Leaping from stepping stone to stepping stone, Cyran was deftly making his way across a small lake deep in the Sylvar Woods. At 47 year's old he was still considered a youngling in his society, yet to other races of the Movarrian Kingdom he would have looked like an athletic 18 year old.
Cyran may have been young in elven standards, but he had reached a physical prowess above that of his peers. Being that his father was crowned the youngest elf to ever be appointed as sentinel of the forest meant that the bar was already high to begin with let alone his prestigious career as an adventurer before the major decline of elven authority. Still, he threw his body around his favourite haunt in the hopes of improving his stamina, dexterity and agility. His long blonde hair furiously whipping the wind as he assaulted his imaginary course, Cyran effortlessly vaults a tree root as thick as he was wide. Panting, he came to a sudden stop.
"I think that should be it for today, I wouldn't want to overdo it. If I am aching for swordsmanship tomorrow, Dad will skewer my hide!"
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Cyran moves towards the lake edge to wipe the exertion from his face. Upon leaning over the waters edge he is greeted by his reflection. Now he isn't a particularly extraordinary specimen in Elven society yet he was still exceedingly handsome in the eyes of the other races. Compared to the short, stoic physique of the dwarves his was tall and slender. No excess fat or wasted muscle tone encompassed his sturdy skeleton. Humans would tend to have a squared jaw and deep set eyes whereas Cyran had a smooth curve to his. His blue eyes almost became invisible in the crystalline waters of the lake and his nose would have been the envy of many a fair lady.
Picking up his twin wooden shortswords and basket of foraged goods, he starts to make his way back to the village. Disappearing all day and then returning empty handed would not have looked good and given that the shadows cast by the trees were getting deeper, Cyran knew he had spent too much time at the Sylvarran Lake. Taking off at a run would get him back in time and the exertion would help him cover the fact that he was training on a rest day.
Darting back through the forest, the village soon became clear. The elves were a race of people that were the most in tune with the natural elements of the world and thus shared an affinity with Gaia. Cutting down trees for building with would always be a lengthy matter given that only the trees whose roots threatened the survival of many other trees would be split into workable lumber. This whole process ensured that no piece was wasted and the artisans of the village would make the most of the time limited materials.
Each house was a mixture of aesthetic appeal and efficiency. Many houses were built against trees with a gutter system to better catch any rainfall and to store it in big drums for later use. The tree bark would also provide sap for many of the artisans to use for their wares and projects. It was the shopkeepers among the villagers that were currently packing away their stalls for the day when Cyran spotted his father. His father also spotted him.
"You've been training haven't you?"
"What? Of course not, I was ju-"
"You really think you can fool your old man? I told you to rest, you won't rank very high in the sentinel selection if you are too tired to grip your swords."
"Point taken. Anyway, I brought some-"
His father lunged forward, appearing by Cyrans side in an instant, planting his palm on his sons face and throwing him, causing the basket to fly through the air and the shopkeepers to look on as his back slams the ground.
"See? On any other day son you would have never have been caught out by that. So basically, you're doing the cleaning this evening and then straight to sleep. I won't go easy on your lesson tomorrow even if you're tired."
Before he had a chance to protest in anger, Cyran saw the warm smile his father wore instantly turned to that of fear when they both heard thumping footsteps closing in on them.
"And you will be getting no food at all this evening if you continue to show off at our son's expense Virion!"
"Eleanor! You're here? I mean... shit"
Cyran couldn't help but stifle a laugh seeing his tall and muscular Father cow before his diminutive Mother. All of his brawn, battle experience and even the long katana by his waist couldn't save him. Eleanor reached up to grab Virion by his auburn ponytail before pivoting on one foot and dragging him back towards the direction she came from. His mother was much smaller but she was fierce when it came to her children. Her blonde hair and meek features have always been the downfall of anyone who thought it a safe bet to mock her.
"Son! The vegetables! The meat! Anything! Just save me some food!" was all he managed to say before disappearing into their family home.
Dusting off the lesson his father had given, Cyran mused that he would save the man whatever he wanted if it meant he would pull his swordstrikes tomorrow. Making his way towards his house, he spotted Galaeron, the village elder, talking with some of the guards. Galaeron had a stern expression on his long face, bringing his fingers to press against the bridges of his aquiline nose, as if he had just been given a report that was anything but good. With his hunched back he couldn't move very fast yet he turned with a purpose, catching Cyran in his sights as he did so. Galaeron froze for a moment, before hurrying off towards a clearing at the rear of the village.
Entering the Arthelius household saw Cyran assaulted again, this time by a much smaller person. Latching onto his leg and not letting go, his little brother looked up with nothing but admiration and perhaps a little hope in his eyes.
"Big brother! Did you bring me anything?" The expectation in his little brothers face was also too much to ignore.
"Depends on you, Arlen. Did you do me the favour I asked of you?" Cyran grinned, he knew he could never bluff his Father and that he would be punished for it. Yet a little favour from his brother would have him way ahead of any cleaning he was asked to do. All it took was a few berries that grew near the lake.
"Uh huh, I swept the floor, dusted the furniture and even cleaned the windows!" Arlen beamed, as though he knew his work more than qualified him for his berries.
Cyran handed over the red, seeded berries to his little brother and ruffled his dark hair before he scampered off to enjoy his spoils, nearly tripping on his overly long trouser legs now that his hands were occupied.
The way the village elder acted after speaking to the guards bothered him since the elves had known peace for as long as he could remember. Perhaps asking Virion may shed some light on the elders reaction. But it was no use worrying about it until dinner.
"I saw Galaeron earlier dad, he seemed as though the guards had given him some bad news. Is anything going on?" Cyran looked up at his father pushing around a meager portion of food. It was a usual occurence for him to ask his father of the state of security within the village. Ever since he was a child he had aspired to join his father in his duty.
Virion paused and looked to his wife. After sharing a glance, it looked as though they were sharing a mental conversation before he turns his gaze to his children. The serious look on his face faded away replaced by his usual grin.
"Nothing to worry about, son. It was probably gas, you know how he gets. You should eat up and get some rest. The selection is in a few days and I at least want you to be able to stay off your ass whilst we train."