“Good morning, student, you will be learning much today.” Christo looked up at his charge, his warscythe pierced through the midsection of the boy.
“Most people say their good morns without stabbing others.” Galliard pointed out with annoyance, grabbing the wooden shaft of the weapon and quickly detaching himself from the blade with a grunt.
“Most people are boring,” His tutor shrugged at his student’s words shaking the blood off of the polearm. “Keeps you on your toes I say, how my father taught me.”
“That…explains far too much.” The prince grunted to himself as he ducked the wicked edge of the weapon.
“Good, you have learned from last time,” Christo nodded at the boy’s reaction to the surprise blow. “Harder to fight when your eyes have been cut into after all.”
“So you’ve demonstrated…” Galliard huffed, reminiscing about the time his teacher had the boy fight against him while his eyes were growing back after being gouged out. “Yet there is more than one way to see.” He noted, nodding to himself.
The prince tilted his head to the side as a spear of stone sought to pierce the back of his skull. His teacher caught the improvised projectile with a hand, twirling it deftly.
“Been learning from your Amazon lass have you?” Christo chuckled as the stone crumbled to dust in his hand.
“I enjoy her lesions, she stabs me less, though I could do without the kicks to the ribs.” The lordling admitted, his mind going back to the many times that he had been launched across a training ground by the tall woman’s sabaton.
Ashlin had been pushing him hard recently considering him to be ready for harsher training. Being attacked by an Amazonian warrior while blindfolded was not his idea of a good time, but it had helped him sharpen his senses.
“Hmm, she is not incompetent at least, perhaps I should ask her for a spar myself.” The eyes of the older Blessed lit up at the prospect.
“Perhaps you should, it would be entertaining at least.” Wrath spoke as he walked towards them.
“Looking to get some practice in, my Lord?” Christo asked, bowing his head to his ruler.
“Not this time, no, just relieving you of my kin for the day.” Lord Wrath spoke, looking at his brother.
“As you say.” Christo looked to the skies for Xal, noting the early time of day, but said nothing of it.
“Come, boy.” Wrath turned on his heel, not once looking back.
“What's up, it’s rare for you to come looking for me, usually you just send a maid.” Galliard prodded, curious as to what his brother was thinking.
“Lessons, same as you have been doing.” The younger of the two rolled his eyes at the non-answer as his brother walked away from him.
“Right, thank you for that enlightening explanation.” The prince snarked to his older brother as he followed him into the keep.
“You are most welcome.” The Lord of Wrath snarked back. “Be patient brother, you will have the answers you seek soon enough.” Waving Galliard into an open door he nodded to a maid that shut the door behind them.
Galliard noted the large table in the centre of the room taking up the majority of the space with its bulk. Displayed upon it was a map of the western continent of Shevara, marks and tokens resting on its surface.
“So what is it you needed me for, brother?” The younger brother looked up at his eldest sibling.
“One moment,” Wath held up his hand to stall Galliard’s questions. “Cacilia, come.” His call was answered near instantly, the Sentinel standing at attention at her Lord’s beckon.
“At your service, my Liege.” Cacilia, all business as always, awaited her orders.
“You will be assisting your charge with something shortly.” Wrath leaned against the table at the centre of the room.
“...Please do not tell me I’m going to be fighting an experienced Sentinel,” Galliard shuddered at the thought not looking forward to fighting an elite warrior like Cacilia. “I like to think I have grown lately, but I am not so foolish as to think I am good enough to spar with one of your elite guards.”
“Not today, little one...” The voice of his brother fell off as a knock rattled the door, ignoring the face Galliard made at the implications of his words. “Let them in, Elvina.” He nodded to the maid, who nodded and followed his orders dutifully.
From the doorway came a woman he recognised, Sophia of House Misery. The three men behind her however he had never seen before. The woman in question waved at them as she entered, a bright smile on her face. Galliard found it odd that such an accomplished SwordMaiden was so carefree at times, but he waved back nonetheless. Wrath simply grunted at the woman, arms folded as he continued to lean back against the table behind him.
“Orran, Jyn, Lucian.” The Lord of Wrath addressed the three men in turn.
“A pleasure to be here, my Lord.” Orran bowed in response, his cloak shifting around his armoured shoulders.
Tall and wide Orran made for an imposing figure. The holy symbol of the Twilight Church was displayed proudly on the man’s polished breastplate. A Morningstar at his hip ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Though Galliard doubted that was his only weapon. His blonde hair is trimmed and shaped to perfection. This was clearly a man that took great care of his appearance.
“Yeah yeah, kiss arse Justice spawn, what do you need us for, boss?” Jyn pushed Orran out of the way, taking a seat. “Half of us were prepping for the coming war and the other half were looking to take advantage of it.”
Sophia coughed into a hand in an attempt to hide her mirth, looking away at the man’s words. Blunt as they were he spoke truth in the purest sense. The Masks were well known to profit off of the constant wars that mortals seemed to get themselves into. It was not uncommon for a regiment of Black Blades to provide their services to a war effort…or for the Blades of a rival clan to appear on the other side. A practice that caused no small amount of headaches for the rulers of cycles long gone.
Jyn was just about the opposite of Orran in every way. Somewhat short with black as night locks tied back only to keep it out of his face. Scarred and potted armour that looked to have seen many a battle. Not to mention the large bow that he had to slip from his back just so he could sit down. It looked taller than anyone in the room and had a string you could strangle a man with.
“It is because of the coming war that I have called you here.” Wrath answered, glancing at Cacilia for a moment.
“I assume you are looking to further the young prince’s training?” Lucian spoke for the first time, his gruff voice echoing through the room.
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Lucian was a rough-looking tan-skinned man, with brown hair cut to near nothing. His lips ever set in a thin line as sharp eyes searched ever vigilant. He looked to be judging every person in the room silently, always watching for imperfections. His armour looked far more ceremonial than his fellows. Looking more like someone had put a breastplate and pauldrons on an outfit fit for the parade grounds.
“You would be correct, yes,” Wrath nodded at the question in affirmation. “His training has been going well, but it takes more than personal strength to lead men in war.”
“You would know all about that, would you not, mister mountain splitter.” Sophia teased the High Lord with a giggle. “Some of the mortals in the area made that a holy sight you know?”
“...You have to tell me about that one someday.” Galliard looked at his brother, brows raised, wondering what the woman was talking about.
“It was, well, not one of my finer moments.” Lord Wrath admitted with a deep sigh. “Another time, you can laugh at my expense then.”
“Let us just say your brother is not the biggest fan of necromancers.” Sophia mock whispered to Galliard, earning an elbow from Orran for her rudeness.
“You are lucky you have known the Lord for so long; most others would have their heads removed for speaking to the Lord of Wrath in such a manner.” He admonished his fellow heir, looking down at her in disapproval.
“He is right, you know?” Wrath spoke up with a chuckle in his voice. “Mayhaps I should have your head removed and adorned on my sword as a trinket; it would keep you from causing anything to explode for a while, at least.”
“Tyranny, keeping a woman from her cannons, how could you!” Sophia cried out indignantly, a hand on her wounded heart.
“Not sure what is so great about them, we can do the same thing with magic after all.” Lucian pointed out to the captain.
“It is ok, I forgive your ignorance of the art of explosives, come to my ship one day and you will see General.” Sophia offered to her fellow Blessed.
“I may take you up on that offer if you do not mind my shaky legs, never been one for the sea myself.” He nodded at the invitation, clearly curious about her inventions.
“She has already supplied some of my men with those grenades of hers.” Jyn piped up, cutting into the conversation. “Useful things, make sabotage and distraction a piece of cake and there is no magic to track.” He nodded to the heir of Misery in thanks, appreciating her efforts openly.
“See, he gets it!” Sophia practically bounced in place with excitement, gesturing towards the sitting Jyn.
“If I end up having more than one Sophia in my midst I may start sending you all on extended missions.” Wrath pointed out dryly, clearly not enthusiastic about the idea.
“But imagine all the things the three of me could do!” The woman in question gushed.
“I would rather not thank you…” Galliard mumbled, face going pale.
“I agree…” Wrath muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “However, this is not why I brought you here,” He stated, waving his hand towards his brother. “My brother will be learning how to command from each of you before he returns to finish his training.”
“Figures,” Jyn yawned into a hand. “Jyn of House Sadness, I lead the Hunter branch, scouting and tracking with the best of 'em.” He waved a greeting to the young prince who nodded back.
“Orran of Clan Justice, leader of the Holy Paladins of the Twilight church, pleasant greetings young one.” The Paladin bowed to the Heir of Wrath with the respect his station demanded.
“Lucian, of House Serenity, one of the Knight-Generals for the Royal Army.” A thoughtful hum split from his lips. “Normally Lord Sympathy would also be here as the leader of the healers, but he is otherwise occupied.”
“Well you already know me, but I am Sophia of House Misery, technically I am a captain of the Combined Armada…but I am the second in command for my pops in truth.” Sophia beamed, chest puffed out in pride.”Oh, that and your brother’s future concubine.” She added, almost as an afterthought,
“Er, good luck?” Galliard was not sure what to say to that last part.
“Do not encourage her…” His brother admonished softly, sighing at her words. “I have made no such proclamation.”
“One day sweetheart, it will happen.” She grinned back at him, undeterred.
Ignoring Sophia momentarily, he turned to the other women in the room. Cacilia had her face covered by her helm, but the tight grip on her warscythe told everyone how she felt about the Heiress of Misery and her flippant remarks. Elvina on the other hand may as well have been carved from stone, for all the emotion she displayed. Galliard wondered for a moment if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open. At least until her Lord bade her closer, the maid walking forth to stand beside him.
“Elvina, of Clan Hope, a member of the Royal Maid Corps.” A deep curtsy followed, the action smooth and practised.
“Cacilia, of the Sentinels.” The introduction from the armoured woman was short, like most conversations with the armoured watcher.
“No house?” Jyn raised a brow in question.
“Do not be foolish, the Sentinels abandon their houses.” Orran corrected, snorting at the sitting man.
“As if anyone really knows much about the Sentinels, most of the time you can’t even tell the sneaky fucks are even there, let alone what their command is like.” Jyn scoffed at the other man, waving his words away.
“Ain’t that the abyss damned truth.” Lucian agreed, glaring at the Sentinel out of the corner of his eye.
If Cacilia took offence to the views they held of her order she did not say so, preferring to stay silent on the matter.
“That is enough.” Lord Wrath spoke and all was silent. “Galliard, these men and women will be teaching you of their forces and how to command them.” He looked at each of them in turn, there was no argument to be had.
“You are sending me out of the capital?” The prince blinked up at his sibling, something bubbling in his chest. “Is that why Cacilia is here?”
“Indeed brother, she will be leading your protection detail during your training.” Wrath answered in affirmation.
The woman in question was silent, though Galliard could have sworn she stood just a little taller at the words. Cacilia had been with him for some time now, ever since his return from the clutches of the former Lord Love. One would think that would lead to a sense of familiarity, or at least professional courtesy. Yet the curt nature of the Sentinel and her wont to vanish into thin air unless called upon made that slightly difficult.
“This is the moment you show me if you are worth anything, should you fail, do not return alive.” Wrath clasped his hand on Galliard’s shoulder and walked away, never looking back.