"Right!" the man instructed with a scowl, not even slightly impressed at the current duel between you and the stable's boy. You both were drenched in sweat, however, you didn't let it get to you. The stable's boy would be whining all damn day, no doubt.
Timaras twisted right, hard, as you lunged for him with your wooden sword, face drawn in concentration.
You met blades, the only thing keeping him on his feet the flash of determination in his eyes.
"One of you has to duck!" Argis called, glaring.
You snarled, breath hitting directly to his face, "Eat shit, horse boy."
"Go fuck yourself, smith!" he roared, gaining his ground once more and the flurry of blows following, the ones you'd normally be defeated by.
One after another, you blocked and countered, chest heaving as you struggled. Your sword felt heavy in your hand. Hair stuck to your sweaty face, and a growl echoed out of your throat.
You slammed that fucker, refusing to be the one on the dirt- no, it would be him, you were not going to lose this.
No. No.
He yelped as a hard thwack echoed through the air, your sword harshly contacting with his side.
"Yield!" you yelled with narrowed, blazing eyes.
He panted, but did not respond.
Without a seconds hesitation, you threw him to the dirt with a hard twist of your shoulder, the boy letting out a wheeze as the air temporarily left his lungs and his sword clattered feet away from him.
You let out a huff, wiping the sweat from your face with a sleeve as you attempted to regain your breath.
Argis chuckled.
You glanced to him- the young boy of nearly 16. He stood a whole foot taller than you and was rippled with muscle, despite his age. He'd learned to fight when he was 6.
He taught you and the stable boy. Timaras was 13, you were just barely over 14.
You never usually won. Mostly because you never had enough food, starving on the streets and all, but Argis offered it because he had nothing else to do.
"That was damn good, ____," he complimented, the grin after every brawl spreading across his face.
You let out a laugh, beaming while the stable boy groaned. "I was working in the mines this weekend, got paid, even. I feel good. Thanks, too."
He blinked. "Really?"
You nod. "I asked the guard, and he said he didn't mind, and that I could even get some of the guards' rations while I was at it!"
Timaras huffed. "Cheater."
"Oi," Argis barked, "shut up."
The boy flopped onto his stomach, mumbling bitterly.
"Argis," you started, "what are you going to do when you turn 16?"
He clicked his tongue. "Sellsword."
You blink, tilting your head to the side. "Sellsword... It sounds like something you'd do."
"You look disappointed."
"I mean- It's nothing," you smile forcefully.
He raised a brow.
"It's nothing?"
You nod stiffly. "Nothing."
Argis let out a wide laugh. "Alright then, bird. See you next week, yeah? We've still got, what, 3 weeks before I'm off?"
You bite your lip, tossing him your wooden sword. He caught it easily, blue eyes glancing to you with a happy friendliness.
"See you," you smile.
The stable boy grumbled, sitting up and barely grabbing his sword, throwing it to the future sellsword. "Bye."
"Stay safe," the older boy grinned, before dismissing himself.
And so, Argis jogged off in mere seconds down a side path (to the Orc stronghold, he was learning to make blades there), out of sight after 2 minutes of silence between both you and the stable boy.
He scoffed. "You priss. Fallin' for the swordmaster?"
You flushed. "Shut up, shitface."
"Of course," he grumbled, "of course you would."
"Be quiet, Timaras!"
"Whadda gonna do, ____? Beat me with your pickaxe during your work hours?" he taunted cockily, a grin curling his lips.
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. "I might."
"I ain't stupid enough to come round your domain, you freak of nature."
"Oi, says the fucking weed!"
"I dinnae say shit 'bout comparin' ourselves to plants, fuckhole!" he barked.
"Oh, are you offended, you rutting poppy?"
"That-" his face was bright red, "that is disgusting."
"So you are disgusting, you mean."
"Hey, you-"
You were off, sprinting towards the main path with a grin.
Timaras stayed on the ground, scowling as you sprinted off to a clean, hidden stream so you could clean off.
Running.
Free! So free!
Wildlife skittered around you as you dashed, eyes shimmering with that pure glee you'd always get after a match of training; sparring 'til you were famished.
Your hair whipped around your face, dirty clothing blowing at the speed you took. For minutes, you ran that worn path, grinning and laughing to yourself- what a lovely day it was to be alive! To train with Argis, to beat the stable boy, gods be merciful!
You were nearing your stream, even! Already!
A bunny watched in terror as you raced by.
Fast, fast feet! Birds chirped, such lively little things!
"Woohoooo!" you cheered, grinning.
Slowly, slowly, your face fell.
You skidded to a halt.
Thud-clank.
Thud-clank.
Thud-clank.
You paled.
The haunting noise continued, getting louder and louder.
You, out of breath from all that running, dashed to the nearby outline of trees, starting to hyperventilate.
No, no, no...
You threw yourself behind a row of thick trees and bushes, eyes wide in pure, utter fear.
Horror.
Tears pricked your eyes.
"Oh, by the divine," you choked out.
The thudding of boots upon the dirt shoot the ground, the noise so loud the birds shut their beaks and made a break for higher lands- away.
And then, you saw.
An army of men.
Dressed in swords, shields, weapons of all kinds.
A sob bit at your throat.
"We take Markarth today, men!" came the shout-- male, young. "We reach the gates, we storm!"
A roar of certain triumph followed.
"Forward march- every man for himself!"
And hell ensued.
With tears pounding down your face, you sprinted across the trees, away from your home.
Because the rumors had been true.
And because...
Because you knew what happened to those under 16 in battles. The Innocents.
You sprinted to Falkreath.
Your cheeks were wet with your sorrows.
Your chest was heavy with the impending feeling of helplessness- of guilt, and of great sadness.
So you ran.
There is never a place for beggars, you told yourself as you wept.
There is never a place for the weak, you hissed to yourself.
Nothing matters.
You will live another day.
Your lips set into a firm line.
You wiped your eyes as you dashed.
And you ran to freedom.
Safety.
Because that's what Argis had asked.
And honestly, you didn't know what to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part two tomorrow! I clarify- Tomorrow is booked for part 2 of fast feet!
I love Argis, but I always forget about him for some reason lol.
Also, this is staged on right as Ulfric attacks Markarth- at what, age 18-20 or something? So yeah. I needed more words.
I got more words.
Fuckin' meanie- bear of Markarth.
HUFF.
Right,
Requests?
Otherwise,
Dani out,
Adieu!