A grin slid over King Hans' lips as he overlooked his troops. Southern isle training was harsh, so much so that a few soldiers that endured it never made it through. Already there had been two deaths. A failed attempt to catch an arrow and a drowned man who did not finish the obstical course underwater. Despite this, the men who made it were considered some of the toughest soldiers in history.
"How do they look, Sire?"
Hans didn't answer, instead he turned his gaze to the lined men in formation. He eyed them, looking over each one before speaking.
"Who is the best soldier here?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"The men." Hans hissed, "Who is the best soldier?"
"Oh, that would be Titus. The tall man right there."
Hans' gaze followed the pointed finger of his general and smiled. "Very well. Titus, step forward."
Confused, the man did as he was told. "Your grace?"
"Draw a sword from over there and come to me."
Titus spotted the weapons rack and grabbed the largest sword there before returning to his king. "Your Grace?"
Hans drew his own sword, eyes fixed on its beautiful blade with a grin. " I want to see what you are made of." Hans swifty pointed his sword at Titus' neck. "So let us duel. "
It was not hard to see that Hans was not joking, and who was Titus to deny his king anything. Without question he held his sword up and watched as Hans circled him like a hawk. The young King's eyes were cold, fixed on his target. Without warning he lunged forward, thrusting his blade. Steel met steel as Titus countered, the taller man moved to swing at the back of Hans' neck but the red haired man was to fast on his feet, he mised his chance.
Another try, this time for Hans' leg, it was blocked and a fist met his jaw. Tasting blood, Titus spat to his left, a hand rose to wipe his chin. He said nothing only waited for Hans' next move. It came in the form of a downward slash, he was very fast, Titus barely had time to lift his sword. Hans didn't pull back this time, he pressed harder against Titus' blade. "You are very good, Titus." The king smirked. Before Titus even had time to reply Hans swept his feet from under him, sending te large man crashing to the ground. The steel of the king's blade stilled against the throbbing vein in the scared soldier's neck.
"But you still lost." The blade pressed a little harder, the king's eyes fixed on it as if he were in a trance, just begging for blood to be spilled.
"Sire, he is our best man.."
The sharp edge had long since bit into his flesh far enough for the warm blood to trail down towards Titus' chest. The two men had locked eyes. Titus showed no fear. That was what Hans liked the most. No fear, only the cold drive to die for victory. The king withdrew his blade.
"I want all of them like this man. No fear. You win, or you die trying. This is the way of the Southern Isles."
"Your foot work is still flawless, your Majesty. Mind the wideness of your swings. Too wide and you leave yourself open for an attack, like so."
Nicolas had rested his blade on Elsa's shoulder in demostraition. "Never drop your blade below your waist, there is no power in it once it drops lower, it will only lead to injury or death."
The Queen gave a soft nod, understanding every word he spoke and made a mental note. The last time Elsa held a sword she had been only ten years of age. So long ago it seemed, she had forgotten nearly everything. However the longer the blade stayed in her hand, the it more came back to her. Buried skills rose to the top, lost presicion was brought to the light once more.
Elsa ran through the motions again, mindful of the range of her movements. Her arms ached, still she pushed through, determined to get it right befor she stopped. Her eyes were focused as if nothing else existed right now but the swing of her sword and the target in her head.
"Very good my Queen. That is much better. Remember that a swords blade is sharp, it does not necessarily need all of your strength in every blow to make a cut. Speed and precision are just as big a part of battle as strength."
The blonde smiled and nodded. "I will remember that."
"Elsa, do you know what the biggest part of combat is?"
"No, I do not Nicolas."
"Heart."
"Heart?"
"Heart and the will to fight for something. Be it a person, people, yourself, a belief, there are many things to fight for. Some reasons are better than others. In a war, it is important to know what you are fighting for going into battle. Its even more important to remember what you are fighting for when things get rough. You have a lot of heart your Grace. When you are on that battle field, remember why. Do not lose hope, don't lose faith. You will find strength is the strangest of places. Remember your people my Queen, and you will do just fine."
Elsa's eyes watered as he spoke. Her hands trembling as the emotion washed over her. She stepped forward and threw her arms around her instructor, clinging to him as all of the worry she had been feeling flew away, if only for a moment. "You have always been like a father to me, Nicolas. I wanted to let you know." He dropped his sword ad wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, holding her tightly. He had loved Elsa like a daughter for as long as he could remember, hearing her say those words overwhelmed him, though he did not cry, instead he smiled and kissed her hair. "You will do just fine."
After a moment Elsa retracted her arms and smiled up at him. " Until tomorrow."
Nicolas nodded and bowed. "Until tomorrow, my Queen."
He grabbed both his and the practice sword from the floor and headed out of the room, a smile on his face. As he bowed once more, he closed the door, turning to walk away his eyes caught sight of movement. It was Anna. The red head was standing still, her stance as if she had stopped suddenly in her motions. Anna had seen her father leave Elsa's room, and the training swords in his hand. It didn't take the smart young girl long to put it all together.