MRPolo13
The Arbiter of the Gods
"Get up!" the deep voice whipped through the dry winds.
A boy, no more than fifteen got to his feet again, despite the countless bruises and red face covered with sweat. He had light black hair and dark brown eyes of someone who had to age too quickly. Not like these eyes were uncommon in Altera...
"Run on!" his father shouted again. This man looked slightly different. His eyes were almost the same, though they looked centuries old. One would give him late forty, maybe early fifty. He was a giant of a man still, build gained from years of mining and later fighting. "Bloody useless! I should send you to the Nether already and save Altera from a worthless dog like yourself!"
The boy ran on, dodging obstacles. His father didn't really consider him useless, and the boy knew it very well, especially knowing that servants and squires similar age wouldn't even keep half of his pace.
Eventually he stopped as the sun fell, and went to his quarters where he had a bath and got dressed before going downstairs to the main hall for dinner. This time, however, except the usual "guests of the castle", as his father called it, there was another group of people.
These men were nothing like what the young boy ever saw before. They all had dark skin and beards, and all had long black hair they tied behind them. Well, that could have only been judged by one of the seven that were there, as others covered their faces in white cloth which also went around their pointy steel helmets. The one that didn't wear a white cloth had a red one tied around his helmet.
"Feed off my wealth, and drink my wine, messengers, as there was a long route behind you, and there still stands a long one ahead", said the little man's father according to the deep Eastern etiquette. The man without his mask stepped forward and bowed low in an interesting, and somewhat odd to the boy manner, before replying in a very hard accent, but clearly:
"We are honoured to be your guests, Ama'Jirred, and are more than happy of it, though our stay cannot be long, for we came here with a request of support."
The old lord inspected them, and chuckled, raising his cup, and taking a long drink.
"Tarid?" after the nod, he continued. "I knew your father. A good man. It is no secret this castle is the only fortress that truly cares about the Southern affairs, however I cannot join to aid you right now. The North is preparing for a war, and my face will be more than wanted there... I can, however, send a group of, say, six guards... and my son, he needs to learn."
Everyone looked at the dark haired boy as he was about to sit... The hall shook from the sudden discussion of shock that started, and the boy looked at the surprised faces, only partially confused...
The other part of him was already plotting.
The preparations took the rest of the night, and half of next day, before the Clan of Torul and the Mala ("outsiders") went away on the journey to the deserts of the South. The young boy quickly took control of his new six honour guards and put them in a formation around him. He was taught what there was to know about leadership and the art of war... Now it was his time to put that to practice.
A boy, no more than fifteen got to his feet again, despite the countless bruises and red face covered with sweat. He had light black hair and dark brown eyes of someone who had to age too quickly. Not like these eyes were uncommon in Altera...
"Run on!" his father shouted again. This man looked slightly different. His eyes were almost the same, though they looked centuries old. One would give him late forty, maybe early fifty. He was a giant of a man still, build gained from years of mining and later fighting. "Bloody useless! I should send you to the Nether already and save Altera from a worthless dog like yourself!"
The boy ran on, dodging obstacles. His father didn't really consider him useless, and the boy knew it very well, especially knowing that servants and squires similar age wouldn't even keep half of his pace.
Eventually he stopped as the sun fell, and went to his quarters where he had a bath and got dressed before going downstairs to the main hall for dinner. This time, however, except the usual "guests of the castle", as his father called it, there was another group of people.
These men were nothing like what the young boy ever saw before. They all had dark skin and beards, and all had long black hair they tied behind them. Well, that could have only been judged by one of the seven that were there, as others covered their faces in white cloth which also went around their pointy steel helmets. The one that didn't wear a white cloth had a red one tied around his helmet.
"Feed off my wealth, and drink my wine, messengers, as there was a long route behind you, and there still stands a long one ahead", said the little man's father according to the deep Eastern etiquette. The man without his mask stepped forward and bowed low in an interesting, and somewhat odd to the boy manner, before replying in a very hard accent, but clearly:
"We are honoured to be your guests, Ama'Jirred, and are more than happy of it, though our stay cannot be long, for we came here with a request of support."
The old lord inspected them, and chuckled, raising his cup, and taking a long drink.
"Tarid?" after the nod, he continued. "I knew your father. A good man. It is no secret this castle is the only fortress that truly cares about the Southern affairs, however I cannot join to aid you right now. The North is preparing for a war, and my face will be more than wanted there... I can, however, send a group of, say, six guards... and my son, he needs to learn."
Everyone looked at the dark haired boy as he was about to sit... The hall shook from the sudden discussion of shock that started, and the boy looked at the surprised faces, only partially confused...
The other part of him was already plotting.
The preparations took the rest of the night, and half of next day, before the Clan of Torul and the Mala ("outsiders") went away on the journey to the deserts of the South. The young boy quickly took control of his new six honour guards and put them in a formation around him. He was taught what there was to know about leadership and the art of war... Now it was his time to put that to practice.