/Well, I hope you guys enjoy character development, because I sure do! That's not to say that this will be the only chapter featuring that, seeing as how it's nearly impossible.
Anyways, after this, you can expect things to change up in pace!
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"Valen, you need more discipline." Gyras instructed, inspecting his weapon for dents left by the impacts against the fully plated Guard. His opponent lied panting on the floor, forehead drenched in sweat. Running a hand through his brown hair, Valen glanced at the nick he left on his superior's outfit. "Looks like I'm two steps closer to defeating you…" He breathed.
The commander smirked, and helped him back up. "2x0 is still 0." A defeated sigh escaped the young man. Picking up the spear that had fallen to the ground, he leaned on it for support. His lavender eyes scanned the room, only to find his comrades cracking jokes about him. Their snickers and wide grins showing him how ignorant he was to challenge their leader for the 30th time.
He tried ignoring their comments, but they started getting to him. This was always how it ended up. Him utterly defeated, and ridiculed for his weakness. When he first arrived, he boasted of having an impenetrable defense. Gyras completely changed that. Pinpointing his flawed form, technique, and crevices in his armor. Ever since then, no one even bothered looking his way. Deeming him a failure of a soldier.
What could he do but ask for a rematch. Over, and over, and over, until he gained the trust and support of his fellow guardsmen. He was persistent, going as far begging him right after a training drill to spar. His commander admired his determination, but the rest thought of him as nothing more than a pest.
Eventually, he caught the attention of one Guard. He was polite, friendly, and popular among even the elites. Rumors say that his power even matched the commander's, but then again, rumors are only rumors.
Once the crowd had dispersed, Valen was left all by his lonesome. "When should I stop?" He asked himself, kicking up a cloud of dust. Hearing something ricochet off of his armor, he opened one eye to see a familiar figure walking down the stretch of land. "Did I miss your victory party, or what?" They called.
Completely forgetting about the humiliation he suffered, he smiled genuinely at his friend. "With that look, something tells me you've been promoted to commander." He added, shooting him a thumbs up. All his comments were well intended, causing the spearman to blush. "Yeah, you could say I won something alright."
Stretching his sore body, he glanced at the red sash on his friend's left arm. "You know you can take that off any time, right?" Shrugging, he placed a hand over the tied knot. "So?" He inquired. The brunette huffed, and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry about that, Regil."
Folding his arms, the swordsman raised an eyebrow. "Why're you apologizing to me? I'm the one who was late to your match against the commander." Throwing an arm over his shoulder, he drew his sword from its sheath, and held it high over them. "After all, I want to be their personally when you crush him!" He proclaimed enthusiastically.
Feeling his arm fall to the side, Valen gazed at the ongoing clouds passing in the blue sky. "There's no chance I'm ever going to beat him…" He muttered bitterly, clenching his fist.
"No point in lying to yourself! Have confidence, and faith! You'll be able to do anything you put your mind to." Heading towards the edge of the training grounds, Regil turned to face him. "Well? Are you coming or not?"
Surprised, he went up to him, but only made it two steps before being stopped. "Please go clean yourself off. I don't want others looking at the future commander in disgust." Chuckling nervously, the spearman headed for his personal quarters to wash off, "Meet me at our spot!" He finished, leaving the training grounds.
The place that the redhead had situated himself in was a historical site. An older tavern, that ran from way back when the first humans arrived. It is said that the hero of the Great Escape himself assisted in building it. Whether that was fact or fiction, didn't matter. There were old portraits, and photos fading with color depicting him, and even his children who came here long after they had joined the Randall Guard.
It was the place where even the greatest of heroes sat down, and had a drink. Well, they also had the best food in town, some named after certain legendary figures. Sitting on a stool at the far end of the counter, the swordsman patiently awaited his dear friend. Knowing him, he was probably starving. Lugging around in that giant tin can of a suit must be very exhausting. Unlike him, he wore a pair of greaves and boots, along with a single pauldron strapped onto his right shoulder. Any armor is good enough if it keeps you alive on the field.
Taking a swig of his drink, he scanned the room to check if he had arrived yet. Turning up with nothing, he took another gulp. It sure was a slow night. His duties had kept him busy for the most part, and by the time he arrived back to headquarters, it had been late in the afternoon. Now all he wanted to do was have a drink with a good friend.'
Letting out a tired yawn, he rubbed his eyes of their tears. "Did I seriously take that long? It's only been half an hour." Valen said, pulling up a chair beside him. Calling over the waitress, he ordered himself a drink, and leaned back in his chair. The two sat their silently, enjoying each other's company. The bard's played their instruments, filling the room with the sounds of lutes and drums.
The warm glow the fire gave off lit the room, along with the chandelure and candles burning. "It'd be nice to have a day off every week, don't you think?" The spearman asked, sipping from his mug. Blinking slowly, Regil shook the contents of his drink. "Sounds great, but our duty is to protect the Empire." Groaning in annoyance, Valen waved him off. "You're so stiff. You need to take a break every now and then." Eyeing at the waitress who was serving another table, an idea formed in his mind. Nudging his friend eagerly, he grinned, "Hey, why don't you try talking to that girl over there?"
Without so much as a glance, the redhead declined his offer. "No thanks. Not interested, and besides, aren't you the one who wants to beat-" "Yeah yeah. What's his face. Can we just relax and not talk about work?" Sighing, the swordsman rested his head on the crook of his arm. "You're the one who even brought it up in the first place."
Rolling his eyes, he called over the tavern keeper. "Give me the Fiery Hothead Special." He ordered smugly, sitting up straight in his chair. Regil's eyes widened in shock, causing him to lift his head up. "What? Do you want to die!?" He yelled; thankfully, it was drowned out by the music.
"Die? I'm just hungry." Valen replied calmly. Panicking, the swordsman grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and shook him violently. "NO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" He shouted, "She had the most voracious appetite out of any living creature in all of El Gaia!"
Who he was referring to was the First Commander's sister. Back in the day, she was known for taking up seating's in entire restaurants only to eat away at their entire food supply. Then again, those could have been exaggerated tales, but that still doesn't change the fact that she was known as Randall's Glutton. "Today, I'm going to be the first person to finish this meal!" He exclaimed, preparing his fork and spoon at the side.
"YOU'RE GOING TO EAT YOURSELF TO DEATH, THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN!" It's like someone put him on full blast with the way he was speaking. "Yes mother, I'll be careful." Suddenly, the bard's tune changed into something more somber, as if they knew he would soon come to pass. His friend's pleading never made him waver, even as the cook brought out the meal to him. Setting down a large bowl of creamy soup with shredded cheese, potatoes, carrots, and spinach. A waiter came following suit, making space for the 72 ounce steak that took up an entire portion of the table.
Their jaws dropped as more plates kept coming right after the other. Finally, the last server set down a bowl of chili right in front of him. The counter had been taken up entirely, serving as his own personal long table. "Can't forget about this," The chef said, plopping a dozen pale's of milk. "Enjoy!"
As they left, the spearman stared at the cornucopia of food in front of him. This could feed a family of twenty! Grabbing the spoon, he dug it into the chili, "Well, bottoms up." Chewing on the contents of the food, his face turned red. It almost seemed like his hair was simmering. Gasping dryly, he dunked his head into the bucket of milk. Wiping his face off with a rag, he panted heavily as the heat clung to his tongue. "Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that she loved spicy foods?" Regil added.
Several hours later, Valen found himself completely bested by 3rd degree slabs of meat, and soup that burned just by inhaling the vapors. "So that's how she got the name Volcanic Scepter." The redhead mused.
With the combined efforts of their zel, they were able to completely pay off his tab. On their way to the Imperial Guard's headquarters, Regil reminisced about the fun they had, while Valen felt more guilty; having forced his close friend to help pay for him.
Stretching his arms over his head, the swordsman gazed at the starry sky. The gentle breeze of the night felt cool against his warm skin. Yes, it was always great to end the day with a friend. "I hope that we get to have many more memories like this."
././././.
Being accepted into the Guard at the ripe age of eighteen, Valen outfitted himself in custom made armor. The order was made by his father, who was proud that his son could become a part of the Imperial Guard. An honorable duty that rarely arises to the opportunity.
The set of armor was heavy, ending with a crimson cape to match the the element his weapon was infused with. The main hall of the Imperial Guard's headquarters branched off into the many vicinities that occupied the building. A messhall, personal quarters, the commander's office, armory, and a door that led out into the training field. Having not known about the campus layout, most would find it odd witnessing a man outfitted in steel plating walking down their hall.
The knights of the Guard viewed him as just another newbie, who was only brought in for the sake of their parents. It seems that even the nobles cared for their children these days. Introducing himself to the various members, they went about their day as if he hadn't even stopped in to greet them.
He spoke politely to them, showing them the utmost respect, and they brushed him off. Whatever happened to treating others the way you wanted to be treated? Guess none of that mattered with these snotty knights.
As he was about to head towards the commander's office, he was pushed. He stumbled, but the way he did so in a suit of armor caused the entire room to erupt with laughter. They called him names like "Tin can" "Iron Jackass" and "Full metal dunderhead." Looking over his shoulder, he saw the man who had pushed him. He had dark hair, and was bent over; cackling like a madman.
His blood boiled from the noises directed at him. He knew better than to get into a fight on the first day. Hell, he could be kicked out by the leader since no one will take his side. Keeping his mouth closed, he continued on his path.
Although that's not what the others wanted. Some people are just cruel. They wanted to see him suffer, to harass him, and laugh at his pitiful face. Catching sight of his cape, one of them thought it would be a good idea to play with it. Tugging on the cloth harshly, Valen was dragged to the ground. The impact was harsh and abrupt, rousing even more laughter from the crowd. That's when he lost it.
Bringing himself to his full height, the spearman calmly approached the knight. Raising his fist, he smashed it into his face; sending the man flying into the wall. He was out cold the moment he plopped back on the floor. The onlookers grinded their teeth, and hurled themselves at him. It soon turned into an all out brawl, with him taking down half the populace in the room.
Growing exhausted after an hour of fighting, he collapsed to his knees. The sickening grins they wore made his stomach upset. These were the ones who had been in service for years. He couldn't hope to match them in his current state.
Then came a miracle from heaven. A figure he had never seen enter the room, suddenly appeared right before him. He had his arms outstretched protectively over Valen, glaring at the men and women who tried to attack the new Guard. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked coldly, glaring at them with the ferocity to match his orange red hair.
"Just having some fun with the newbie." One responded innocently. "We were just horsing around, cut us some slack." Studying the unconscious knights, he put two and two together, and realized what they had been up to. "I don't condone bullying. Especially considering your age." He retorted. "You punk! Get out of our way, you've only been here for one month, don't get sassy with me!" The leader of the pack spat, aiming his weapon at the unarmed duo.
"Fine! If you won't get out of my way, then I'll just-" In a split second, faster than the human eye could see, the redhead had him pinned to the ground. The bully's arm was twisted at an odd angle, probably from the overwhelming grip the younger Guard had on him. The crowd gasped, and backed away from them. "T-That guy….who is he!?" On cue, Valen's savior took the small dagger that was attached to the bully's hip, and threw it at the woman who spoke. Cutting her bare shoulder.
Whatever questions they had, were left unanswered as they ran away from duo. Even the bully scrambled away like a frightened kitten. Feeling his legs grow wobbly, the redhead kneeled on the floor. "Good thing they left….I just about used up all of my energy…" He panted.
"A-Are you ok-" His savior turned to look at him with a smile; shamefully causing him to flinch. "I'm fine….just peachy." He breathed. Waiting for him to regain his footing, Valen then thanked this person. For being as kind to stand up for someone he didn't even know. There had to be something he could give him. To show that his efforts weren't just wasted.
Reaching around for the red cloth, he delicately cut it with the stray dagger on the ground. The long strip of fabric had some value to it. Maybe he could sell it? With a look of surprise, the redhead took it into his hands, and examined it. The texture was nice, and silky. The color wasn't half bad either.
Wrapping it around his left arm, he neatly tied the knot, so that no amount of strain could loosen it from its hold. Face to face with his new comrade, he held out his hand in a friendly gesture. "My names Regil. Happy to have you here."