The carriage had come to a stop. Poking his head out, Sypher seen large walls stretching out as far as he could see, in the middle, where the carriage had halted, was a ornate iron gate, its metal twisted into complex designs, topped with pointed finials.
The carriage driver stepped down from his position to greet the guards. Sypher, too caught up in awe of the gate, paid no mind to the words they exchanged. The carriage started to move once the coachman retook his position. The gates were opened, letting them through. The view of the Estate was something Sypher would never forget. The estate sat on a large spread of land, dotted with large, well-kept Ash trees, provided shade, and an accent of simple beauty.
As the carriage continued on the cobble stone, the detail of the estate came into view. Its stone walls looked robust, despite the weathered appearance. A large wooden door, enforced with cast iron, sat at the entrance. Two stone griffins sat on either side as if on guard. The coachman clicked his tongue, settling the horses into a stop. "Ere we are." came the coachman's friendly voice.
Soon after the coachman spoke, the large door opened. A man, dressed similarly to Gideon stepped out, holding the door ajar as much larger man stepped through. His hair dark, but peppered grey. His features stoic, as green eyes looked to the door of the carriage. Sypher struggled with the door, he wasn't sure how to open it. He had never been in a carriage before now. Pushing his weight against it he willed it to open. Sypher abruptly felt the door open as he went to push, being met with little resistance, he stumbled forward and out of the carriage. Falling to the cobble stone with a startled yelp.
"ya okay there boy?" the slight concern of the coachmen's voice was muddled with a stifled laugh. "N'ere seen anyone kiss the stone, quite like that." as he spoke the coachman let out a low chuckle.
"I..I'm okay..." Sypher finally spoke. His voice timid as he stood, dusting himself off trying to hide his growing embarrassment.
"Bring the horses round to the stables Arthur, they need the rest." The Giant of a man spoke. His voice graveled and firm. The coachman, now known as Arthur, gave a nod of his head in respect soon taking his leave with the carriage.
Sypher was now alone with this beast of a man. He wore a dark pelisse, the only color, was that of the silver lining across the chest of his jacket, matching his collar and the hem of his cuffs. "You would think the king was in a deficit, sending me a boy hardly weaned and in such a pathetic state." Sharp green eyes looked over Sypher as if he were appraising cattle. "Thin, timid.." he lifted his calloused hand. This made Sypher flinch, his body going rigid. The mans hand reached and tilted Syphers head by his chin firmly. "and easily spooked. Seems the beloved king is getting worse with age." a look of disgust came across the mans face as he continued to speak. "I am Marquis Griffith. You will address me as such." As he finished speaking he let go of Syphers chin and turned to the butler holding the door. "Get the pup bathed, put into suitable clothes, and fed. Make sure the barracks know that the new page is not to touch armor or stick until he is up to Griffith standards." The Marquis gave the order and the butler simply gave a nod of his head.
Sypher stood silent as he watched the Marquis head inside. Feeling a gentle touch on his back he looked up, his eyes met with the kind ones of the butler. "come, pup. Your Master requires you be tended to, let us not keep him waiting." With that, Sypher was lead inside, the heavy door shut tightly behind him.
~nineteen years later~
Training Grounds
Nearly two decades had passed since Sypher was given to Marquis Griffith, the young boy had been turned from child to man, as he was beaten down during training, and forced to stand up again, no matter how much his body burned, or ached. Each time his body gave out, earned him a strike from the Marquis' solid fists. As he stood now, before the new batch of recruits, he could still hear the Marquis gruff voice. "Get up, you're not done pup." Sypher could remember clearly, how Marquis Griffith would yank him up to his legs by the collar of his shirt. These memories giving Sypher a small grunt of amusement. It was because of that man that Sypher stood where he was now. A tall well-built man, his hair a vibrant white, his eyes sharp and the color of the bluest ice. Among the others he was nicknamed "The Ice Commander." not only did his features resemble the harshest of winters, but his disposition was just as brutal.
Sypher folded his arms across his chest as he watched the recruits with an impartial gaze. He had noticed one of the recruits was significantly smaller than the rest, and struggling to keep up. Seeing that his soldiers gave little instruction to the recruits as a means of "trial by fire." Sypher felt an odd sense of tutelage. Pushing himself off the walls of the stone wall, that surrounded the entirety of the training grounds. He approached the new recruits, singling out the runt of the group. "Your posture leaves you open." with those words leaving his mouth, his elbow had connected with the runts jaw, whilst his other hand, closed into a fist striking the side of his head. The recruit fell to the ground with a groan, blood trickling from his split lip. Wiping his lip with the back of his hand, he looked up at the Commander with a confused look. "Get up." was Syphers sharp tone. The man spit blood from his mouth and followed the order. The sudden intervention had gotten the attention of the recruits and the fellow soldiers, as they gathered around in a circle.
"Stand this way." Stated Sypher bluntly, as he kicked the recruits' legs apart, and adjusted his hands to defend the chest. "This leaves you less open to attack." Watching intently, the recruit kept the position. Sypher turned to address the crowd that had gathered. "If you are to join this army and not be struck down only seconds after entering battle, you must make sure you can defend yourself without a blade." his voice boomed over the crowd. "There will be moments when the only weapon you have is your own hands." Sypher took command naturally, his voice firm and calm as he turned abruptly to land a hard fist on the recruit who had been struggling. They had pulled their arms up to block the blow quickly, but lost their footing, stumbling back and falling on their back.
"This also means, you need to learn to brace for frontal assault when your enemy has strength on their side or you will end with a blade in your chest." Sypher looked down on the man with a cold stare, leaving him breathless and frozen in place, the tip of his blade over the heart of the terrified recruit. "If you do not brace for a hit, you will be knocked down and skewered. I will not mourn the loss of the useless." Pulling his blade back, and setting it into place on his hip. "You will get no handouts due to your size, catch up or leave." Sypher's tone was cold, as he glared down at the recruit.