Trial of Servulus

Chapter 1- Battle at Dawn

DISCLAIMER:This book is my original work, and I plan for it to be published in the real world. During its development stages, I'll update it here to collect feedback for revisions and edits. If I find an opportunity to publish this for real, this story will promptly be deleted from the website. I apologize.

--------------

The dirt road echoed with clanging metal as dozens of apprentices marched forward in formation. Claire was in the middle of the line, buzzing with anticipation under her freezing armor. Her legs ached from the seemingly endless walking, as did her classmates around her, but the events that lay ahead were above any frivolous leg pain. The trial of the apprentices, the test that all students kept in the back of the mind. The arena, marked by its edges of flaming torches and towering observation decks, grew painstakingly closer with every step.

She couldn't take her eyes off the burning fires, fighting the immeasurable urge to sprint and beat the others there. Still she remained, walking through the biting wind and struggling to block out the mindless chatter around her. They arrived like prisoners in a line, swiftly dividing into one of the four outer corners based on house color. Following the order of the blue feather adorning her helmet, Claire hastily joined the rest in their corner, swaying slightly and fidgeting her gloved hands. All this standing around, nothing but hours of wasted daylight, she grumbled in her mind. Flickering her eyes to the enemy teams, she scoffed under her helmet. Weak, she told herself. They all were, this whole arena was about to get messy. It had to be today, it had to be, echoed her thoughts. She couldn't be robbed from it again, not from this pathetic lot.

Looking up at the main tower, a structure decorated with the golden flags of Vaticans, -which was a stark contrast to the aged wood and rusted metal of the tower itself- her eyes glazed over the empty stands. Another apprentice leaned at Claire's side, whispering through his helmet.

"Where are they?" he asked, uncertainty fracturing his composed image.

Claire didn't answer, almost annoyed that someone spoke to her at all.

Another voice spoke behind her. "Probably making us wait just for the hell of it," they said. "I wouldn't put it past them, you know how they are."

"Both of you, shut up," Claire quipped, unable to resist keeping her mouth closed.

The two students turned their armored heads at her, their expressions of confusion hidden. "What's with you?" one asked.

"Don't mind her," said the second. "She's desperate to win the Vatican's favor, been trying for months."

"And I will," Claire hissed, neary breaking composure to turn around at who dared to speak. "They can't ignore me longer than they already have."

"So is this gonna be the second trial in a row you've lost?" snickered the apprentice behind her.

"Second place isn't a loss, you should know that," Claire said through gritted teeth, her blood beginning to boil.

"Maybe they'll make you a Vatican out of pity."

Steaming with rage, Claire whipped around in an instant to face the speaker, when a loud trumpet blared through the morning air. The apprentices instantly straightened up and perfected their formation as much as possible. The Vaticans were here, officially signaling the start of another trial. All heads tilted up as Saint Peter walked out on the observation deck, his garments of white flowing behind him. The golden pieces of metal that armored his robes came alive in the sunlight, the very surface of his mask glowing with his holy presence. Dozens of knees met the dirt as the apprentices bowed to the senior Vatican, Claire following suit but her searching eyes kept wandering back up.