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“What about her?” Alzerion swallowed.
“It’s her, isn’t it? There isn’t anyone else you would ever feel this guilty about.”
He nodded. Quairken let go of his grip. Alzerion stepped forward a few more paces and he could see the soldiers.
“Hey, we aren’t done.” Quairken sprinted over to him.
“Quairken, maybe—”
“No. I have something to say.” He breathed out as he clapped his hand down on Alzerion’s shoulder. “You better do right by her. Understood?”
Alzerion nodded.
“I mean it. I’m happy for you, truly, but I helped raise that girl.”
Alzerion’s eyes darted back at Quairken. “I know. That was why I had such a terrible time telling you. Despite what I feel, I don’t know how not to shake off the ick.”
“Just don’t think about it. Alright? She doesn’t need to know. She doesn’t need to ever feel like a burden.”
“Agreed.”
They walked into the barracks, grabbed a couple shields, and hurried to the field. Quairken and Alzerion usually partnered up, unless Alzerion was hoping to work on a specific soldier’s skills.
Alzerion tapped at his throat and his voice boomed onto the training grounds. “Men.” The last of the clanging ceased as eyes turned to Alzerion. “Good warm-up. Now I want you to work in your pairings and focus on close-quarter combat. Be sure to use the practice swords, we don’t need any injuries.”
Once he was satisfied with watching the slash, deflect, and parrying he turned his attention back to Quairken. Quairken had this devilish grin as he swung his sword down at him. Alzerion deflected the move as he quickly pivoted to the side.
“I didn’t know we were starting.”
“Always take your opponent by surprise, you taught us that.”
Alzerion smirked as they engaged in two stab and slash thrusts, in quick succession. “Who knew you were paying attention.” With that Quairken slashed and their practice swords hit, parry for parry.
Alzerion deflected the last blow and forced the swords in an arch up and over, causing Quairken to stumble. He pushed off the ground and spun around just in time to deflect the blow headed for his thigh. Practice continued blow after blow. Aiming to make each hit count.
“Break,” Alzerion panted. Quairken gave a curt nod as he placed the practice sword on the wooden table. Alzerion took a few slow, controlled breaths as he walked past Quairken and observed the soldiers. Again, he adjusted the volume of his voice.
He heard some groans as they turned to him. “How does it feel?” Alzerion asked. Silence. He surveyed them and eyes shifted from one to the other. Finally, one soldier stepped forward.
“It felt like torture, sir.”
Alzerion moved toward him and patted him on the back. “I bet, Castro.” He exchanged glances and then paced around all his men. “I’m sorry for the lengthy practices. Remember our duty.”
“Protect the royal family, at any cost!” Castro called out. Alzerion turned to him and nodded.
“Defeat the rebellion,” Quairken said as Alzerion glanced over at him.
“That’s what we are here for. That and to protect our families, too. Never lose sight of that.” Alzerion’s voice didn’t waver, even as he wiped the sweat off with the back of his hand.
“Now, wash up and head out.”
The men grabbed their practice weapons and dashed to the barracks. “Huh, I thought they were tired?”
“Oh,” Quairken laughed. “Ouch.” It sounded like a laughing groan. “Sorry. Sharp pain in my side.” Alzerion stood next to Quairken and crossed his arms.
“What? You don’t believe me? That’s why the men left, quick.”
“I’ll humor you. What do you mean?”
