"That man is terrifying," Tehran thought to himself nervously while walking with as much haste as he could muster. He felt the need to be as far away from that Elder, no, from any Elder, as he possibly could. It was no wonder the man was so well-respected, he was terrifying. "Though," Tehran pondered, "is it truly respect if the emotion is created through fear?" A moment of thought was all it took to assure him that, fear or no fear, the respect was there. Tehran knew not to cross the man, he respected the authority that oozed out from every fiber of the Elder's being.
Tehran's feet carried him along quickly, his mind wandering. He exited the Main Hall, took a right, and proceeded down a lengthy corridor that led to a closed doorway. It was one of the nearest exits to get outside and conveniently the one closest to the Northern training fields; He assumed that his Thane would be conducting training there like normal. Tehran stopped for a moment and turned to look behind him, straight toward the Main Hall that loomed over everything except the clock tower. He'd never really looked at the building before. Sure, it had always stood out, but he hadn't ever thought about it as anything more than a large stone building with fancy windows.
Now, he felt uncomfortable as he looked at its boring gray walls, the auburn-colored roof tiles and its glorified stained-glass. He doubted he would feel that way for long, his trepidation was already fading even as he stood there to look at the building. As ridiculous as it was, Tehran felt that staring at the building in defiance was in some way a victory over the Elder. Tehran scoffed at himself, "I was so afraid of him earlier, but now I'm trying to act tough? It must be fun to be feared, I wonder, actually…" Tehran pressed his right hand against his chin in thought, "Why not, instead of being afraid of someone else, become what other people fear?" It made sense to him, and so he smiled. "That's what I'll do," Tehran thought, "I'll learn everything I can here and maybe even an Elder might fear me in the future." Chuckling quietly for a moment, Tehran turned around and started towards the Northern Training fields once more.
It didn't take long to find his group, they were just sparring in the center of the Northern field, but his Thane was another story. It seemed that he had left someone else in charge while he went to complete another task somewhere else. Given that Lamar's authority had been passed to someone else, it then became Tehran's duty to report to him instead for what to do next. He broke into a light jog and crossed the field towards the Thane, weaving around the small circular arenas and the Neophytes surrounding them. It wasn't a Thane that Tehran recognized, so he slowed as he approached before saluting, raising a fist to his chest with a small bow, and waited for the Thane to address him. The Thane eyed Tehran curiously, "What is it you need, Neophyte?"
Standing straight once more, Tehran replied quickly, "Sir Thane, I was told to report back to Thane Lamar after meeting with an Elder in the Main Hall, should I join the others here until he returns?" His question, judging by the raised eyebrow and a brief head to toe inspection of Tehran, was out of the Thane's expectations.
"Thane Lamar should be returning within the hour. Though I somehow doubt that you were sent to speak with an Elder," The Thane sneered at the mere thought, "I'll withhold any punishment, until he returns, for potentially neglecting your morning training. Find an arena and spar with the neophytes until then." The Thane continued to leer at Tehran suspiciously as he saluted once more, but did nothing further. Though, he did seem almost disappointed that he couldn't put his whip to use.
"Yes, Sir Thane," Tehran responded. He then turned around while smiling in anticipation, and moved around to find a nearby arena to join.
If nothing else, this was by far the best part about training here. Fighting. It was probably due to the inherent strength and speed of his race, but he hardly ever found it difficult to win a spar against any of the Neophytes in his barracks. They would try to avoid fighting him where possible, at least until Thane Lamar started letting them fight two-against-one. At that point he lost more fights than he won, but they were always more fun, more exhilarating. Nothing else could get his blood pumping like a fist-fight, but blunted swords and daggers were nearly as fun to use as well. As he approached an arena, Tehran noticed a few Neophytes swap to another location while a couple others just groaned quietly in frustration. He also noticed a group of three other Neophytes join his arena shortly after. It was Johnathan's group, and they looked more than ready to spar with him.
"Hey there, Johnny-boy!" Tehran smiled and waved before he continued his taunting, "Ready to get beat down aga- Er, sorry, I meant, 'ready to spar again', buddy?" John simply sneered in response and waited for the current match to finish. Tehran's mood was instantly lifted, now he really couldn't wait for his turn to spar.
The current spar was rather slow going, they were taking turns attacking and defending back and forth in an attempt to get a feel for how their opponent fought. Frustrating as it was, it was how they were instructed to fight when facing an opponent, at least in training like this, anyway. Lamar constantly emphasized the importance of learning as much as you could from everyone. The best way to learn, according to him, was to 'taste the different ways that everyone fought'. He always proclaimed that while he was there to teach them, there was nothing better than having dozens of 'teachers' and learning from the mistakes of others instead of making them yourself. He didn't hate to admit that what Lamar said made sense, but he couldn't help but get impatient with all the slow fights, mainly the part where he had to wait for his turn in the arenas. Thankfully there were weekly tournaments within his barracks where they were supposed to go all out and win as much as possible. Even Lamar believed that real combat was the best way to learn.
To Tehran's delight, the fight ended rather suddenly when one of the neophytes tripped, throwing himself off-balance and allowing the other combatant to score a lucky hit on the side of his head with a shortsword. The one who was struck went limp and fell forward, landing face-first in the dirt. "Aw, shit." The still-standing neophyte cursed, before shouting to a small team of two across the field, "Medical run! Head injury!" The neophyte then proceeded to place his weapon, and that of his sparring partner's, back onto the weapon racks and assisted the two responsible for transporting anyone injured to one of the medical facilities.
Taking the opportunity, Tehran nabbed two daggers from a weapon rack and stepped into the arena's boundaries. "Who wants to spar, huh?" Tehran asked excitedly, looking around at everyone surrounding him. Most met his gaze but didn't step forward, though he did notice that two people in the crowd pretended to be more interested in the unconscious neophyte being carried away on a stretcher. "Oh, come on now. Just an actual spar, like we're supposed to do." Tehran scratched his head awkwardly, he knew why no one was stepping up to fight. He sometimes, maybe, every so often, got carried away in his matches. He realized that without promising at least that much, no one, except maybe John, would step forward to spar, and even that was unlikely.
At least one neophyte decided to take up the challenge, grabbing a shortsword and moving into the arena. "Just a practice spar, like everyone else is doing, alright? Don't get carried away again Tehran. Seriously, please."
Tehran scratched at his forearm, thinking for a moment to recall what the neophytes name was before eventually finding one that rung a bell in his head, "Yeah, I promised, didn't I? Maxwell, right? I appreciate you sparing with me."
Maxwell nodded, though he didn't look all too convinced that Tehran would really hold back, as he then moved into a fighting pose; knees bent, shortsword raised at the ready in front of his chest and pointed at Tehran, and his left arm extended out to the side for assistance if needed. He was prepared and ready to engage Tehran at any moment.
Tehran returned the action by getting into his own fighting pose as well. He lowered his upper body by a couple inches, bending his knees and leaning ever so slightly forward toward his opponent. His daggers were posed in front of him; the one in his right hand higher and close to his chin, the left a bit lower in front of his chest and held in a reverse grip.
Tehran grinned, "Let's do this!"