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Colchians value strength in all its forms - bravery, determination, physical, mental and emotional. Regularly, the capitol holds events to celebrate the strength of the native people, including that in all sorts of warrior work and physical prowess. This particular event to be held is in swordsmanship.
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Colchians value strength in all its forms - bravery, determination, physical, mental and emotional. Regularly, the capitol holds events to celebrate the strength of the native people, including that in all sorts of warrior work and physical prowess. This particular event to be held is in swordsmanship.
Swordsmanship Contest Provincial Story - Colchis
Colchians value strength in all its forms - bravery, determination, physical, mental and emotional. Regularly, the capitol holds events to celebrate the strength of the native people, including that in all sorts of warrior work and physical prowess. This particular event to be held is in swordsmanship.
This was her chance - she had one try at this. After 2 years in the streets of Colchis as a street rat, Nike had had enough. She couldn't stay like this forever, and it made matters worst as puberty was kicking in. Nike had taken to grabbing random scraps of material to bind her growing chest, soon as she realized that people took her more seriously once she docks her hair. It was her luck that her visage was more androgynous then she thought. Many a vendor that she had stolen from had called out 'boy' as often as they called out 'girl'... so she had a chance.
Having borrowed a blunt dagger from a fishmonger just a week ago, Nike had hapahazardly chopped her hair so it now jutted and stuck out at odd ends from her head. With a dirty tunic and a pair of pants, her feet were scruffed and dirty... but in her hand, she held a sharpened sword. It wasn't expensive by any means - in fact, Nike had found the weapon abandoned in the back of a tavern after one night of scrounging in back alleys, many months ago before she had turned fourteen.
Using it, and her eyes to watch, she had observed the way in which such a weapon would be used. Away from prying eyes and wandering guards, the young girl of fourteen had used the cobbled streets to sharpened the weapon, a burlap material to wrap the rough and broken hilt which had an exposed sharp steel to it. It was broken and in no way ready... but she could try. She could try... or die doing it.
The prepared arena was a wide, circular shaped dirt ring, blocked off by stakes and a string tied around it. Around it, people of various ages, races and backgrounds milled, all hoping for a chance at victory. A line at the registration table was growing even in the short time Nike had arrived at the area designated by the capitol. Each of them had swords of various makes - long and short, steel or embedded with jewels... but all of them looked way better then what the young street rat had.
Joining the land, Nike shuffled forward as it moved, until she finally got to the front where a few men sat, quill in hand, a bored look as they looked up and asked for name and age. "Vero-... Nike. Just Nike, please." she responded, gruffing up her voice and hardening her jaw. "Fifteen." she lied, watching as they scrawled her name and informed her that it would begin soon, before moving away to melt into the crowds of people.
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This was her chance - she had one try at this. After 2 years in the streets of Colchis as a street rat, Nike had had enough. She couldn't stay like this forever, and it made matters worst as puberty was kicking in. Nike had taken to grabbing random scraps of material to bind her growing chest, soon as she realized that people took her more seriously once she docks her hair. It was her luck that her visage was more androgynous then she thought. Many a vendor that she had stolen from had called out 'boy' as often as they called out 'girl'... so she had a chance.
Having borrowed a blunt dagger from a fishmonger just a week ago, Nike had hapahazardly chopped her hair so it now jutted and stuck out at odd ends from her head. With a dirty tunic and a pair of pants, her feet were scruffed and dirty... but in her hand, she held a sharpened sword. It wasn't expensive by any means - in fact, Nike had found the weapon abandoned in the back of a tavern after one night of scrounging in back alleys, many months ago before she had turned fourteen.
Using it, and her eyes to watch, she had observed the way in which such a weapon would be used. Away from prying eyes and wandering guards, the young girl of fourteen had used the cobbled streets to sharpened the weapon, a burlap material to wrap the rough and broken hilt which had an exposed sharp steel to it. It was broken and in no way ready... but she could try. She could try... or die doing it.
The prepared arena was a wide, circular shaped dirt ring, blocked off by stakes and a string tied around it. Around it, people of various ages, races and backgrounds milled, all hoping for a chance at victory. A line at the registration table was growing even in the short time Nike had arrived at the area designated by the capitol. Each of them had swords of various makes - long and short, steel or embedded with jewels... but all of them looked way better then what the young street rat had.
Joining the land, Nike shuffled forward as it moved, until she finally got to the front where a few men sat, quill in hand, a bored look as they looked up and asked for name and age. "Vero-... Nike. Just Nike, please." she responded, gruffing up her voice and hardening her jaw. "Fifteen." she lied, watching as they scrawled her name and informed her that it would begin soon, before moving away to melt into the crowds of people.
This was her chance - she had one try at this. After 2 years in the streets of Colchis as a street rat, Nike had had enough. She couldn't stay like this forever, and it made matters worst as puberty was kicking in. Nike had taken to grabbing random scraps of material to bind her growing chest, soon as she realized that people took her more seriously once she docks her hair. It was her luck that her visage was more androgynous then she thought. Many a vendor that she had stolen from had called out 'boy' as often as they called out 'girl'... so she had a chance.
Having borrowed a blunt dagger from a fishmonger just a week ago, Nike had hapahazardly chopped her hair so it now jutted and stuck out at odd ends from her head. With a dirty tunic and a pair of pants, her feet were scruffed and dirty... but in her hand, she held a sharpened sword. It wasn't expensive by any means - in fact, Nike had found the weapon abandoned in the back of a tavern after one night of scrounging in back alleys, many months ago before she had turned fourteen.
Using it, and her eyes to watch, she had observed the way in which such a weapon would be used. Away from prying eyes and wandering guards, the young girl of fourteen had used the cobbled streets to sharpened the weapon, a burlap material to wrap the rough and broken hilt which had an exposed sharp steel to it. It was broken and in no way ready... but she could try. She could try... or die doing it.
The prepared arena was a wide, circular shaped dirt ring, blocked off by stakes and a string tied around it. Around it, people of various ages, races and backgrounds milled, all hoping for a chance at victory. A line at the registration table was growing even in the short time Nike had arrived at the area designated by the capitol. Each of them had swords of various makes - long and short, steel or embedded with jewels... but all of them looked way better then what the young street rat had.
Joining the land, Nike shuffled forward as it moved, until she finally got to the front where a few men sat, quill in hand, a bored look as they looked up and asked for name and age. "Vero-... Nike. Just Nike, please." she responded, gruffing up her voice and hardening her jaw. "Fifteen." she lied, watching as they scrawled her name and informed her that it would begin soon, before moving away to melt into the crowds of people.
Mihail was excited. Every so often, there were competitions held in the capital of Colchis and, for one so often referred to as small and weak, he could think of no more significant way to prove that he was neither of those things but, in fact, almost a man of his own accord. For too long now he had been mistaken as female as his sisters, with that long black hair cropped to fall a few inches below his shoulder blades and close to his waist, that petite frame and thin face. Too many days had passed where he had been referred to as the other Thanasi sisters by those who knew not what they said, and his less than masculine appearance was partially responsible for the nickname he now bore amongst his siblings. 'Mimi'. Mihail did not dislike it in the slightest - indeed, he was happy to hear it amongst his siblings - he only felt humiliation when it was misunderstood in public, and such mistakes were made.
Not today.
Today, the ten-year-old had excitedly made his way to the arena where the competition was to be held, flanked by the singular guard his family had instructed keep him safe, for he was not yet as much of a man as he believed, still two years from adulthood. The man, powerful, by the name of Straton, carried for him a long steel sword with snake patterns carved into it and a Thanasi-red ruby embedded in the hilt. It had been too heavy for him to move all this way on his own, no matter how much Mihail had complained that he wanted to, but it was sure to win. He had no doubts in that regard, although he knew full well the man also carried a separate, lighter weapon that would perhaps be more efficient for the boy to use.
"This is not a competition for women," one of the men officiating the event announced to him gruffly, glancing up and down the child before him with a derisive scoff. "No exceptions."
Mihail stared up at him with all the confidence such a small and awkward child could muster, arms crossed. "Lord Mihail of Thanasi. Ten." So close to being a man and no more a child, he might have added, though he refrained from showing up the overworked-looking scribe further and instead only glared at him as furiously as he could. The Thanasi fury that did not seem to phase him as it did when Nethis glared at men this way. Instead, the man simply copied down this information and gestured towards the children's contest area.
"Give me my sword," he demanded of Straton as imperiously as he knew how. He wanted them to see him proudly carrying in his own sword and not relying on his big, strong guard to do such a task for him. "I can take it from here." The man seemed somewhat concerned for his ability to pick it up but carefully passed it over, Mihail only struggling for a moment before he managed to hold it up properly. "See, I can hold it! I'm going to win!"
Straton nodded reassuringly, offering the child a smile which might well have been a mixture of amusement and politeness. He had been helping Mihail train for this competition since the last one had taken place and, although he was not wholly awful, swordplay was not precisely where his skills lay. But with such an overexcited child before him, he had not the heart to tell him otherwise. "Of course, my Lord. Perhaps I might suggest fixing your hair before the competition begins. As we do in training, hm? Here." The man leaned in, pulling back Mihail's long dark hair to pin it into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall into his eyes or get clumsily caught up as he attempted to fight.
"I want to go see the competition," he whined, waiting for the man to be finished. Mihail had a whole plan: he was going to investigate everyone else competing so he could see how much better he was going to be. As soon as he was released, hair neatly tied behind him, he rushed off towards the others, dragging the sword behind him as best he could so that Straton was forced to follow after him to make sure he didn't flourish it in the wrong way and accidentally hurt himself. There was another boy there already, obviously older and likely not in the same event as Mihail, but he was the only young person he could see around him, hoping he wouldn't mistake him for a girl now that his hair was tied back.
"Are you competing? You shouldn't because I'm going to win. Nethis gave me this sword to practise with, and now I'm going to win with it. She's going to be so proud!" He heaved it up and brandished it before the taller boy. "You look old. Is no one here actually going to fight with me?" Winning by default was alright as well, but Mihail wanted the glory. "I hope you can win your contest. I heard you can get a fancy sword and then maybe you can sell it and you can get something not so scruffy to wear!" That seemed reasonable. Mihail knew that some people couldn't afford to dress up nicely like him in his pretty crimson chiton with its shiny black clasps, so perhaps this could help him.
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Mihail was excited. Every so often, there were competitions held in the capital of Colchis and, for one so often referred to as small and weak, he could think of no more significant way to prove that he was neither of those things but, in fact, almost a man of his own accord. For too long now he had been mistaken as female as his sisters, with that long black hair cropped to fall a few inches below his shoulder blades and close to his waist, that petite frame and thin face. Too many days had passed where he had been referred to as the other Thanasi sisters by those who knew not what they said, and his less than masculine appearance was partially responsible for the nickname he now bore amongst his siblings. 'Mimi'. Mihail did not dislike it in the slightest - indeed, he was happy to hear it amongst his siblings - he only felt humiliation when it was misunderstood in public, and such mistakes were made.
Not today.
Today, the ten-year-old had excitedly made his way to the arena where the competition was to be held, flanked by the singular guard his family had instructed keep him safe, for he was not yet as much of a man as he believed, still two years from adulthood. The man, powerful, by the name of Straton, carried for him a long steel sword with snake patterns carved into it and a Thanasi-red ruby embedded in the hilt. It had been too heavy for him to move all this way on his own, no matter how much Mihail had complained that he wanted to, but it was sure to win. He had no doubts in that regard, although he knew full well the man also carried a separate, lighter weapon that would perhaps be more efficient for the boy to use.
"This is not a competition for women," one of the men officiating the event announced to him gruffly, glancing up and down the child before him with a derisive scoff. "No exceptions."
Mihail stared up at him with all the confidence such a small and awkward child could muster, arms crossed. "Lord Mihail of Thanasi. Ten." So close to being a man and no more a child, he might have added, though he refrained from showing up the overworked-looking scribe further and instead only glared at him as furiously as he could. The Thanasi fury that did not seem to phase him as it did when Nethis glared at men this way. Instead, the man simply copied down this information and gestured towards the children's contest area.
"Give me my sword," he demanded of Straton as imperiously as he knew how. He wanted them to see him proudly carrying in his own sword and not relying on his big, strong guard to do such a task for him. "I can take it from here." The man seemed somewhat concerned for his ability to pick it up but carefully passed it over, Mihail only struggling for a moment before he managed to hold it up properly. "See, I can hold it! I'm going to win!"
Straton nodded reassuringly, offering the child a smile which might well have been a mixture of amusement and politeness. He had been helping Mihail train for this competition since the last one had taken place and, although he was not wholly awful, swordplay was not precisely where his skills lay. But with such an overexcited child before him, he had not the heart to tell him otherwise. "Of course, my Lord. Perhaps I might suggest fixing your hair before the competition begins. As we do in training, hm? Here." The man leaned in, pulling back Mihail's long dark hair to pin it into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall into his eyes or get clumsily caught up as he attempted to fight.
"I want to go see the competition," he whined, waiting for the man to be finished. Mihail had a whole plan: he was going to investigate everyone else competing so he could see how much better he was going to be. As soon as he was released, hair neatly tied behind him, he rushed off towards the others, dragging the sword behind him as best he could so that Straton was forced to follow after him to make sure he didn't flourish it in the wrong way and accidentally hurt himself. There was another boy there already, obviously older and likely not in the same event as Mihail, but he was the only young person he could see around him, hoping he wouldn't mistake him for a girl now that his hair was tied back.
"Are you competing? You shouldn't because I'm going to win. Nethis gave me this sword to practise with, and now I'm going to win with it. She's going to be so proud!" He heaved it up and brandished it before the taller boy. "You look old. Is no one here actually going to fight with me?" Winning by default was alright as well, but Mihail wanted the glory. "I hope you can win your contest. I heard you can get a fancy sword and then maybe you can sell it and you can get something not so scruffy to wear!" That seemed reasonable. Mihail knew that some people couldn't afford to dress up nicely like him in his pretty crimson chiton with its shiny black clasps, so perhaps this could help him.
Mihail was excited. Every so often, there were competitions held in the capital of Colchis and, for one so often referred to as small and weak, he could think of no more significant way to prove that he was neither of those things but, in fact, almost a man of his own accord. For too long now he had been mistaken as female as his sisters, with that long black hair cropped to fall a few inches below his shoulder blades and close to his waist, that petite frame and thin face. Too many days had passed where he had been referred to as the other Thanasi sisters by those who knew not what they said, and his less than masculine appearance was partially responsible for the nickname he now bore amongst his siblings. 'Mimi'. Mihail did not dislike it in the slightest - indeed, he was happy to hear it amongst his siblings - he only felt humiliation when it was misunderstood in public, and such mistakes were made.
Not today.
Today, the ten-year-old had excitedly made his way to the arena where the competition was to be held, flanked by the singular guard his family had instructed keep him safe, for he was not yet as much of a man as he believed, still two years from adulthood. The man, powerful, by the name of Straton, carried for him a long steel sword with snake patterns carved into it and a Thanasi-red ruby embedded in the hilt. It had been too heavy for him to move all this way on his own, no matter how much Mihail had complained that he wanted to, but it was sure to win. He had no doubts in that regard, although he knew full well the man also carried a separate, lighter weapon that would perhaps be more efficient for the boy to use.
"This is not a competition for women," one of the men officiating the event announced to him gruffly, glancing up and down the child before him with a derisive scoff. "No exceptions."
Mihail stared up at him with all the confidence such a small and awkward child could muster, arms crossed. "Lord Mihail of Thanasi. Ten." So close to being a man and no more a child, he might have added, though he refrained from showing up the overworked-looking scribe further and instead only glared at him as furiously as he could. The Thanasi fury that did not seem to phase him as it did when Nethis glared at men this way. Instead, the man simply copied down this information and gestured towards the children's contest area.
"Give me my sword," he demanded of Straton as imperiously as he knew how. He wanted them to see him proudly carrying in his own sword and not relying on his big, strong guard to do such a task for him. "I can take it from here." The man seemed somewhat concerned for his ability to pick it up but carefully passed it over, Mihail only struggling for a moment before he managed to hold it up properly. "See, I can hold it! I'm going to win!"
Straton nodded reassuringly, offering the child a smile which might well have been a mixture of amusement and politeness. He had been helping Mihail train for this competition since the last one had taken place and, although he was not wholly awful, swordplay was not precisely where his skills lay. But with such an overexcited child before him, he had not the heart to tell him otherwise. "Of course, my Lord. Perhaps I might suggest fixing your hair before the competition begins. As we do in training, hm? Here." The man leaned in, pulling back Mihail's long dark hair to pin it into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall into his eyes or get clumsily caught up as he attempted to fight.
"I want to go see the competition," he whined, waiting for the man to be finished. Mihail had a whole plan: he was going to investigate everyone else competing so he could see how much better he was going to be. As soon as he was released, hair neatly tied behind him, he rushed off towards the others, dragging the sword behind him as best he could so that Straton was forced to follow after him to make sure he didn't flourish it in the wrong way and accidentally hurt himself. There was another boy there already, obviously older and likely not in the same event as Mihail, but he was the only young person he could see around him, hoping he wouldn't mistake him for a girl now that his hair was tied back.
"Are you competing? You shouldn't because I'm going to win. Nethis gave me this sword to practise with, and now I'm going to win with it. She's going to be so proud!" He heaved it up and brandished it before the taller boy. "You look old. Is no one here actually going to fight with me?" Winning by default was alright as well, but Mihail wanted the glory. "I hope you can win your contest. I heard you can get a fancy sword and then maybe you can sell it and you can get something not so scruffy to wear!" That seemed reasonable. Mihail knew that some people couldn't afford to dress up nicely like him in his pretty crimson chiton with its shiny black clasps, so perhaps this could help him.
A trip to Midas was a rare treat for the ten-year-old Timaeus. There was rarely any justification for bringing him along on a difficult journey from Eubocris to the city. The seven-hour distance was just too far for a boy his age. Plus, it also didn’t hurt that his mother thought that neither of her youngest boys was skilled enough to lead their steeds through the narrow pathways that led out of the province and his father, Amaxius, had learned a long time ago that there was no fighting Periellea over the safety of their sons.
But this time… Timaeus had been allowed to go along with the rest of his family just for the swordsmanship competition. It was a bit of a tradition for the Valaoritis family to take part, given how deeply their family was tied to the military and their skills as swordsmen. It was almost shameful for the men to not participate if they were able to and finally Timaeus was old enough to do just that.
His excitement was clear as he bounded ahead of his family to the arena, eager to show off the past few years of training in the matches. His family was particularly eager for him to take part as well since he showed promise in the art of fighting. Even at ten, he was able to win against practically any contender who was his equal, a fact that his father never failed to bring up as the five Valaoritis members moved about the forming crowd. They said hello to important people of all ages, genders, and ranks… all of whom passed Timaeus in a blur as he couldn’t focus on anything, but the upcoming fights and the excitement it brought him.
Soon enough, after the standard greetings and limited conservations began to die away, the three Valaoritis men who were eligible to fight made their way to the event’s registration. Trailing behind his father and older brother, little Timaeus couldn’t help, but be momentarily distracted by the number of people who had now begun to filter into the outer edges to watch the events. It was all just a flurry of motion and a blur of color that kept pulling his gaze from one person to another. He was eager to take it all in as the newness of everything happening around him only added to the boy’s excitement.
Though, a sharp jab in his ribs from his brother’s elbow pulled Timaeus out of his thoughts. The young boy winced and furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance as he turned around to face the elder one, “What was that f-” He started to protest with a slight whine to his voice, a classic sign that an argument was about to form between them if it wasn’t quelled quickly, However, Nicomedes didn’t seem interested in taking his brother’s bait as he pointed at someone already at the table, “Oh hush up. Look,” He whispered at Tim so their father wouldn’t hear or otherwise take notice of the snicker in his voice, “I didn’t know they let girls into the fights.”
Tim peered around his brother to see a child about his age signing up for the competition as well. However, it wasn’t the other’s young age that caused both of the boys to begin to giggle; the child at the table was a girl. After all, there was no mistaking that long dark hair as being anything, but feminine. No father with any amount of respect for his sons would subject them to such ridicule by letting them do such a thing. It also didn’t help Mihail’s case that he was pale, thin, and being shadowed by an older man who was clearly not a relative. All of these were hallmarks of some highborn girl who wandered a little too far from her household thinking that her status would be enough to allow her into the fights.
“What she’s doing here Nico?” Tim managed to hiss out as he turned away from their father’s distracted gaze in order to laugh. “Doesn’t she know--”
“To fight I suppose,” Nicomedes said quickly, cutting off his brother’s pointless statements about the obvious. Even at a young age, the eldest Valaoritis boy had little patience for wasting time. (It would be several years though before he learned how to cut conversations short without having such a rude bite to them.) He kept watching the youngest Thanasi and Tim could see the disbelief take hold when the boys say the little lord’s name be added to the roster.
Nicomedes gave a low whistle as Mihail moved away from the table. “Would you look at that Timmy. Her stolen garb fooled them.” He stated in reference to the obvious conclusion both the boys came to, he had stolen a boy’s outfit in order to disguise herself, but simply forgot to do anything about her hair. No girl would truly be so stupid to do such a thing. Or at least, that’s what Timaeus thought with what little he knew about girls having grown up only with brothers surrounding him thus far. It just simply went against everything he knew. Girls didn’t fight. Only boys did.
This was something his brother knew as well and it only took him a moment before he was using it to tease his younger counterpart, “She’s your age. You’re going to have to fight her.”
Timaeus turned to his brother with a look of angry shock on his face as he instantly spat back, “No, I’m not. I’m not fighting a girl.”
“What? Afraid you’ll lose Timmy?” Nico retorted with a sly grin on his face. Like all older siblings, he took joy in seeing his brother turn red with anger as he fumed over the possibility of being embarrassed in such a horrible way in front of everyone. He would never live it down.
“I’ll win. I can beat all of them.” Timaeus huffed out, pride wounded from his brother’s jests.
“You can’t beat me,” Nicomedes said, going in for the kill in this argument. As much promise Timaeus showed, it was true, he had yet to best his brother in a fight. Though, it was hardly a fair fight. The two boys were being trained by the same swordsmen and Nico had an extra four years on his brother. This was something that Timaeus was sure to remind him of with his next statement,
“That’s not fair. You’re bigger than me.” He whined. It was the use of this annoying tone that finally grabbed his father’s attention and caused the elder man to turn around. All it took was one stern look from him to have the argument die in their throats.
“Boys,” He said carefully to both be a warning for them to behave as well as to usher them to the table where they were next to give the man their names. Nico sauntered right up and said gave the man his info, completely smug in how quickly he was able to rile up his brother. Then it was Timaeus’s turn.
He was a bit nervous and very self-conscious of how squeaky his voice sounded when he said “Lord Timaeus of Valaoritis. Ten,” especially compared to his elder brother, but he knew his father was watching. Timmy wanted to make him proud so he didn’t let it show and was even rewarded with a slight pride-filled grin from his father as he watched the boy take part in the sport that was the backbone of their family’s legacy.
The man at the registrar pointed for Timaeus to head off in the direction of the children’s fights, but before he could scamper off, Amaxius caught the boy’s attention for a moment. “After the fight what do you do?” He asked, seeing if the boy remembered the plan discussed many times before coming to the arena. It had been practically drilled into Tim’s head with how many times it was said.
“Find Mother and Sil.” He parroted back earning a slight nod of approval from his father.
“Good, they’ll be watching for you. Now go and show them what a fight really looks like.” With a small laugh from both of them, Timaeus hurried off towards where Mihail had gone, somewhat eager to escape Nico’s teasing. However, if he had known he’d be walking into quite a show of Mimi’s bravado, he might have preferred to stick with the jokes about Timaeus not being able to beat a girl.
His approach was unnoticed by Mihail who was too busy bragging to poor Nike. Tim couldn’t help, but roll his eyes at the girl’s claims and once the little Thanasi was finished criticizing the other, he jumped in with his own retort, “What are you even doing here? Girls can’t fight.” He looked Mihail dead in the eyes when he said this, challenging his long hair now neatly pulled back. Of course, it was a bit more clear to him now that what the brothers witnessed earlier was wrong, but it still felt good to bring this kid who was so sure of his victory down a few notches.
“And besides, you can barely lift your sword. There’s no way you’ll win.” He said with a laugh, fully embarrassing the boy in front of the other older one. “You’re better off using it to give yourself a hair cut. A real warrior doesn’t need to pull their hair back before a fight.” A sly grin crept across his face as he shook his head slightly, bringing attention to the messy mop of muddy brown curls on his head. There were no hair ties needed in the Valaoritis household and as insignificant as it was, it showed to Tim that this boy had no idea what he was doing out here. That would certainly make it easier for him given how he knew that his training would give him the upper hand if they were to fight. If the rest of his competition was like this, it would be an easy win for the boy.
And he just couldn’t wait to get started.
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A trip to Midas was a rare treat for the ten-year-old Timaeus. There was rarely any justification for bringing him along on a difficult journey from Eubocris to the city. The seven-hour distance was just too far for a boy his age. Plus, it also didn’t hurt that his mother thought that neither of her youngest boys was skilled enough to lead their steeds through the narrow pathways that led out of the province and his father, Amaxius, had learned a long time ago that there was no fighting Periellea over the safety of their sons.
But this time… Timaeus had been allowed to go along with the rest of his family just for the swordsmanship competition. It was a bit of a tradition for the Valaoritis family to take part, given how deeply their family was tied to the military and their skills as swordsmen. It was almost shameful for the men to not participate if they were able to and finally Timaeus was old enough to do just that.
His excitement was clear as he bounded ahead of his family to the arena, eager to show off the past few years of training in the matches. His family was particularly eager for him to take part as well since he showed promise in the art of fighting. Even at ten, he was able to win against practically any contender who was his equal, a fact that his father never failed to bring up as the five Valaoritis members moved about the forming crowd. They said hello to important people of all ages, genders, and ranks… all of whom passed Timaeus in a blur as he couldn’t focus on anything, but the upcoming fights and the excitement it brought him.
Soon enough, after the standard greetings and limited conservations began to die away, the three Valaoritis men who were eligible to fight made their way to the event’s registration. Trailing behind his father and older brother, little Timaeus couldn’t help, but be momentarily distracted by the number of people who had now begun to filter into the outer edges to watch the events. It was all just a flurry of motion and a blur of color that kept pulling his gaze from one person to another. He was eager to take it all in as the newness of everything happening around him only added to the boy’s excitement.
Though, a sharp jab in his ribs from his brother’s elbow pulled Timaeus out of his thoughts. The young boy winced and furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance as he turned around to face the elder one, “What was that f-” He started to protest with a slight whine to his voice, a classic sign that an argument was about to form between them if it wasn’t quelled quickly, However, Nicomedes didn’t seem interested in taking his brother’s bait as he pointed at someone already at the table, “Oh hush up. Look,” He whispered at Tim so their father wouldn’t hear or otherwise take notice of the snicker in his voice, “I didn’t know they let girls into the fights.”
Tim peered around his brother to see a child about his age signing up for the competition as well. However, it wasn’t the other’s young age that caused both of the boys to begin to giggle; the child at the table was a girl. After all, there was no mistaking that long dark hair as being anything, but feminine. No father with any amount of respect for his sons would subject them to such ridicule by letting them do such a thing. It also didn’t help Mihail’s case that he was pale, thin, and being shadowed by an older man who was clearly not a relative. All of these were hallmarks of some highborn girl who wandered a little too far from her household thinking that her status would be enough to allow her into the fights.
“What she’s doing here Nico?” Tim managed to hiss out as he turned away from their father’s distracted gaze in order to laugh. “Doesn’t she know--”
“To fight I suppose,” Nicomedes said quickly, cutting off his brother’s pointless statements about the obvious. Even at a young age, the eldest Valaoritis boy had little patience for wasting time. (It would be several years though before he learned how to cut conversations short without having such a rude bite to them.) He kept watching the youngest Thanasi and Tim could see the disbelief take hold when the boys say the little lord’s name be added to the roster.
Nicomedes gave a low whistle as Mihail moved away from the table. “Would you look at that Timmy. Her stolen garb fooled them.” He stated in reference to the obvious conclusion both the boys came to, he had stolen a boy’s outfit in order to disguise herself, but simply forgot to do anything about her hair. No girl would truly be so stupid to do such a thing. Or at least, that’s what Timaeus thought with what little he knew about girls having grown up only with brothers surrounding him thus far. It just simply went against everything he knew. Girls didn’t fight. Only boys did.
This was something his brother knew as well and it only took him a moment before he was using it to tease his younger counterpart, “She’s your age. You’re going to have to fight her.”
Timaeus turned to his brother with a look of angry shock on his face as he instantly spat back, “No, I’m not. I’m not fighting a girl.”
“What? Afraid you’ll lose Timmy?” Nico retorted with a sly grin on his face. Like all older siblings, he took joy in seeing his brother turn red with anger as he fumed over the possibility of being embarrassed in such a horrible way in front of everyone. He would never live it down.
“I’ll win. I can beat all of them.” Timaeus huffed out, pride wounded from his brother’s jests.
“You can’t beat me,” Nicomedes said, going in for the kill in this argument. As much promise Timaeus showed, it was true, he had yet to best his brother in a fight. Though, it was hardly a fair fight. The two boys were being trained by the same swordsmen and Nico had an extra four years on his brother. This was something that Timaeus was sure to remind him of with his next statement,
“That’s not fair. You’re bigger than me.” He whined. It was the use of this annoying tone that finally grabbed his father’s attention and caused the elder man to turn around. All it took was one stern look from him to have the argument die in their throats.
“Boys,” He said carefully to both be a warning for them to behave as well as to usher them to the table where they were next to give the man their names. Nico sauntered right up and said gave the man his info, completely smug in how quickly he was able to rile up his brother. Then it was Timaeus’s turn.
He was a bit nervous and very self-conscious of how squeaky his voice sounded when he said “Lord Timaeus of Valaoritis. Ten,” especially compared to his elder brother, but he knew his father was watching. Timmy wanted to make him proud so he didn’t let it show and was even rewarded with a slight pride-filled grin from his father as he watched the boy take part in the sport that was the backbone of their family’s legacy.
The man at the registrar pointed for Timaeus to head off in the direction of the children’s fights, but before he could scamper off, Amaxius caught the boy’s attention for a moment. “After the fight what do you do?” He asked, seeing if the boy remembered the plan discussed many times before coming to the arena. It had been practically drilled into Tim’s head with how many times it was said.
“Find Mother and Sil.” He parroted back earning a slight nod of approval from his father.
“Good, they’ll be watching for you. Now go and show them what a fight really looks like.” With a small laugh from both of them, Timaeus hurried off towards where Mihail had gone, somewhat eager to escape Nico’s teasing. However, if he had known he’d be walking into quite a show of Mimi’s bravado, he might have preferred to stick with the jokes about Timaeus not being able to beat a girl.
His approach was unnoticed by Mihail who was too busy bragging to poor Nike. Tim couldn’t help, but roll his eyes at the girl’s claims and once the little Thanasi was finished criticizing the other, he jumped in with his own retort, “What are you even doing here? Girls can’t fight.” He looked Mihail dead in the eyes when he said this, challenging his long hair now neatly pulled back. Of course, it was a bit more clear to him now that what the brothers witnessed earlier was wrong, but it still felt good to bring this kid who was so sure of his victory down a few notches.
“And besides, you can barely lift your sword. There’s no way you’ll win.” He said with a laugh, fully embarrassing the boy in front of the other older one. “You’re better off using it to give yourself a hair cut. A real warrior doesn’t need to pull their hair back before a fight.” A sly grin crept across his face as he shook his head slightly, bringing attention to the messy mop of muddy brown curls on his head. There were no hair ties needed in the Valaoritis household and as insignificant as it was, it showed to Tim that this boy had no idea what he was doing out here. That would certainly make it easier for him given how he knew that his training would give him the upper hand if they were to fight. If the rest of his competition was like this, it would be an easy win for the boy.
And he just couldn’t wait to get started.
A trip to Midas was a rare treat for the ten-year-old Timaeus. There was rarely any justification for bringing him along on a difficult journey from Eubocris to the city. The seven-hour distance was just too far for a boy his age. Plus, it also didn’t hurt that his mother thought that neither of her youngest boys was skilled enough to lead their steeds through the narrow pathways that led out of the province and his father, Amaxius, had learned a long time ago that there was no fighting Periellea over the safety of their sons.
But this time… Timaeus had been allowed to go along with the rest of his family just for the swordsmanship competition. It was a bit of a tradition for the Valaoritis family to take part, given how deeply their family was tied to the military and their skills as swordsmen. It was almost shameful for the men to not participate if they were able to and finally Timaeus was old enough to do just that.
His excitement was clear as he bounded ahead of his family to the arena, eager to show off the past few years of training in the matches. His family was particularly eager for him to take part as well since he showed promise in the art of fighting. Even at ten, he was able to win against practically any contender who was his equal, a fact that his father never failed to bring up as the five Valaoritis members moved about the forming crowd. They said hello to important people of all ages, genders, and ranks… all of whom passed Timaeus in a blur as he couldn’t focus on anything, but the upcoming fights and the excitement it brought him.
Soon enough, after the standard greetings and limited conservations began to die away, the three Valaoritis men who were eligible to fight made their way to the event’s registration. Trailing behind his father and older brother, little Timaeus couldn’t help, but be momentarily distracted by the number of people who had now begun to filter into the outer edges to watch the events. It was all just a flurry of motion and a blur of color that kept pulling his gaze from one person to another. He was eager to take it all in as the newness of everything happening around him only added to the boy’s excitement.
Though, a sharp jab in his ribs from his brother’s elbow pulled Timaeus out of his thoughts. The young boy winced and furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance as he turned around to face the elder one, “What was that f-” He started to protest with a slight whine to his voice, a classic sign that an argument was about to form between them if it wasn’t quelled quickly, However, Nicomedes didn’t seem interested in taking his brother’s bait as he pointed at someone already at the table, “Oh hush up. Look,” He whispered at Tim so their father wouldn’t hear or otherwise take notice of the snicker in his voice, “I didn’t know they let girls into the fights.”
Tim peered around his brother to see a child about his age signing up for the competition as well. However, it wasn’t the other’s young age that caused both of the boys to begin to giggle; the child at the table was a girl. After all, there was no mistaking that long dark hair as being anything, but feminine. No father with any amount of respect for his sons would subject them to such ridicule by letting them do such a thing. It also didn’t help Mihail’s case that he was pale, thin, and being shadowed by an older man who was clearly not a relative. All of these were hallmarks of some highborn girl who wandered a little too far from her household thinking that her status would be enough to allow her into the fights.
“What she’s doing here Nico?” Tim managed to hiss out as he turned away from their father’s distracted gaze in order to laugh. “Doesn’t she know--”
“To fight I suppose,” Nicomedes said quickly, cutting off his brother’s pointless statements about the obvious. Even at a young age, the eldest Valaoritis boy had little patience for wasting time. (It would be several years though before he learned how to cut conversations short without having such a rude bite to them.) He kept watching the youngest Thanasi and Tim could see the disbelief take hold when the boys say the little lord’s name be added to the roster.
Nicomedes gave a low whistle as Mihail moved away from the table. “Would you look at that Timmy. Her stolen garb fooled them.” He stated in reference to the obvious conclusion both the boys came to, he had stolen a boy’s outfit in order to disguise herself, but simply forgot to do anything about her hair. No girl would truly be so stupid to do such a thing. Or at least, that’s what Timaeus thought with what little he knew about girls having grown up only with brothers surrounding him thus far. It just simply went against everything he knew. Girls didn’t fight. Only boys did.
This was something his brother knew as well and it only took him a moment before he was using it to tease his younger counterpart, “She’s your age. You’re going to have to fight her.”
Timaeus turned to his brother with a look of angry shock on his face as he instantly spat back, “No, I’m not. I’m not fighting a girl.”
“What? Afraid you’ll lose Timmy?” Nico retorted with a sly grin on his face. Like all older siblings, he took joy in seeing his brother turn red with anger as he fumed over the possibility of being embarrassed in such a horrible way in front of everyone. He would never live it down.
“I’ll win. I can beat all of them.” Timaeus huffed out, pride wounded from his brother’s jests.
“You can’t beat me,” Nicomedes said, going in for the kill in this argument. As much promise Timaeus showed, it was true, he had yet to best his brother in a fight. Though, it was hardly a fair fight. The two boys were being trained by the same swordsmen and Nico had an extra four years on his brother. This was something that Timaeus was sure to remind him of with his next statement,
“That’s not fair. You’re bigger than me.” He whined. It was the use of this annoying tone that finally grabbed his father’s attention and caused the elder man to turn around. All it took was one stern look from him to have the argument die in their throats.
“Boys,” He said carefully to both be a warning for them to behave as well as to usher them to the table where they were next to give the man their names. Nico sauntered right up and said gave the man his info, completely smug in how quickly he was able to rile up his brother. Then it was Timaeus’s turn.
He was a bit nervous and very self-conscious of how squeaky his voice sounded when he said “Lord Timaeus of Valaoritis. Ten,” especially compared to his elder brother, but he knew his father was watching. Timmy wanted to make him proud so he didn’t let it show and was even rewarded with a slight pride-filled grin from his father as he watched the boy take part in the sport that was the backbone of their family’s legacy.
The man at the registrar pointed for Timaeus to head off in the direction of the children’s fights, but before he could scamper off, Amaxius caught the boy’s attention for a moment. “After the fight what do you do?” He asked, seeing if the boy remembered the plan discussed many times before coming to the arena. It had been practically drilled into Tim’s head with how many times it was said.
“Find Mother and Sil.” He parroted back earning a slight nod of approval from his father.
“Good, they’ll be watching for you. Now go and show them what a fight really looks like.” With a small laugh from both of them, Timaeus hurried off towards where Mihail had gone, somewhat eager to escape Nico’s teasing. However, if he had known he’d be walking into quite a show of Mimi’s bravado, he might have preferred to stick with the jokes about Timaeus not being able to beat a girl.
His approach was unnoticed by Mihail who was too busy bragging to poor Nike. Tim couldn’t help, but roll his eyes at the girl’s claims and once the little Thanasi was finished criticizing the other, he jumped in with his own retort, “What are you even doing here? Girls can’t fight.” He looked Mihail dead in the eyes when he said this, challenging his long hair now neatly pulled back. Of course, it was a bit more clear to him now that what the brothers witnessed earlier was wrong, but it still felt good to bring this kid who was so sure of his victory down a few notches.
“And besides, you can barely lift your sword. There’s no way you’ll win.” He said with a laugh, fully embarrassing the boy in front of the other older one. “You’re better off using it to give yourself a hair cut. A real warrior doesn’t need to pull their hair back before a fight.” A sly grin crept across his face as he shook his head slightly, bringing attention to the messy mop of muddy brown curls on his head. There were no hair ties needed in the Valaoritis household and as insignificant as it was, it showed to Tim that this boy had no idea what he was doing out here. That would certainly make it easier for him given how he knew that his training would give him the upper hand if they were to fight. If the rest of his competition was like this, it would be an easy win for the boy.
And he just couldn’t wait to get started.
She was in no way trained. Considering she had just arrived on Colchian soil not a few years ago, and had before that been a pampered daughter to a rich merchant, there was no surprise in that. Vasilios would never have put his precious daughter through the paces of a hardened soldier , but then again, Nike had never imagined her father would take to drinking in her life.
Death does change people.
Her hands shook as the man took down the information that she had given, and then prowled away, eager to be out of watching eyes. Yet as she moved away, sharp golden eyes caught the one behind her, who had just registered.... was that a girl? Nike's eyes almost widened before she caught herself, and hurried away, ignoring the way in which the young boy's long hair was being pinned by his retainer.
But of course, the long haired child just couldn't let it go could he? As Nike shifted to stand under some shade, perusing the blade that still felt so foreign in her hands, a voice addressing her made her look up, her haphazardly chopped hair swaying as she made eye contact with the boy she could've sworn would pass for a girl. His loud, brash words made her eyes widen, and before she could stop herself, a chuckle escaped her lips. "So just because someone gave you a sword, you will win? Well mine is given by Zeus himself, I'll have you know." she quipped in return, humoring the boy.
Raising a brow, while she wanted to take offense to being called 'old', Nike had heard the boy's age, and technically knew he wasn't too far off his mark. But yet the arrogant way in which the young fellow talked merely made the girl scowl, rolling her eyes. About to make a quip however, she was interupted by yet another lad who looked to be about the other's age (although the newcomer was decidedly more masculine versus her little assailant). While Nike appreciated his jumping in with a retort, it was the final statement that had her flashing a glare at him, involuntarily of course.
Girl's can't fight?
Well, we'll see about that. Biting her lip to resist from making a sassy retort about that comment in particular (because that was a surefire way to draw suspicion to herself, what with her already slender figure that was beginning to fill out - all wrongly for the visage she wanted to maintain), Nike instead remained silent, and nodded in assent. "Perhaps pick a sword your own size?" the girl grinned in an attempt to join in what she assumed would be a regular behavior of a guy.
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She was in no way trained. Considering she had just arrived on Colchian soil not a few years ago, and had before that been a pampered daughter to a rich merchant, there was no surprise in that. Vasilios would never have put his precious daughter through the paces of a hardened soldier , but then again, Nike had never imagined her father would take to drinking in her life.
Death does change people.
Her hands shook as the man took down the information that she had given, and then prowled away, eager to be out of watching eyes. Yet as she moved away, sharp golden eyes caught the one behind her, who had just registered.... was that a girl? Nike's eyes almost widened before she caught herself, and hurried away, ignoring the way in which the young boy's long hair was being pinned by his retainer.
But of course, the long haired child just couldn't let it go could he? As Nike shifted to stand under some shade, perusing the blade that still felt so foreign in her hands, a voice addressing her made her look up, her haphazardly chopped hair swaying as she made eye contact with the boy she could've sworn would pass for a girl. His loud, brash words made her eyes widen, and before she could stop herself, a chuckle escaped her lips. "So just because someone gave you a sword, you will win? Well mine is given by Zeus himself, I'll have you know." she quipped in return, humoring the boy.
Raising a brow, while she wanted to take offense to being called 'old', Nike had heard the boy's age, and technically knew he wasn't too far off his mark. But yet the arrogant way in which the young fellow talked merely made the girl scowl, rolling her eyes. About to make a quip however, she was interupted by yet another lad who looked to be about the other's age (although the newcomer was decidedly more masculine versus her little assailant). While Nike appreciated his jumping in with a retort, it was the final statement that had her flashing a glare at him, involuntarily of course.
Girl's can't fight?
Well, we'll see about that. Biting her lip to resist from making a sassy retort about that comment in particular (because that was a surefire way to draw suspicion to herself, what with her already slender figure that was beginning to fill out - all wrongly for the visage she wanted to maintain), Nike instead remained silent, and nodded in assent. "Perhaps pick a sword your own size?" the girl grinned in an attempt to join in what she assumed would be a regular behavior of a guy.
She was in no way trained. Considering she had just arrived on Colchian soil not a few years ago, and had before that been a pampered daughter to a rich merchant, there was no surprise in that. Vasilios would never have put his precious daughter through the paces of a hardened soldier , but then again, Nike had never imagined her father would take to drinking in her life.
Death does change people.
Her hands shook as the man took down the information that she had given, and then prowled away, eager to be out of watching eyes. Yet as she moved away, sharp golden eyes caught the one behind her, who had just registered.... was that a girl? Nike's eyes almost widened before she caught herself, and hurried away, ignoring the way in which the young boy's long hair was being pinned by his retainer.
But of course, the long haired child just couldn't let it go could he? As Nike shifted to stand under some shade, perusing the blade that still felt so foreign in her hands, a voice addressing her made her look up, her haphazardly chopped hair swaying as she made eye contact with the boy she could've sworn would pass for a girl. His loud, brash words made her eyes widen, and before she could stop herself, a chuckle escaped her lips. "So just because someone gave you a sword, you will win? Well mine is given by Zeus himself, I'll have you know." she quipped in return, humoring the boy.
Raising a brow, while she wanted to take offense to being called 'old', Nike had heard the boy's age, and technically knew he wasn't too far off his mark. But yet the arrogant way in which the young fellow talked merely made the girl scowl, rolling her eyes. About to make a quip however, she was interupted by yet another lad who looked to be about the other's age (although the newcomer was decidedly more masculine versus her little assailant). While Nike appreciated his jumping in with a retort, it was the final statement that had her flashing a glare at him, involuntarily of course.
Girl's can't fight?
Well, we'll see about that. Biting her lip to resist from making a sassy retort about that comment in particular (because that was a surefire way to draw suspicion to herself, what with her already slender figure that was beginning to fill out - all wrongly for the visage she wanted to maintain), Nike instead remained silent, and nodded in assent. "Perhaps pick a sword your own size?" the girl grinned in an attempt to join in what she assumed would be a regular behavior of a guy.
Considered that she was raised as a royal ladyship from the womb, Thea had never found a sliver of appeal in swords and shields. Whenever she was not burrowing herself deep into assigned readings to learn all things political, she would be found in her personal chamber plucking away on her harp or hunkering over her apothecary. Normally, she would not attend a swordsmanship contest on her on volition. However, this competition was host by the capital itself. Simply saying, it was a large-scale shindig thrown together by the monarch that required her patronage. Her position as a member of a royal family did not lend her the luxury of following whatever whims she desired. As a Thanasi daughter, her presence at any major happenings was mandatory.
Well, there was another reason she was here in this overcrowded and rowdy stadium. Her brother Mihail, despite all of his shortcomings in being a traditional male, or as manly as any ten-year-old boy could be anyway, had decided to partake in this event. To be perfectly candid, she could not blame the effeminate child. The Thanasi were never big on anything else besides archery, and they were historically never honored for noteworthy services in the military. Even though she would never voice this out loud, she was certain that her mother did not fall in love with her father for any bulging muscles under his chiton. As with the case of many women who were married into this family, she was swept off her feet with false chivalry and subtle manipulation, both of which waned fast after the first decade of being shackled together. In fact, after her youngest sibling was brought into this life, Dionysios never really bothered with hiding his nonchalance towards Ulla anymore. Such was the apathetic nature of their patriarch.
After they all were seated on the first row - the rightful position for someone of their prestige, Thea excused herself to go find her brother in the queues of participants signing up for the contest. As with the case of a nation-wide contest, these aspiring fighters came in all shapes and sizes, and it was not particularly difficult to spot a cluster of ten-year-old boys. And even then, she could pick Mihail out from a sea of people anytime of the day. Amidst the swarm of unruly child-sized warrior-wannabes, a pale and slender Mimi with raven hair all the way down to his middle back stuck out like a sore thumb.
So with her trusted bodyguard Iakovos at her back, Thea made her way down to where her brother was. Along the way, heads were turned and hushed whispers were exchanged, but the girl could not care less. She was well aware that a stunning maiden like herself was an oddity among the crowd of male competitors. But she grew up with eyes constantly on her, and being subjected to public scrutiny was a norm. If anyone gave her a hard time, she held her head high and kept her doll-like composure. The Thanasi crest on her chest was not to be worn with anything but utmost pride and confidence, that she was taught from a young age.
It must be that same sense of pride that prickled at her side when she arrived at the scene of some other child bickering with her brother. From the words Thea caught, it appeared that the little smug brat was poking fun at Mihail's hairdo and overall feminine looks. The female furrowed her brow. The kid must possess some nerves to be talking to her brother like that. Judging from his clothings and the bulky man standing at his side, the snot was more than likely a son of some relatively influential family as well. His background may have instilled in him some sense of invulnerability to pick on other people, but should it not have also trained him to have proper manners?
Determined to not let the haughty kid get away with being disrespectful, Thea stepped up from behind Mihail. With a dead stare, she made eye contact to ensure that the imp was aware of her presence before addressing him, in a leveled voice, "If it is not the hair on your head that is concerned, I suggest you stick to the sword and keep quiet, child."
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Considered that she was raised as a royal ladyship from the womb, Thea had never found a sliver of appeal in swords and shields. Whenever she was not burrowing herself deep into assigned readings to learn all things political, she would be found in her personal chamber plucking away on her harp or hunkering over her apothecary. Normally, she would not attend a swordsmanship contest on her on volition. However, this competition was host by the capital itself. Simply saying, it was a large-scale shindig thrown together by the monarch that required her patronage. Her position as a member of a royal family did not lend her the luxury of following whatever whims she desired. As a Thanasi daughter, her presence at any major happenings was mandatory.
Well, there was another reason she was here in this overcrowded and rowdy stadium. Her brother Mihail, despite all of his shortcomings in being a traditional male, or as manly as any ten-year-old boy could be anyway, had decided to partake in this event. To be perfectly candid, she could not blame the effeminate child. The Thanasi were never big on anything else besides archery, and they were historically never honored for noteworthy services in the military. Even though she would never voice this out loud, she was certain that her mother did not fall in love with her father for any bulging muscles under his chiton. As with the case of many women who were married into this family, she was swept off her feet with false chivalry and subtle manipulation, both of which waned fast after the first decade of being shackled together. In fact, after her youngest sibling was brought into this life, Dionysios never really bothered with hiding his nonchalance towards Ulla anymore. Such was the apathetic nature of their patriarch.
After they all were seated on the first row - the rightful position for someone of their prestige, Thea excused herself to go find her brother in the queues of participants signing up for the contest. As with the case of a nation-wide contest, these aspiring fighters came in all shapes and sizes, and it was not particularly difficult to spot a cluster of ten-year-old boys. And even then, she could pick Mihail out from a sea of people anytime of the day. Amidst the swarm of unruly child-sized warrior-wannabes, a pale and slender Mimi with raven hair all the way down to his middle back stuck out like a sore thumb.
So with her trusted bodyguard Iakovos at her back, Thea made her way down to where her brother was. Along the way, heads were turned and hushed whispers were exchanged, but the girl could not care less. She was well aware that a stunning maiden like herself was an oddity among the crowd of male competitors. But she grew up with eyes constantly on her, and being subjected to public scrutiny was a norm. If anyone gave her a hard time, she held her head high and kept her doll-like composure. The Thanasi crest on her chest was not to be worn with anything but utmost pride and confidence, that she was taught from a young age.
It must be that same sense of pride that prickled at her side when she arrived at the scene of some other child bickering with her brother. From the words Thea caught, it appeared that the little smug brat was poking fun at Mihail's hairdo and overall feminine looks. The female furrowed her brow. The kid must possess some nerves to be talking to her brother like that. Judging from his clothings and the bulky man standing at his side, the snot was more than likely a son of some relatively influential family as well. His background may have instilled in him some sense of invulnerability to pick on other people, but should it not have also trained him to have proper manners?
Determined to not let the haughty kid get away with being disrespectful, Thea stepped up from behind Mihail. With a dead stare, she made eye contact to ensure that the imp was aware of her presence before addressing him, in a leveled voice, "If it is not the hair on your head that is concerned, I suggest you stick to the sword and keep quiet, child."
Considered that she was raised as a royal ladyship from the womb, Thea had never found a sliver of appeal in swords and shields. Whenever she was not burrowing herself deep into assigned readings to learn all things political, she would be found in her personal chamber plucking away on her harp or hunkering over her apothecary. Normally, she would not attend a swordsmanship contest on her on volition. However, this competition was host by the capital itself. Simply saying, it was a large-scale shindig thrown together by the monarch that required her patronage. Her position as a member of a royal family did not lend her the luxury of following whatever whims she desired. As a Thanasi daughter, her presence at any major happenings was mandatory.
Well, there was another reason she was here in this overcrowded and rowdy stadium. Her brother Mihail, despite all of his shortcomings in being a traditional male, or as manly as any ten-year-old boy could be anyway, had decided to partake in this event. To be perfectly candid, she could not blame the effeminate child. The Thanasi were never big on anything else besides archery, and they were historically never honored for noteworthy services in the military. Even though she would never voice this out loud, she was certain that her mother did not fall in love with her father for any bulging muscles under his chiton. As with the case of many women who were married into this family, she was swept off her feet with false chivalry and subtle manipulation, both of which waned fast after the first decade of being shackled together. In fact, after her youngest sibling was brought into this life, Dionysios never really bothered with hiding his nonchalance towards Ulla anymore. Such was the apathetic nature of their patriarch.
After they all were seated on the first row - the rightful position for someone of their prestige, Thea excused herself to go find her brother in the queues of participants signing up for the contest. As with the case of a nation-wide contest, these aspiring fighters came in all shapes and sizes, and it was not particularly difficult to spot a cluster of ten-year-old boys. And even then, she could pick Mihail out from a sea of people anytime of the day. Amidst the swarm of unruly child-sized warrior-wannabes, a pale and slender Mimi with raven hair all the way down to his middle back stuck out like a sore thumb.
So with her trusted bodyguard Iakovos at her back, Thea made her way down to where her brother was. Along the way, heads were turned and hushed whispers were exchanged, but the girl could not care less. She was well aware that a stunning maiden like herself was an oddity among the crowd of male competitors. But she grew up with eyes constantly on her, and being subjected to public scrutiny was a norm. If anyone gave her a hard time, she held her head high and kept her doll-like composure. The Thanasi crest on her chest was not to be worn with anything but utmost pride and confidence, that she was taught from a young age.
It must be that same sense of pride that prickled at her side when she arrived at the scene of some other child bickering with her brother. From the words Thea caught, it appeared that the little smug brat was poking fun at Mihail's hairdo and overall feminine looks. The female furrowed her brow. The kid must possess some nerves to be talking to her brother like that. Judging from his clothings and the bulky man standing at his side, the snot was more than likely a son of some relatively influential family as well. His background may have instilled in him some sense of invulnerability to pick on other people, but should it not have also trained him to have proper manners?
Determined to not let the haughty kid get away with being disrespectful, Thea stepped up from behind Mihail. With a dead stare, she made eye contact to ensure that the imp was aware of her presence before addressing him, in a leveled voice, "If it is not the hair on your head that is concerned, I suggest you stick to the sword and keep quiet, child."
Mihail did not exactly see the flaw in his logic. He had a proper sword, and he had been taking lessons, and those determinants alone should have been enough to prove that he could defeat them all in battle. Besides, he greatly doubted that this boy's sword had been gifted by Zeus himself, as he so claimed. Just because he was still young did not mean he was stupid, and he was confident the gods weren't just handing out swords like that. Otherwise, Mihail was pretty sure he would have gotten one too: they had answered his prayers in the past, after all, so there was no reason now should be any different.
He might have come up with some witty retort about why exactly he was capable of winning the entire competition and how he should count herself lucky that he was not in direct competition against the illustrious swordsman Mihail of Thanasi when a third boy jumped into the conversation. It had been an innocuous enough remark, on par with the banter they had been throwing about anyhow, but it had been poorly chosen. There were few insults which would jab at him more than that one. Besides, it wasn't even true because girls could fight, they just weren't allowed to, and there was a big difference between those two situations.
"I am a Lord, not a lady. Soon, I'm going to be a full grown man," he answered, puffing out his chest as best he could as though this would help prove the point. "My sister says having long hair is attractive, and I don't need to cut it if I can win anyway!" And, anyway, aside from a few loose strands which had detached themselves and were now hanging limply over his face, his hair was now tied up neatly and barely an issue. It was practise and sword quality that everything came down to, and that was the reason for Mihail's bragger. It was only a shame, then, that the truth that he was only some naive child was beginning to show under all that bravado, and his eyelids fluttered as though to prevent himself from bursting into tears over the allegations being made; his ego bruised and his thought-lost stutter sprinkling back into his speech.
"I don't need a new sword. Nethis gave me th...th-this one and I can use it just fine!" The fact that it was an incredibly heavy weapon meant nothing to Mihail outside of being a sign that it was the ideal sword to have on him because it would cause the most damage. He could pick it up in a pinch and, either way; he imagined strength would kick in as soon as they began fighting. "You c-can try, but you won't win against m...m-me." This was specifically directed at the younger of the two boys with him, the look on his face as proud as he could make it. "Have you even trained?"
Of course, one of his sisters had to show up right then. Ordinarily, Mihail had no problems whatsoever with his sisters coming to his defence on any matter, moderately savouring the fact that they so often appeared eager to protect him in such ways. They were older than he, and far more frightening to the usual demographic who might come after him, Dysius included. But on this occasion, Thea's words made him feel an odd mixture of arrogance and humiliation, and he pouted hard at the girl who had come to his salvation, despite wholeheartedly agreeing with what she had to say. "Theaaaa!" He elongated the second syllable of her name, noticeably whining in his attempt to shake her off. Besides, he'd brought his own guard, and if he needed help, then he was sure Straton would be all too happy to provide it. "Go away! You're going to embarrass me in this public place!"
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Mihail did not exactly see the flaw in his logic. He had a proper sword, and he had been taking lessons, and those determinants alone should have been enough to prove that he could defeat them all in battle. Besides, he greatly doubted that this boy's sword had been gifted by Zeus himself, as he so claimed. Just because he was still young did not mean he was stupid, and he was confident the gods weren't just handing out swords like that. Otherwise, Mihail was pretty sure he would have gotten one too: they had answered his prayers in the past, after all, so there was no reason now should be any different.
He might have come up with some witty retort about why exactly he was capable of winning the entire competition and how he should count herself lucky that he was not in direct competition against the illustrious swordsman Mihail of Thanasi when a third boy jumped into the conversation. It had been an innocuous enough remark, on par with the banter they had been throwing about anyhow, but it had been poorly chosen. There were few insults which would jab at him more than that one. Besides, it wasn't even true because girls could fight, they just weren't allowed to, and there was a big difference between those two situations.
"I am a Lord, not a lady. Soon, I'm going to be a full grown man," he answered, puffing out his chest as best he could as though this would help prove the point. "My sister says having long hair is attractive, and I don't need to cut it if I can win anyway!" And, anyway, aside from a few loose strands which had detached themselves and were now hanging limply over his face, his hair was now tied up neatly and barely an issue. It was practise and sword quality that everything came down to, and that was the reason for Mihail's bragger. It was only a shame, then, that the truth that he was only some naive child was beginning to show under all that bravado, and his eyelids fluttered as though to prevent himself from bursting into tears over the allegations being made; his ego bruised and his thought-lost stutter sprinkling back into his speech.
"I don't need a new sword. Nethis gave me th...th-this one and I can use it just fine!" The fact that it was an incredibly heavy weapon meant nothing to Mihail outside of being a sign that it was the ideal sword to have on him because it would cause the most damage. He could pick it up in a pinch and, either way; he imagined strength would kick in as soon as they began fighting. "You c-can try, but you won't win against m...m-me." This was specifically directed at the younger of the two boys with him, the look on his face as proud as he could make it. "Have you even trained?"
Of course, one of his sisters had to show up right then. Ordinarily, Mihail had no problems whatsoever with his sisters coming to his defence on any matter, moderately savouring the fact that they so often appeared eager to protect him in such ways. They were older than he, and far more frightening to the usual demographic who might come after him, Dysius included. But on this occasion, Thea's words made him feel an odd mixture of arrogance and humiliation, and he pouted hard at the girl who had come to his salvation, despite wholeheartedly agreeing with what she had to say. "Theaaaa!" He elongated the second syllable of her name, noticeably whining in his attempt to shake her off. Besides, he'd brought his own guard, and if he needed help, then he was sure Straton would be all too happy to provide it. "Go away! You're going to embarrass me in this public place!"
Mihail did not exactly see the flaw in his logic. He had a proper sword, and he had been taking lessons, and those determinants alone should have been enough to prove that he could defeat them all in battle. Besides, he greatly doubted that this boy's sword had been gifted by Zeus himself, as he so claimed. Just because he was still young did not mean he was stupid, and he was confident the gods weren't just handing out swords like that. Otherwise, Mihail was pretty sure he would have gotten one too: they had answered his prayers in the past, after all, so there was no reason now should be any different.
He might have come up with some witty retort about why exactly he was capable of winning the entire competition and how he should count herself lucky that he was not in direct competition against the illustrious swordsman Mihail of Thanasi when a third boy jumped into the conversation. It had been an innocuous enough remark, on par with the banter they had been throwing about anyhow, but it had been poorly chosen. There were few insults which would jab at him more than that one. Besides, it wasn't even true because girls could fight, they just weren't allowed to, and there was a big difference between those two situations.
"I am a Lord, not a lady. Soon, I'm going to be a full grown man," he answered, puffing out his chest as best he could as though this would help prove the point. "My sister says having long hair is attractive, and I don't need to cut it if I can win anyway!" And, anyway, aside from a few loose strands which had detached themselves and were now hanging limply over his face, his hair was now tied up neatly and barely an issue. It was practise and sword quality that everything came down to, and that was the reason for Mihail's bragger. It was only a shame, then, that the truth that he was only some naive child was beginning to show under all that bravado, and his eyelids fluttered as though to prevent himself from bursting into tears over the allegations being made; his ego bruised and his thought-lost stutter sprinkling back into his speech.
"I don't need a new sword. Nethis gave me th...th-this one and I can use it just fine!" The fact that it was an incredibly heavy weapon meant nothing to Mihail outside of being a sign that it was the ideal sword to have on him because it would cause the most damage. He could pick it up in a pinch and, either way; he imagined strength would kick in as soon as they began fighting. "You c-can try, but you won't win against m...m-me." This was specifically directed at the younger of the two boys with him, the look on his face as proud as he could make it. "Have you even trained?"
Of course, one of his sisters had to show up right then. Ordinarily, Mihail had no problems whatsoever with his sisters coming to his defence on any matter, moderately savouring the fact that they so often appeared eager to protect him in such ways. They were older than he, and far more frightening to the usual demographic who might come after him, Dysius included. But on this occasion, Thea's words made him feel an odd mixture of arrogance and humiliation, and he pouted hard at the girl who had come to his salvation, despite wholeheartedly agreeing with what she had to say. "Theaaaa!" He elongated the second syllable of her name, noticeably whining in his attempt to shake her off. Besides, he'd brought his own guard, and if he needed help, then he was sure Straton would be all too happy to provide it. "Go away! You're going to embarrass me in this public place!"
"You’re a lord?" Timaeus scoffed back, emboldened by his own rank within the Valaoritis family, "Impossible, there’s no way the Kotas family would allow a little girl in men’s clothes into the court." It never crossed his mind for a moment that this boy was actually above him in rank rather than being equal to him, giving Timaeus the courage to insult him so. After all, it seemed very unlikely that any Dynestia would be proud to have such a weakling represent their house in the swordsmanship contest, even if it was the children’s competition. Instead, it made far more sense that this kid was a member of some Varanos’s second or third branch. Someone so utterly forgettable that it wouldn’t be that much of an embarrassment upon the house when Mihail lost to every other young fighter who he would be pitted against by day’s end. He was too thin, he was too weak, he was too stubborn for his own good. It was obviously not going to end well for him. It just seemed unlikely that any nobleman would willingly send their son into the contest like this.
His lip curled up in a sneer as the boy continued to defend his long hair. At this point, it was almost embarrassing to Timaeus that he would have to fight this weakling. After all, the poor kid was clearly not prepared for a fight, no matter what he might insist that he was. Timaeus could just tell. Granted, he was no expert in the art of swordsmanship, especially not at the age of ten, but the Valaoritis were known for their military prowess and his family had taken every step to ensure that their sons would not be an exception to this. Timaeus, in particular, had taken to the sport like a duck to water. He couldn’t yet best his brother or anyone who had the advantage of age on him, but there was no question about Timaeus defeating this kid who could barely lift his own sword.
"Well how pretty you look won’t save you in the contest." Timaeus said with a laugh as Mihail insisted that his hair was fine. It truly wasn’t. After all, wouldn’t his hair being pulled back be a detriment to him once the fight started? Tim could easily see someone grabbing that ribbon and using it to shove the boy around a bit, giving those with shorter hair like him an easy win. Plus it didn’t hurt that having long hair almost looked silly on a boy. Or at least it did to Timaeus who only traveled to Midas once a year if he was lucky. For the most part, he was kept within his home province and all those who he interacted with conformed to the stoic, military-driven culture that made Eubocris. There really wasn’t much deviation from this norm that had been established, so, naturally, the boy’s behavior seemed especially odd to the ten-year-old nobleman.
When Mihail’s voice cracked, showing that he was about to burst into tears, Timaeus glanced over at the other boy with an eyebrow raised. Without uttering a single word he was able to ask. "Is this actually happening?"
He sighed as the boy tried to uselessly defend his choice of heavy weaponry. In many ways, this kid sounded like his younger brother Silanos who would still kick up a fuss whenever things didn’t go his way. It baffled Tim’s mind that a kid could go from boasting about his noble blood to near sobs in the span of a few moments.
Glancing back at Nike to make sure he had some form of backup if things were suddenly to head south, he said to the kid, "Look, you can barely lift your sword. You’re not gonna stand a chance if you insist on using that. It’s too big for you." For a moment the boy considered challenging Mihail to a pre-emptive fight right here in the waiting area just so that he could prove his point, but he held back -- knowing that his father would never approve of such a thing and he wasn’t about to follow suit in this kid by bringing embarrassment to his house. Not today.
He rolled his eyes at the notion of Mihail was going to beat him in a fight. It was already well-established that this just simply would not be happening and he made that very clear with his aggressive retort, "Yes, I have trained." He said with a blank expression, thoroughly unimpressed that this boy even had questioned his background. "I’ve had a sword in my hand from the time I could hold it properly. All day, every day I work with the swordmaster of my house and I have done so long enough that if I was only a bit older I could challenge some of the hoplites in our unit." That last bit may have been a bit of a white lie, stemming from a prideful boast he had overheard the man make on the odd occasion, but Mihail didn’t need to know that. "I am destined to become a commander in the Colchian armies. I have to train. No Valaoritis man will ever not be skilled in warfare." That last bit was true though. The family did not have a whole swath of land to divide between their sons and Nicomedes was destined to inherit all of it along with the titles and power. It was his right as the firstborn. That only left the military for his brothers and a boy with his bloodline was not going to settle for some lowly position. Arrangements with his uncle were already being made to secure Timaeus a position as his retainer so that he may immediately rise to the rank of Captain when he joined his father’s unit. Timaeus’s whole life centered around training and his skill with a sword. It was almost an insult that Mihail believed that he didn’t.
Without skipping a beat though and with a little bit more forcefulness than what was needed, he turned the question on Mihail, "Have you?" The clear answer was no or least not enough to compare to the boy who’s family centered around the Men of the Heights. However, it would be oh so satisfying to embarrass this kid a bit further and make him say the words. Especially after his attempts at a brag were so expertly shot down by Timaeus.
But before the boy could respond, a woman approached Mihail and stood behind him, hushing the boy's laughter into silence. However, the quiet wasn’t one of fear of this lady, but instead, it was brought on by the sheer awkwardness of the whole situation. After all, what was a woman doing down here, mingling with the fighters? It was improper and given how familiar she seemed to be with the boy meant that they were from the same family then she should clearly know this. Timaeus stared at her puzzledly for a moment, waiting to see what this woman was here for. Timaeus personally thought that maybe she had wandered over to braid Mihail’s hair. That seemed perfectly fitting for this boy.
However, he had to bite back his laughter when she finally did speak, defending the little brat. He had to turn away to hide his grin. Really> Did this little twerp need a girl to defend him? How weak could he really be? Turning slightly to Nike, who had thus far not captured Timaeus’s attention quite as the other child had, he mouthed to her, "She’s just as strange as he is." He snickered a bit, letting loose his laughter for a moment before turning back to the brother-sister pair.
The two of them were busy squabbling amongst themselves as it appeared that Mihail did not appreciate seeing his sister appear just as much as the other lads did. Once she had been shoved off by Mihail, he piped up, "Women aren’t allowed to be here. So you should take your little sister and go watch with the others" His eyes flashed wickedly over at the other boy, having been unsuccessful in an attempt to resist on getting a dig in on the poor lad and seemingly uncaring about the fact that he had just embarrassed him in front of his sister.
Served him right too, Timaeus silently thought to himself. He needs to learn that just owning a sword isn’t enough to be a swordsman.
Though would he actually listen to the message Timaeus was saying through his insults?
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"You’re a lord?" Timaeus scoffed back, emboldened by his own rank within the Valaoritis family, "Impossible, there’s no way the Kotas family would allow a little girl in men’s clothes into the court." It never crossed his mind for a moment that this boy was actually above him in rank rather than being equal to him, giving Timaeus the courage to insult him so. After all, it seemed very unlikely that any Dynestia would be proud to have such a weakling represent their house in the swordsmanship contest, even if it was the children’s competition. Instead, it made far more sense that this kid was a member of some Varanos’s second or third branch. Someone so utterly forgettable that it wouldn’t be that much of an embarrassment upon the house when Mihail lost to every other young fighter who he would be pitted against by day’s end. He was too thin, he was too weak, he was too stubborn for his own good. It was obviously not going to end well for him. It just seemed unlikely that any nobleman would willingly send their son into the contest like this.
His lip curled up in a sneer as the boy continued to defend his long hair. At this point, it was almost embarrassing to Timaeus that he would have to fight this weakling. After all, the poor kid was clearly not prepared for a fight, no matter what he might insist that he was. Timaeus could just tell. Granted, he was no expert in the art of swordsmanship, especially not at the age of ten, but the Valaoritis were known for their military prowess and his family had taken every step to ensure that their sons would not be an exception to this. Timaeus, in particular, had taken to the sport like a duck to water. He couldn’t yet best his brother or anyone who had the advantage of age on him, but there was no question about Timaeus defeating this kid who could barely lift his own sword.
"Well how pretty you look won’t save you in the contest." Timaeus said with a laugh as Mihail insisted that his hair was fine. It truly wasn’t. After all, wouldn’t his hair being pulled back be a detriment to him once the fight started? Tim could easily see someone grabbing that ribbon and using it to shove the boy around a bit, giving those with shorter hair like him an easy win. Plus it didn’t hurt that having long hair almost looked silly on a boy. Or at least it did to Timaeus who only traveled to Midas once a year if he was lucky. For the most part, he was kept within his home province and all those who he interacted with conformed to the stoic, military-driven culture that made Eubocris. There really wasn’t much deviation from this norm that had been established, so, naturally, the boy’s behavior seemed especially odd to the ten-year-old nobleman.
When Mihail’s voice cracked, showing that he was about to burst into tears, Timaeus glanced over at the other boy with an eyebrow raised. Without uttering a single word he was able to ask. "Is this actually happening?"
He sighed as the boy tried to uselessly defend his choice of heavy weaponry. In many ways, this kid sounded like his younger brother Silanos who would still kick up a fuss whenever things didn’t go his way. It baffled Tim’s mind that a kid could go from boasting about his noble blood to near sobs in the span of a few moments.
Glancing back at Nike to make sure he had some form of backup if things were suddenly to head south, he said to the kid, "Look, you can barely lift your sword. You’re not gonna stand a chance if you insist on using that. It’s too big for you." For a moment the boy considered challenging Mihail to a pre-emptive fight right here in the waiting area just so that he could prove his point, but he held back -- knowing that his father would never approve of such a thing and he wasn’t about to follow suit in this kid by bringing embarrassment to his house. Not today.
He rolled his eyes at the notion of Mihail was going to beat him in a fight. It was already well-established that this just simply would not be happening and he made that very clear with his aggressive retort, "Yes, I have trained." He said with a blank expression, thoroughly unimpressed that this boy even had questioned his background. "I’ve had a sword in my hand from the time I could hold it properly. All day, every day I work with the swordmaster of my house and I have done so long enough that if I was only a bit older I could challenge some of the hoplites in our unit." That last bit may have been a bit of a white lie, stemming from a prideful boast he had overheard the man make on the odd occasion, but Mihail didn’t need to know that. "I am destined to become a commander in the Colchian armies. I have to train. No Valaoritis man will ever not be skilled in warfare." That last bit was true though. The family did not have a whole swath of land to divide between their sons and Nicomedes was destined to inherit all of it along with the titles and power. It was his right as the firstborn. That only left the military for his brothers and a boy with his bloodline was not going to settle for some lowly position. Arrangements with his uncle were already being made to secure Timaeus a position as his retainer so that he may immediately rise to the rank of Captain when he joined his father’s unit. Timaeus’s whole life centered around training and his skill with a sword. It was almost an insult that Mihail believed that he didn’t.
Without skipping a beat though and with a little bit more forcefulness than what was needed, he turned the question on Mihail, "Have you?" The clear answer was no or least not enough to compare to the boy who’s family centered around the Men of the Heights. However, it would be oh so satisfying to embarrass this kid a bit further and make him say the words. Especially after his attempts at a brag were so expertly shot down by Timaeus.
But before the boy could respond, a woman approached Mihail and stood behind him, hushing the boy's laughter into silence. However, the quiet wasn’t one of fear of this lady, but instead, it was brought on by the sheer awkwardness of the whole situation. After all, what was a woman doing down here, mingling with the fighters? It was improper and given how familiar she seemed to be with the boy meant that they were from the same family then she should clearly know this. Timaeus stared at her puzzledly for a moment, waiting to see what this woman was here for. Timaeus personally thought that maybe she had wandered over to braid Mihail’s hair. That seemed perfectly fitting for this boy.
However, he had to bite back his laughter when she finally did speak, defending the little brat. He had to turn away to hide his grin. Really> Did this little twerp need a girl to defend him? How weak could he really be? Turning slightly to Nike, who had thus far not captured Timaeus’s attention quite as the other child had, he mouthed to her, "She’s just as strange as he is." He snickered a bit, letting loose his laughter for a moment before turning back to the brother-sister pair.
The two of them were busy squabbling amongst themselves as it appeared that Mihail did not appreciate seeing his sister appear just as much as the other lads did. Once she had been shoved off by Mihail, he piped up, "Women aren’t allowed to be here. So you should take your little sister and go watch with the others" His eyes flashed wickedly over at the other boy, having been unsuccessful in an attempt to resist on getting a dig in on the poor lad and seemingly uncaring about the fact that he had just embarrassed him in front of his sister.
Served him right too, Timaeus silently thought to himself. He needs to learn that just owning a sword isn’t enough to be a swordsman.
Though would he actually listen to the message Timaeus was saying through his insults?
"You’re a lord?" Timaeus scoffed back, emboldened by his own rank within the Valaoritis family, "Impossible, there’s no way the Kotas family would allow a little girl in men’s clothes into the court." It never crossed his mind for a moment that this boy was actually above him in rank rather than being equal to him, giving Timaeus the courage to insult him so. After all, it seemed very unlikely that any Dynestia would be proud to have such a weakling represent their house in the swordsmanship contest, even if it was the children’s competition. Instead, it made far more sense that this kid was a member of some Varanos’s second or third branch. Someone so utterly forgettable that it wouldn’t be that much of an embarrassment upon the house when Mihail lost to every other young fighter who he would be pitted against by day’s end. He was too thin, he was too weak, he was too stubborn for his own good. It was obviously not going to end well for him. It just seemed unlikely that any nobleman would willingly send their son into the contest like this.
His lip curled up in a sneer as the boy continued to defend his long hair. At this point, it was almost embarrassing to Timaeus that he would have to fight this weakling. After all, the poor kid was clearly not prepared for a fight, no matter what he might insist that he was. Timaeus could just tell. Granted, he was no expert in the art of swordsmanship, especially not at the age of ten, but the Valaoritis were known for their military prowess and his family had taken every step to ensure that their sons would not be an exception to this. Timaeus, in particular, had taken to the sport like a duck to water. He couldn’t yet best his brother or anyone who had the advantage of age on him, but there was no question about Timaeus defeating this kid who could barely lift his own sword.
"Well how pretty you look won’t save you in the contest." Timaeus said with a laugh as Mihail insisted that his hair was fine. It truly wasn’t. After all, wouldn’t his hair being pulled back be a detriment to him once the fight started? Tim could easily see someone grabbing that ribbon and using it to shove the boy around a bit, giving those with shorter hair like him an easy win. Plus it didn’t hurt that having long hair almost looked silly on a boy. Or at least it did to Timaeus who only traveled to Midas once a year if he was lucky. For the most part, he was kept within his home province and all those who he interacted with conformed to the stoic, military-driven culture that made Eubocris. There really wasn’t much deviation from this norm that had been established, so, naturally, the boy’s behavior seemed especially odd to the ten-year-old nobleman.
When Mihail’s voice cracked, showing that he was about to burst into tears, Timaeus glanced over at the other boy with an eyebrow raised. Without uttering a single word he was able to ask. "Is this actually happening?"
He sighed as the boy tried to uselessly defend his choice of heavy weaponry. In many ways, this kid sounded like his younger brother Silanos who would still kick up a fuss whenever things didn’t go his way. It baffled Tim’s mind that a kid could go from boasting about his noble blood to near sobs in the span of a few moments.
Glancing back at Nike to make sure he had some form of backup if things were suddenly to head south, he said to the kid, "Look, you can barely lift your sword. You’re not gonna stand a chance if you insist on using that. It’s too big for you." For a moment the boy considered challenging Mihail to a pre-emptive fight right here in the waiting area just so that he could prove his point, but he held back -- knowing that his father would never approve of such a thing and he wasn’t about to follow suit in this kid by bringing embarrassment to his house. Not today.
He rolled his eyes at the notion of Mihail was going to beat him in a fight. It was already well-established that this just simply would not be happening and he made that very clear with his aggressive retort, "Yes, I have trained." He said with a blank expression, thoroughly unimpressed that this boy even had questioned his background. "I’ve had a sword in my hand from the time I could hold it properly. All day, every day I work with the swordmaster of my house and I have done so long enough that if I was only a bit older I could challenge some of the hoplites in our unit." That last bit may have been a bit of a white lie, stemming from a prideful boast he had overheard the man make on the odd occasion, but Mihail didn’t need to know that. "I am destined to become a commander in the Colchian armies. I have to train. No Valaoritis man will ever not be skilled in warfare." That last bit was true though. The family did not have a whole swath of land to divide between their sons and Nicomedes was destined to inherit all of it along with the titles and power. It was his right as the firstborn. That only left the military for his brothers and a boy with his bloodline was not going to settle for some lowly position. Arrangements with his uncle were already being made to secure Timaeus a position as his retainer so that he may immediately rise to the rank of Captain when he joined his father’s unit. Timaeus’s whole life centered around training and his skill with a sword. It was almost an insult that Mihail believed that he didn’t.
Without skipping a beat though and with a little bit more forcefulness than what was needed, he turned the question on Mihail, "Have you?" The clear answer was no or least not enough to compare to the boy who’s family centered around the Men of the Heights. However, it would be oh so satisfying to embarrass this kid a bit further and make him say the words. Especially after his attempts at a brag were so expertly shot down by Timaeus.
But before the boy could respond, a woman approached Mihail and stood behind him, hushing the boy's laughter into silence. However, the quiet wasn’t one of fear of this lady, but instead, it was brought on by the sheer awkwardness of the whole situation. After all, what was a woman doing down here, mingling with the fighters? It was improper and given how familiar she seemed to be with the boy meant that they were from the same family then she should clearly know this. Timaeus stared at her puzzledly for a moment, waiting to see what this woman was here for. Timaeus personally thought that maybe she had wandered over to braid Mihail’s hair. That seemed perfectly fitting for this boy.
However, he had to bite back his laughter when she finally did speak, defending the little brat. He had to turn away to hide his grin. Really> Did this little twerp need a girl to defend him? How weak could he really be? Turning slightly to Nike, who had thus far not captured Timaeus’s attention quite as the other child had, he mouthed to her, "She’s just as strange as he is." He snickered a bit, letting loose his laughter for a moment before turning back to the brother-sister pair.
The two of them were busy squabbling amongst themselves as it appeared that Mihail did not appreciate seeing his sister appear just as much as the other lads did. Once she had been shoved off by Mihail, he piped up, "Women aren’t allowed to be here. So you should take your little sister and go watch with the others" His eyes flashed wickedly over at the other boy, having been unsuccessful in an attempt to resist on getting a dig in on the poor lad and seemingly uncaring about the fact that he had just embarrassed him in front of his sister.
Served him right too, Timaeus silently thought to himself. He needs to learn that just owning a sword isn’t enough to be a swordsman.
Though would he actually listen to the message Timaeus was saying through his insults?