Books And Blades [Sigrun]

[Razkar]

85th Day of Spring
Anthonius Fighter's Pit
12th Bell

"The pri... prime... prima... ary... primary... dis... dismun... dis... mount... ed... dismounted... weap-on... of the... Syl-irian Knights has for cen... sen... centuries... been the... broad... sword... and shell... shield..."

Razkar cut a curious figure that morning, in the shade off to one side in the Fighter's Pit. His name had been made and he was aware that a few of the pugs, sellswords, squires and common toughs present noticed him. He knew it was egotistical, but he'd earned that small indulgence.

Five days. That was all it took. He had cause to be proud... but swinging steel was not all that made a warrior.

That was why the Myrian sat in the shade alongside the bored-looking Mrrko, bent over the aged book that had traveled across Mizahar and back. Gifted to him by his lover, Ayatah, Arms of Mizahar was his kind of treatise. A compendium of warriors, armies, battles and military history from around the world, he had no idea how it had found its way to the Great Market of Taloba... but it had. Then it had traveled into her slender, golden hands, and been passed to his.

It was, however, in Common, which he was becoming fluent in verbally, but as far as reading it went? That took practice.

"The lank... lance..." he said laboriously, drawing a finger under each word as he dragged out the letters from the parchment and made them clear to the ear "... has been... their... main... mound... mounted... weapon. Sim... Simple... th... though it ap... appears... it rec... requ... eers... requires... great skill and prac... tice... practice... to well... wield... ak... acc... acc-ur-ate...ly.... accurately..."

Razkar smiled as his ears pricked up, sensing some new change in the air, happy that he'd finished yet another page on the chapter covering the Sylirian Knights. Fitting, he'd thought, considering this was their realm and, so he'd heard, they trained barely a stone's throw from the Pit.

He looked up at the brief commotion at the gates, seeing a familiar figure walking purposefully towards him. A female, and that was enough to cause a ripple of commentary throughout the crowd of men. He smiled crookedly as he saw guts pulled in, stances straightened, even muscles flexed subtly (they hoped) as she marched through them.

Heading for him, apparently.

"Mistress Sigrun," Razkar said politely, carefully marking his place in the book with a scrap of paper he'd picked up somewhere, "It is good to see you again..."

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Uh, gauntlets." It was a surprise on her part that she'd never come to know of this place before. Sigrun eyed the incredibly large tiger that flitted its tail back and forth along the front porch of All Things Leather, its sharp yellow eyes entering in a staring contest with the young blonde. There was no way she was taking her eyes off the majestic animal; a true and honest testament of the dire beasts she remembered her younger brother telling her about about long ago. She was so taken by its size and might that she was unfortunately unable to return the shopkeeper's overtly friendly welcome. It was difficult to respond to the stocky and tall warrior who stood before her patiently, a warm smile gracing his lips, heavily contrasting the dark eyes, long dreadlocks, and ebony skin that constituted to his harsh features. She could see very clearly the tattoos that covered his back like an extra layer of his skin, its dark etched tendrils peeking out from his shoulders like vines growing from the base of a wall. He was a lot like the man she'd met before, the one she'd had the pleasure of being trained by. Razkar? "Your size?" he said casually, moving deeper into his shop to find what she was looking for. Sigrun quickly glanced over to the man before averting her gaze back to the big cat. It licked its chops and sat up. The young blonde gingerly stepped backwards and bowed her head slightly in a feeble attempt to show it some respect, as if it had an understanding of how humans valued such a thing. Did it? "Ehm, small?" "I think this fit you," the man came back holding a small pair of black leather gauntlets, the knuckles adorned with thick knots and braids. Sigrun slipped one on and moved her fingers around it, finding the glove to be a bit large and uncomfortable. When she brought her hand down, it slipped outward awkwardly. The young blonde shook her head and took it off. "Don't think so," she smiled politely, handing the gauntlet back. The warrior chuckled and went back into the storage. "You take smell of shop well," he called out amusedly, "most people come here covering noses." Clearly she'd forgotten how putrid the scent of the shop was. Sigrun finally managed to distract herself from the attentive tiger, her nose taking notice of the horrid scent of the tanned leather. Scrunching her nose, she managed a wry grimace as the dark-skinned man returned with the left pair of three sets of gauntlets. The sun wasn't helping their little set-up at all, either. It merely intensified the aroma. Two of the gauntlets were fingerless, their protection ending just after the knuckles, while the other one was a full glove. Sigrun tried on the gloved one first, her hands fitting into it perfectly, but found that it was difficult to ball her fists. "Too thick, I'm sorry," she placed the glove on the table. Suddenly, she feared that if she could not find something to buy, the man would have his tiger eat her. Panic-stricken, she fumbled with the second one. It was a pale yellow and only reached the wrists. Sigrun frowned. "Uhm, no..." she mumbled, discarding it on the table and taking the third one. Gulping, she had to be sure that the last one was indeed the one meant for her. "Ey, no worry," the warrior laughed, patting her on the shoulder, "Nabinu will find you something if this don't fit!" "Thank you," she grinned sheepishly, finding the warrior's kindness and sincerity to be quite odd, yet refreshing. Her hands fit the third gauntlet perfectly, offering just the right amount of protection around her palm and knuckles, the leather even covering her lower arm, offering even more support. The fact that it was fingerless gave her more room to move her fingers and get a better grip on things. It was an added bonus that it was a beautiful, deep brown color. Sigrun looked at the warrior with a wide smile on her face. Now that she'd found what she was looking for, even the stench of the leather was neglected. "As good as ones we have in Taloba," he grinned, seeing the delight in the young blonde's face as she stared at the gauntlet with excitement. "Taloba?" she turned to him with a smile, "your homeland?" "Yes, where Myrians are from," he responded, balling his fist and beating it lightly against his chest, "I am Myrian." "Have tigers as big as this one. You know many more Myrian?" "Oh no, no," Sigrun blushed, nervously looking away from both Nabinu and his tiger, "w-well, I believe I met one a couple days ago." "Ah, tell him you see me," he said excitedly, giving her another pat on the shoulder, "I like to meet more Myrians who come here." "Oh, of course, if I see him," she mirrored his wide smile, taking money out of the pouch hanging around her waist and handing the proper amount of Mizas to the warrior as he handed her the other gauntlet. "That enough?" she said. Nabinu counted the coins and nodded. "They're beautiful," she said fondly, bringing her hands out and admiring the way the gauntlets fit her perfectly, "thank you." It must've been odd to hear a young woman describe a piece of leather armor as beautiful, but the Myrian looked more proud to have heard her say it, rather than confused. "It was nothing, Mistress!" Nabinu beamed, "come back any time at all!" "I will," she said happily as she bounded off. It had only been a few days since her last encounter with Razkar, and the faint aches and pains that lingered in her muscles were a constant reminder of how vigorous and intense their training was for her. The young girl was more than interested in reliving it again, however, and somehow a part of her wished that she would bump into him again, and perhaps show him the gauntlets that he'd inspired her to purchase. The fighter's pits, she'd realized. He would probably be hanging around at the fighter's pits. Ignoring the sounds that her bones made, the sounds that she'd imagined were there, as she raced through the crowds of people and through the districts. Sigrun hoped to use her brisk movements as a sort of warm-up in the event that the Myrian was indeed around to teach her more things. Placing one hand, now clothed in her new gauntlet, over the hilt of her cutlass, she cut through the throngs of people and stopped just in front of the road through Winthrop Alley. Panting, she grinned like an excited child, anticipating the sight of the tattooed warrior, and hoping that her expectations would not be crushed by his absence. Bounding down the staircase that led into the pits, completely ignoring the many men of different shades and sizes whom she passed, she stopped dead at the entrance when she found him sitting along the benches, hunched over a book. Smiling warmly, she walked over to him with slow, measured steps. She wanted to look as calm as possible by the time she got to him. Her heart was racing, her lungs beating against her chest, both of her organs reminiscing the adrenaline-filled experience of training under the tutelage of the Myrian. Once she was before him, he was shutting his book and regarding her politely. "Mistress Sigrun, it is good to see you again..." Sigrun grinned, not quite getting used to the honorific that he continued to use with her. Breathing deeply in and out, she gave him a nod of approval, placing her hands on her hips and grinning brightly. "It's good to see you too, Razkar. Do you notice anything different?" She resisted the urge to twirl.

OOCTerribly sorry for the length! Didn't want to sacrifice Nabinu's personality!

[Razkar]

Razkar chuckled his amusement as the human... presented herself, for want of a better word. The sheer change in prompted much of it. Before, when they had sparred, she had not been cold or emotionless by any means, but... focused. Driven. Determined to the point he was reminded more of the hard-edged Myrian females of his home than the more flighty breed outside the jungle.

But she was a female, and a girl at that, and she had her tastes.

"Hmm..." He said contemplatively, eyes flickering over her legs, torso, arms... ah. "Those gloves? No..." He stood up, frowning and stepping forward to examine them closer. "These... are familiar..."

Razkar's face was as contorted in concentration as it was bemusement. Where had he seen this style of leatherwork before? His mind instantly threw up memories of home but sure that could not be the case. Only a Myrian would have been able to craft these and...

Well, you're here, and the female Kaie. Why not others?

"Beautiful work." he said with a respectful nod, noting with a smile the hardened bumps where the knuckles on the finger-less gloves were, not to mention the leather stretching up to protect her forearm. "Mistress, was... this from Myrian? Looks so familiar..."

Then his eyes traveled out of instinct to the cutlass at her belt. Much finer than the practice weapon she had used before. He noted the metal grip and hand-guard, the fine inlay depicting a ship that oddly reminded him of the Cuttlefish. The mere sight of a weapon so well-maintained dragged his mind back to other matters.

"What bring you to the Pit? Same thing as me, hmm?" He grinned and patted the gladius and ax at his hip. "Perhaps for again?"

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Hmm..." The warrior's eyes examined the young girl from the bottom to the top. Sigrun watched his gaze trail upwards from her feet, traveling up her legs and torso until it paused at her arms. She blushed for a moment, suddenly embarrassed by the inspection he was giving her. "Those gloves? No..." the warrior rose from his seat to better examine the gloves. Sigrun grinned and nodded, her blush persisting as she raised her arms in front of her to show them off in greater detail. "These... are familiar..." "Are they?" she said enthusiastically, "I just purchased them today." "Beautiful work." he smiled, nodding towards her, "mistress, was... this from Myrian? Looks so familiar..." She'd suddenly remembered what Nabinu had asked of her. Eyes widening, she raised her eyebrows at Razkar. "Oh, yes! It was from the Myrian at the Leatherworks shop, Nabinu." "He told me to tell you about him, said he wanted to see more Myrians around here," she stressed the name of his race, proud to have discovered it, and all the more interested to know more about it. "He also had a huge tiger." "What bring you to the Pit? Same thing as me, hmm?" the warrior grinned, patting the weapons that hung along his waist. Sigrun instinctively held on to the hilt of her cutlass, returning his smile. "Perhaps for again?" "Again indeed!" she chuckled, "I'd love for you to train me again, as you were such a brilliant instructor the last time." "I actually also came looking for you to show you these," she gestured over to her gauntlets, "as I bought them because of that little mistake I made with my basket hilt." The young blonde smirked and made a punching gesture with both her hands, throwing a balled fist into her open palm. She hoped the Myrian would understand the reference.

[Razkar]

"He also had a huge tiger."

Razkar had been interested before; now he was plain enraptured. A Myrian Tiger in Syliras? He didn't even know such a thing could be possible! The male's face split open in something only describable as childish wonder, and he immediately made a note to track down this fellow Child of Myri.

"Again indeed! I'd love for you to train me again, as you were such a brilliant instructor the last time."

Razkar smiled warmly and gave a shrug that he hoped didn't smack too much of false modesty. He knew his abilities were impressive, easily equal to anyone else around them right now... but arrogance was not the way of a warrior. Self-confidence and faith were far more desirable. Arrogance bred mistakes.

"Have not often been called instructor in this land. I thank you."

"I actually also came looking for you to show you these, as I bought them because of that little mistake I made with my basket hilt."

The Myrian cocked his head to one side as if in confusion.

"Mistake? I did not see you... oh..." he glanced at the gauntlets again and nodded his understanding. "... you mean when you hurt hand? Well... good idea. That guard on cutlass? Very dangerous. But-" He said, putting up a finger and gesturing to her left hand, her off and empty hand when she wielded her blade with her right "-now you have another weapon. Useful."

He rummaged around in his saddle bag and came up two two nasty-looking items to Sigrun's eyes. Not quite gloves, they were really more like tight cords of leather that fitter around one's hand, with four metal knuckles that were clearly and cruelly crafted like almost-sharp studs.

"Knuckleduster." Razkar said, pronouncing the Common words carefully as he clenched his fist around it. "Very good to have... but you want more train? Good. We can train."

His eyes seemed to dim a little, as if regretting what was to come. In a way, he was. Training and sparring with such a fiery female was always a pleasure... but he had expenses, like everyone else.

"Must say, I charge. Ten mizas for day of training." He saw her eyes widen a little, but held up a hand to stall her, half-smile on his lips. "But... since you let me know about fellow Child of Myri in Syliras, we say... five mizas."

He looked around and saw Gerard eyeing him warily, arms crossed, brow creased as the master of the Fighter's Pit saw an obvious transaction underway in his domain.

"Think we train here? Or human-" he jutted his chin towards the bearded Gerard "-not like?"

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Have not often been called instructor in this land. I thank you." Sigrun could see the light in his eyes, twinkling as he responded with a genuine smile and a quick shrug. His modesty was truly admirable, and was something that made her respect him immensely. "Mistake? I did not see you... oh..." Sigrun gestured over to her dominant hand, wiggling her fingers as she held them up before the Myrian. Her knuckles still felt quite painful, but she was certain they'd be fine now that they had protection. "... you mean when you hurt hand? Well... good idea. That guard on cutlass? Very dangerous. But-" the warrior gestured over to her left hand, "-now you have another weapon. Useful." "This'll probably pack a better punch, yeah," she grinned mischievously. The prospects of maximizing the capabilities of her new gauntlets was exciting for the young blonde, and it amused her how much she was dressing more and more like a freelancing mercenary of sorts, despite her proficiency. However, if she had any hope to protect her future endeavors and herself, she'd need to train more in the art of combat. Razkar moved away from her and searched through his saddlebag, eventually fishing out something that Sigrun had vaguely seen before, although she didn't know what it was called. It was leather, just like her gauntlets, but seemed to be consisted of thick braids and chords, with the area around the knuckles adorned with pointed metal studs. The young blonde winced at the thought of being punched with the horrible things. "Knuckleduster." The young blonde nodded reluctantly. "Please don't use that on me." "Very good to have... But you want more train? Good. We can train." All signs of fear and reluctance melted away from the girl's features as she looked up from Razkar's hands to flash him an excited grin. "Must say, I charge. Ten mizas for day of training." Her grin faltered. "Oh, well, it's alright," she responded, her lips twitching at the price. She was not as rich as the pompous squire whom Razkar had gone against before, and she didn't even consider him that wealthy. "Just an arrogant, self-absorbed, disillusioned fool," she thought angrily, clenching her fists for a moment as she remembered the events that had transpired not too many days ago. "But... since you let me know about fellow Child of Myri in Syliras, we say... five mizas." "O-Oh," she blushed, eyes widening, "well, thank you. It was nothing, really, but thank you." "Think we train here? Or human-" Razkar gestured over to a young man standing nearby, eyeing them carefully, "-not like?" "Hm," Sigrun eyed the man, noting his disapproval. Shifting her weight towards one foot, she placed a forefinger to her chin and thought for a moment. "I don't know where else to go..." she trailed off, eyes wandering over towards the large space in the center of the pits. She glanced towards the man once more before turning to Razkar with a reassuring smile, shrugging slightly as she spoke. "I suppose we could go find a nice field just outside of the citadel?" "Could even stop by the Leatherworks to see Nabinu and his tiger along the way, if you'd like."

[Razkar]

"I suppose we could go find a nice field just outside of the citadel?"

Razkar just nodded firmly and turned to unhitch Mrrko before the human started speaking again. The book was tucked safely into his saddle bag and since his immediate future had been decided, what else was there to say? They were already walking out of the Pit, Mrrko between them, when Sigrun continued.

"Could even stop by the Leatherworks to see Nabinu and his tiger along the way, if you'd like."

"Ah-ah-ah!" Razkar said with a finger in the air, putting on the airs of his teachers back home with a playful edge. "First train, then fun. Besides..." He looked up at the noon sun, knowing it would be many chimes before darkness fell and the stalls and stores of Syliras fell dark. "... plenty of time for both."

They walked steadily through the winding streets, led by the human who certainly seemed to know her way. Razkar bowed his head slightly so his smile could not be seen. Very familiar, that kind of confidence. The females of his people all seemed to have that... certainty. That ineffable confidence that they projected onto the world, even if their had their inner doubts.

Within a few chimes they were at the southern tip of the city, and as they rounded a corner-

"Goddess..."

After only a few moments staring up at the towering Main Gates of Syliras, Razkar was forced to conclude that it would take either many seasons or thousand of dead if the Taloba Army ever wished to take this city. The gates rose a hundred feet above him, easily, and the portcullis hanging above the cavernous entrance... he doubted a charging Tskanna would even dent it.

Keen, experienced eyes saw weapon holes in the walls and the staggered stonework topping it, dozens of points were archers could rain death onto attackers. But stone and rock and steel were just impediments; what made them fortifications was the men behind them.

And the Myrian could see them, too.

Knights. He recognized the armor. Even in a time of relative peace, he saw well over a dozen shining knights, the cream of the barbarian lands' warriors, if what he had heard was true. They stood at the gates, watching the constant stream of pedestrians with wary, careful eyes, hands on their weapons.

Razkar smiled hungrily. He'd found one knight. One day he would fight another...

"So," he said a little hurriedly, forcing his mind back to the business at hand and nodding to the gate, "We go through there to find field, yes?"

[Sigrun Dominic]

"First train, then fun. Besides..." Razkar laughed, looking up at the sky as he spoke humorously, "... plenty of time for both." "Alright then," Sigrun mused, ushering the Myrian over to the exit. She watched as he brought along the dark horse that had been standing beside the benches. "Oh, that's yours?" she said with a fond smile, finally taking notice of the great beast. She'd always wanted to learn how more about how to ride one, but she kept putting it off. The young blonde gently gave the horse a soft pat on the neck as he walked in the middle of them. It felt rather nice to be spending the day with someone from another land; the experience made the girl feel a little bit special. She was more than interested in asking the Myrian more about their culture and Taloba, but decided to do so later on. The streets were busier than ever. The afternoon was ringing in the multitudes of people who had just finished having lunch, and were now all roaming the streets and dealing with their responsibilities. Sigrun kept a close eye on Razkar, ensuring that he was still following close by as she maneuvered the crowds with a hand upon the hilt of her sheathed blade. The place may be safe and well-guarded by the Syliran Knights, but one can never be too careful. The young blonde sighed heavily. The stuffiness of the citadel was never something that she enjoyed, but it was home, nonetheless. Once they'd passed the Nettle District, she was already feeling like giving up and spending the rest of the day at home relaxing, instead. The faint aches and pains that lingered behind her injuries were not very encouraging. "Goddess..." It wasn't the shocked expression that piqued Sigrun's interests, it was his knack of mentioning his goddess, Myri. It seemed as if she was everywhere to him, and that reminded her of how much her father loved to speak of Laviku, as well as Lhex, Eyris, and Dira. She could only wish to have a faith as strong as the warrior did, but it wasn't too late to start now, was it? But it was also quite intriguing to find him gazing up at the large gates of Syliras with awe; it made her wonder even more about what Taloba was like, and how different it was to her city. Smirking momentarily, she took note of how obvious it clearly should've been; from the way the Myrian dressed and spoke, their homeland was, without a doubt, extremely exotic. "So," he said, gesturing over to the gate, "We go through there to find field, yes?" "Mhm," she hummed enthusiastically, leading the way once more, "I'm sure there's one nearby." She glanced at the numerous Syliran knights that guarded the entrance and exit to the grand citadel, their eyes trained upon all who passed them. She shook her head slightly. "How do these men and women find the patience to stand there for hours?" she thought, as she made a polite nod at the nearest knight before finally reaching the grassy floor that signified the outskirts of the city. She had respect for the knights and what they did for the city, but found their responsiblities to be far too taxing and boring for her tastes. It always seemed to be the same thing everyday. Where was the variety? There was no way to find out without asking a knight or becoming one, and frankly, the young blonde knew none, and was not interested in training to be one. Scanning the green fields that stretched far into the Syliras domain, Sigrun walked over towards the Kabrin road and began walking along it, hoping to find a nice, flat spot not too far away from the trail. She turned to the side and looked at Razkar with a smile, hoping the Myrian wasn't feeling impatient. His horse, on the other hand, was beginning to look rather bored. "So, could you tell me more about Taloba, Razkar?" she asked, silently hoping that she wasn't being invasive, "and, about Myrians?" "Perhaps even about Myri?" she thought earnestly.

OOCFeel free to take us to a nice spot in a field and get us started in your next post.

[Razkar]

"So, could you tell me more about Taloba, Razkar? And about Myrians?"

Razkar chuckled as they kept up their pace along the road, appreciating the slightly tougher progress. Cobbles and stone had given way to dirt and mud churned up by countless hooves and cart wheels. It made for a harder walk... but better exercise.

"All want to know about Myrians," he said, voice faintly wondering and despairing, "But all so afraid of Myrian. It is strange. But interesting." Knowing it was not really the answer she wanted, he turned to her and smiled. "I like you, female. You have strong spirit. You work for what you want and you show respect. Like Myrian..."

Without warning he turned his path and his mouth off the road, stepping from the Kabrin into a nondescript green field. Spring had certainly taken root in it, thick, lustrous grass covering the ground, with no trace of the bare earth of Winter present anymore. Razkar marched through it until he got to the gnarled and ancient apple tree in the middle of it, spreading its leaves and branches over enough ground to provide shade for a dozen men.

"This place is good," he said simply, tying up Mrrko to a low limb, "Good for Mrrko-" he patted the horse's snout, ignoring the fact his mouth and quivering lips were already questing for low apples "-and good for us."

The Myrian stepped away and into the sun, unsheathing his gladius with a delicious sigh of metal on leather. He swiped it experimentally, but only two or three times. After well over a decade in each others' service, blade and owner knew the equilibrium between them very well.

"In my people, we train with weapon from time we are children." He shrugged off his cloak and tossed it over Mrrko's back, leaving himself clad only in his weapon harness, loincloth and muddy sandals. He put his hand about thigh-height. "From that tall. My weapon was ax."

His other hand went to his hip and the weapon in question filled it, unclipped from his harness. It was not like other hand axes that Sigrun had seen, however. Not a short blade, but long and curved, almost a third the length of the weapon, and the handle... very similar to that of the gladius... with a knobbly end...

"Bones, Mistress." Razkar said, voice neutral. "Bone from leg of enemies..."

He stepped closer and let her see the polished and bleached bone that served as his weapons' hilts; the Myrian runes carved onto them and sanctified with his blood to give them power.

"Among my people," he said quietly, "Kill enemy is duty. But to take enemy's strength? To consume them? To offer flesh and skull to Goddess-Queen? That is honor, and glory."

But one look on hr face told Razkar that he would have a long way to go before such ideology was comprehensible to her. He sighed and stepped back a few feet, sheathed his ax and hefted his gladius instead.

"Yes. To lesson..." His voice changed quickly, becoming less introspective and more instructional. "We not have practice weapon. Have real weapon. So, must be careful. Must go slower. Yes?" She nodded her understanding and Razkar smiled crookedly. "Good. Then begin."

The Myrian waited a moment for her to assume her stance-

-then lunged without warning, thrusting towards her, arm outstretched-

-and her cutlass knocked it away, opening his chest, arm returning towards him for a backhand blow-

"Not try same trick twice!"

-but Razkar was still moving forwards, close enough for his left hand to jerk upwards, grab her wrist under her cutlass and hold it there-

-left leg sweeping out to knock her legs under her-

-but never really making it-

-because her left fist punched towards his gut, and while it would normally have just made him grunt, when wrapped in leather and metal studs...

The Myrian staggered back a little, out of range of the cutlass, gladius back up, smiling his approval through the pain pinching his features. He patted his stomach, feeling the birth of bruises there.

"See? Told you be useful..."

[Sigrun Dominic]

"All want to know about Myrians," Razkar responded, "But all so afraid of Myrian. It is strange. But interesting."

Sigrun looked at him with a concerned expression. Many people have probably doubted the warrior's integrity and trustworthiness due to his appearance, and that alone must've been quite distressing. She for one was not the type to judge others by their appearance, and most especially by their status in society. Wealth and connections could never buy true respect in her book.

"I like you, female. You have strong spirit. You work for what you want and you show respect. Like Myrian..."

The young blonde swelled with pride. She wasn't very used to being complimented in such a way.

"You think so?" was all her flustered self could muster.

She turned and watched him direct his horse over to the field nearby, casually moving away from the dirt trail and stepping into the thick, lush grass. Sigrun quickly followed suit, walking briskly towards him as he made his way over to the beautiful apple tree that grew in the center of the large patch of grass.

"This place is good," he commented, tying up his horse's reign upon one of the tree. Sigrun nodded in agreement, her eyes gazing up towards the thick, outstretched branches, admiring the way Syna's light escaped through the small spaces in between the leaves, the sunlight blotting certain areas around the thick shade that the tree provided. It was a good spot indeed, one that she now planned on using in the future.

"Good for Mrrko-" the Myrian patted his horse, who was apparently named Mrrko, "-and good for us."

"Mm, Mrrko," she said with a chuckle, completely butchering the pronunciation of his horse's name.

"I believe my dog would like this place as well," she said earnestly, eyes fixated upon the branches once more as she approached the tree's trunk.

Sigrun jerked around at the sound of the warrior's blade being unsheathed, frowning slightly as she noticed that he'd chosen to stand under the sun.

"Petch." she thought bitterly, as she slowly took out her own sword and approached him, "we're going to burn."

"In my people, we train with weapon from time we are children."

Sigrun's jaw slackened as the Myrian removed his cloak, revealing a very scantily-dressed, toned body. She blushed, more out of embarrassment rather than a sudden bout of attraction, at the sight. She regained her composure as she listened to his explanation as he gestured over to his waist.

"From that tall. My weapon was ax."

"From this tall," she smirked, placing her hand below her bust, "my weapon was this."

With her free hand, she pointed over to her smiling lips.

"Words," she cocked an eyebrow at him, "though, it's not always effective, of course."

Her smile faded, however, upon closer inspection of the weapon in question. Razkar removed the axe from his hip and lifted it up. It was rustic-looking and seemed to have been made from scratch by bare hands. The young blonde squinted, her eyes examining the odd, pale color of the weapon.

"Bones, Mistress." Razkar explained casually. "Bone from leg of enemies..."

Her heart fell into her stomach.

The warrior stepped closer towards her. Gulping, she refused to let the weapon intimidate her. She took a reluctant step forward and gazed down at the weapon with genuine awe. There were deep, red stones decorating the handle, as well as other intricacies that truly seemed to demonstrate the exotic culture of their race. It was then that all her instinctual fears were yet again replaced by a deep curiosity.

"Among my people," he said softly, "Kill enemy is duty. But to take enemy's strength? To consume them? To offer flesh and skull to Goddess-Queen? That is honor, and glory."

An offering to a deity, something the young blonde had never done before, or had ever been exposed to. Sigrun bit her lip and gazed at Razkar intently, and in the silence, seemed to beg for enlightenment and explanation. But such things were impossible to provide in one sitting.

The warrior seemed to take note of her look, and with a sigh, took a few steps back and unsheathed his gladius once more, his axe returning to its rightful place along his hip.

"Yes. To lesson..."

Another reluctant step forward. The blonde gulped, anticipating his next words.

"We not have practice weapon. Have real weapon. So, must be careful. Must go slower. Yes?"

Sigrun smiled, nodding with relief. If they were going to go slower, then the outcome will most probably involve less injuries.

"Good. Then begin."

Right?

She assumed the proper stance, but she barely had the time to prepare herself for what was coming. Razkar immediately moved forward, lunging towards her with a thrust of his sword, which she in turn knocked away and, upon seeing his unguarded chest, aimed a blow towards it-

"Not try same trick twice!" the Myrian shouted.

He was too fast for her, his body moving fluidly as he brought his left hand up, grabbing her wrist as he swept his left leg underneath her's in an attempt to knock her over-

But she was learning. Sigrun countered quickly with a clenched fist, her punch landing on his stomach, canceling his attempt at tripping her.

Sigrun's jaw slackened a second time, her lips parting as they eagerly wished to apologize. Instead, however, she stood shocked and silent as he stumbled backwards, grinning brightly despite the obvious twitch in his eyes that signified the painful result of her little punch. The young blonde smiled nervously as he patted his stomach as if it was nothing much. It surely wasn't, for a warrior like him.

"See? Told you be useful..."

"I-I suppose so."

Chuckling, she kept a firm grip on her cutlass, wary of his tendencies to make sudden, abrupt attacks that easily caught her off guard. She made a quick glance over to her gauntlet, admiring its craft and handiwork.

"Although I'd say it'll take some time to get used to," she turned towards Razkar one more, smiling fondly, "it'll be a bit of a while before I can truly complement it with my cutlass."

"But now's the perfect time to practice."

Quickly, her features deadpanned, eyes narrowing onto the warrior as her muscles tensed in preparation for her next move. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward, cutlass raised in the air, only for it to clang against Razkar's own blade-

-Holding it steady, her gaze made a brief contact with the Myrian's eyes before shoving her weapon forward, with one foot in front of the other-

-Pushing the Myrian backwards, hoping to make him bring down his guard as she lifted her weapon and prepared to slash it downwards-

-Only to slip a little and have it begin spinning about in front of her in an awkward fashion.