The doors to the training hall burst open, and a young man ran came running in, straight to Toris and Ryan.
"Sir! Lord Commander has summone-d you!" The soldier said holding his chest, panting.
"Right, Ryan go train with Sir Cliff over there, he will teach you swordsmanship as well as how to use other weapons while you are here. He is one of our strongest. I'll be back later today!"
Noooo, Come back.
Toris rushed out of the training hall, leaving Ryan to slowly lumber closer to what felt like his impending doom. As he walked, Ryan couldn't shake the thought: maybe living in the forest wasn't so bad, after all. If I just walked out of here, would anyone even realize in time to stop him?"
"Move quicker!" shouted the grumpy, balding man, his harsh voice cutting through Ryan's thoughts like a blade.
Startled, Ryan picked up his pace, but in his haste, he tripped, falling face-first into the floor.
He grunted as the impact jolted him out of his reverie, his nose throbbing with pain. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, he rubbed his sore nose and winced. The grumpy man's voice echoed in his ears, a stark reminder of his current predicament.
"Get up, you clumsy oaf!" the man barked, his irritation palpable.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Ryan scrambled to his feet, avoiding eye contact as he dusted himself off.
The grumpy man huffed impatiently, waving Ryan over to where the rest of the trainees were gathered. "Come on, we don't have all day," he muttered, his tone brusque.
With a resigned sigh, Ryan acquiesced to his fate and shuffled after the grumpy man.
The knight training on this side of the hall was a stark contrast to the quiet and calm magic section on the other side.
"Listen up, trainees," barked the grumpy man, his voice cutting through the din of the training hall. "I am Sir Clifford, an Expert Knight in the service of Commander Marcus. It is my duty to whip you sorry lot into shape and mold you into skilled warriors worthy of serving our cause."
Ryan swallowed nervously, feeling Sir Clifford's piercing black fixed on him.
"Now, let's get started," Sir Clifford continued, his tone brooking no argument. "We'll begin with a test! Grab a practice weapon and pair up with a partner."
Ryan hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stepping forward to retrieve a wooden sword. Glancing at the other trainees, he noted their varying levels of proficiency. The two men seemed confident, while the woman appeared more reserved.
"Alright, Ryan, you'll be sparring with me first," declared Sir Clifford, striding over with practiced grace. "Let's see what you're made of."
Why! There's four of us here, it's perfect for us to fight each other! Thought Ryan, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his recent choices.
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ryan squared off against Sir Clifford, his hands trembling as he gripped the wooden sword. He knew he was in for a challenge, but he was determined to prove himself worthy of the title of Knight.
As the training session progressed, Ryan struggled to keep up with Sir Clifford's relentless attacks and taunts. The older knight moved with speed and precision, leaving Ryan feeling clumsy and inept by comparison. Each blow landed with force, emphasizing how much he had yet to learn.
"At least have the correct stance!" Sir Clifford admonished.
Despite his frustrations, Ryan refused to give up. With each strike, he focused on improving his technique, determined to prove his worth.
After the beating, Sir Clifford said, "Well, you performed pretty terribly! Time for a break," barely breaking a sweat while Ryan struggled to catch his breath.
Psycho, balding, ginger- Ryan had plenty of words he wished he could call Sir Clifford but even if he wanted to receive a beating, he was too tired to even move his vocal muscles, as well as too bruised to move. Sir Clifford seemed to not hold back much.
As the break in training began, the other three trainees dispersed, each seeking their own space to recuperate. Ryan found himself at a water barrel in the corner of the training hall, taking cup after cup of water, only pausing to look around the room to observe other sparring fighters.
Across the hall, one of the male trainees, a young man with a friendly demeanour, caught Ryan's eye. Unlike the others, who seemed lost in their own thoughts, he wore a faint smile, as if amused by the earlier mishap.
With a tentative step forward, the young man approached Ryan, his strides purposeful yet non-threatening. "Hey there," he said, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "Rough start, huh?"
Ryan managed a weak smile in response, grateful for the unexpected gesture of camaraderie. "Yeah, you could say that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
The young man chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry about it too much. Sir Clifford can be a bit… intense, but he means well. We've all been there."
Ryan nodded in understanding, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It was comforting to know that he wasn't the only one struggling with the rigorous training regimen. "Thanks," he said, offering his hand in greeting. "I'm Ryan."
The young man stared at Ryan's hand puzzled. "Nice to meet you, Ryan. I'm James," he replied, nodding as to acknowledge his hand gesture. "And over there," he gestured towards the other side of the hall where the female trainee stood, "is Eleanor Gray. She's a bit shy when it comes to physical training, but in magic training she can't stop speaking." He sighed.
Ryan followed James's gaze, noting the slight figure of the female trainee who stood alone, her eyes darting nervously around the room. Ryan couldn't clearly see what Eleanor looked like from so far away, but he remembered that she had one green and one brown eye, long brown hair, and pale skin.
"Finally, over there is my brother, Jared. He's a bit cold but he means well."