Another Day in the Royal Guard

[Deidra]

Lyric

The day was just beginning with the suns fresh rays lighting up the grass as Lyric stood with her bow in hand and arrow nocked into place as she aimed at a target about one hundred yards away. She liked to come out early before any of then men bothered her, not that she couldn't take it, just that she was more herself when by herself. Her focus was fully trained on that target as she centered herself, the bow becoming just another extension of her body. Her eye was trained upon the center of the target as she slowly pulled back on on the string and released it, the arrow flew deftly through the air and hitting precisely where it should. A hundred yards wasn't hard to hit, but Lyric always started there in practice and then upped the distance as she made each previous one.

Even though it was early morning Lyric was dressed in her training clothes. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back out of her face so ad not to interfere with her sight. She wore a sleeveless beige colored shirt was a little big and tied back with bailing twine to where it was more form fitting. Her leather breast plates though still dark in color bore the marks of many training exercises. Her arm guards tied tightly upon her forearms and they were so normal she took no notice of them. She wore mens trousers, the smallest size she could find they too were a dull beige, a leather strap tied at her waist to keep them up. Her boots pulled over the trousers and then her leg guards were tied over them. Lyric may have been dressed like a man but she looked every bit of a strong woman.

She gave a rare smile and moved to two hundred yards. As she got into her stance and pulled another arrow from the quiver strapped upon her back, a small bird alighted upon the target and she gave a small laugh. Instead of taking aim at the target she set her sight upon the bird, it was not any special type of bird just a common thing in her eyes. Lyric yet again pulled back upon the string bringing her hand to touch her ear before she released the arrow and let it fly. She was only pleased when she saw the bird disappear in a cloud of feathers and she allowed a true smile light up her face, something she would never do if she was around the men.

[Erech]

The sun had risen, it's powerful rays shining deep into the window of a small hut. The hut lay inside the Training Ground lands of the Royal Guards. Inside the hut was no ordinary Guard. The creaks of the wooden walls and door as the man inside dressed himself with his usual cloth and leather training gear. His body bulky yet slender, his muscles larger yet defined and his face still with determination. The hut was nothing special, just the way the Captain liked it. He detested the pampered lifestyle, he was independant, he could look after himself with a blade, he did not need a maid to cater for him. His power and authority raised through many of the ranks within the castle. He was renowned, strong yet obdient to his King and Queen. Crixus stepped from the walls of his hut, out into the glorious rays of the sun. He raised his arm to his mouth as his kissed his index and middle finger, he then leaned down placing the kissed fingers into the ground just before his hut door. The grass, the sand, the dirt, it was all sacred ground to the Royal Guards of Ellsinora. Dark hazel eyes scanned the area, none of the men were yet awake, but one of his most advanced Guards was up and training. The young woman, Lyric. The only female to ever gain entry among the Royal Guards. She was special and Crixus knew that, he feets pounded against the grass, the grains of sand and dirt as he walked over towards the young girl, training with her bow in hand. His whip coiled in his hand as he gripped it walking towards the female. His eyes shifted to her arrow as it met with a bird. A common bird, Crixus often used them as moving targets, they made quite the meal too. Crxus chuckled as he watched the flutter of feathers erupt into the air. This girl was handy with a bow, one of the better ones at utilizing the long range tactic. CRixus approached, his presence would have been known, it was hard not to feel his aura. "Your bow skills have improved Lyric. However, allow me to increase the difficulty." Crixus then moved quickly, he thundered down the two hundred meter track towards the target. Stopping ten meters from the target. He pulled his legs together, and lifted his arms out straight like a crucifix, he was confident in his own abilities as well as hers. He then shouted back to Lyric. "Now, hit the target! Don't worry about me."

[Deidra]

Lyric

As soon as the smile appeared it quickly faded into seriousness as she stiffened and her face became set her eyes taking on their normal piercing look. She wasn't alone any longer and her muscles tightened ever so slightly. Lyric didn't need to turn around to know who had joined her, so she waited as he approached. A slight nod was all she gave in recognition of his small compliment, though of course she new she was growing better with her bow. The bow was now her favored weapon above anything else she had tried.

Crixus happened to be one of the only men Lyric respected besides her king, and that was partially because he had not told her story her history really to the rest of the men. She hated her history but it was what drove her to become part of the guard and she had thought it necessary for him to know when she had joined two years ago. The other reason being that he was good at what he did and treated her like he would any of the other men.

So it was that as she watched the middle aged man run out towards the target she only shrugged and took on her archers stance once more. She took another arrow and notched it onto the string as he came to a stop a few feet in front of the target and his words found their way back to her. If she had not been used to such odd tactics she would have stopped and cocked her head at what he was doing, but instead she aimed just under his right arm at the bit of target she could see there. She steadied her arms and slowly pulled back again letting her hand graze her ear before letting the arrow fly and straightening up as it hit true to it's mark.

[Desperanza]

Nikolai rolled over, sighing. The morning rays were reaching into the small hut that belonged to him and he knew once again with the early morning sun that it was time to wake. However he took a few moments longer to rest before quite suddenly, a sharp rap came at his door and the young man rolled to stand on his feet with a sigh. Yawning, he groaned grudgingly and groggily pulled into his training gear. With the leather wrap at his waist, the guards against his shins and upper arms and the boots at his feet, he lifted the leather belt and slid it to his waist, attaching his sword to his left hip before he finally turned towards the door, unbothered that there had been someone at the door the whole time as he dragged himself through dressing. He didn’t figure it was his brother as he would most likely have simply walked in or not bothered coming at all. Surely Crixus had something better to do in the morning then to rap on his door. As Nikolai crossed the room, he rolled his shoulders, the thick layers of muscle beneath his hide rolling smoothly as he began to wake further and he came forward to pull the door open. A good friend, Nordak, another of the guards stood at the other side but instead of a typical greeting, there was a blade thrust at his face.

The sing of the metal just past his ear could be heard and within a single breath, Nikolai’s hand flew to his side to retrieve his own blade, whipping it from its sheath as he retaliated, his powerful blade coming to the other and knocking Nordak’s blade away from his ear. The man laughed good naturedly and backed out of Nikolai’s doorway as Nikolai rolled his eyes and made his way outside with a huff, glancing around himself thoughtfully now as he made his way forward and cast a glance across the training grounds. He first spotted Lyric, taking aim at something farther on down the field which he could no doubt even at this distance he could spot as his older brother. He didn’t watch long and turned his gaze away but by now, Nordak had wandered off to gather something into his stomach before training and Nikolai made his way off towards the trees, beginning to make his way through a series of flips and leaps into the air, pulling off a few pushups in the process now and again before he made it to his favorite tree.

The tree was close to the line of trees, a thick and twisting oak and one of its thick branches hung low, hence why Nikolai had chosen it. As he approached, his hands stretched upwards above his head and he made a brief and aromatic leap towards the branch, curling his fingers to it before he could drop back to the ground again and without hesitation, he began to pull himself up and lower himself down. For a few minutes he did so, working and warming the muscles within himself as he always did every morning, performing a series of warm up movements before he bothered wandering any further across the training grounds. He watched Lyric and Crixus thoughtfully for a few minutes as he worked out beneath the tree before he dropped to the ground once again, now coming to jog out across the field and closer to the pair but he didn’t bother getting all that close, still rather unsure whether or not he cared much for a woman in the guard.

When Lyric had joined the guard, he had for quite some time ignored her quite purposefully. One, he had nothing to say to her and two, she was a woman. He didn’t care much for the fact that a woman was serving as a guard for Ellsinora. He found it ridiculous, no matter how much talent she had for anything. None the less, he never started any trouble. That didn’t mean that he had to speak to her however so he simply kept around the rest of the men in camp. He shared a level of something else with them anyways and he kept his mouth shut about the woman. It was simply something to ignore and something not to bother wasting any energy or thought on.

His right hand lowered, sliding his sword from his sheath once again as he crossed the field. His sword was indeed an extension of himself, a perfectly balanced and well crafted blade that he had had made solely for himself out of silver. Wrapped around a small portion of the carved handle, was a wrap of fine leather to help fuse his hold with the blade of which fit perfectly within his hand. Now, as he walked, he began to turn and swing, rolling the blade through his hand and fingers and testing his dexterity now as he approached and prepared for the day’s training and work. Sighing, the man lifted his gaze once more, glancing around the camp now as he approached the pair, Lyric and Crixus, falling still a few feet away as he sheathed his sword and folded his arms across his muscle lined chest, silent as he watched without a word now.

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[Erech]

His toasted skin absorbing the radiating light and heat from the sun as he stood in a crucifix position. All went silent as the arrow whisled below his right arm. He stood for a few seconds before resuming a regular position as he turned to view where the arrow had hit. He pulled the arrow from the target as he clenched it he walked the length of the track back towards Lyric. His eyes shifted as he watched Nikolai stood upon the side, he had been watching the whole training situation and must have wanted to speak with Crixus. The Captain's eyes shifted from his younger brother back to Lyric, as he handed her back her arrow. "Your improving, but your not at the level required. Continue training." Crixus' words were blunt, serious and held a cold tone. His insult and lack of praise was known throughout the Guards, it took a lot to impress Crixus. He left Lyric to continue trainign as he walked the few meters between Lyric and Nikolai. Standing before his younger brother. "You want something Nikolai?" Crixus didn't care if he was flesh and blood, inside these grounds he was equal to the rest and would be treated so. Crixus wanted the best for Nikolai and would push him as far as he could.

[Desperanza]

The eyes of the young soldier were trained towards the two. The female guard of who was practicing alongside of his brother on down the field who was testing her. When he came closer once again, Nikolai’s eyes pulled away. He wasn’t shocked, surprised, nor impressed by the woman. She was a woman, with a bow and arrow. Let’s see her skill with a sword in close combat to a man twice her size in war and see how she turned out. Nikolai huffed and turned away, glancing back among the huts where more of the man were beginning to stir and wake by now and he grinned slightly but his attention was turned as Crixus approached. His hellion of a brother and one of the only people in the world that Nikolai truly protected or cared for. Whip in hand as usual and the large and muscular body of his brother who stood a few mere inches above Nikolai but it mattered not. They certainly held similar features between them to the point that without armor to shield them from view, it was easy to tell that they were brothers. Not that it mattered here on the training field.

Nikolai offered his brother a curt nod as the man approached but his attention was pulled briefly to the clang of swords feet behind them from other soldiers that were waking and playing about with their blades. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Nikolai graced his gaze to them briefly before coming to address Crixus once more, “Yes, Crixus. I was inquiring as to whether there has been any word from the castle as to when we would be moving out again.” He replied, inquiring as to any possible jobs that might soon be approaching. He was always eager to hit the battle field, to hold a true purpose for which to use his sword and as he gazed up at his brother, his own dark eyes held question as he waited silently for the reply from Crixus.

There was a small crowd gathering in the courtyard of the castle, quite obviously there was reason for there to be a stirring at the castle no doubt. Perhaps something to do with the Princess’s yet again. The drama caused Nikolai to roll his eyes and he sighed, glancing back to Crixus again as he awaited the answer of the head guard. He worked for honor and protection of the royals, but that didn’t mean that he had to agree with the ridiculous drama that they constantly seemed to stir up about the castle.

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[Deidra]

Lyric

She watched as the extremely muscled man went to pull out her arrow and then began to walk back towards her. She felt oddly happy about her not hitting Crixus with that arrow. But his words came to her ears sharply as he handed her back the arrow. If Lyric hadn’t been so toughened to his mannerisms and ways of communication, she might have been hurt. She was a soldier, a member of the Royal Guard of Ellsinora and if her leader told her she needed to keep practicing, she would even if she didn’t agree with him.

So now it was, as Crixus moved off to talk to his brother, that she found herself notching the arrow in her hand back onto the string and once again taking up her archers stance. Lyric tried her best to block out their words as she let the arrow fly singing through the air, but she could not. Nikolai asked of missions and she, being one of them wanted to hear what Crixus had to answer his brother with. She briefly considered stopping her target practice and walking over to them, but decided against this. No, she would continue aiming and hitting the target two hundred yards away while she tuned her ears into their conversation.

Lyric was aware how the men thought of her, that a woman had no place in the guard. The young woman had only been 20 when she had come to Crixus with her story and asked to join. The men didn’t see what right she had to be there, but had they been there the night she had revealed her history to the leader that night, they would differently. If they could see the scars she has kept hidden for seven years they would gasp at their horrific patterns that will be forever etched into the young woman’s flesh, a constant reminder the cruel man that carved them into her. But no man other than Crixus has ever, in Lyrics mind, been worthy of that sensitive information.

[Erech]

His dark hazel eyes scanned his younger brother who stood a few inches shorter than him. The request of mission, action and combat. Crixus looked sharp into his brothers eyes, seeing determination and the want to improve. Crixus did have some work lined up, a mission he had acquired wanting his own strength along with two other guards to complete a quest. However, he knew that telling the whole collection of men would turn sour as he could only take two of them with him. He knew exactly who he was going to take, but he didn't want to stir the other Guards. His unshaved jawline opened as Crixus spoke back to his brothers question. "Patience, Nikolai. There will be work soon enough. Now back to your training." Crixus then stepped towards the congregation of men now forming around the huts. Releasing the coils of his whip, his arm flashed out and the leather whip lashed at the ground. The snapping sound echoed through the air as the men fell silent. They all knew the meaning of the whip, and none dared to step across the path of Crixus. "You all wish for your names to become Legend. But, to become a Legend you must endure pain, suffering. You must become one with your sword, you must become stronger. Strength comes from Blood, Sweat and Tears. Now get to work!" Crixus's words where sharp and cold, he was serious and all the guards knew it. The men who was previously playing around scattered to the different training stations set up around the campus. Each station designed to develop ones body into that of a Royal Guard. One Guard was missing, still asleep within his hut. Crixus' watchful eye recognised his absence immediately. Pounding towards hit hut, whip in hand. Crixus booted open the door to his hut. Duro, had been panicingly dressing himself as the door flung open. he quickly fastened his leather strap over his chest as he ran out his hut. Crixus' whip lashing into his back as he ran towards and empty station. "Duro! 5 Laps! Go!" Crixus had designed a punishment scheme, endurance training. All the men hated it, perfect for training and punishment. Crixus had taken the liberty to outline a path the whole perimeter of the campus. One lap measured around 800 meters. Crixus had let him off this time. Five laps was a gentle punishment as it was Duro's first offence. Although, he had to show the other Guards, they could not get away with such behavior. Running in this heat wasn't a nice feeling. Crixus stood, watching his brother and Lyric as they continued their training. Crixus had eyes like a hawk, never missing anything within his campus. He would wait a little while longer before informing Nikolai and Lyric of their upcoming mission.

[Desperanza]

Nikolai’s eyes were crisp and sharp, eager as they stared up into the darker orbs of his brother. His jaw was set and his body was tense, ready for a mission to fall from his brother’s mouth but instead, he had stated that missions were coming, but not yet. Nikolai swallowed a bitter sight of disappointment and closed his eyes for a mere moment before they flicked open once more and he gave a curt nod in reply, “Yes, brother.” He replied. His reply was short and simple for there was nothing more to say. Turning on his heel, the man made his way across the camp. He glanced among the stations thoughtfully for a moment, deciding of which he would be training in for some time today. There were men that were doing pushups, men fighting each other with their swords, a row of archers shooting arrows, towards the end and just past where Duro had just passed, there stood the toughest station where only the most honed warriors trained. He headed there.

As he approached, he gazed upon strange wooden statue like poles with other rounds of wood leading on down the pole in the middle. The wood had been smoothed and there were other thick protruding pieces of wood coming from the rounded rings of wood that circled the pole. It was meant for battle combat practice and when you touched any of the out stretched logs of wood that protruded outward, it began to spin. All of the rings were meant to spin and some had protruding wood planks going all the way down to the bottom, others had them in only a few places. Each pole was different and all had their protruding planks that spun. When one trialed through the area it was a spinning whirl of wooden enemies and you would have to be light, quick on your feet and extremely skilled. There were a few notches here and there in the wood where others had been through the trial, swords battering the wood with time and periodically the wood was smoothed over again which was usually done by soldiers in the hot sun, soldiers that had somehow screwed up, among other things. He had once seen a man sit out there for an entire day polishing the notches from the wood when he had been caught with a woman in his bed at camp while the rest of the soldiers prepared to travel out into Kiyer. To state that the man was not pleased would be an understatement.

Never the less, despite the extreme difficulty of this exercise and the fact that most that came through often came out with a few good knocks to the head and bruises lining their arms and legs at times, it was his favorite. It was a trial of true skill and he was improving swiftly. The station was the largest and the first set of poles held all smooth boards and planks so that the worst you would achieve is some bruises upon your hide, the last practice trial, the wood was carved into pointed spikes here and there to make it more realistic however the spikes were not long as they didn’t have any intention of killing the soldiers in camp, just training them but they would pierce the skin and it would sure as hell hurt when it did so. Only one man was said to have died from such an activity when he had foolishly attempted the course only a few weeks into his training. Young and naïve the man had attempted the trial and had come out with more holes then a round of Swiss cheese and within two weeks, he was dead from infection.

Now as Nikolai eyed the course, it stood empty. Typically, men only trialed the area when Crixus made them for it was a favorite to no one but Nikolai himself. It was not desired to have to play with planks that spun and kicked you in the ass before you had a chance to retaliate and of course, it was only for the best and higher leveled guards. Nikolai had plenty of growing room to go but he had amazed the camp when one night he had snuck out to trial the course by himself, knowing that his brother would never allow him otherwise without sneaking out into the night so he had bid his time and finally, when the moon was at its fullest and the moon was the highest in the sky and the field was bathed in silver light when he had snuck from his hut to trial the wicked course. He had come out with a few puncture wounds and quite a few bruises but he had made it and by the end of the night a few of the planks had been broken off and the course was notched so badly that fresh wood peeked from every crevice. He had sure as hell made it from the course but after that he hadn’t returned until Crixus allowed him to.

Now, as he approached, his left hand lowered, his fingers playing with the hilt of his sword as he approached the course with a slight grin. When he drew close he paused, glancing over the course thoughtfully for a few long moments as he dropped to the ground, performing a few pushups with ease as if it was as simple as breathing before he leaped to his feet once more, pulling his sword from its sheath with a glide of his muscles as he turned the handle of his blade over his fingers and gave it a light swing, turning in a circle before he poised, his blade aimed at the course. His dark amber eyes were alight with a blazing chocolate fire as he inhaled slowly, his brow furrowing as he grit his teeth, clenched his jaw and tensed his muscles as he inhaled slowly, the world around himself seeming to slow as he lunged forward.

His heart seemed to beat in slow motion, seeming to send the world around himself into the same rhythm. In the background he could hear the clang of other swords, the whistle of arrows through the air, the chirp of the birds in the tree close by the whistle of the wind as it brushed past his ear. He could hear each deep breath that he took in, his mind in hyper drive as he lunged forward and his blade sliced the air before himself, swinging towards the top plank of the first pole, sending it whirling through the air as he seemed to count the seconds until it impacted his head as it came back around, his shin pushing another out of the way as he slid his foot forward sharply and hooked it as he would to knock the feet from under a man. As his blade dropped lower as if to slice open the gut of a man and as the top plank whipped back around towards his head, he ducked his head and plunged forward, his arm sending the plank spinning and slicing the wood in the process, splinters folding outward as his blade cut across the wood and he leaped into the air, flipping over another plank standing still just at the bottom edge of his stomach. He flipped through the air just before his ankle came into contact with the bottom plank and the plank by his shoulder swung around. One clean flip and he was standing at the other side, now entangled within the maze of swinging wooden weapons like a band of Muratian soldiers raging towards him.

As he turned to face his next wooden enemy his mind leaped into a flash of color and movement. Wood slapped wood and there were clicks and snaps emanating into the air as he began to disappear into a flash of twisting and flaring wood. As he lunged through the course he began to imagine. Blazing Muratian soldiers with blazing red eyes and ugly, jagged black swords racing towards him with weapons swinging in from every direction and now, it all seemed too real. He had put himself into the face of battle. It was now or never, he could be dead, if these beasts were real. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Murate soldiers did not have red eyes, he knew that they must have weapons just like he himself did but what did it matter what he saw when he was practicing? For when the time came, it would all be real, and he would be ready.

He still seemed to be in a world all his own with the world slowing down considerably so that he could detect every movement. Every gush of air from the swinging planks and every tap of wood as it started swinging. With every touch, every swing of his sword, every shift of his body and his muscles clenched and let loose. Each movement of his body was a precise and well coordinated movement that caused yet another movement and yet somehow watching this whole scene would be mesmerizing, dazzling. A show of power, of speed and yet it would be viewed from the outside. It would be viewed in fast forward with the turn, the swing of his sword and yet it was not a sword, it was only his arm with the power to end a life, to do a hell of a lot of damage.

Beads of sweat spotted his brow and his body was moving like liquid silver, like mercury with no gravitational force that kept him on the ground. Suddenly it was a flurry of movement and he was surrounded by attacks from every side, every corner of his space and being. Wood spun like the wheels of a train and quite suddenly, there was a tap at his heels, one wooden piece that had caught up with him and as he leaned forward, his head ducking out of the way of another piece, his blade came whistling down and suddenly, that wooden plank was gone. Ripped away by the edge of his blade, the silver titanium sliced away the wood, splinters forking out into the air and then it was gone. The pressure was missing from his lower leg and his foot skidded away from the angry splintering wood that now stuck out of the pole that had once held a plank there. Suddenly there was the splintering of wood, the arching of planks splitting the air. His mouth did not open, his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply.

Within minutes he had fought his way through the planks, the poles with their protruding ‘weapons’ and their polished wooden stems now notched out severely, planks cut away leaving raw and splintered wood. Planks remained notched and cleared out and others swung madly from the pressure, not yet slowing enough to stop once again and suddenly, he was facing the second beast in this course, the spiked wooden poles. The points were about an inch long, if that and yet they were piercing, dulled only slightly to protect the soldiers themselves and yet as Nikolai stood there, staring with a deep glare, panting with effort and yet he was not tired. Yet he was simply waiting for a mere moment like staring down his enemy, that calm before the storm. By now, a few other soldiers had paused, watching the battle of the young soldier to the gauntlet of staring poles. The constant whizz of movement was enough to make an amateur soldier dizzy and Nikolai had scaled it in record time and had managed not to be hit.

It had been his best effort scaling the battle of poles and it had so far been his best outcome by far. Now, as he stared down the next of his challenges, he scanned the spikes as if they were taunting him. All within the breath of a minute it ran through his mind what his next mission would be. Like scaling a mountain without safety gear it stared him down and yet it was only an object. It was not breathing. This was no soldier, it was only a series of machines that ran by his wishes. When his arm grazed one, it would set the machine in motion and quite suddenly, he would become the moving target. This could be done.

He clenched his jaw once more and suddenly, he was feeding his way through the other half of the ranging poles as spikes were set in motion as if it were a beast that was eating him away from the world to grind him up and spit him out in pieces. However, it would be a different story for as this man ripped his way through the course it was less then pleasant. It was a mixture of fury and nerves, threatening to rip apart his skin and pierce his flesh at any given moment. Every movement threatened to bring him more pain and this danger was real. This was not a matter of bumps and bruises, this was a matter of blood and sweat. Two of the main factors of his brother’s training regime.

The spikes grazed his flesh, his sword swinging and the spikes fell to the ground. Again, a blurry of activity, a mass of movement and immense muscle. The blade sang within the air and came to pierce wood and slice away the protruding spikes that threatened to pierce his body. With each heart beat that pounded there were multiple swings of his blade to match. There was the swing of his blade, and the shift of his body. His eyes were shifting, the dark gaze traveling around the scene with molten fire in his eyes as his senses became fine tuned and every inch of his body became aware of everything around himself. He was intent on making his way out of the maze with the charm of wood upon the ground. This gauntlet would not take him.

His progress had been pristine. It had been perfect, unmatched in fact and yet all at once there it was. There was that face, that one glance. That woman he had met in town. Those dazzling hazel eyes and the flash of rich brunette hair and the slender feminine form to go with. It had not been her outer beauty that had shocked him quite as much as the beauty within. When she spoke, there was kindness in her words. There had been only the best of intentions nestled there. She had been beautiful inside and out and she was all woman. She was possibly what he had been searching for through the years. He had not known her long and he refused to rush into anything and he wasn’t even aware of any true feelings for her yet so why had she entered his mind now?

It was that moment, that precise moment, the instant that his mind wandered off track when suddenly, the gauntlet had enough room to grab a hold of him. He needed to focus. He needed to get back on track and now, he was losing it. He wasn’t far from the end but his mind had tricked him, had played a horrible trick on him and had broken his focus. Inhaling sharply, there was a sickening crash that crunch and rip as wooden spike ripped into flesh and pierced his skin just above his shoulder blade at his back. Shocked, his limbs froze and his chocolate eyes grew wide and his limbs seemed to freeze but it was just that instant that the gauntlet could sink it’s claws into him and there it was, another at his stomach just off to the left by his sword’s sheath and one there in his thigh. He needed his recovery and fast.

Liquid fire now filled his veins, bitter and poisonous and his mind closed away into a steel barrier, the walls closing in around his mind as it seemed to fuel a fire within him that sent his heart into hyper drive and fueled a temper that flared within just as there was another strike of pain through his upper arm, another spike trying to work its way into his skin. He hissed in pain, a ravaging growl escaping his throat before a sudden screaming roar filled the air as Nikolai’s back arched sharply and his free hand dropped forward to rip the spike from his leg, sending the spiked poll rolling around backwards as he stumbled back, driving the spike into his back a bit further but ripping the spike out of his stomach in the process as his blade became curled within both hands and his blade swinging through the air, slicing a few spikes clear from the pole before he plunged forward again, moving with the power of a bull as he lunged forward and quite suddenly, he was back to speed and yet there was no precise planning within his movements anymore.

Now a flurry of motion and power, slicing and cutting at the swinging planks as he went before finally, he reached the other side. Lifting his blade finally with one last swing, he was spit from the roiling belly of the gauntlet once more. As he made it out of the twisting and rolling poles he slid to his knees for a moment, the tip of his blade piercing the ground as he rested his forehead against the hilt of the sword, his breaths coming heavy both in effort, and in pain but he wouldn’t show it. His eyes remained closed for a few moments before they flitted open once more, his brows furrowed as he glared into the trees. He didn’t want to turn back. He didn’t want the humiliation, the sting of Crixus’ words when he criticized his work. He didn’t want the humiliation that the gauntlet had taken a bite out of him. There it was, the evidence of his lack of focus. There piercing in his stomach, his thigh, his back. Each oozed blood freely. There was a tiny dent within his upper armor, right where the last spike had hit. It was a disgrace, the crimson that laced his tanned skin.

As he sat there, kneeling within the grass, he took a few deeper breaths again before slowly, he regained his feet once more and stood straight. His back quivered slightly and he sucked in a sharp breath, wincing though not in pain but because he knew that he would now have to face the rest of the camp and worse, his brother. He wasn’t afraid, he was pissed off. He could already gather images of his brother tackling the gauntlet, swinging and cutting his way through the twisting poles and making it out unscathed and he didn’t doubt that that was probably an all too real possibility but he didn’t want to bother thinking about the possibility that it could be possible and that his brother could do better than himself.

Where did he go wrong? But already, he knew. There had been no fault in his tactics, his speed his precision. There had been an error in his mind. There had been a flash of that girl with one arm, a distraction and he had lost focused. He cursed beneath his breath and finally, he came to turn and face the rest of the camp. Glancing among the twisting poles, there was quite a bit of damage from his own blade. There were many planks upon the ground as well as many spikes. There was splintered wood and deep notches upon the poles but it wasn’t enough. Even the scene of destruction that would no doubt have killed a hundred men in battle was not enough. He had lost. If he had been in battle, that would have been a blade through his back, through his stomach, his thigh. He could be dead.

His usually chocolate colored eyes were now a piercing black. The dark amber that usually held a warm and enticing look were now piercing, and wild. They were dangerous and furious but none the less he lifted his chin and clenched his teeth. He now came to face the rest of the camp. Nearly every soldier had come to stare at him now and yet he did not bother coming to look at any of their facial expressions. He didn’t need nor want to know what they were thinking over his effort. He had walked in with confidence, certain that he could handle this, that he could beat this and now, he was feeling a slight dent in that confidence as his dark gaze came to seek out his brother. It wasn’t that he necessarily wanted to meet up with him and as he stood there with blood oozing down his tanned skin and corded muscles, his fingers remained clenched to the blade of his sword that he had yet to sheath though the thought had yet to occur to him. He wondered what it had looked like when that man had died, the amateur that had bothered to attempt the gauntlet and had failed.

The sting of his wounds did nothing for his morale as he came to stare out across the field, his eyes seeming to stare at nothing as slowly he wandered forward around the training habit that stood to his side. He took a breath slowly and held it this time as he made his way forward. His steps were slow, his mind still numb from the temper that had fueled him forward through the last grip of the gauntlet and now, as he slowly made his way forward, he knew that he would have to be in work mode all over again. Surely his brother would send him right back into training if not make him go back through the gauntlet all over again as punishment for failing. He sighed, finally needing to catch another breath and as he stepped forward slowly, he lowered his gaze slowly, silence surrounding him in the humiliation of his mistake.

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[Erech]

The rays of light eminating from the sun glistened as they entered the dark hazel eyes, enabling Crixus to stare upon his brother. He watched as his brother faught with the pistons of wood set upon twisting poles. Crixus knew his brother wanted to surpass him, but it would not be as easy as completing the Gauntlet training station. Crixus was the record holder on the Gauntlet, completing it in a few seconds. Nikolai was foolish to head straight into it's jaws without first warming himself up. His brother knew the stories of the fool and Crixus hoped Nikolai wouldn't second life claimed by the Gauntlet. He watched on with his hawk like eyes as his intimdating stare never removed sight of his brother. Crixus stood, arms folded across his buldging chest watching his brother power through the station. Until that one moment. Nikolai had lost his focus, he inability to stay concentrated upon the task caused him to carry the weight of defeat as the Gauntlet batter and bruised him, poking holes in his rock hard skin like a hot knife through butter. Nikolai knew better than to underestimate the Gauntlet. Upon burdening his shame, Nikolai walked back towards Crixus who walked forwards to meet his brother. He knew the shame hurt, but pain and suffering made a warrior into much more. Crixus had endured great lengths of pain and suffering through his time in training. He had endured it all and come out the ordeal as the strongest in Ellsinora. He agility combined with his brute strength was something of myths. Crixus was the greatest of his time and he would only allow one man to surpass him. That man stood before him with shame burdened upon his shoulders. Crixus leaned to his ear as he spoke wise words. "Focus, the Gauntlet is no toy. You lost your focus midway through a station. If that was a battle you would not have come from it with such little wounds. Although, you probably already know this. Clear your mind of all thoughts outside this place. I know what you saw, something of means to you, as for I comitted the same mistake as you a long time ago. I lost focus thinking of you and mother. Don't let me catch you off guard again Nikolai. You know you can do better than this. You fool." Crixus was serious throughout his whole whispered talk with Nikolai until the last two words, where he slapped his brother gently across the back of the head and walked off. "Don't forget to fix the Gauntlet Nikolai, you broke it, you fix it." Crixus then drew his sword and quickly darted at one of the gazing men, they too had lost focus and Crixus was about to get him back into check. Standing before the guard, Crixus' blade less than an inch away from the mans face. he spoke before pulling away his sword and continuing to keep his eye on all the guards like an eagle, a bird of prey. "Back to work."

[Desperanza]

Sighing, Nikolai brushed a hand along his jaw line as he cast a glance after Crixus without replying. He didn’t have much to say in any matter of words and he knew that Crixus was right. He grit his teeth and straightened his back, glancing around the camp thoughtfully for a brief moment but he didn’t care about any of the eyes that stared back at him. He cast a brief and icy glance to Lyric. Did she stare because she thought she was better? Did she think that she belonged here? He turned away and simply strode back towards the gauntlet instead with a stiff shoulder. Stupid women and their ways of thinking that they belonged with men sometimes. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect women, because he did but hell, did they really belong in war? He rolled his eyes at the thought and cast a glance towards Crixus as he warned the rest of the guards who lingered, watching him. He grinned slightly. His brother was tough and he didn’t take any slack, it was something that he appreciated out of his brother. Crixus seemed to be able to produce the best of men, aspects and skills that the men themselves didn’t realize they even had at times. Oenomaus was one hell of a man, a legend and someday, Nikolai would be too.

Sighing, he felt the sting of the wounds on his body but he ignored them and grit his teeth. As he approached the gauntlet, his sword was returned to its sheath and he was once again ignoring the men as they got back to their practice. He paused, eyeing the broken wooden poles in silence for a few moments before he headed off to gather the items to fix the gauntlet. Once returning, he held a small knife as well as sandy paper. Hours he would work to repair and reshape bits and pieces of the gauntlet. With the sun at his back and silence surrounding himself, he set to work. He never complained and never spoke. He simply worked as he was expected to. He simply worked as he always would without fail. He didn’t consult for help and he didn’t address any of the other soldiers, he simply immersed himself with fixing the gauntlet. For hours it was all he did, well into the night. He wouldn’t spend the rest of the day training, he would be working. He had damaged the gauntlet indeed, something he wouldn’t do again for some time but what he did want, was work. He wanted jobs and missions. Things were far too quiet. There were no orders coming to them from the castle. There was no word of what roiled within the belly of Murate when there should be concern he was certain.

There was no sign of trouble in town surely but did that mean that there was no work to be done? He grit his teeth, growing frustrated with the royals and yet it would be silenced. He would say nothing to his irritated thoughts now as he glanced towards the castle before gazing downward again. Why was it that they always trained and had yet to see the sight of a battle field? Crixus could build the best army in the world and yet it would simply spoil and fester if he had nowhere to set loose his soldiers. If they had nothing to fight for then they would simply be training for nothing. He pondered this thought for some time as he stared downward, curious as to why his brother seemed cool about the whole scenario. When was the last time that the King or Queen had called him to the castle to converse about further missions or opportunities for their army? When was it that Crixus had been brought indoors to discuss a possible threat or attack? Nikolai felt it clear to his bones that they were indeed festering and that something need be done and yet, there remained nothing.

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