Flashback
“Your performance has been lacking of late, petitioner."
The words hit like a gut punch.
"Both on and… off the training field, you’ve become less than exemplary. Less than what I expect of you." Elias bowed his head, cowed and shamed with an ease that reminded him in an instant the kind of woman his instructor was. Both physically and mentally, Madam Sylvari had a way of undoing the pride and hubris of her haughty students with awe inspiring ease, and the wicked woman had long since perfected her art of tearing down her lessers over the many years and many dozens of students she’d burned though here at the Vitrax. The only difference between Elias and all those that came before however, was that he had the added struggle of trying to hide his blushing cheeks while he groveled.
He’d always thought his stamina had been adequate, superb even. Had he been wrong this entire time? "You require muscle, candidate.” Apparently so. “Muscle and stamina. A great deal more than you’ve strived for in the past. To that end, today will mark the beginning of a new regiment I expect you to follow for the next eight weeks." Sylvari smiled cruelly, guiding her apprentice over to an area of the grounds which was full of bars, benches, circular metal plates, and chains throughout it. "You will learn, you will grow, and you will become better. If you do not, you will be discarded and replaced by another who can."
Elias swallowed and scanned the area, taking in the familiar sights and noting how devoid of any other life the place seemed to be. While he had been to this particular part of the training grounds before, it was a rarity for the Caldera to remain any longer than he felt necessary, choosing instead to focus on his martial training above all else. "What exactly do you wish of me, madam?" The soldier in training wandered over to and unoccupied bench, running a finger along the cool metal bar placed in the hold above it. "Firstly," she began, silently sliding up next to Elias. "We’ll find your limit, however low it may be, and then we’ll push it. Push and push and push until it can’t be pushed anymore." It made sense enough he supposed, though the way the short haired and stocky woman had chosen to explain it had left a great deal to be desired when it came to inspiring him. To get better with a sword, you swung it till the swinging felt natural. The same concept worked for one’s body, he mused, trying to inspire himself in her place.
It hadn’t worked.
"Lay down on the bench. I'll prepare the weights and we can begin."
Elias complied with Sylvari's request, taking his place on the cold stone. The instructor grabbed a few of the circular plates and slid them onto the bar above him as he did so, locking them in place with simple clamps. "As you work your body, so to do I intend for you to work your mind." Standing over Elias, Sylvari touched the bar, looking down at him in a manner that left the young man more nervous than usual. Gesturing as she spoke however, Sylvari simply explained the proper positioning and technique. "This is the standard bench press. Keeping your arms shoulder width apart, you'll grasp the bar, lower it to your chest, then drive it back up. Now, who founded the Sylrian knighthood?"
“…What?”
Taking a step back, the instructor sternly motioned for Elias to begin. "You'll start with ten repetitions at this weight. Who was it who created the knighthood of our sworn enemies?"
Elias took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around the bar as he considered the oddly paced question. He pushed and found the weight was manageable, but he could feel the fibers of his muscles tensing firmly as he lifted; it was clear they weren't accustomed to this. "Breathe on the way down, exhale as you come back up." The center of the bar caressed Elias's chest and he exploded upward, his arms shooting up to their initial position with a start. “The Dyres brothers, mistress.” The boy groaned, straining with both his memory of lessons gone by and the nearly one hundred pounds lifted precariously above his head. "One. And correct. Again" Elias swallowed, adjusted his grip, and complied with Sylvari's command. Downward he brought the bar, then forced it upward, back above him, ready to repeat. "Two. Three. Four." The unusual motion would quickly begin to take its toll on Elias as he adjusted to an unfamiliar exercise. “Who rules over Syliras now, prospect? Five... Six…” Elias again brought the weight down to his body, his upper arms bending nearly parallel to the ground. "The whoreson Loren Dyres, mistress."
"Seven. What is this whoreson’s title among the enemy?" Sucking in another breath as he lowered the bar, Elias dug deep, thrusting the blasted thing skyward with gritted teeth. “Grand… master!”
"Good." Sylvari cooed, resting her arms on the bar as she leaned over her helpless supplicant with a tauntingly affectionate smile. The added weight was nearly the end of him, but the boy persisted and persevered, pushing back against her with all his might. It worked… for a moment, then desperation set in as he realized this was a fight he was quickly about to lose, along with his head if he wasn’t quick. “Now name all the other ranks below his, if you would.” She leaned heavier on the bar then, as if using his extended struggle as emphasis.
Great. She was trying to kill him.
Again.
He knew exactly what the tyrannical bitch wanted from him, and he had no qualms of reminding her just how much he’d learned since she’d first inducted him in the arcane art. She wanted to see his ability with the flux, and Elias was happy to demonstrate just how much stronger he’d become. “Lord. Warden. Captain.” It started a mere feeling, of something stirring beneath the bone and muscle. Before long it was a burning, glorious inferno, forged from the parts of him that had no need of their strength, his power coalesced into something magnificent, flowing freely from one end to another until finally, the arcane inspired might took hold of his arms. “Stewart. Sergeant. Knight” With hiss, he pushed, forcing Sylvari up along with his bar from the halfway position she’d caught him in, then down, the woman’s full weight added to his burden as the two met, faces mere inches apart. She grinned, something feral and hungry in her eyes as she observed in bated breath the way her favored student exerted all his power once more to push her up and away. “Squire.” He groaned. Again, their eyes met, so close he could almost feel her tongue upon his cheek as she licked her lips lecherously. “Page.” He managed to mutter through gritted teeth.
“Good boy.”
The words hit like a gut punch.
"Both on and… off the training field, you’ve become less than exemplary. Less than what I expect of you." Elias bowed his head, cowed and shamed with an ease that reminded him in an instant the kind of woman his instructor was. Both physically and mentally, Madam Sylvari had a way of undoing the pride and hubris of her haughty students with awe inspiring ease, and the wicked woman had long since perfected her art of tearing down her lessers over the many years and many dozens of students she’d burned though here at the Vitrax. The only difference between Elias and all those that came before however, was that he had the added struggle of trying to hide his blushing cheeks while he groveled.
He’d always thought his stamina had been adequate, superb even. Had he been wrong this entire time? "You require muscle, candidate.” Apparently so. “Muscle and stamina. A great deal more than you’ve strived for in the past. To that end, today will mark the beginning of a new regiment I expect you to follow for the next eight weeks." Sylvari smiled cruelly, guiding her apprentice over to an area of the grounds which was full of bars, benches, circular metal plates, and chains throughout it. "You will learn, you will grow, and you will become better. If you do not, you will be discarded and replaced by another who can."
Elias swallowed and scanned the area, taking in the familiar sights and noting how devoid of any other life the place seemed to be. While he had been to this particular part of the training grounds before, it was a rarity for the Caldera to remain any longer than he felt necessary, choosing instead to focus on his martial training above all else. "What exactly do you wish of me, madam?" The soldier in training wandered over to and unoccupied bench, running a finger along the cool metal bar placed in the hold above it. "Firstly," she began, silently sliding up next to Elias. "We’ll find your limit, however low it may be, and then we’ll push it. Push and push and push until it can’t be pushed anymore." It made sense enough he supposed, though the way the short haired and stocky woman had chosen to explain it had left a great deal to be desired when it came to inspiring him. To get better with a sword, you swung it till the swinging felt natural. The same concept worked for one’s body, he mused, trying to inspire himself in her place.
It hadn’t worked.
"Lay down on the bench. I'll prepare the weights and we can begin."
Elias complied with Sylvari's request, taking his place on the cold stone. The instructor grabbed a few of the circular plates and slid them onto the bar above him as he did so, locking them in place with simple clamps. "As you work your body, so to do I intend for you to work your mind." Standing over Elias, Sylvari touched the bar, looking down at him in a manner that left the young man more nervous than usual. Gesturing as she spoke however, Sylvari simply explained the proper positioning and technique. "This is the standard bench press. Keeping your arms shoulder width apart, you'll grasp the bar, lower it to your chest, then drive it back up. Now, who founded the Sylrian knighthood?"
“…What?”
Taking a step back, the instructor sternly motioned for Elias to begin. "You'll start with ten repetitions at this weight. Who was it who created the knighthood of our sworn enemies?"
Elias took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around the bar as he considered the oddly paced question. He pushed and found the weight was manageable, but he could feel the fibers of his muscles tensing firmly as he lifted; it was clear they weren't accustomed to this. "Breathe on the way down, exhale as you come back up." The center of the bar caressed Elias's chest and he exploded upward, his arms shooting up to their initial position with a start. “The Dyres brothers, mistress.” The boy groaned, straining with both his memory of lessons gone by and the nearly one hundred pounds lifted precariously above his head. "One. And correct. Again" Elias swallowed, adjusted his grip, and complied with Sylvari's command. Downward he brought the bar, then forced it upward, back above him, ready to repeat. "Two. Three. Four." The unusual motion would quickly begin to take its toll on Elias as he adjusted to an unfamiliar exercise. “Who rules over Syliras now, prospect? Five... Six…” Elias again brought the weight down to his body, his upper arms bending nearly parallel to the ground. "The whoreson Loren Dyres, mistress."
"Seven. What is this whoreson’s title among the enemy?" Sucking in another breath as he lowered the bar, Elias dug deep, thrusting the blasted thing skyward with gritted teeth. “Grand… master!”
"Good." Sylvari cooed, resting her arms on the bar as she leaned over her helpless supplicant with a tauntingly affectionate smile. The added weight was nearly the end of him, but the boy persisted and persevered, pushing back against her with all his might. It worked… for a moment, then desperation set in as he realized this was a fight he was quickly about to lose, along with his head if he wasn’t quick. “Now name all the other ranks below his, if you would.” She leaned heavier on the bar then, as if using his extended struggle as emphasis.
Great. She was trying to kill him.
Again.
He knew exactly what the tyrannical bitch wanted from him, and he had no qualms of reminding her just how much he’d learned since she’d first inducted him in the arcane art. She wanted to see his ability with the flux, and Elias was happy to demonstrate just how much stronger he’d become. “Lord. Warden. Captain.” It started a mere feeling, of something stirring beneath the bone and muscle. Before long it was a burning, glorious inferno, forged from the parts of him that had no need of their strength, his power coalesced into something magnificent, flowing freely from one end to another until finally, the arcane inspired might took hold of his arms. “Stewart. Sergeant. Knight” With hiss, he pushed, forcing Sylvari up along with his bar from the halfway position she’d caught him in, then down, the woman’s full weight added to his burden as the two met, faces mere inches apart. She grinned, something feral and hungry in her eyes as she observed in bated breath the way her favored student exerted all his power once more to push her up and away. “Squire.” He groaned. Again, their eyes met, so close he could almost feel her tongue upon his cheek as she licked her lips lecherously. “Page.” He managed to mutter through gritted teeth.
“Good boy.”
WC - 1166
