46th Day of Spring, 514 AV
It was early in the morning, though Bitt was never entirely sure half of the time. The labyrinth of stone passages, rooms and halls was all-encompassing. Within the depths of the Stormhold Citadel, the sun never shone. Instead, sick, yellow flames spewed their orange glow from mounted torches, throwing odd shadows across the walls.
That smell! By Yahal's sacred earlobes, but that's bad!
Living in a large, enclosed fortress with thousands of other people had its disadvantages, and one of them was the smell. Civilisation carried with it an ever-present odour. It wasn't blatantly overpowering, but it was always there. No matter how often Bitt assured himself that he would get used to it, every day he would wake up and wrinkle his nose in distaste. With that thought in mind, the young squire quickened his pace, his armour producing a faint chink, chink with every step.
His destination was the Antinous Training Grounds, and Bitt longed for the relatively fresh air that awaited him. The young squire had made the journey from his room at the squire dormitories to the training grounds often enough that, despite having an awful sense of direction, he was confident that he wouldn't get lost. For the most part, he just followed the steady stream of knights and squires who, like himself, were heading out for some early-morning practice. The men and women of the Syliran Knights never stopped refining their skills; they always strove to improve.
When Bitt finally reached his destination, the young squire inhaled deeply and sighed, content.
That's much better.
With his mood brightened, Bitt cast his gaze around, looking Crowe. His patron would usually wait for him around the entrance if he arrived first and, sure enough, Bitt's eyes landed on the older knight almost immediately. Crowe was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, it was one of his favourite spots.
"Good morning Ser Crowe!" Bitt called out and waved at his patron, not considering that the older knight would not be able to see the gesture while his eyes were shut. Crowe's eyes snapped open when his squire had almost finished closing the distance between them, and he harrumphed loudly;
"Took your time today, did you lad?" The older knight raised an eyebrow and Bitt paled slightly; in truth he had managed to get a second serving at breakfast, and so took longer than he normally would to finish his meal. Satisfied that his squire understood the message, Crowe shrugged his shoulders and continued, "No matter, lad. Just follow me."
"Yes, Ser Crowe." Relieved that he had narrowly avoided a stern scolding, Bitt kept pace beside his patron as they ventured out onto the training grounds.
"Alright lad, we're here." Crowe said, and the pair came to a halt. Bitt glanced around with interest, he had never been to this part of the training grounds before. It was an arena, of sorts, built to vaguely resemble an amphitheatre. Fine sand covered the ground, but that was common in a lot of the training spaces. A line of wooden training dummies curved around the inner edge of the ring, again, not an uncommon occurrence. Three other knights, two men and a woman, were spread out around the large, open space. Each of them were swinging at the dummies with practice weapons in fine, coordinated strokes that reflected the countless hours that undoubtedly went into perfecting them.
Amazing.
Bitt couldn't help but feel transfixed when he saw the senior knights at work. Their skills and experience dwarfed his, and he looked on with a mixed feeling of envy and respect.
Some day, I'll be that good too.
Above all, a huge surge of anticipation began to bubble inside of the young squire. This was a place clearly designed for weapons practice. For over half the season, the majority of his training had revolved around physical conditioning... and while the Bitt understood the importance of it, he desperately wanted to take his training to the next level.
Could it be... ?
Bitt struggled to prevent his hopes from rising prematurely, but he couldn't help it. Crowe noticed how jittery his squire was becoming, guessed at the reason, and grinned.
"C'mon lad, it's time to teach you how to fight."
That smell! By Yahal's sacred earlobes, but that's bad!
Living in a large, enclosed fortress with thousands of other people had its disadvantages, and one of them was the smell. Civilisation carried with it an ever-present odour. It wasn't blatantly overpowering, but it was always there. No matter how often Bitt assured himself that he would get used to it, every day he would wake up and wrinkle his nose in distaste. With that thought in mind, the young squire quickened his pace, his armour producing a faint chink, chink with every step.
His destination was the Antinous Training Grounds, and Bitt longed for the relatively fresh air that awaited him. The young squire had made the journey from his room at the squire dormitories to the training grounds often enough that, despite having an awful sense of direction, he was confident that he wouldn't get lost. For the most part, he just followed the steady stream of knights and squires who, like himself, were heading out for some early-morning practice. The men and women of the Syliran Knights never stopped refining their skills; they always strove to improve.
When Bitt finally reached his destination, the young squire inhaled deeply and sighed, content.
That's much better.
With his mood brightened, Bitt cast his gaze around, looking Crowe. His patron would usually wait for him around the entrance if he arrived first and, sure enough, Bitt's eyes landed on the older knight almost immediately. Crowe was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, it was one of his favourite spots.
"Good morning Ser Crowe!" Bitt called out and waved at his patron, not considering that the older knight would not be able to see the gesture while his eyes were shut. Crowe's eyes snapped open when his squire had almost finished closing the distance between them, and he harrumphed loudly;
"Took your time today, did you lad?" The older knight raised an eyebrow and Bitt paled slightly; in truth he had managed to get a second serving at breakfast, and so took longer than he normally would to finish his meal. Satisfied that his squire understood the message, Crowe shrugged his shoulders and continued, "No matter, lad. Just follow me."
"Yes, Ser Crowe." Relieved that he had narrowly avoided a stern scolding, Bitt kept pace beside his patron as they ventured out onto the training grounds.
"Alright lad, we're here." Crowe said, and the pair came to a halt. Bitt glanced around with interest, he had never been to this part of the training grounds before. It was an arena, of sorts, built to vaguely resemble an amphitheatre. Fine sand covered the ground, but that was common in a lot of the training spaces. A line of wooden training dummies curved around the inner edge of the ring, again, not an uncommon occurrence. Three other knights, two men and a woman, were spread out around the large, open space. Each of them were swinging at the dummies with practice weapons in fine, coordinated strokes that reflected the countless hours that undoubtedly went into perfecting them.
Amazing.
Bitt couldn't help but feel transfixed when he saw the senior knights at work. Their skills and experience dwarfed his, and he looked on with a mixed feeling of envy and respect.
Some day, I'll be that good too.
Above all, a huge surge of anticipation began to bubble inside of the young squire. This was a place clearly designed for weapons practice. For over half the season, the majority of his training had revolved around physical conditioning... and while the Bitt understood the importance of it, he desperately wanted to take his training to the next level.
Could it be... ?
Bitt struggled to prevent his hopes from rising prematurely, but he couldn't help it. Crowe noticed how jittery his squire was becoming, guessed at the reason, and grinned.
"C'mon lad, it's time to teach you how to fight."
