The armor-clad boy ran swiftly across the grassy plains. Sweat glistened on his forehead, running down his tanned face. On his body, dirty chain mail shifted as he moved. In his right hand was held a broad sword, sharp and deadly. Its blade was a silver color, with a bronze guard. The handle was wrapped in black leather, and atop the hit was inset a single rounded gem, a diamond. Set upon his head was a coif, covered by a mighty helm. At his waist was a brown belt, its golden clasp shining brightly in the morning light. Attached to the belt was a long, black sheath, laced with golden runes. Beneath the helm, deep brown eyes stared steadfastly forward. He looked to be nearly a man.
As he ran, his mail clanked loudly as his feet beat upon the ground. The dew-covered grass was pounded away beneath his feet. Droplets of shimmering morning dew splashed upward, dampening the brown battle boots, which the boy wore. The boy suddenly stopped, turning and facing the sun. He looked upon the bright sphere in the sky, its heat radiating about his body. Then he lowered his head again, stepping forward and swinging his sword. He began to move, swinging the sword still. His swings and movements made up an intricate combo.
From behind him, a deep voice sounded. "Arozal," it spoke. The voice belonged to a tall man, clad in white chain mail, a sword girt at his side. His head was left covered only by long blond hair, pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were blue as the sky. He carried himself with an air of dignity, standing tall and proud, watching every move the young man made. "Thee has become quite skilled. A fine young man art thou. Like thy father thou seems, strong and graceful. A mighty knight thou shall be, and when the time comes, thou may lead the paladins as thy father does."
Arozal turned to face the white armored man. He sheathed his blade, and leaned forward. He panted, out of breath from the strenuous training. "Neyteg, it is good to see you again." Arozal spoke to the man, looking into his sky blue eyes. "I have trained long to become a knight. I am to set out on my journey tomorrow. But please, tell me. How go things with my father? Why have you come here?"
Neyteg smiled at the boy. "Thy father fares well. He is to come see thee off tomorrow, I believe. As for why I am here, I have come to watch thou train. The knights of the castle tell me that thou art nearly as mighty as thy father. I wished to see for myself. I see now that the rumors are true. I commend thee, Arozal. I also desired to wish thou good luck on thy upcoming journey."
"I thank you, Neyteg. I wish that we could speak more, but I have been training for hours." The boy wiped another bead of sweat from his brow, looking upward toward the sky. He watched as the huge white clouds slowly floated by, always so peaceful. "I must return home to clean and polish my armor. Everything must be ready for tomorrow."
Neyteg nodded, still smiling softly at Arozal. "Then I shall speak to thee later, young warrior. Farewell, and good day." Without another word, he turned and walked away. He moved at a quick pace, heading back towards the city.
Arozal stood on the grassy plain, watching the paladin walk away. Neyteg had been like an older brother to him when he was younger, but now he rarely saw the mighty man. No longer did Arozal sit long by the fire, listening to Neyteg�s tales of far off lands, long past wars, and forgotten legends. No longer was Arozal a young child. Now his time was devoted to training for the upcoming journey, to gain the rank of knighthood. He had only one friend, a boy known as Felimor. The two often trained together, dreaming of the day when they would become knights, maybe even paladins.
Felimor and Arozal had known each other since they were young. Arozal was the son of Erozal, Lord of the Paladins and heir of Coralis. Felimor, on the other hand, was an orphan. He had been found near the border of Esgar at the age of seven, laying and crying beside his dead father. He had named himself Felimor, and said he came from a place far away. Since then, he and Arozal had been inseparable.
When they were younger, Felimor and Arozal had always been different from everyone else. The other boys played games, enjoying their childhood. But no, not Arozal and Felimor; they were different. They spent their time training, sparring one another, and studying the art of war. Confiding only in each other, as the years passed their friendship had only grown. Now, tomorrow, they would together embark upon the journey to prove themselves.
Arozal shook his head, looking away from the clouds. It was time he headed back to the village. He turned towards the city, and set out at a swift pace. The weight of his mail beat down on him as he moved. His sheathed sword swung lightly as he ran, bobbing up and down.
The sun was bright, shining high in the midday sky. No clouds blocked the shimmering golden rays of light streaming down upon Anglemour. The air was warm, with a soft wind rustling amongst the trees. The streets of Cirtenia were lined with people, cheering and waving.
Several people marched down the center of the roughly paved street. They were clad in chain mail, great broad swords at their waists. Upon their heads were chain-linked coifs. In the front of the line marched a tall man. He wore white mail, similar to that of Neyteg. He wore a belt of gold, and hanging from it a black sheath, traced with white lettering. Intelligent green eyes shone beneath the white coif. Traced about the top of the coif was a line of gold, inset in the center with a shining diamond.
The man marched slowly, a serious look upon his face. From the way he carried himself, all could see he was a man of great power. This man was the leader of the paladins. This paladin was Erozal, father of Arozal. He was a mighty warrior indeed, being a descendant of the great hero Coralis.
To the left of the man stood Arozal, clad in his chain-linked mail shirt, sword hanging at his waist. His armor shone brightly, having been newly cleaned and polished. To the right of the man was another of about the same age as Arozal. He was shorter in stature, but broader. He was clad in nearly identical armor. He had piercing blue eyes, with long, dark hair. The boy was Felimor, the only friend Arozal had ever known. Behind them marched six others, their armor alike to that of Felimor and Arozal.
The company marched slowly through the streets of Cirtenia. The young warriors were quiet and solemn, following behind Erozal. As they marched, people gathered along the streets, silently watching. In time, they came to the gates of the city. It was then that Erozal turned and spoke. His voice was great and loud, sounding throughout the city. "Now comes a time in the lives of these young men when they must prove themselves worthy of knighthood. They must go to Esgaria, and return here with a stone from the ancient city of the Esgarians." He then looked directly at the eight young men. "If this task is completed, then bestowed upon thee shall be the rank of knighthood. Go now, young warriors!" He then paused, and turned to Arozal. He spoke softly. "My son, I give to you this sword, fashioned in the armories of the paladins. May it serve you well." He handed to his only son a great broad sword. The handle was of a golden metal, the grip covered in black leather. The blade was bright white, like newly fallen snow.
Arozal bowed, withdrawing his old sword from its sheath. He set it at the feet of his father, bowing "I thank you, father. This blade shall be known as Yeteres, meaning light, for it shines with the light of the High Heavens." He then took the white blade, placing it into the white sheath at his side, which was laced with silver runes that seemed to shine with the light of the full moon.
"Then so it shall be," replied his father. "Go now, son Arozal! With the blade Yeteres at your side, you shall not fail."
As he finished speaking, the great city gate opened. It revealed a bright plain, covered in grass and flowers. The sun shone upon it, filling the area with a sense of peace. Arozal stepped forward first, followed quickly by Felimor and the others. Waiting for them were great horses, of which they quickly mounted. And in seconds they were gone on what could very well be the most important moment of their lives.
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