just to remind you this is a short story which i will try to spread out so chapters may be smaller than usual. thanks for reading :)
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chapter 1:
A pit of discarded bodies lay surrounded by crooked rocks, the majority of them were weathered away to piles of crumbling bones. Thunder thrashed above reflecting the terror and death.
Overlooking the massacre ,a cliff that had stood for a thousand years, held a sillouette of an old frail man who stood on the peak of the cliff with the crystal moon at his back. Dark brown almost black robes were draped around his crooked body. Gripped in his wrinkled hands was a baby new born still dripping with womb residue.
When the boy was born, like all spartans. he was inspected. If he was sickly, weak or mishapen then he would be discarded and left to die. The old mans hunched over as his nostrils flaired and a grey bushy eye brow raised as he said "the perfect spartan".
A woman wrapped in a white silk dress sighed with relief as she slowly placed herslef down onto a chair to rest. A servant quickly ran over and wiped her brow with a cloth while handing her a cup of water.
"his name?" the old man asked as he watched the woman being pampered.
"titus kolas" she whispered, obviously tired and weak from childbirth.
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From the time he could stand he was baptised in the fire of combat.
Titus is skinny and frail. his already defined face was filled with cuts and bruises. He held a small sword in his bloody hand. Titus thrashed it back and forth with such force, only stopping when he hit his father sword.
His father is a beast of a man teaching his son the basics of war and pain, he is tall and muscular and his body is filled with rigid battle of scars. He has fought many battles and has killed many men. Now he must teach his son before his reign is over.
Titus has been told to never retreat, never surrender. Taught that death on the battle field in service to sparta was the greatest gloryhe could achieve in his life. So as he pushes through his fathers blocks and difficult slashes, all he can think of is the triumph of winning and being the leader his father desperatly hopes for Titus.
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By the age of seven he is taken from his loving mother who stands alone weeping in the doorway of her home, gripping on for the loss of her once innocent child. Two men grip the struggling boys arms as he is dragged off far into the blured abyss of battle training.
These are the rules of sparta itself.
To be plunged into the world of chaos and violence.
Over the years to come he is to be manufactored to become the finest of warriors. He is to be starved and beaten, lashed and whipped and trained to ignore his pains and fears.Until he is the beast that only looks to slash and kill. Hungry for victory.
