Blood Oath (O/O CLOSED)

I very nearly told him ‘yes sir’. Luckily, I caught myself at the last second and gave him a nod as I rose to my feet. Before I began my laps, I experimentally lifted each leg and jogged lightly on the spot. Not too bad. My lower body was stronger than it appeared to be, which would hopefully serve me well. On my arms, however, I definitely felt the weight of the gauntlets, and as I took off at a relaxed pace, I found them quickly tiring.

I finished the lap with my legs aching more than they had the previous time, but the pain was bearable. My arms, however, burned from the effort of keeping the heavy gloves up.

I nodded at him, satisfied with the way he was running. I decided it was enough for today. I didn't want to make him collapse on the first day of training.

"Follow me," I said to him, turning my back on him, Key following me all the while pitying the new kid. As we walked, I decided to question him. "Explain the history of this academy."

I let my arms hang limply at my sides, mentally resolving to start on some strengthening exercises outside of training. “The Academy was founded one hundred and forty-two years ago by a man named Aristos Alainon, also known as the Saviour. Skirmishes between the population at the creatures of the Other Realm had tripled in frequency and severity over the last year, some ending up as full-scale battles. People and creatures were dying without cause. Alainon, who was the son of a Duke, began to stir up movements in hope of instilling peace, but all failed eventually.

“Then, months later, his brother was killed trying to break up a fight between a wyrm and a group of fighters. Alainon went to the King and tried to make him see reason as a result. It took almost half a year, but once he succeeded in swaying the ruler, more and more peace organizations began to rise. Eventually, a formal apology was issued on both sides, and the Academy was founded in hopes of uniting the two Realms. But—“

Here, I faltered. This was where everything had begun to go wrong. When women had been banned from taking the Oath.

“There are varying stories on what happened at this point. All ended with women undertaking the Oath meeting their ends, and so the King decreed that only men were to participate.”

(I’m making this up as I go tell me if you need me to change anything)

I caught on to where he faltered. That was a subject I, too, preferred not to touch upon. Not because it was an insult, as most people believed, but because I didn’t think it was what the stories tell. There were so many blank pages in that story, so many curtains hiding why truly occurred. Having these thoughts, however, will not get you anywhere.

“Very good,” I murmured instead in acknowledgement, leading him inside the school to where the training room was. “Do you know all types of bondmates?”

I let a slow exhale out through my nose, relieved that he hadn’t commented on my brief lapse in confidence. Nodding, I began to count off on my fingers.

“There are three main types of bondmates; Healers, Defenders, and Attackers. But within each category there are several denominations. As far as Healers go, the type changes according to the method of healing at the specific topic they excel at. With Attackers, there’s a sort of hierarchy, like in the army, as well as the Espionage and Scout types. Defenders are also divided into a hierarchy according to how far across the front lines they are.”

“Good,” I answered, finally reaching the room we were meant to go to. “What are the ranks, and what do they symbolize?”

I was impressed with this boy. His knowledge rivaled that of what a prince should know. It seemed like he’d been studying for a long time rather than what a civilian needs, and I was impressed.

(What does he mean by ranks? The hierarchy of the defenders and Attackers that I just made up?)

(The ranks of the bondmates. XD He’s going to sort of talk about Key as well once she explains what she knows about the ranks of the bondmates.)

(Oh lol sorry I was confused)

I followed him inside, eyes trailing along the elegantly papered walls. “There are five ranks, or levels. One is the highest, and therefore the most powerful. Your bondmate’s power reflects your own and vice versa. First-rank bondmates and their humans are usually given the highest positions. Those who are only fifth-rank can definitely do their part, but are rarely elevated to a high status.”

I nodded once more.

“There are some creatures that can power up, or evolve, I should say, but… there’s a 0.1 percent change of that happening,” I continued. “Those creatures are known as A rank. The more you train them, the more they’ll evolve. Key here is an example of that.”

Upon hearing his name, Key jumped out from my hair and enlarged himself, showing off his body. I urged myself not to roll my eyes. What a showoff.

“These creatures start off as rank 1. And as you already know, rank 1 are smaller creatures. Key was merely a baby when I first summoned him. The bonds between yourself and these A ranks are stronger than normal, but because of that, they’re hard to come by. Key is the first since… forever, I suppose. It’s completely unheard of to have more than one in the same lifetime, but I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Key bared his teeth. I paused, trying to think of what I missed.

“This information is not in most books, and although I don’t have a doubt you’ve heard it before, I still decided to fill you in.”

“I’ve only heard bits and pieces of that,” I told the Prince, angling my body in order to face him. “Thank you for the information. I’m glad that I was assigned to you, to have someone so knowledgeable training me is more than I could have hoped for.”

The gauntlets dragged down at my arms, and I began to swing them lightly back and forth, trying to take my mind off of the weight. “From what you’ve seen, what are my main areas of improvement? I want to get to work on them early.”

I looked at him up and down, a bit amused by his comment. It was true that I knew a lot, but he was grateful to have me as his instructor?

“Endurance,” I clipped. “Strength. Currently, I don’t know your progress in hand-to-hand or with your weapons, but we’ll get to that soon.”

We entered another room, weights, training machines, punching bags and all sorts of other training equipment present.

“We’re going to check your flexibility,” I said to him, already walking towards small equipment. “Sit down, straighten your back, bend a leg and push this handle,” I tapped on the yellow thing. “As much as you can. Only once.”

I demonstrated, taking a seat, bending one of my legs, raising my hands in front of me and pushing myself forward, this pushing the yellow handle over the measurement.

“Your turn.”

(Sorry, I have no idea what that thing’s called.)

I took his place in front of the device, straightened my back, and leaned forward until my stomach was perfectly flat against the tops of my legs. The little yellow handle was pushed all the way to the end. Thankful for the flexibility my years of rigorous dance and gymnastic training had given me, I rose back into a normal sitting position, looking up at the Prince to gage his reaction.

I raised an eyebrow, but held back the satisfied expression.

”Wow, the kid’s good,” Key echoed in my mind, looking at Elliot with a rather ridiculous expression. ”You got a good one! This is just like you all over again.”

“All right,” I said calmly, deciding it was enough for today. The teenager looked tired and I knew just by looking at him that the weights were pulling him down. The second I thought that, a bell rang throughout the building. I didn’t flinch. That bell meant I needed to get to my lessons. “Wash up, eat, refresh yourself. Your weapons will be delivered to the dorm later in the day.”

”…seriously, man, you’re far too serious,” Key muttered. ”Loosen up a little! You’re only seventeen!”

I got to my feet, but to my mortification, the heavy shin guards caught me off balance and caused me to stumble as I rose. Luckily, I steadied myself on the nearest desk before I could make a total fool of myself. Cheeks flushing with shame, I nodded my head respectfully and left the classroom.

Once up in my bedchambers, I leaned against the wall, lifting a hand with difficulty and wiping it down my face. I was being taught and trained by the Crown Prince, who also happened to be rooming right next to me. I had been given a crossbow and a rapier, and had performed well over all, but as a result, had received weighted gloves and shin guards to tote around.

Though I was tired, I figured I should do some excersises, work out my weakened arms. So, I did the natural thing, slid a small, smooth ball from my shelf, and began to dance.

It turned out that we couldn’t train the juniors every day, and the decision was carried out because of my father, the King. We needed to give the juniors some break—one day would be for physical training and the other for mental.

Once I was done with my own magic training, I decided to cool off. Exercise, work on my endurance. I needed to change my own guantlets and shin guards as well.

When I was leaving, however, I heard sounds of weapon slashing in the air. Curious to see who would be training on break, I followed the sound to find my junior, Elliot, working on his rapier skills.

I had to admire his determination. Leaning against the wall, I decided to observe.

The musical sound of metal clashing filled the air as I slashed at the dummy in front of me, skirting around it and attacking from behind. My feet danced, propelling me forward and backwards as I attacked and defended against the sack of straw which was currently to be my opponent.

I’d been told on multiple occasions that I fought like I was performing, like I was dancing, which I’d always found fitting, despite the fact that I’d never taken notice of it. And in a way, wasn’t sword-fighting its own kind of deadly dance? A dangerous, tactical waltz? A smile worked its way onto my lips as my rapier came swishing down again and again, hacking at the wooden frame of the dummy with renewed vigour.

It was, I have to admit, fascinating watching him work with his sword. He seemed light on his feet, as if he was performing. It was as if he was lost in his own world, the rapier and the practice dummy the only thing present. The smile on his face seemed carefree, and I wondered what was it that made him look so free.

”Rapier skills are good, too,” Key commented for me, chewing on the cake he’d stolen for himself.

”Needs to be more light,” I responded curtly. ”Balance needs to be applied. A single misstep would cause him to fall. Perhaps it’s because of the weight I’ve put on him, but he needs to change his style a bit more if he doesn’t want a blade in his throat. He needs to establish a more prominent fighting style, something others won’t be able to decipher without much issues.”

Key didn’t look surprised at my comments. He was used to it.

”Leave it to the young master to have keen eyes~”

Absorbed in the imaginary fight, I focused on keeping my steps nimble, fighting against the gravity that pulled down at my weighted limbs. But finally, when my arms began to burn more than I could bear, I let my rapier drop, chest heaving as soft pants slipped out from between my lips. My arms hung limply at my sides as I turned—only to meet eyes with Colton Miller.

I stepped away from the wall, eyes still locked with Elliot, taking slow steps towards him. He was exhausted, sweat coating his body as he panted heavily.

Once I was face-to-face, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, looking down at him, eyebrow raised, eyes dropping to his blade on the floor and back to his face.

“You need to work more on your form,” I finally said in a rather blank tone. “The way you worked, you could have tripped. A single misstep could have cost you your life. Your form hides no tells. Every mistake you make is out in the open. Before you train your skills, train your form.”

My heart fell, each of his words hitting me like a slap in the face. But I offered him a weak smile in response, nodding slowly. “Noted, thank you.”

I couldn’t let his coldness affect me, cow me, I had to take notes and improve, keep both my morals and my act up.

I could tell my words affected him. I could have softened them, but I didn’t. He needed to hear it. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat what needed to be said.

“Your hands,” I said, looking down at his hands. “Do they hurt?”

Hesitation flickered briefly across my features as I weighed out the beast answer. Lie, and risk being found out, or tell the truth and be told that I was weak. Eventually, I gave a tentative nod, admitting to the affirmative.

“Yes, they do. But I suppose I’ll get used to it eventually.”

I held out my hand expectantly, silently asking him to give me his so I could inspect it. I wasn’t expecting him to work constantly without break. He could have increased the strength of his hands just by wearing these and doing nothing else, but I suppose he was too eager to learn and get better. I needed to make sure there wasn’t any permanent damage done.

I blinked down at his extended hand for a moment before cautiously offering mine, eyes flickering from his fingers to his eyes. Was this a trap? Was he testing how on alert I could be? Was he going to shove me into the ground?

At his hesitancy, I nodded in approval. Taking his hand in mine, I took off the gauntlet, letting it fall to the floor as I looked over his hand.

Without the gauntlet, I could feel his skin. It was soft, but hard due to the gauntlet. And as I suspected, it was red. He’d been working it more than necessary. I pressed on it a little, my eyes flickering to his face for a reaction.

And suddenly, the heir to the throne was holding my hand in both of his. He pressed the pad of his thumb into one of the red areas that had been rubbed raw, and I winced, pain blazing through the path of distressed skin. Upon realizing my mistake, I sent a blank expression crashing down over my face, chasing all emotions away from sight. I couldn’t afford to show weakness, and definitely not in front of him.

I sighed, catching the wince Elliot tried hard to hide. I took his other hand without waiting for him to give it, removing the gauntlet to find the hand in the same condition as the first.

Red, raw and slightly blistered. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have handed these to him in the first place. Even if I wanted him to get better, I could have used other means. I could have told him not to overwork himself, but I didn’t. He was doing this to impress me, no doubt about it, but he was getting himself injured in the process.

“Leave them off,” I finally spoke, gently running my thumb over the rough skin. “Excluding the hours trainers train you for, how long do you continue this?”

I felt a small hiccup in my chest as he took both my hands in his, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Why was he being this gentle with someone as insignificant to him as me? Why should he care?

Besides that, I was not blind to the slight rush of pleasure that came with his touch. He was attractive, I couldn’t deny it, and the fact that he was holding onto me this gently brought a definite satisfaction. Not that I had a hopeless celebrity crush on him, I wasn’t that pathetic. But what girl disliked having her hands held by the Prince?

“I excercise on my own at least two and a half hours a day,” I admitted eventually. “I’d do more if I wasn’t saving time to study.”

I snapped my eyes towards his face, twisting my expression into disapproval. One hour is enough for someone at his level. Why overwork himself when there were days he had to train all day?

“One hour,” I said flatly. “One hour is enough for individual training. Do not go over this limit again.”

I turned his hand upside down, observing the back before I finally let go, bending down to retrieve the gauntlets I’d so carelessly given him. Sometimes I forgot I was different. I’d worn these ever since I was little. This was his first time. We should have started from normal weightlifting.

“Come,” I motioned to him to follow me. “Your hands need to heal. It would be best to have a healer look at them.”