Spring 1, 511 AV
Dimitri woke up on his day of days, a smile adorning his face. He looked around his dormitory room seeing his fellow squires asleep. He always woke up early on his birthday, though not on purpose. He stepped out of bed, and quickly made it, folding the sheets neatly, pressing out all wrinkles and ensuring they were tight. He stretched, beginning to enjoy his day off from his patron Knight. He walked toward the latrines when he heard some scuffling in a nearby dormitory room. He peered in and saw some middle aged squires maybe fifteen or sixteen, holding down a young squire Dimitri recognized as new. He couldn't tell what they were doing to him but he did see fear in the boy's eyes and welts on his skin. Dimitri rode in, towering over the younger boys, and they turned to him, fear of being caught evident. He cuffed the two boys on the ears and barked "Get back to bed and don't let me see this again." The boys hopped back in bed, and Dimitri extended a hand to the boy. As he helped the boy up, he knew he had to teach the boy toughness. He gave him a stern look, "I won't save you next time, train your body and steel your will young one." The boy looked at him in strange wonder then, seemingly understanding what he said quickly hopped into bed.
A few minutes after returning to his own dorm, Dimitri pulled out his sword and shield, both wrapped up in protective cloth. He removed the cloth and pulled out his gear kit the Knights gave them. He began polishing his shield in the darkness of his dorm, his fingers still learning every edge and ridge in the shield. His fingers gliding over the shield, he marveled at it's feel. Cold, hard yet strong and unyielding, forged from the very earth the Knights sought to protect. He wiped the shield clean, and held it's sword. He tested the edges. Though still sharp he was able to feel it dulling slightly. He grabbed a sharpening stone and guided it along the edge. In soft small motions he stroked it off the blade edge, a slight shnick sound filling the small space. He continued the motion on both sides, on both edges of the sword as well as rounding off the point. He then pulled out the polish and gave it a quick polishing, his hands sliding efficiently over the fine blade even though his eyes couldn't see in the dark room. Having finished he stood up, put on his breeches, shirt, and boots. He then strapped his shield to his back, his sword at his hip. He strode out of the room, down the hall exiting the dormitory on this lovely seventeenth birthday of his.