The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Seven: The Young Knights

"Why? I ask you all," Locke Horcaster said as he stumbled out the doors of the bathhouse, still not completely dressed and a rag hanging from his shoulder, "Why do we still have to do these damn drills? We graduated over a month ago. I was looking forward to at least a week of dignity."

Several other young knights stepped out of the steaming bathhouse, all of them close friends and recent graduates from the School of Chivalry, who were serving at Blackfield before returning home.

 "People say you're slow, Locke, but I've never heard anyone word the same question as many times as you. You must have a wide vocabulary to accomplish that," said his significantly smaller friend Bartheyis, or Bart as the others referred to him.

Locke threw his arm, which was as thick as a small tree-trunk, around his friend and laughed sardonically, "I suggest you try saying that why I'm not in such a good mood; then you shall see how slow I am," he laughed some more and his smaller friend joined him, "I'll admit that I'm not the smartest man in this class, Bart, I'll make silly anyone who refers to me as slow."

"You're slow as can be and twice as ugly," Locke spun around, ready to brawl and met the grin of Gor Velrock, another old friend from the School of Chivalry, and the youngest son of Archduke Amos Velrock. Though he had graduated from the School already, it was tradition that recent graduates would serve in the Blackfield garrison for an unspecified amount of time. Some stayed for a few months, some stayed for the rest of their lives, as a thank you to House Dayvey for providing them with this course in life.

"You always had balls, Gor," Locke said as he landed a punch on the other knight's shoulder. Gor gripped it in pain, but kept a smirk that remained defiant.

"Didn't hurt!"

"Sure it didn't," Locke rolled his eyes as their forth companion stepped out of the bathhouse.

"Little slow getting out, Jergan?" Bart asked.

Jergan brushed his black hair out of his eyes and replied, "I never felt a feeling of bliss like getting in the shower after training."

"And I still wonder why we are still  training," Locke complained again.

"To keep ourselves in shape," Gor poked his big friend in the gut. Locke ruffled his brown hair the way he would a dog's fur.

"I think it is to keep Eliza in shape," Bart said, refering to their other friend Eliza Elenor. She did not shower with the boys for obvious reasons. "You know how quickly women get plump."

"Not faster than Locke here," Jergan said, "He eats like a hog."

"A hog that can crush you all like a little piglet," he clapped Jergan on the back, "And Bart, I'd love to see you say that to her face."

"What is she going to do, Locke? Wrap a bar of soap in a sock and slam me in between the legs?" he jeered at his big friend.

There was still a mark from when she did just that, but Locke would never admit that, "I let her get away with that one," he quickly pointed out.

"Of course you did," they all began to poke and smack him.

"Enough of you people," he broke out of the poking trap and hastened the walk to their living quarters, which they share with a dozen other knights of the Blackfield Garrison. They moved out of the school a month ago and were provided quarters in Castle Blackfield itself. They were certainly a step up from the rooms at the school, but many were aching for their own beds back home.