The Fear Within

Reprisal

Cecil nearly fell backwards, his eyes flashing as he backed into the wall.

They were here for him.

"Maybe we should teach him a lesson, gentleman," the leader grinned. "I think that he's a bit arrogant for his own good."

There was a general snickering and muttering of agreement. Cecil had no sword, but they were underestimating him - he was by no means defenseless just because he didn't have a weapon on his person at the moment. He was mentally preparing himself for their attacks, trying to figure out how to retaliate for all of the possible moves they could make.

"Try me," he growled; hadn't they ever heard that the caged beast was the most dangerous beast?

They scoffed at him, as if he couldn't do anything.

Cecil was ready.

Even in the event that he should loose he was prepared, it wasn't as if he'd not been beaten in a fight, it was just that these were peons... These were insignificant fighters who would be, at most, low ranking officers in the army - They wouldn't test into anything. He, however, was training with the Dark Blade. Logically, he should beat them, even if he was outnumbered.

The one closest to him moved in to attack while the others circled him like hungry lions. With easy grace he dodged the punch, planting his back foot on the wall and pushing off into the mob. This took them off gaurd, causing them to scatter like pollen spores in a strong gust of wind. While he still had his momentum he swung his leg around and hit one of his assailants in the stomach, causing them to colapse. One of the men charged him, swinging wildly at him. This time, Cecil used his own momentum against him, side stepping the swing and watching the man run into a wall, giving himself a bloody nose in the process. In that way, he took out two of the men, leaving only three to contend with.

This time, he took an offensive approach in an attempt to startle them.

He realized that if he took out the leader there would be less of a chance that they would stay and continue to fight with him - If their leader, the best fighter out of all of them, were to beaten soundly, there was no way any one of them could even have a chance. So, with furious speed, he moved to jab left at the ring leader. The blow was low, intended to cause his target to double over in pain so that a quick blow to the head could concuss him and end the fight.

Cecil's plan was perfectly executed, and the man colapsed a moment or so later.

"... Demitri!?" one of them asked in breathless horror.

"You should take him to the White Magi," Cecil suggested. turning around to pick his practice sword up off the ground. "I hit him hard enough to concuss."

"What!? Why would you..."

Cecil cut the speaker off ", You attack someone with the intent to injure them and then expect them not to defend themselves? That line of thought is naive."

They obeyed him, having nothing to say to his comment.

Cecil realized then that he was in special classes for a reason. He had often doubted himself in the position he was in, but he now realized that it was paying off, that he was officer material, and that he belonged here in the Military Academy.

"Not bad," Sir Alec Dublouin stood at the entrance to the small courtyard, clapping, wearing an amused expression. "They were right about you."

Cecil turned his full attention to the Dark Knight, placing a hand on the hilt of the practice sword that was at his hip. "Who are they and what are they saying?"

"Lord Baigan, Sir Godwin, many of the other Knights at court, and... His Majesty. I've never seen anything quite like that before," he took a few steps twoard Cecil, his dark armor glinting dimly. "But..."

"But?" Cecil asked, wondering if there was anyway he could impprove.

"Let me see you with this sword," Alec smoothly unsheathed the blade that hung at his side and gingerly handed it to Cecil.

Cecil could feel the dark energy flowing through it into his palms, but he payed it no heed; it wasn't as if this was his first time holding a dark blade and the power no longer seemed so alluring. He channeled his energy, feeling his life force eke into the blade, then, with a cry of exertion, he released the energy welled up within him at the nearest practice dummy.

It flew into pieces.

Cecil could still do more, though he could feel the wound that had opened on his back slowly dripping blood.

"... That wasn't your first time, was it?" Alec said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No. I practice every night with Dark Blades," he handed the sword back to the Knight. "When I graduate I fully intend to become a Dark Knight."

" It shows. I'd say that your chance is exellent. How old are you?"

"Sixteen. I graduate this year."

"Only sixteen?" Alec said in stunned disbelief. "Yet you act like a man twice your age."

"Only around his elders," came the joking voice of Kain, who was striding twoard them from the opposite side of the courtyard.

"Is that so?" Alec arched a fine eyebrow, staring skeptically at the young Dark Knight.

"Oh, yes," Kain continued. "This one is a regular lush."

" I am not a lush," Cecil protested.

Kain laughed softly, smiling at Cecil, who looked away from both of the men bashfully ", Unfortunately, I have to borrow Cecil from you, Lord Dublouin. His Majesty has requested Cecil's presence."

"What is this about?" Cecil asked.

Kain sighed heavily ", I'm not entierly sure."