The Call

Shattered Ambitions

A tall, dark-cloaked figure paced the room in deep thought. His physique was strong and muscular, and his jet-black shoulder-length hair was pulled tightly behind his neck. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he muttered angrily under his breath as he paced his floor.

For most of his life, he had been the one in the seat of honor, at the right hand of his father on every occasion. Being his father's first-born son had given him every privilege he could have asked for. When he was a child, his father had given him a training sword and tutored him in real maneuvers so that when he was twelve, he was given a real sword and began training in earnest. He trained with the sons of the nobles of the castle but had soon demonstrated outstanding skills as a swordsman. When he was sixteen, he had defeated many of the trainers themselves.

Through all this, his father had watched him, growing increasingly pleased and proud of his son. Surely, the country was in great need of such a capable knight. He would make an excellent leader.

Two-and-a-half years before, his father had transferred him to a more intense level of training, grooming him to become one of the most skilled knights in Iconia. His father, a master swordsman himself, had taken it upon himself to train his son further, along with the help of several other trainers who helped him with knowledge studies and kept him in superb physical condition. His father was his chief sword trainer, and father and son both loved it.

Inimicus had thrived under the tutelage of such intensity. He barely had any time to spare, and he slowly lost some of the friends that he'd made during his prior training. He and Felix had been close-knit friends, and the few times they saw one another were joyful moments of fellowship. But the further Inimicus advanced in his training, the less he was able to make those encounters happen, and he and Felix had lost communication almost entirely.

Still, though he lost friends, he made a few too, one of them being a new trainer, daughter of Lord Damir. Beautiful, dark-haired Lady Nora was a reserved but intense trainer; the more Inimicus saw her, the more he wanted to meet her. The few times that she met his gaze, her deep blue-green eyes searching him, only intrigued him further.

Finally, one of Inimicus's trainers noticed his interest and set up a meeting for them. As eager as Inimicus was to meet her, he was disappointed to find her even more reserved than usual. After that first meeting, Nora had seemed to avoid him altogether, but over time, Inimicus won her favor and found himself spending every moment of his spare time with her. Though she still seemed guarded, Inimicus hoped she would warm toward him eventually.

However, Inimicus's accident had changed everything; but to him, it shouldn't have. He was equally as strong with his left arm as he had been with his right and was still the brilliant young warrior he had always been. When the Council of Lords had openly rejected him, he had argued relentlessly, but to no avail. In the end, even his father and his sister rejected him. Only his mother believed in him. In a single day, he had gone from the charming, most skilled and recognized trainee in the country to a worthless outcast. Only because of his accident.

Inimicus sneered just thinking about it. Serene said she pleaded with the Council, but he knew better. Every day he watched her train with his former instructors, slowly assuming the place he had treasured so deeply. True, his father still thought of him, but he was no longer the prized firstborn son. Daily, he watched his sister grow stronger and attract the praise of more people, anger and hatred searing his heart deeper every day.

After the accident, few things were the same for Inimicus. A few of his friends had tried to comfort him, but Lord Conrad's advice had echoed in his ear, and he had heeded it. He had remained in his rooms, alone most of the time, emerging only when it was required of him and when he met with Lady Nora. He never attended the meals. It was too painful to see his younger sister in the place of honor at his father's right hand–the place he should have been.