The sun rose to its highest point in the blue sky, lighting the plains of Zoar with its blazing golden light. An assembly of men- every single one of royal blood, stood in orderly ranks at the training grounds.
The instructor was nothing like Brandon had imagined. Towering above each and every one of the princes assembled, he was taller than all of them from the shoulders upwards.
He was a huge man of impressive- almost intimidating bulk, but nonetheless he was comely to the eye. Gold tresses which were the perfect combination for his caramel skin cascaded from his head, down his neck, nearly to his shoulders. The cleft in his chin seemed to intensify how utterly good-looking and irresistible he was. That morning, he had introduced himself as ‘Troy’.
“Now, I don't know how much buttering you princesses enjoy back at home, but before we start our training I want you all to know that there is no room whatsoever for luxuries in this camp.
