The Dreaded Wing

Yalkan

Minister of You
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TNP Nation
Yalkan
Discord
Ixy#2810
“Keras!” a motherly voice called out warmly. Keras turned over on his small bed. The voice called out again, but with a little more urgency. “Keras! Food is hot!” Keras rolled over once more. It was one of the few days he and pa didn’t have work to do early in the morning. It wasn’t harvest season yet and the livestock were all fed adequately. It was looking to be a good year. Something his Pa kept remarking. He was taking this opportunity to get as much rest as he could. Warm food was good, but good sleep was better. He groaned and pulled his blanket over his head.

“Keras,” the voice now audible directly from the doorway. Keras kept his eyes shut. He reasoned if he didn’t open them. He wouldn’t have to wake up and face the reality of his mother.

“Your brothers are already awake. Why not join them?” the voice asked.

Brothers? He had no brothers. A cold shiver began to work its way up his spine. He became aware of the fact he was keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Don’t open them, his thoughts screamed.

“You must join your brothers Keras,” the voice whispered, now cold and metallic, sounding as if it was directly behind his head. Keras held his blankets tight around him. Don’t look. She said to look away! He heard screams echoing. He heard the burning of fire. He heard the singing of metal grinding against metal.

“Brother Keras. Rise,” the voice boomed. Kera’s eyes shot open and he shot up from in bed. He was not in the bed he remembered. The dark cold stone room was not the one he recognized. His eyes fell upon the source of the voice. A tall man adorned in full armored plate with a dark green hue. His face hidden by his helm only a slit allowing two glowing dots to peer through the darkness. His tabard bore the sigil of white gauntleted fist with a wing sprouting forth from it. He stood in the middle of the stone dormitory room that Keras resided in. Silently waiting for a response.

Keras finally gained his wits about him. “I’m up, I’m up. Thank you Brother Aralon.”

“Thanks are not necessary. Your duties require your attendance. Food has been prepared for you and the others,” Brother Aralon responded curtly. Keras was still not used to them speaking. The Gehdlen. Their voices sounded like they echoed from all around, not like a normal person. By the time Keras finally looked up, the armored man was gone. Keras snorted a little laugh. Always on time. Always things to do. Keras got out of bed and began to get dressed. Dark leather trousers. Dark leather boots. A simple green tunic that bore the same sigil as his “brother” and a leather belt to keep it all together. He looked at a silver platter that held some cleaning instruments that had been provided long ago. In another life it would have been the most valuable thing he owned. Now just a piece of decor. Looking at his own dark black hair, he pushed it back out of his eyes and washed his face from his basin. Good enough. He was late as is.

Keras made his way down the treelit halls of the monastery. He peeked out one of the windows. He was a couple stories above the main training grounds below. The light of the Ewig bathed a warm light down upon the entire monastery. Keras still yawned. It might be bright, but it was still night. The moon shone through the branches and leaves of the Ewig, barely visible.

He kept walking, his boot falls echoing through the halls. Passing one of the many personal quarters of the dormitory, he thought he heard crying. He paused for a moment. It was a familiar sound. It usually came from the newly initiated. A traumatic time for anyone. The temptation to investigate grew the longer he stood there. Maybe he could offer his heart, his feelings, help this time pass faster. He remembered a time when he was crying. For months. Maybe even years. It was hard to keep track. His thoughts were interrupted by my metal foot falls on the stone flooring. He looked up, to see three more armored Gehlden walking in perfect symmetry. Their gate looked like a pulse or a beat as they strode forth. They passed Keras and in unison turned to face the door where the crying was coming from. One of the knights’ helm turned to face Keras. Keras cringed as he looked away and kept walking. Behind he could hear a knock before a loud entrance and more crying.

Keras tried putting the disturbance from his mind and before long he found himself in the kitchen with his fellow humans, only a handful currently sat at the table where they all ate. There were many more of course, but schedules were always differing. All came from different walks of life. Farmers, tradesmen, soldiers, vagabonds, even a noble here and there. Some had been with the order longer than others. All had different levels of belief in their new masters. Some converted to save themselves. Others had come willingly, truly believing in their newfound home and faith. They hardly talked, but always shared knowing glances. Something that they all agreed on however, the food was not great. Warm slop at the best of times. Keras grabbed a bowl and served himself from a large cauldron hanging over warm coals. He sat down with his fellows. They all smiled and nodded in turn. He returned them to each of them. It’s all they could do to make the days go by a bit easier. They all called each other brothers, but this was as close as it came to being a reality for Keras.

Quickly he scarfed down his breakfast. The less he had to taste the better. He parted ways with his fellows. Now the time was upon him. The part he hated the most. Every day it came. Every day he worked through it. This day would be no different. It was time to report to his chaplain of the order. Keras made his way from the kitchens to the main hall of the monastery. Despite being a chapel adorned in iconography of the great tree that illuminated the windows themselves, it was full of tables, chairs, and record keeping. Keras’s chaplain sat at one of these tables scribbling away in a large tome. Brother Neror. A Gehlden man. He wore heavy robes with the hood drawn to cover most of his visage, leaving only a dark void where the signature glowing eyes of his kind peered out.

Keras stepped in front of the table. Neror kept scribbling and without looking up to acknowledge the man’s presence used his free hand to give Keras a small piece of parchment. It would contain his duties for the day. As of late he had been assigned to ceremonial duties in the chapel or assisting in record keeping in the vast library the order maintained. Keras bowed a bit as a mock sign of respect and stepped away before reading the parchment. Report to the brother Abderus, a weapons master for weapons training. He stopped in the middle of a hallway as he had to reread it to make sure. Weapons master?! That meant combat training and armor training. The path to Knighthood. He looked back to where Brother Neror sat, still scribbling, wondering if he should interrupt him to ask if it was true if there had been some mistake. But he already knew it was true. There was no mistake. He knew what brother Neror would say. “You waste time, brother.” And there was no time to waste. Not anymore.
 
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Keras was lost in thought as he made his way towards the training grounds in the monastery courtyards. He had never even held a weapon, let alone fought with one. Usually knighthood was reserved for those who were fervent converts. True believers. Not like him. He barely made an effort to conceal his indignation at the hands of these Gehlden. Then again, even he was aware of the fact that his own temperament had calmed some.When he had first arrived here, he was full of resentment. Daily he would try to resist their stone-cold faces. Refusing to leave his quarters. Refusing to eat. He remembered a time he “accidentally” spilled ink all over many books they had, ruining them for a time. However, it occurred to Keras that his resistance was little more than a nuisance. He was no fighter. No great warrior. They would pull him from his quarters. They force fed him. And when necessary, beat him for his grievances. So he had learned to step in line, to keep his head down, waiting for an opportunity. For something. Anything. It never came, at least not yet at any rate. And that’s how his life was. He awoke every day. Committed to his duties, returning to his quarters only to rest. Day after day. That didn’t make him a believer. Only a survivor. That’s what he told himself at the very least.

At that moment of questioning and bargaining, a full plate knight approached Keras. “Brother Keras, I am Brother Abderus. You will train under me to become a man at arms. If you progress far enough, you will become a full-fledged knight of our order. Do you understand?”

The echoing voice snapped Keras out of his introspection and found himself on the training grounds facing Abderus. The Gehlden knight wore the same dark green armor and tabard as the others, the only difference was this knight’s cloak which was a shimmering gold, denoting him as a captain. Keras would be training under one of the twelve captains. A boy who had never held a sword. Looking around, Keras saw other Gehlden honing their art with utmost efficiency. Swinging their swords and bashing their shields alike. Like a dance, except with a brutal lethality.

“Do you understand?” repeated Abderus. Keras nodded in agreement despite still being unsure of his own qualifications. Seemingly pleased with the acknowledgement, Abderus strode over to a rack of wooden swords and stood next to it. “Take one that is to your liking. You will now learn how to grip your weapon.”

Taking one of the wooden swords into his hand, he gripped it as tightly as he could, afraid that it might fall out of hand at any moment. He looked towards Abderus for any instruction, yet the captain was already walking towards a training dummy. Keras followed suit as quickly as he could. Abderus stood facing the dummy and pointed to a spot next to himself, Keras understood and stood as instructed facing the dummy.

“Observe my grip,” Abderus boomed, drawing pointing to his own hand and wrist. “You will do the same.”

Keras tried mimicking the knight’s grip as best as he could, holding his sword out in front of him with one hand near the guard and the other on the pommel. His palms were already sweating.

“You grip your sword too tightly,” the knight instructed. “Looser. You do not clench your fist when holding a cup to drink water. Apply the same thought.”

Keras exhaled not noticing he was holding his breath partially, and relaxed his grip some, still maintaining the stance he had taken.

“Observe my stance and strike, you will do the same.” Before Keras could blink there was a blur of shimmering gold. Abderus had already planted the edge of his training blade right into the neck of the dummy. Keras stood staring dumbfounded. He didn’t even see anything! He already felt defeated. The sinking feeling of dread growing in his chest. Damn these Gehlden!

“Brother…I require you to show me again, but slower,” Keras stated sheepishly. Abderus stood staring at Keras for a moment, before assuming his stance once more. Once more the knight launched his attack, this time just slow enough for Keras to actually see. Abderus moved aside Keras to make his own strike. With a yell Keras leapt forward trying to plant the blade right where Abderus had planted his.

“You grip is too loose, when striking you must tighten your hand. You do not punch with a loose hand. Apply the same thought,” Abderus boomed from behind. “Again.”

Keras took some breaths before launching another strike, this time applying his recent teachings as best as he could.

Abderus tapped the young man’s back left leg, “More power from your legs, they are your foundation, without their force, you will destroy nothing. Again.”

Keras huffed in frustration. He didn’t want to destroy anything. He didn’t even want to learn the sword. He didn’t want to be in this place at all. Resuming his stance, Keras launched into another strike with all the force he could muster, throwing his whole body into it.

“Again.”

And so it went for hours throughout the night. Strike after strike. Critique after critique. Keras had never been so exhausted. He gulped down air hard now. His muscles were on fire. Sweat was dripping from his hair and face. His hands struggled to grip his training sword now. He felt blisters beginning to form on his palm. Abderus had given him barely any time to eat and drink. The damned Gelden and their unrelenting rules. Their unrelenting beliefs. Damn them all! Keras stared daggers at the Gehlden as he resumed his stance. The knight’s glowing eyes were staring back.

“Stop,” Abderus boomed, holding up a gauntleted hand.

“What is it now?” groaned Keras. He let his training sword’s blade fall to the dirt as he relaxed his shoulders and arms trying to enjoy the brief respite.

“You are becoming unfocused. Distraction will only lead to your own destruction,” advised Abderus.

“Well how would you advise that I remain undistracted Brother Abderus,” Keras spat, uttering the knight’s name with venom.

The knight quickly strode right up to Keras, his height now becoming more prominent than Keras ever noticed before. Fear flashed across his face, but Keras straightened himself as much as he could, staring back up at the knight’s glowing eyes. Abderus towered over him for a moment before snatching the wooden training sword out of Keras’s hand and making his way back to the sword rack. Keras breathed a sigh of relief. He let his whole body relax and his head hang low, planting his palms on his knees. He noticed his legs were slightly shaking from over-exertion.

Before he could gather himself, there was an audible thunk of something heavy burying itself in the dirt in front of him. Keras looked up and beheld a steel sword sticking out of the ground, still wobbling from being planted. The metal reflected the luminescent leaves of the Ewig into his eyes as it oscillated. Looking past the sword he saw Abderus taking his place opposite to Keras.

“Take the sword,” boomed Abderus.

Keras’s chest tightened as the sinking feeling of fear and despair returned in full force. His exhaustion began to fade as his heart pumped harder in his chest.

“Brother, I did no-”

“Take the sword or be destroyed like your family was.”

In that moment Keras’s fear was overcome with anger. Rage. How dare he mention them! How dare he flagrantly throw around my misery! thought Keras. He picked up the metal blade. It was sharp! It was much heavier than the training sword, but Keras’s arms had renewed strength. This was it! This was his opportunity he had been waiting for! Enough of just surviving! His mind screamed at him to strike the Gehlden down. To run away. To avenge father and mother. To beg for forgiveness. To kill him! Kill him! Kill!

Keras took his stance in front of the knight. Abderus drew his own sword and assumed his own stance. Keras gritted his teeth before letting out a yell as he lunged towards the armored behemoth in front of him. His heart pounded as he swung his sword down towards the left side of the Gehlden's neck. Keras felt as if he could shatter the earth with his blow. The shimmer of another blade crossed Keras’s eyes. The Knight, as if in slow motion, deftly slid his blade against Keras’s and pushed it aside with little effort throwing Keras off balance. Keras tried to recover but the weight of the sword was already dragging him in another direction. A metal plate knee buried itself in Kera’s stomach, knocking the wind and whatever remaining strength out of him. He slumped over coughing and wheezing for air. His rage was a distant memory as all his body could focus on was breathing and clutching his abdomen.

“Explain your failure Brother Keras,” Abderus boomed as he stood over the pile of wheezing snot.

“Damn… you…” wheezed Keras between coughs.

“You are unfocused. You fooled yourself into thinking you could defeat a captain with a little less than one day’s training. Is that reasonable thinking or is that weakness Brother Keras,” Abderus asked, his voice less intense.

Keras refused to respond. The pain was still fresh throughout his body. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“It is the same weakness many of your kind suffer from. It is the same weakness your parents suffered when they raised arms against professional soldiers,” continued Abderus.

“You’ve taken everything from me!” screamed Keras before coughing more, he tried to rise, but his body would not comply.

“Not everything. You are alive. You are fed. You have clothes to call your own. A bed to sleep in. You can now read and write. You are under no threat here from outsiders. You are treated as well as any brother here,” Abderus countered.

“What do you want from me!” yelled Keras as he started to sob. The pain of losing his parents, his friends, his entire town. It felt like a fresh wound all over again. A wound he thought he had buried. “I’m just a weakling!” he yelled between sobs.

“I’m sorry ma. I’m sorry I’m weak… I’m so sorry,” Keras kept muttering to himself.

“Your weakness,” stated Abderus as he stared down at the whimpering Keras, “We’ll take that from you too.”
 
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