Zaire Fontell
I rolled off my bed this morning. I stood on the dirt floor of my cottage, made myself a nice cup of tea and sat at my kitchen table. It was a small little house of mine, but mine it was. I may have been only seventeen, but that didn't matter to anyone, I was respectable. I didn't cause trouble like the advisors did. I didn't fight the new King like some did. Nor did I really care who the king was. I was here to train new knights, and that's exactly what I would do. After finishing my tea, I grab a wooden staff and walk out to the training fields. I set up one of the practice dummies, and begin my morning routine. I start with the staff, for even though it isn't a bladed weapon, it can easily be used to knock a person out. In other words, good for dealing with disobedience. The dummy takes it's hits well, it is meant for it anyways. I start my routine by closing my eyes, it was strange the way I did this, it was almost like meditation in a way. I begin my breathing pattern, in, hit, out, hit, in, hit, out, hit. And so I continued until the sun peeked it's way over the horizon. I could tell the instant this happened, as even with my eyes closed, things became much brighter. I slowed to a stop and put away the staff. Time for breakfast.
((I'll be doing these one by one, so here's the first one. My more frequent posts will probably be in third person, but I was feeling like first person right now, so that's what this one is in.))