Alaric sat, legs crossed, in the dojo. The room was lit by the warm sunlight that filtered in through the window panes. The floor was hard, made of plane white wood that was cut and smoothed down to perfection.
The sunlight seemed to make the wooden floor glow, the soft glow alighting on Alaric's features.
He had fine, long black hair pulled back into a bun, thin strands hanging down over his eyes. His chin was angled, yet soft around the edges. He had soft, pale skin and freckles were star cast over his cheeks. The brilliant light made his hazel eyes seem to shimmer with a golden luminance.
He truly held the features, demeanor and sort of a Royal prince.
To the side of him, the sliding dojo doors were cast open, letting the cool Spring breeze ruffle his kimono and his hair. Outside was a small pond filled with coy fish. Hanging over the pond was a plum tree, the gentle pink petals drifting down, carried by the breeze as they alighted upon the surface of the pond, sending gentle ripples across the surface of the water.
A single petal drifted through the air, glowing in the brilliant light of the sun. The petal slowly flowed into the dojo, swaying to and fro, dancing before it met with its own shadow on the wooden floor. It had landed at the very center of the dojo.
Alaric's expressionless eyes rested on the flower petal. His hand rested on the wakizashi laid over his lap. His fingers curled around the hilt as he lifted it up before resting it on the floor before him. The calluses on his hands could be clearly seen in the light as he retracted them away.
"How are you, brother?" Spoke the man sitting across from Alaric, who sat in a similar fashion.
A katana was laid across the ground before the man. The sunlight could not reach him from his side of the dojo, a shadow casting over him and his gentle smile.
Tanon was his name. He was Alaric's elder brother and second son of the Clan King. Alaric looked up to his brother, everyone did really. He cherished kindness and always out the people of the Clan before himself. Not only that, but he was also a very decorated warrior.
Being thirty-two years of age, Tanon had taken part in the last Clan war, which was seven years ago now. He had been the one to lead the final charge on the Ettra Clan, claiming victory over their enemies.
Alaric had always wondered why, exactly, they had been at war with Ettra in the first place. What was the purpose? Was it all unwarranted conflict? Or was there a genuine purpose behind it all?
He never found the answer, nor did he care to. Alaric respected his father and was devoted to his Clan. To him, loyalty was more important than anything else.
Even so, being the youngest son of he King, Alaric was despised and looked down upon by all the royals. The citizens did not hold him in a high esteem either. Not that he really cared, he was not keen on becoming king or creating bonds. It had never interested him.
The only time Alaric ever felt okay, the only moment in which he could feel any sense of inner peace, was when his blade met the steel of an opponent's sword.
"I am fine." Alaric said simply.
"I see. The Royals have been cruel to you as of late, haven't they?" Tanon spoke, his tone gentle and warm.
Tanon was the only person in all of the kingdom that Alaric felt any connection to, other than father of course. He could understand how he felt without Alaric having to say a word. Tanon could see emotions stir within him that he could not see himself.
"Well. I know how to lighten your heart, brother." Tanon leaned down, placing a hand on the hilt of his katana. The sheath was extravagant, gold patterns coiling about its sleek, black surface like a depiction of ocean waves. The hilt of the katana was made in a similar fashion, lavish black string looped over the handle delicately to make the most comfy grip possible.
Alaric leaned forward, grasping the hilt of his weapon as well. A wakizashi is basically a miniature katana. The length of his blade was about fifty centimeters long. The sheathe was black with shimmering red paint depicting a dragon spiraling through the sky, the red lines edged with gold. The hilt had black and red string tightly wound around it, making it comfortable and easy to hold.
One would think that, using a wakizashi, Alaric would be at an extreme disadvantage in combat, due to the lack of reach. After all, the weapon is traditionally only used as a backup in the case of your katana being broken or discarded.
Contrary to what you would believe, Alaric preferred to use the wakizashi over any traditional sword. He found it easier to use, being faster and able to strike in more lethal points. The short blade also made it a simple task to deflect attacks and pass through his opponent's guard.
Tanon drew his katana from the sheathe, gently laying the cover on the floor at his side whilst he raised the point of his blade in the air, directing it in Alaric's direction. The tip of the weapon passed the shadow, moving into the light, which shimmered off of the majestic blade's surface, shining glimmering reflections dancing across the dojo as he tilted it in the sun's brilliance.
Tanon tilted his head slightly, his long black hair falling over his eyes. "Well? Come, brother, draw your blade."
Alaric nodded slightly, turning his eyes away from his brother's shimmering katana and down to his own weapon. He slid the sheath down, revealing the glistening, smooth surface of his wakizashi. He could see the reflection of his own dead eyes in the blade's cold edge. His face was completely devoid of any emotion, yet, his heart felt heavy, weighed down by something he could not grasp.
He laid the hilt at his side and then mirrored the motions of his brother, standing to his feet. He held out both hands, one cupped over the other at the bottom of the hilt. He shifted his feet, putting one forward, pointed towards his opponent, while pulling the other back.
Alaric's corpse eyes locked with Tanon's. Both of them stood, stone still, waiting for the first move.
A cool breeze glided through the dojo, bringing with it the sweet scent of Spring, as well as another flower petal. The petal danced through the air between Alaric and Tanon, passing between their vision before drifting down and alighting beside the other that had come before.
As soon as the petal had met with its shadow upon the smooth floor, Alaric dashed forward. He felt something within himself rise up, flowing through him and filling his heart with a rhythmic thrum. Vibrations exploded through his body as brilliant sparks of light burst between the blades, his emotions shooting through his sword and releasing in beautiful shimmers of light.
Tanon thrust his katana forward, the blade's tip poised to strike for Alaric's heart. Using the edge of his wakizashi, he raised it against the opposite sword, the edges grinding as he pushed Tanon's blade aside.
Alaric felt his heart race, like a violent quaking in his chest, sending waves of exhilaration through his veins. Deflecting the katana aside, Alaric threw his foot forward, shifting all of his weight onto it before propelling his body with his other foot, spinning himself around and behind Tanon, swiftly raising the edge of his wakizashi to his brother's throat, where the shimmering blade shone in the sunlight.
And then… still silence.
Alaric's heart rate began to slow, the excitement fading from his body like a drug running its course and wearing off. Again, he felt that cold numbness. The shine that had been in his eyes when he'd fought was now gone, and again, his eyes were hollow.
"Well… it seems I still cannot best you, dear brother!" Tanon spoke with a smile, raising his hand and holding his sword off to the side, away from Alaric.
Lowering his blade, Alaric walked across the dojo over to where he had sat before. He leaned down and retrieved his sheath, sliding it over his wakizashi before clipping it to his belt.
"You truly are amazing, Alaric. Never in my life have I met someone quite as skilled with a blade as you. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll one day be the strongest swordsman of all the Clans." Tanon said, sheathing his katana.
"If you believe, I shall trust your word." Alaric responded. But, in his mind, he had no care to be the best. All he wanted was to clash swords with someone who could match him. He wanted to find an understanding within not only himself but others.
That was his ultimate goal.