Emeron

Lufia

A scion of high blood, driven through shadows and ruin

Rising from the ashes of kin, finding the light in darkness

Taking up arms in defiance of tradition, fighting to uphold the ideal passed on

Flying into the shadows of safety, the Swordbearer vanishes into the mists

Swords clashed amongst the muted roar of the training grounds. The sharp smell of sweat is strong in the air, pervading every bit of armor and cloth to come into this place of warfare. The men scuff the gritty soil with their feet as they move around each other, wooden blades looking for any opening they can find. The midday sun glaring down upon them, beating out their sweat and energy. The high walls offer no shade at this time of the day and even the clouds seemed to have abandoned those locked in the yard. The oldest of the two sons of the castle wiped his grime streaked face with a cloth. The result is little more than him adding more dirt to compliment what he already wears.

 “It’s a brutally hot day today Grunner.” The young man said to one of the soldiers sitting on the bench near to him.

The man, a long seasoned veteran now in charge of the castle guard, gave him a short nod. “Aye son, that it is. That’s how it always is for soldiers. If we ain’t freezing our asses off in strips of cloth not even worth being called a tent then we’re sweating like pigs in the sun while bashing each others brains out. This here is good training for the men Lenen, it teaches them how to handle themselves when they can’t even see for the sweat running in their eyes.”

Lenen grinned wearily at the old man and hefted his wooden blade up again in spite of protesting muscles. “If you can find me a good opponent I think I’m up for another round Grunner.”

Grunner slapped the bench with a large sweaty palm as he lifted his bulk up next to the younger boy. He looked over the yard at the various engagements happening, his experienced eye noting what is happening in each one before being drawn irresistibly to a single pair near to the back. The younger of the heirs facing off against a much smaller girl, the two of them moving rapidly around each other as if they had a limitless supply of energy. Grunner shook his head as he watched the lithe young girl use her superior speed to dodge around a downwards swing and hammer the boy in the gut with the pommel of her sword.

“There’s something wrong with having a woman out here with the men. Distracts some of them and gives the other ladies ideas they shouldn’t.”

Lenen laughed lightly next to him. “Lufia has always gone her own way, you know that. I remember father used to say that it was simply a thing she was doing to compete with Darien and myself, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Grunner shook his head. “T’aint that. The lass has a gift for this, that much is plain. What worries me most isn’t that she enjoys it, but why she does it. High sounding ideals are fine and well to speak and practice, but out on that battlefield there’s only you and the next man that needs killing. What I’m afraid of son is that she’s going to step out onto that dirt one day and die with those fine words running through her head and a sword through her belly.”

Lenen was silent as they watched Lufia pick her younger brother up from the dirt and put her arm under his shoulder to help him back to where the two men were watching. Lenen slapped Grunner on the back of his shoulder as he went to help his siblings. “She’ll be fine old dog. We’ll all be fine.”

Grunner stood watching as Lenen walked over and picked up Darien, laughing at the protests from both him and Lufia. Finally the old soldier shook his head and turned back to his men, casually kicking the shins of those who had let themselves fall down for a rest while they thought he wasn’t watching.