(Content Warning: Implied genital mutilation)
"Again… I want to try again" Her voice was balanced yet assertive, not letting a hint of hesitation leak into her words. She never hesitated. Never in battle.
Her eyes glanced over to the direction of her combat instructor, Aurol. Aurol was a bald headed older man with a wiry frame, his face as impassive and stern as it always was. He made the slightest tilt of his head and she knew that was the sign that they were to continue the spar where they stood. Her eyes snapped back to her opponent, one of her burly guards, now barreling towards her with his trunk like arms outstretched telegraphing his attempt to either tackle her or grapple her. Nevermind the opponent behind her, it was unfortunate she did not have eyes in the back of her head to know what he was doing but he was definitely moving towards her direction.
'A pincer maneuver this time? Damnation, why did it have to be that!' She rushed towards the burly guards, keeping her center low to the ground as if to challenge his tackle. At the last minute before colliding she twisted and dove out of the way of the burly guard and sent a back kick to the back of his knee from the ground. The man stumbled and fell over.
She had hoped he would crash into her pursuer but that man turned out to be a little more cautious than she originally thought, he had intentionally kept a distance between them.
'Curses, I thought I had him figured!'
She grit her teeth and hastily stood up before rushing towards the second guard, a taller and leaner man than the other. The height difference between the two of them would be a problem for but that didn't matter, she would have to force it to not matter. Pushing her legs to run as hard as she could, she just managed to get into his guard. Throwing a few feints at his head, she went for her true target. Stomping her foot on top of his to hold him in place as she twisted her form and threw a hook into his liver, causing him to stagger in pain. She pressed her advantage, throwing a flurry of fists into the tall man.
Each strike hurt him, wearing him down but his guard had come up quicker than she thought so she did not get a chance to strike him anywhere vital. She realized that her first mistake was for not using her advantage to her fullest. Her second was forgetting about the burly guy.
He hooked his large arms from under her arms and held onto to her shoulders, stopping any more movement from her fists. The tall guard quickly escaped the reach of her legs.
"Enough," Instructor Aurol's steely voice pierced through the battle lucid minds of the combatants, freezing them where they stood.
"My Lady Hectre…" He began. "You created an opening tactfully, then took advantage of that opening. I won't insult your intelligence by asking you what you did wrong, so I ask this instead. Why did you not see to it to eliminate your opponent?"
A lump formed in her throat that she wished to gulp down, but she would not allow herself to do that. Though subtle, it would show a hint of doubt in her, a lack of self assurance in her actions. She stared at her master with a calm expression plastered on her face, her eyes forced to be still. She had no worthy answer to his question, she was so lost in the fight she forgot about striking at someone's weak point, but she had to make something up. Something reasonable.
"I was consumed by blood lust, master,"
The silence was palpable. Instructor Aulor's expression did not change, his eyes inspecting her demeanour for something she dared not reveal.
"You speak with conviction. That is good, but try to do so when you say something actually convincing. I felt no such thing in your attacks"
Her controlled mask fell momentarily, before she could try to defend herself her teacher raised a hand.
"Don't bother, we will work on that another time. So instead we will train that foundation while making you more durable." With a nod from Instructor Aurol, the tall guard moved towards her front. His fists were raised and poised to strike, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek.
'C-curses!'
"Rememer to clench accordingly to where the blow will land. Oh and push through the pain to learn his attack patterns properly this time" He left her with that counsel he always gave her in for this 'training' exercise, from there on he would just watch as she was made black and blue till the end of the session. They still had two more hours for this training session.
'This is going to-' Her lamentations were cut off by a fist that had suddenly found itself in her face.
***
"Damnation!" She hissed as she applied corsair honey to a cut on one of her bruised cheeks. The sting from the honey was incredibly sharp, its cleansing pain was always uncomfortable to her no matter how many times she experienced it.
Leaning forwards she gripped the rim of her wash basin, she forced herself to look into the mirror above the basin.
'I look horrible,'
The damage done to her from this tempering exercise was by far the worst she ever looked. Usually, whoever was giving her the pummeling to toughen her would hold back but it seemed Instructor Aurol had told today's sparring partners not two. She had managed to avoid any serious damage, well maybe besides a small fracture in her nose but that would heal in a week or two. Unfortunately her wonderful face had suffered a lot; dark bruises had spread all over her face, some of them covered by bandages boiled in all sorts of healing ointments and tonics and other opened cuts slathered in honey to clean them.
She had gotten better over the past months of being forced to dress her own wounds, another order from her strict teacher. It was meant to teach her how to properly take care of her own wounds. Aided by some texts she took from the apothecary and the physician, she had become proficient in first aid but she missed having servants to wait for her hand and foot.
She shuffled towards her bed, hoping to finally rest her sore body but a knock on the door stopped her in tracks.
"Lady Hectre, Lord Soren summons you to his office"
She her mouth went dry before she answered back, "Inform my father that I will be there"
The servant behind her door agreed and left. Her palms were already slick with sweat, sweat not from her training.
'Why is he calling for me? It's not about today is it?'
Sure she did not do well in the spar today but she had been doing well during her other lessons, fantastic even. She was becoming a worthy warrior to one day rule the Fourth Frontier. Yet what Instructor Aurol had said echoed in her mind. That she held no bloodlust. Was that what all great champions had, the thirst to spill blood? She packed the thought away for a later time and hobbled her way out of the room and into the halls of her family's keep.
The way to her father's study was less extravagant than the grand hallway to the meeting chambers of the keep, but it held much more significance to her personally. She remembered being in awe of the entire keep when she first arrived, she remembered running around the halls with her older brothers and sisters and how she'd always trip on the red rugs or crash into the hanging tapestry. Walking down these halls always brought a somber nostalgia to her, and today it distracted her from the unease that came from her father's summons.
Arriving at the study door, she composed herself. Standing straight and refusing to wince from the strain her muscles felt, she knocked on the door.
"Father, I have arrived"
"You may enter daughter" The muffled voice of her lord beckoned her in.
Entering and closing the door behind her was about to bow to him, like proper etiquette demanded but he raised his hand to stop.
"No need for that daughter, I heard your tempering was particularly hard today so please relax my dear"
She was grateful for his words but she did not let herself fully relax, she still needed to present strong, even to those close to her.
"Farther, may I ask why you summoned me to your study?"
Lord Soren sighed and placed his quill in the ink bottle. He looked to his daughter with his clay like colored eyes. His full bearded face was an effigy to stoicism, calm and motionless. His voice was deep and carried the authority of a Lord.
And then there was the way he looked, the comeliness typical of an awakened.
"I have found you a tutor, one of the best out there"
Hectare nodded, It made sense that she would get a new one to help her studies into becoming an appropriate heir.
"...A slave scholar"
Her mask of indifference broke, her great confusion clear to see on her face which elicited a slight chuckle from the stern lord"
"F-father, I'm confused? I'm not a child, I don't need a scholar slave"
"Hectre, do really believe I would just give you some roadside scholar that some lone manhunter captured. You'll be tutored by one of the greatest scholars in the south."
Lord Soren looked at his daughter hoping to see her interest captured, but she still looked confused. He dismissively shook his.
"Just trust in me, he will be brought to you tomorrow. You are Dismissed."
***
If there were two states of being Nyiko disliked the most, it would probably be some form of chronic pain and one he could finally name, humiliating helplessness. He was thrown into a barrack of some sort, along with a few tomes and scrolls. His eyes were filled with tears and he shook and heaved in quiet throes of pain. He felt violated.
He could feel the eyes of others beside the guards that threw him in here, they did not move to help until the guards sealed the entrance with a heavy door. As the clangor of their wardens armored steps, someone had finally stepped closer to him. She lowered herself to Nyiko's shivering form, gently rubbing her hand against his arm to rouse his attention.
"It's ok, you're safe here young man." Her voice was soft and she kept her words short and comforting. She didn't say anything else as Nyiko continued to heave and sob, till he was conscious enough to force some modicum of composure. He turned his head to look up to the mature woman with his red puffy eyes.
"Feeling better child?"
Nyiko paused for a moment, then he nodded his head. "Yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you ma'am and sorry for making a scene"
"No, no child. You shouldn't apologize for the way you're acting in this situation" She frowned as she looked at the heavy door. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself and instead gave Nyiko a gentle smile.
"And none of that ma'am stuff, that is the language of these war mongrels. Call me Ma Akra, child"
Shakily and with the help of Ma Akra, he rose up from the floor along with the tomes and scrolls that constituted his study material. Ma Akra guided him to an empty hammock where he would sleep. The slave barracks were filled with them with no other furniture in the barracks, the only modicum space was the walking space between the hammocks.
He once again thanked Ma Akra for her help and once she left him to acclimate to where he would, he climbed into the hammock. Nyiko wanted nothing more than anything to fall into unconsciousness and never wake again, but he knew he couldn't do that. Before they… did that to his body, they told him his purpose here. He was to teach the heir to the Fourth Frontier all that was contained within the tomes and scrolls he was given. He had an idea of what would happen if he didn't meet his 'masters' standards.
Picked a random tome and began to read, then he began to truly study and understand what was in text. By the end of the hour he had completed the tome and could recall any sentence from the text, word by word.
He was astonished, sure he was good at reading but this was different.
'Must be because of the [Apprentice Scholar] attribute.' He was lucky to be bestowed such an attribute. This and the [Destined] attribute were going to be his only saving grace to escape the city and survive.
'Easier said than done, bet no slave escaped this keep let alone the City!'
He would have to take things one step at a time, plan out an escape when he knew much more about the city and the keep. Preferably he could leave before the end times came for this accursed city. Grabbing the next tome, he continued his cramming session through the night in the fading light of the candle above him.
He pushed through the lingering malignant thoughts of shame and the still fresh pain in his nether region. It was better to distract himself with these books than to be haunted by what happened.
Yet the act still tormented him.