The Madrasa of War - Ragash
Uvogin raised his shoulder to wipe the sweat that had trickled down his cheek. The unforgiving sun shone down on the Madrasa's rectangular courtyard, wherein the center there was a square pit. The courtyard was large enough to fit one to two hundred people, though there weren't nearly that many training that afternoon. Around him in the pit were a group of lightly clothed boys, most of them were sitting in the dirt, catching their breath, rubbing their sore arms and ribs. Uvogin leaned on his training sword like a cane.
"Take this lesson to heart. Remember what I told you, ponder on my words, and put them to practice. Today is a victory over yourself from yesterday, and tomorrow will be a victory over lesser men. Catch your breath, gather your thoughts, and try again. You will be Immortals - you are the blood in your veins. You must flow uninterrupted, many of you must be one. Groups of two this time."
Uvogin took a few steps back and adopted a defensive stance. Before two trainees could step forth, a deep voice called from above the pit.
"Naqib!" Uvogin dropped his stance and turned to face the voice. He raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "A visitor for you, sir."
He grumbled, and after a moment of hesitation, turned to the boys. "Pair up. Light sparring." He tucked the training sword under his arm as he made for the stairs to ascend from the pit. Before climbing the stairs, he dipped his hands into a water basin and rinsed them before splashing water onto his face. Wiping his face with his shirt, Uvogin walked up the stairs.
The captain wore black pants tucked into black boots and a simple linen shirt that, from the sweat and water he had just splashed over his face, tightly clung to his chest. With the training sword still tucked under his arm, Uvogin arrived in the upper courtyard. Scattered about were other trainees practicing repetitive strikes on dummies. Despite the guest there, they remained focused.
Uvogin strode across the courtyard to the visitor, a short woman that he had not seen for quite some time. His skin glistened under the sun, as did his warm smile.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess?"
Uvogin raised his shoulder to wipe the sweat that had trickled down his cheek. The unforgiving sun shone down on the Madrasa's rectangular courtyard, wherein the center there was a square pit. The courtyard was large enough to fit one to two hundred people, though there weren't nearly that many training that afternoon. Around him in the pit were a group of lightly clothed boys, most of them were sitting in the dirt, catching their breath, rubbing their sore arms and ribs. Uvogin leaned on his training sword like a cane.
"Take this lesson to heart. Remember what I told you, ponder on my words, and put them to practice. Today is a victory over yourself from yesterday, and tomorrow will be a victory over lesser men. Catch your breath, gather your thoughts, and try again. You will be Immortals - you are the blood in your veins. You must flow uninterrupted, many of you must be one. Groups of two this time."
Uvogin took a few steps back and adopted a defensive stance. Before two trainees could step forth, a deep voice called from above the pit.
"Naqib!" Uvogin dropped his stance and turned to face the voice. He raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "A visitor for you, sir."
He grumbled, and after a moment of hesitation, turned to the boys. "Pair up. Light sparring." He tucked the training sword under his arm as he made for the stairs to ascend from the pit. Before climbing the stairs, he dipped his hands into a water basin and rinsed them before splashing water onto his face. Wiping his face with his shirt, Uvogin walked up the stairs.
The captain wore black pants tucked into black boots and a simple linen shirt that, from the sweat and water he had just splashed over his face, tightly clung to his chest. With the training sword still tucked under his arm, Uvogin arrived in the upper courtyard. Scattered about were other trainees practicing repetitive strikes on dummies. Despite the guest there, they remained focused.
Uvogin strode across the courtyard to the visitor, a short woman that he had not seen for quite some time. His skin glistened under the sun, as did his warm smile.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess?"