Two days.
Two agonizingly long days of swinging a heavy stick at a wooden post, and Cherion was officially convinced that his muscles had been replaced by angry, vibrating hornets. Every step he took down the hallway was an exercise in pure willpower. He moved like a newborn giraffe on roller skates, awkward, wobbly, and clearly questioning life choices with every step.
The "everything hurts and I am dying" stage of training had set in with a vengeance.
"My Lord, stay right there! Don't move a muscle, well, not that you can," Reiner said, his voice fluttering with concern as they reached the base of the stone staircase. "I'm going to run ahead to the kitchens and fetch some of that cold spring water. And maybe a blueberry cake? You look like you need one."
Cherion leaned heavily against a stone pillar, his chest heaving. "Water... yes. Cake... also yes," he wheezed. "Go. Save yourself, Reiner. I'll be here... becoming one with this stairs."
