#azaryne

The Last Day

"Oh, come on Meril!" Eralane shouted. She dropped her sword arm in frustration. Merilius's face was pale and sweaty, and Azaryne wondered for a moment if he might be about to retch. 

"Take it easy." He said to Eralane, stepping away from his own archery target and toward the sparring pair. "This is his first real training session. Don't you remember when you were 15?" 

"But, Az, how is he going to learn to fight if he can't even see an opportunity when it dances in front of him?" Eralane demanded. "I could put down my weapon and stand here with my arms stretched out and he still wouldn't hit me." 

Azaryne watched as Meril's complexion somehow went even paler than it had been as his sister attempted to pantomime her suggested situation. 

Az put down his longbow and unstrapped his quiver, setting them carefully to the side before moving to the weapon rack and picking up a long blunted sword.  He shooed his sister away with a wave of his hand and stepped into the rope circle that had been laid into the dirt. 

He slid his feet into a comfortable fighting stance and presented his weapon to the terrified boy before him. 

"It's..." He started, thoughtfully, looking at the rounded point of his blade. Meril shook silently in front of him, as though convinced that in this moment he was about to die. 

"Imagine it's a game of tag." Az said finally. He stepped forward in a slow, fluid motion and tapped his brother on the side. "But with longer arms."

A smile rose to Azaryne's lips as he watched Meril's face soften slightly, and heard Eralane scoffing loudly from behind them.

"So now, you're It. But, it doesn't count if you only hit my sword. So try to tag part of my body, ok?"

Meril nodded, shakily raising his own sword and looking over Az with darting eyes. When he stepped forward to land his blow, Az did not stand still, but instead moved very slowly and exaggeratedly, as though moving through water, to evade the attack. He brought up his own weapon to parry the blow and stepped gracefully to the side, nodding encouragingly. 

He stepped forward and tried again and again, each movement more quick than the last: slashing in broad arcs which Az would parry with a swift tap of his own weapon, or thrusting timidly as Az easily evaded. After a few minutes, they were almost moving at full speed, with short bursts of laughter filling the air just as often as the clashing of steel.

"See, you're doing so well!" Az chuckled to the boy as he sidestepped another forceful swing. "Keep this up and you'll be a better fighter than even father." Merilius fought to keep from snorting loudly as he swung his sword again. 

"Sure." He replied. "And I suppose you'll be  a dance instructor, with all your fancy footwork." 

Az's expression suddenly turned deathly serious, and Meril's movements stopped in their tracks.    However, instead of swinging to hit back, Azaryne sunk into a regal bow. 

"My dear serjo, may I have this dance?" He said, articulating each word with every bit of formality that he could muster with a straight face.

After a brief moment they both burst into laughter so loud and so mirthful that Az fully buckled to his knees, allowing Meril to step forward and tap him on the chest. 

"And now, you're It." Meril said, fighting to catch his breath.

  "Yes, I am." Az responded. He wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and moved to stand and brush himself off.

However, he suddenly felt a firm grip on his shoulder, and he knew immediately from the size of the palm whose hand it was. 

Azaryne coughed loudly and sprung to attention, causing Merilius to drop his weapon to do the same. 

"Playing games? On your brother's first day training with the others? Are you really that foolish?" 

Az opened his mouth and closed it like again like a fish, searching for words to defend himself. 

"Father, he was helping me!" Meril said from behind him, and Az closed his eyes in regret. Now he had truly done it. 

"You call this helping, Azaryne?” His father demanded. "Do you think that in the heat of battle, an enemy will just 'play tag'? Do you think that at war--"

"But we aren't at war!" Azaryne protested.

"Not right now, we aren't, but we could be at any time! We could be invaded, or there could be an uprising. It's happened before, and it's my duty as the leader of House Redoran to ensure that our troops are ready for battle whenever that might happen. And it is your duty to be learning what you can from me, because one day this will be your duty. That is the honor and privelege of your noble birth, but instead of doing what is right, you choose to do what is easiest!”

Azaryne folded his arms and looked away from his father's indignant scowl. He knew there was nothing that he could do to protest. Regardless of his intentions, he hadn't followed the exact rules, and was therefore in the wrong. Despite his lack of response, his father began speaking again, further drilling home his disappointment.

"There are many of your kinsmen who have worked hard to earn what you were gifted by blood, and you continue to disrespect that." He raised a hand, quoting from their own house words, "Life is hard, and events must be judged, endured, and reflected upon with due care and earnestness. A light--"

"--careless life is not worth living."

Azaryne froze as he realized he had been muttering under his breath. His father's face grew dark and Az watched as his jaw tightened so furiously that Azaryne thought he might burst a blood vessel.

"You are not a child anymore, Azaryne. And I expect you to stop behaving as such."

Azaryne swallowed hard, fighting to keep himself steady on his feet as the back of his throat began to burn. His father, seeming to understand his surrender, raised a hand to his own forehead and after a moment, quietly spoke.

"I am sending you to Mournhold." He said.

Az couldn't contain a grunt of protest. His father, however, ignored him.