Untitled continued (edited)

In other parts of the palace, not nearly so fancily appointed as the royal quarters due to the constant use they were put through, a small training class had convened for their first lessons in a small dirty court-yard. On each of it's four walls there were wooden replicas of the weapons commonly used by the men of Baireel. There were eight boys in total, all they all had the classic Baireel features: chestnut hair, green eyes, and olive complexions. They were well on their way to being as well-muscled as their fathers, except for one. He stood a good head above the other children, but had none of the bulk His eyes were hazel, and his features fine, and his complexion rather pale. Unlike most of them, who wore their hair cropped short, he wore his black hair in loose horses’ tail at the nape of his neck. The other boys watched this stranger warily.

“Who is ‘e?” one of the boys whispered, his hand held up to hide his mouth, “I ain’t never seen black hair on anyone but bastard kids and nobles.” Each of the boys shrugged and then looked the newcomer over. He didn’t look like much of a fighter. In fact, he looked as if he’d blow away as soon as mildly strong wind blew.

“’e looks like a girl, “another whispered back. This sent the small group into great guffaws of laughter. The other boy simply ignored them, picking the dirt out from under his nails. “Look! He even ignores us the same way a girl would!”

Before they could speculate any further, a tall commanding figure strode into the dusty court-yard and barked a command. The boys’ yelped and hurriedly put themselves into a single-file line facing this new man. He was tall and had rather hawkish features, he stalked back in forth in front of the boys and intently stared at each of them in turn with ice blue eyes. He was obviously not from Baireel, his giant stature, blonde hair, and fists the size of hams most definitely told them that much. The large man stalked over to one of the weapons’ racks and picked up a sword that looked more like a club with a hilt, and then turned to face them.

“Well? What are ye watin’ for? Pick yer weapons!” he shouted, thumping his club-sword into the dirt for emphasis.

Each of the boys scrambled to the racks and pulled weapons down heedless of the possible differences each tool might have. The black-haired boy stood for a moment, taking in the heft of several long light wooden swords and then picked one that most resembled a rapier. The large bear of a man barked another command and they quickly assembled back into their ranks. This was obviously going to become a routine.

“Right then,” the blonde man said, as he took in the weapons each of them had chosen. “Some of ye are goin’ ta soon regret goin’ for the largest.” He looked at each of them in turn and shook his head. “A pathetic lot, ye are! As ya all know, name’s Halicant, Halicant Northmor, captain of the Crimson Knights. As has been one of my many jobs for several years now, I get to cull the greenhorns. ” He smiled and rubbed his index finger along one side of his nose and winked.

“Now, I bet ye’re wonderin’ why I, big mighty captain I am, got the job of babysittin’ the half-wits right? I’ll tell ye why.” He made them all lean in close as if he were going to confide a great secret. Suddenly, in a great bellowing voice he shouted. “Because I just love deliverin’ bruises!” He let loose a belly-shaking laugh and each of the boys chortled nervously. The black-haired boy just frowned. He was quite curious as to when the actual training would begin.

(All reviews now correlate with my first post, untitled.)