Young Beginnings (Memory)

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

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Aella
Approved Character
Posts: 18
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2019 2:45 am
Race: Human
Profession: Assassin
Renown: 0
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Wealth Tier: Tier 1

Young Beginnings (Memory)

Wed Jan 09, 2019 10:51 pm

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47th Ashan, 701

"So how has the girl been, the slave? Aella, was it?"

Damon nodded gently to the man opposite him, both of them dressed formally for the occasion. It was rare that two friends like this could meet up without business getting in the way. Contracts were gruelling things at times. "Working hard. Her training is taking some level of effect, at least with her sneaking. But her hand to hand is lacking a little. I've yet to focus her too much on it, she's just a little thing - better for someone her size to sneak around while she's small enough to do it. But we're getting near the time where she needs to learn to fight" Damon explained simply, glancing across to the other doorway where he saw Aella approaching with a small brush to clean up the floor. Unless the guests knew nothing of the Harbingers, Damon kept her in the same worn out clothes. They were in no way awful, of course, but he hadn't the nel to waste on a mass of clothes for a child. Weapons, traps and poisons were in no way cheap hobbies.

Aella bowed her head gently to the man, a gentleman she had come to recognise known as Cassius. It wasn't rare to see him visiting but usually she wasn't allowed anywhere near them, even if she was training to join their group. It wasn't likely they would let her in while she was still so inexperienced and Aella knew it. Even if she was young, there was little she expected from her own Master. Joining a group of well trained killers was never something she had envisioned herself doing, let alone being bought in to. Then again, the idea of it was one that appealed to her somewhat. Perhaps it was all of the training she had done towards it, but at last the girl had something more than just a life of serving. It was a task, a journey, a means of improvement. Every trial she trained was another lesson learned or practised.

"Aella" Damon said as the young child began to brush, causing her head to turn and pause for a moment. With a small gesture he beckoned for the girl to come closer. Aella walked immediately to stand in front of the man, hands resting behind her back as she had been taught to do. It was a simple but important part of her training, Damon had told her. Even if she was a unique type of slave the girl had to blend in. If anyone figured out what the real meaning behind buying Aella had been then all of the Harbingers would be at risk, her Master specifically. When she looked forward and stood in position then Damon gave her a small smile and a nod. "Go to the basement. We'll be there in a moment. We ought to practice your Fěnsuìle today. I want you ready to train by the time I get down there."

With a nod, Aella quickly made her way down towards the basement. Entering the basement involved a small, secret hatch towards the back of the house. It was in an area that few would enter, requiring someone to travel through the food storage to do it. With as much speed as she could the girl made her way through the long cupboard, filled to the brim with foods of different kinds. Once she had made her way past she lifted the hatch and began to climb down to a ladder beneath. Being in the basement was an experience she never much liked, no light reaching in until she managed to light the torch. Darkness was still an aspect of her job that she wasn't used to, one she had feared through most of her life. Hopefully it was a fear that she could be rid of soon enough, with the right amount of practice. It would come with time, Damon had told her at least.

Once she was in the basement she lit the first torch with a tinderbox, pushing the darkness back to the corners of the room. Down there were many weapons that could be used to train, some made for training and others viable as real weapons. Right now it was more often the training weapons than the real ones that she had to use, but the girl could only imagine how little that would last. Her Master was an advocate for practice and precision, expecting her to learn to take hits by being punched and learn to swing a blade by using a real blade. While he had been relaxed with the rule so far it wasn't a safety she felt would last long, if the crossbow traps at her door every now and again were anything to go by.

Finally the slave knelt down, waiting patiently in the middle of the room. Cold stone rested under her knees, clothes thin and barely able to keep the girl warm. All across her room were woolen blankets, thick and comfortable. But her clothes were those of a slave, worn out and thin. It didn't bother Aella much admittedly, but in the basement it became especially prominent. It felt like the place was always ice cold no matter what Season it was at the time. Once the two started their training it wouldn't prove much of an issue, Aella normally found herself overheating during the unarmed practice, but until then the cold travelled up her legs - making her shake gently.

After three Bits the two men finally came downstairs, Damon now wearing looser fitting clothes to make fighting the girl easier. It was no secret to anyone in the room that Damon could kill the girl immediately if he wanted to, but that wasn't how he would teach her. Humiliation was a powerful tool. Throwing her to the floor over and over would teach her more than beating the poor girl would. Whether she was a slave or not didn't matter, he bought her for a purpose. Efficiency mattered, training her needed to work and it needed to do it as well as it could. Finding those that could work well enough as a Harbinger was hard enough as it was without slowly making them hate you by beating them to near death. It hadn't worked out well for his father, at least.

"Stand" he ordered firmly, Aella quickly bring herself to her feet. By the time Damon and Cassius had made it down the ladder her legs were shaking lightly, Damon noticing it and frowning a little. Perhaps some endurance training would be needed, he pondered. Cassius stood aside and leaned back on one of the wooden beams, watching intently as the girl stood ready and in position without the direction. Her Master never much liked hand-holding her through any situations she could handle herself. A huge part of his teachings relied on her ability to work independently for herself, following instructions and not needing them to be repeated more than once. It was rare that she forgot what she had been told after a lifetime of slavery, but sometimes she slipped up still. Mistakes weren't worth punishing however, not if they were uncommon.

Aella glanced up to him with her hands raised and ready. Both were placed in front of her with a small elegance, the palm closest to her body left flat and ready for whatever she needed to do. A few trills of silence passed before Damon started correcting her posture, moving her primary hand to be higher so that she could hit faster and easier. Her second hand was held closer to her body and he slid her feet just a little wider apart for more freedom of movement. Finally he stood opposite her and placed his hands down at his side casually, looking to the girl with a small nod. When she nodded back he smiled a little, almost a level of pride in his eyes as he waited for a few trills. Cassius kept all his attention on the girl as she jabbed forward. It was sloppy as her hand planted lightly in to his stomach. Compared to the hits the man had taken in his past it was nothing that he couldn't endure.

After two more hits his hand shot rapidly from his side, smacking her punch away. When she tried the same punch again he smacked her hand away with one hand and the back of her head with the other before placing both hands back down by his side. A small wince of pain was on her face as she looked up to her Master, quickly positioning herself back in the stance and readied herself for another throw. Memories of past training ran through her head, Damon telling her to be unpredictable, striking randomly and powerfully each time to throw off the opponent. Slowly she readied her fist before her second hand shot forward, twisting to hit his stomach with her palm. After the hit Damon gripped her wrist and dragged her down to her knees, arm locked in place as she gave a small cry of pain before he finally let her go.

"Good hit. But never give up your footing just to land a hit" he ordered, Aella standing up slowly and nodding as her hand rubbed her wrist gently. "Apologies, sir" she said with a small glance up to him. Yet she saw no anger or frustration in his eyes, just a slither of a smile. When she had been training an Arc ago she found the man to be much more blunt with her. But as time went on and she found herself progressing the man seemed to treat her better. Perhaps his hope had been raised when she had finally showed signs of learning, or perhaps he began to like her company. Either would be good enough for Aella. Finally having a Master that spoke well to her was a nice feeling, compared to the wretched woman that had taken care of her before Damon had taken her in.

Small claps came from Cassius who stepped forward a little as he applauded gently. "Impressive obedience, and good enough form. She's learning well" he spoke to Damon, ignoring the girl until he had finished when his eyes finally met hers for a moment. It was a confusing look, one that looked both dark and welcoming in one. Perhaps that was to be expected when training for a group of killers, a sadistic happiness when she did well in an art form that would one day be used to take a life. Not that the slave minded. She had been conditioned to listen and obey. That was what her life had been until now, listening and obeying. It wasn't about to change. "Perhaps there is some talent in her."

Damon nodded before placing a hand on the young girls shoulder. "Go back upstairs. We can continue our training later. Clean the table of all dishes" he ordered. "Yes, sir" the girl said and immediately made her way to the ladder, a small smile on her face once her back was turned to the men. Perhaps she had finally found a purpose. Perhaps.

word count: 1910
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