King's Assassin

Chapter 3- Sentimental Value

I hit my punching bag. I made it, three years ago. It's solely made of tape, pillow stuffing, and a baseball bat right in the center. I have no idea why I still use it, it's to say the least, shitty. But I'm a sentimental person when it comes to homemade things. So, I keep it.

My knuckles are raw, but they don't burn. They've permanently calloused over from training and combat-type missions. There have been a lot of those recently, the war has made these things usual. Three kingdoms at war. You're probably like "woah, that's crazy." It is, and our side is the more offensive side of the three. But the kingdom of Nhotamia is pretty harsh. Asmondikis is ok. They joined to try and stop it, but they're just fighting now too. Suppose they got to fed up to wait for everybody to "sort it out".

I kick the punching bag now. My boots crease easily. They are new for me, old in the world. I got them a few weeks ago from Ashelynn. She's five or six years older than me, I think. She said she had worn them a lot at my age. She's lived with Nereus her whole life. Ashelynn works a little with magic and less so with assassinations. She's always been kind to me. I think she thinks I need a family figure older than me to "guide me". It's stupid. But she has good intentions for whatever she does, and I do love her.

I hit the bag one more time and I look down at my hands. I grab my wrist and stretch my fingers, although they are covered with scabs and callouses, the wraps around my hands are stained with dark blood.

"Alorah?" I jump and spin around, still holding my sore wrist.

"Holy sh-" I slur out the rest to catch my breath. Looking around to see who it was.

"Alorah, you have got to stop doing this. Training to your breaking point won't get you anywhere. You can't even hold yourself upright!" I focus my vision on a familiar face. It's Aeson. He is my friend, been at the camp two years less than me. He's a little soft, but Ashelynn says we balance each other out.

"Yes. I can." I say as I sturdy myself. "I'm just a little tired. But it's good to train my body to work longer."

"Not if you push till' you snap in half. Come on, it's eight thirty. Let's grab some breakfast."

"No! Can't I stay a little longer..." I whined. I didn't mean to actually whine. But me and Aeson always seem more childish around each other.

I expect him to argue back, but instead he tris to grab my arm and pull me out of the training room. I pull back, but my legs give in. I let him drag me down the hall.

We sit down in a half-empty cafeteria with small trays of food five minutes later. Aeson puts his tray down (filled with a dry muffin, a canteen of clean water, and a piece of toast with a chunk of cold butter on top). He the pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit down. I scowl at him and pull out another chair. I gesture for him to sit down instead.

"You first princess." I tease. He seems to actually enjoy this and sits down a little roughly, making the chair squeak on the floor as it pushes back and then pulls back in towards the table.

I reach towards my plate to grab my fork (to pick at the old pineapple slices I grabbed) when Aeson swiftly pull my hand in front of him and examines it with a stern look on his face.

"You just did this this morning?" He questions, looking over the bloodied wrap around my palm and knuckles.

"...Yea, I think so." I say slowly. He chuckles a little under his breath but keeps the same expression. I can't tell if he's mad or concerned. He shouldn't be either of them.

Aeson reaches into one of the larger pockets in his trousers and pulls out some gauze. "Jesus, Aeson. I'm fine, really."

He looks at me with a weird smile. It's a mix between a comforting smile and an exasperated stare. His honey eyes bore into my darker, greyer ones as strands of dark brown hair catch on his eyelashes. His skin is amber, and he has light freckles on his cheeks, which aren't visible unless you are as close to him as I am now. We seem to contradict each other when it comes to looks. We're both white, but he's more tan with dark hair and light eyes while I'm very pale, with dark eyes, and dull blonde, shoulder-length hair.

Aeson ignores me and starts gingerly unwrapping my hand. I don't argue more because, if I'm being fully honest, my hand was getting really uncomfortable. Eventually, he gets the wrap off and engulfs my knuckles in the fresh gauze.

"Feel better?" He asks hopefully. I nod. He puts his hand up for a high-five. But when I don't return it, he uses his other hand to slap his palm instead. I snort a little at this while chewing my too-soft pineapple slices. After a couple minutes, we both get up at the same time.

"I was going to make an excuse to leave but," he looks at me and I immediately know he's going to say what I was. "The food's disgusting." We say in unison.

"Anyway, I have another excuse." I say curtly.

"What's that?" He looks at me with one eyebrow raised and his mouth in an impressively straight line. Though I can tell he's trying to suppress a laugh.

"I have to find Adonis, right away."

"You do? For any particular reason, or... What?" 

"Why do you need to know?" I nudge him hard with the length of my humerus.

"I don't, I'm just curious." He puts his hands up and walks the rest of the way to the men's showers and slips through the fluorescent doorway.