Trial of Servulus

Chapter 3- Family Trials

Every day was the same to her. A mundane clockwork of waking up too early in the morning for a church service she heard too many times. The most intense battles Claire ever saw was keeping her awake in the audience while Peter went on and on. The entire clan was, by law, required to attend the morning service. The only ones who really paid attention to Peter's repetitive ramblings were the other Vaticans and overzealous apprentices trying to get a head start in their sensitivity to the holy light. She sat in the fifth row, slouched backward as the leader's preachings went over her head.

"The key to our livelihood is faith," Peter went on. "The stronger your faith, the stronger the light will shine in your palms. But why do we have this gift of-" he chuckled slightly. "Shooting light out of our hands?"

The audience all shared a quick laugh, mostly from the Vatican's side of the room. Claire stayed silent, grimacing at her leader's sense of humor. It was always about power speeches about faith and holy might with no end in sight. Nothing but wasted time that could be spent swinging her blade around and shredding practice dummies, even if they were getting boring.

Yawning through the service, Claire finally escaped outside roughly an hour later for the rest of her routine. Another three hair-pulling hours of standing in formation listening to some idiot talk. The training yard, a place where all apprentices spent most of their time if they weren't sucking up warriors or reading pointless books. At least in church she could sit down, at the yard it was all standing in lines with the rest of the rabble.

"Your physical might is just as important, if not more, than your dexterity," said Rome, walking up and down the lines of students. He was a heavily-armored, war-ridden man tasked with educating the weak. Rumors spread around the apprentice quarters that his story carried a few sinister corners, a notion he never admitted to yet never denied. Watching him pace around the yard, Claire pondered in her head how much she would need to beat him in a fight.

Moving on with the lesson, Rome addressed the three dozen students before him. "I can see it in all of you," he said. "The aspiration, the inner desire to be the best."

You know nothing about me, Claire thought with narrowed eyes. Elementary rubbish was it all, did Rome ever stop talking?

"You can put your all into any feat of battle you see," he said, stopping at the middle of the line. "But if you're not in peak physical condition, you'll never be able to pull your own weight. Now," he clapped his hands together. "I know you're all likely sore from yesterday's trial, so we'll go slightly easier today."

"I'm not," Claire spoke up impulsively, and a few heads turned her way.

"Course," came a voice a couple feet away. "You left early."

A rumble of laughter came from the class, all bracing themselves as Claire spun around hunting for whoever hit the insult.

"Hey!" Rome silenced them all. "Desist with child's play and pay attention! Besides, there's nothing wrong with-" he flicked his gaze at Claire for a split-second. "Needing more training."

The words stung her as she turned back around, biting down a retort with gritted teeth. The leather armor stunk and the swords were as brittle as aged wood, equipment Clare felt dragged her down more than it helped. The sparring arena was the only part of the training yard she actually enjoyed, a fun opportunity to shove down the other students under the hot sun. It was a great way to pass the time, even if no one ever clapped at her victories.

Once the sun had passed overhead and everyone was caked in dirt and sweat, Rome finally called off the class. Gradually each apprentice went their own way, some grouping up with their friends and others returning to the quarters. The rest of the day was their own, and Claire was once again left alone in the yard absently swinging at a dummy made of hay. She continued for a moment until slowing, her arms falling at her sides as she stared at her inanimate enemy. Silence encompassed her at all angles, only broken by the occasional wind passing through the empty yard.