Altean blood. Marth would not leave his nation exposed. He stood to address the council.
"Agreed. Altea will send her knights, but Altea's security shall remain our priority. Should we fail in Elibe, or should Dolua decide upon revenge, our forces must not be weakened--" Suddenly, he was hit by overwhelming fatigue and had to brace himself on the table. He realized that he had broken out into a cold sweat and that his body was trembling.
Marth took a few moments to steady himself and push himself upright again.
"Forgive me gentlemen. It seems I have worn myself too thin on the grounds today. I'm afraid that we must suspend this discussion for a time when my mind is clearer." Though the captains seemed relieved that they were free to go, Garnef and Jeigan seemed aggravated that the matter had again been postponed.
The young king lingered in the council room checking his heartbeat and temperature. Both were irregular. Strange. As a boy, he had participated in much more intense training sessions, but he had never broken out in fever because of them. Perhaps the stress of the previous night was finally taking its toll on him.
It was nothing a little bed rest couldn't cure.
Restless and feeling uneasy about leaving his mother in the leader's clutches, Roy sat on the stone floor summoning tiny flames. He had skipped the kitchens, his appetite absent, and hadn't bothered to bathe or even change out of his training clothes.
He had just finished writing his name in lines of fire, when he heard a faint knock at his door. Marth couldn't have been gone for more than half an hour, but who else could it be?
Just in case, though.
"Who's there?"
"It's me, Marth."
Roy gathered himself up off the floor with some effort, his body sore from the day. He unlocked and opened the door to find Marth barely standing and ghostly pale.
"You look terrible." The ice user gave a pained laugh.
"So do you. What have you been doing in here?" He glanced over Roy's shoulder at the name still burning on the ground. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You can write."
"Mm." Roy had always been able to write, thought nothing of it, but Marth's disbelief insulted him a little. The king must have read the annoyance in his expression, because he made an attempt at apology.
"Most of my citizens find that literacy is a useless skill, but I suppose I should have expected it of you." Marth smiled softly at Roy, who wasn't sure what he meant nor cared enough to pursue it. "But more importantly, you should bathe and get plenty of rest; we'll be training again tomorrow."
"I think you need it more than I do." Though the king was standing of his own volition, he looked as if he would collapse every moment. Marth smiled half-heartedly before changing the subject.
"I'm going to lock you in—the window too. I'll come for you in the morning."
"What!? Lock me in!?" Roy was furious. His flickering name erupted into an inferno as he lost his tempter; the ice user scarcely managed to quell it in time to spare the room's furnishings, but Roy paid none of it mind. He had stayed under the pretense that he was not a prisoner and that he was free to leave whenever he liked. Marth might as well be keeping him in a cell. "I'm not going to run! I'm still here, aren't I!?"
"Then it shouldn't matter either way."