36th of Frost, 120 Steel
The cold winter winds blew through the valley and the Circle of Wandering was no different. Snow fell from the sky in a light flurry that dusted the stones of the ancient proving grounds. Aoren stood wearing the black cloth that Talon had taken to garbing his personal knights in. Around his waist was a silver sash accented with silver bracers to commemorate this more ceremonial occasion. Over Aoren’s shoulders hung a light black cloak that billowed softly in the winds. His raven wings were folded behind him. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stood observing the fighters that were brawling before him. Lethal blows were forbidden in this display but everything else? Aoren had told them to hold nothing back. Short of killing their opponent, he had told them to use every skill at their disposal. This was their last chance to prove themselves before he selected the final three that would move forward to the last leg of these trials.
The puffs of snow evaporated as they neared Aoren’s form. His arche element of fire kept the cold at bay, dissolving the icy crystals before they even had a chance to near him. In the Kathar’s eyes, there burned the heat of those flames. It was a recent development as his relationship with the elements had grown. Twin witchfires burned perpetually in Aoren’s eyes, shifting his natural eye color from hazel to an infernal red-orange as his closest element asserted itself. It was both a declaration and a reminder, Aoren was an agent of the flames and those fires had claimed him. When the display had begun, he admitted there was a small part of him that took pleasure in seeing a few of the aspirants shift uncomfortably as they met his gaze. Garbed in the black attire, surrounded by the icy white backdrop of the winter valley atop the enigmatic Circle of Wandering with the fire burning softly in his eyes, he knew some of them found it unsettling.
That was a good thing. The Argent Hand should inspire as much fear as they did respect. He would accept nothing less.
To his right stood three aspirants and to his left stood three others. Some of them were already bruised and bloodied, chests heaving as they had displayed their prowess in the bitter cold. Aoren had been impressed thus far. It would come down to selecting those who moved forward by a hair’s breadth. The two fighters currently going at it were evenly matched in their skill but in the end, one managed to disarm the other, kicking him in the gut and sending him sprawling backwards.
“Enough!” Aoren’s voice rang out clearly over the low winds ghosting through the valley. The advancing fighter immediately stopped. Aoren motioned for the two to come forward. The clear victor offered a hand to the fallen warrior who accepted it and together they came to stand before Aoren. He surveyed them in silence for a moment before nodding.
“Well done. Rest. You’ve earned it.” The Knight-Captain glanced over to two other figures. A woman dressed in armor with distinctly elven features. She had dark black hair and eyes that seemed to pierce one to the soul. Tarshenna. One of the Iron Queen’s personal bodyguards. She was there as another observer but also to provide her medicinal skills to those in need of them. She stepped forward and began dressing the fighters wounds in silence. The other was an Avialae just a hair or so shorter than Aoren himself. He had grey feathered wings and bore an older, grizzled face. Over one eye was an eye-patch and his brown hair was streaked with grey. He was a bear of a man whose hands rested lightly on the handle of a warhammer that was propped on the ground before him. His name was Ythror and there was some Dwarven lineage in him despite his stature. He was one of the Shokaze’s personal guards. He too was there to observe.
“Rickter. Hisei.” Aoren spoke their names, the final bout between the last remaining two. He kept the bond between himself and Rickter closed off. He had hopes for Rickter but he would remain impartial. Friends and bondmates they might have been but Aoren would not risk Talon’s safety if the wolf proved incapable of overcoming his opponent.
Hisei was a human who had proven himself a capable fighter. He was a bit cocky, bordering on arrogant at times, but there was no denying that he had skill. Normally his attitude would have been one that Aoren would have immediately tossed out but the warrior’s skill in blending the magic of Transposition with melee combat gave him pause for thought.
“As I have said before, hold nothing back. You are forbidden from killing your opponent. Everything else?” Aoren let the statement hang. Talon was not an idle or pampered royal. He actively delved into the depths of the Warrens. He fought alongside the Sky Guard and even members of the Dead Legion. Talon sought danger so that others would never have to face them, even going so far as to investigate crimes around the city personally. That required these men and women know that what they would be doing would require them to be at the pinnacle of their chosen skills. Following the events of the season prior, even he had thrown himself into training more rigorously. He would never forgive himself for what almost happened and so he endeavored to ensure it would not happen again.
“Begin.” Aoren nodded toward the Circle. He hoped that Rickter was prepared.
