Chapter One: Cold Mornings at Home

The Journey Begins!

Chapter One:  Cold Mornings at Home

Terron lifted his head from his soft white pillow, his eyes opened to the sunlight seeping through his window blinds. His eyes, with colorless black pupils, where still tired from the previous night of party and celebration. He had gained a license to manufacture and wield a blade of his own in public. His hands where chaliced from years of practice, in those years he was ferociously trained by his teacher Major Richard Winters of the Minoan Military.

Terron stood from his bed, his feet where planted onto the chilled concrete color, although he lived in a beautiful mansion on the outskirts of Minsk, the Capitol city of Minoa. He preferred to live in his quarters with the bare essentials for his Military training. While Terron may dine and converse with the higher class of society, he trained and preferred to stray from the lap of luxury with the commoners and soldiers of Minoa. Terron walked through the dimly sunlit room, passed his personal weight bench, passed his metal rack filled with barbell weights, passed his bookshelf filled with adventure novels and military textbooks, to the only piece of original furniture besides the bed, a vanity. Drawers filled with papers and medical supplies, a five foot tall swiveling mirror, a beautiful ornate red oak finish. In a room filled with antique furniture it would fit in right at home, but in Terrons room it stuck out like a sore thumb.

                On the vanity desk top sat seven black wristbands, a silver ring with the symbol of Minoa on it, the Rampant Lion, and Passant wolf, the flag of Minoa which displayed the Lion rearing its front claws for battle, and the Wolf raising its left paw and bowing its head in defeat. The Lion representing Minoa’s military might, and the wolf representing any and all who would dare to oppose the nation. The ring was on a sterling silver chain, Terron placed the chain around his neck, then picked up the seven leather wristbands and placed four on his left wrist, and three on his right wrist.  He was now looking in the mirror, his raven black hair was messy from sleep, it was long in the front and short in the back, he wore no shirt to bed; his olive skin was toned with thick, hard muscle. Though he worked out every night since as far back as he could remember, and even increased the intensity of his workouts every night until he could go no higher, he never gained muscle, and if  he did not work out at all, he never lost his physique either. After he turned eighteen, he weighed one-hundred and twenty five pounds, and never gained or lost any weight. But doctors of the highest degree at the Fuhrers dismissal played it all off saying that Terron had an abnormally slowly functioning metabolism. But Terron knew that they where hiding something from him. Every three weeks his “Father” Maximilien Robespierre would take him to see a physician, though Terron never fully understood why his father was so concerned with his health when he was never sick. In fact, as far back as Terron could remember he had never even caught a cold. But these things rarely crossed Terrons young and busy mind.

                Terron walked to his closet, sliding open the door he was greeted by the aroma of leather and cotton. He felt around for a clean white undershirt, a white dress shirt, and his black Denim duster coat. While the shirts where normal, the denim duster coat was designed and stitched by hand by the Minoan Military Research and development department. It had thick leather spaulders, elbow protectors, kidney and rib guards, and the leather material made it possible to maneuver as if you where wearing no armor at all, but the thickness of the leather protected him from blunt and dull weapons. His jeans, black denim had the same leather guards on the hips, knees and ankles, but fitted just like any other pair of jeans.

There was a reason Terron dressed in such defensive wear today, for the first time in his life he would find out what blade he was suited for. He would fight some of the best military personal, with various blade types to find out what blade would sing to him best. “Singing” as the Blayders called it, is when a Blayder, and his or her blade are completely in synch, this happens in different ways for every blayder. While Terron was not yet a true Blayder, he was still a Private in the standard Minoan Military; he worked towards becoming one of the fabled Blayders of Minoa. Terron now reached for his black leather boots, they where heavy, and had two inch thick soles for defense against an enemies blade. On the top of the throat of the boots was a metal pendant of the rampant lion of Minoa. Terron stood, now fully clothed and ready for the day, he brushed his hair with his hands and parted his messy bangs. He took a deep breath and walked out of his room.

                As he closed his door behind him he heard his brothers door open, Terron turned to see a cute brunet girl backing out with Judas pinned to her lips, she had a gorgeous hourglass figure and neck length brunet hair. Her face could not be seen while Judas was being entranced in her kiss. It was Sophie, Judas’s on again, off again girlfriend. She continuously left him because she was terrified that he may one day be ruler of Minoa. While commonly the son of a dictator is not promised the throne, Judas was the only grandson of the former king Athelstan. Terron had always dreamt of defending his beloved older brother while he was on the throne as the king of the greatest nation on the planet. As their kiss ended and Sophie walked away, Judas leaned back onto the hallway wall and said,

                “Little brother, I am in love.” With a swooning grin on his face. Terron chuckled at the thought of his playboy bachelor brother truly being “in love”. Judas was a much built man, he was taller than Terron, by about a foot, and looked far stronger, though he did not have Terrons unnatural strengths agility or intelligence, besides being the son of the former queen and the current Fuehrer, Judas would be a normal soldier. He was light skinned, had ocean blue eyes and light chestnut brown hair. Some say he has the body of his father at his age, the hair and eyes of his mother, and the attitude of the former king Athelstan.  He was relaxed, but very arrogant, a trait that commonly got he and Terron in a world of trouble as children.

                “Brother, I don’t think you could really love that vixen. She has a habit of making you want to leave our country and live life as a gypsies’ man.” Terron replied in his soothing voice, unlike his brothers which was scratchy and deep, Terron had the voice of a Gonuran, without the accent. Judas smirked at the comment then went back into his room. It troubled Terron how easily his brother was distracted from his life by women and celebration, sometimes he was glad that his brother had many years to go before he would ascend to the throne. Terron walked downstairs to the lounge, where he was greeted by General Aldrich, the Sleek Shadow Blayder. A man Terron did not see eye to eye with, his teacher Major Winters had told Terron all about what General Aldrich had done in the war.

                “My, My, up and dressed so early? What seems to be the occasion Kid?” Aldrich had recently returned from a scouting mission in the eastern deserts that separate Minoa and Gonur. He was dressed in a white cotton trench coat that had the same modifications of Terrons Black denim duster coat, but in eye burning solid white. He wore a fedora hat that was also pure white. His long black hair seemed to ooze over his shoulders and face. Pure green eyes could be seen through his hair.

                Terron glared into the eyes of the man his teacher constantly warned him about. He could feel that there was something off about this man. Most military personal are either distant, or very charming, but this man was cheerful, yet disturbingly so nonchalant about death and killing in war, he spoke of war stories as if they were hunting expeditions.

                “I’m off to be tested for my blade…” Terron spoke quickly and walked passed Aldrich to avoid any more conversation. Terron now stood in the dining room, the long red oak table was polished clean, and in the center held a breakfast for three, dandelion yellow eggs surrounded by freshly cooked bacon and wheat bread toast, as appetizing as this meal looked in Terrons eyes, he instead grabbed a single apple and walked to the lounge, where the same man who cooked the meal, the butler Balthazar, was laying the day’s paper on the table for either Terron or Judas to read, another copy of the paper was sent to the Fuhrers study, these days it was where he spent most of his time. Balthazar bowed to Terron; his black suit was contrasted by his pale skin and silver hair, to his side was the sheath that once held a scimitar blade that was now displayed in his servant quarters bedroom.

                “Master Terron, I must insist boy you eat some actual breakfast today. Yesterday you hardly ate anything at all even at your own party.” Balthazar commonly nagged Terron about his eating habit, or rather, lack of eating. While he was an elderly man, Balthazar was a former guard of the former and late Kind Athelstan; Balthazar was commonly the subject of practice for Terron’s Blayder training.

                “Not today old’ boy, I have serious training to do with Major Winters” Replied Terron as he bit into the luscious red apple. The sweet juices poured down his throat as he sunk his sharp almost pointed teeth into the apples smooth skin. Balthazar followed Terron back into the dining room and sighed knowing that arguing with him about how important it is to eat a proper meal would be entirely useless.

                “I’m not going to waste my breath telling you that you will regret having not eaten breakfast later today.” Balthazar then walked out of the dining room to take the Fuhrers copy of the daily paper to him. Terron walked through the kitchen, the stainless steel counter tops shined as the white lights shined down from the ceiling; the stove’s heating coils where still red from being used to cook. Terron leaned against the eggshell white refrigerator finishing his apple as Judas walked into the kitchen now dressed, and ready for a day filled with study, while Terron was constantly training to become a blayder, Judas had to learn how to become a politician. It was very apparent that Maximilien did not want his and his late wife’s son to endanger himself by joining the Blayders Core or the Minoan Military.

                “So little brother, what is on the agenda for you and the major today?” Judas asked with his hand on his own blade, it rested on the side of his black slacks. A short thing Calvary blade, while he was not trained as a Blayder, he still learned from their father how to use a sword. Judas commonly grew jealous of his younger brother’s freedom in choice, but knew it was for a good cause.

                “You know as well as I do, today I begin work on my own blade. All these years of practice, leading up to this. I’m so nervous you could fill a gallon bucket with my sweat.” Terron admitted to his brother looking at the half eaten apple in his hand.

                “You’ll do fine little brother. If I can make a blade you definitely can make one.” Judas assured Terron seeing the rare signs of nervousness in his eyes. Terron replied nervously,

                “It’s not the crafting of the blade I’m nervous about though brother. It’s what will happen when my blade is complete. The blade will mark the beginning of my military career. I’ll be going away for a long time.”  Judas then walked over to his brother and placed both his hands on Terrons shoulders.

                “Brother, you will be fine, stop worrying it’s not like you in the least. When you take your Blayders entrance exam, you will stun them all. Father always said there was something about the way you handled a blade that made your skills one that the Military will hold in the highest regard.” Judas was rarely serious, but as he said this Terron grew more confident, he then hugged his brother.

                “Thank you brother.” He said graciously, surprised Judas hugged back and then patted Terron on the head.  Terron and Judas walked into the Lounge and sat on the comfortable tan suede recliner seats that sat adjacent from the love seat and couch of the same material.  Terron waited patiently for the Major to arrive. The supple suede seat felt soft on his skin, he absorbed the entirety of this moment. His last day as a civilian, and it was soon to end. The moment his blade began to be created he would be considered a soldier in training. Balthazar then entered the room and said,

                “Master Terron, Major Winters is waiting for you in the courtyard.” Terron then stood and faced his brother,                 “Wish me luck?” he said with a smirk.

                “You won’t need it.” Judas replied. Terron then walked past Balthazar who patted him on the shoulder saying “Good luck sir,” before Terron could make it to the front doors he heard the deep voice of the Fuehrer,

                “Terron, Good luck my son.” He said with a smile on his face, he stood at the top of the stair well wearing a white button up dress shirt tucked into dark brown slacks, his long golden hair was brushed back and his liquid blue eyes penetrated Terrons Fears and gave him all the confidence he could ever need. Terron then saluted,

                “Thank you my Fuehrer!” he said in a deep pride filled tone. Terron then turned and walked through the great oak doors. As they closed behind him he could feel a rush of excitement and fear, the Majors automobile was parked in the courtyard driveway, the box-like machine was shaking and rumbling as the mechanical gears and engines supplied massive amounts of power to the wheels and lights of the machine. Terron didn’t know how to drive, and the Major barely obeyed the traffic laws, but the technology in the Automobile was unlike any other the world had ever seen.

                “Get in boy, we haven’t got all day!” the Major announced from the driver side window. Terron quickly walked to the car, as his feet left the smooth porch and cement steps and landed on the white gravel ground his ears where met with the crackling and popping of the gravel under his feet.  He sat on the white leather seat; it was warm from the sun even in the colder winter climate. Terron closed his eyes and began to prepare himself for whatever was to lie ahead. 

Author's Note

its been a long time comming but Chapter one is here! any questions? this is my mos ambitiouse work! hope you all enjoy!

Reviews

[.quan.011.]

This is nice start with some great details and a great flow to it. I already tell I am going to like it. I didn't find any grammar errors. Nice job!

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[Coyote Poetry]

A very good opening chapter. I like the storyline and the characters. I like the communication and places you took me in the chapter. Thank you for the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Taylor H.]

This was fantastic. Keep up the good work :)

[Jas Alejandrino Ramos]

nice chapter! you have such a nice imagination....good job!