Disclaimer

[Taris]

Flames licked his bareback as he moved, pouring metal into thick wooden beams, shapes of arrows becoming visible as the shining liquid filled up each carving. This was his duty - dawn until dusk outfitting the warrior clan of Askavi's illustrious Black family. Centuries had passed as he beat and molded silver and steel into armor and swords. Centuries more would pass and he would still be in the same place, stuck between an iron and a blazing pit.

He was a slave and this was his life. He'd been born to it and would die with it as his parents had so soon after he was born. Their names were a mystery that no one could solve... not even the overseer's records. Only those with skills were known by their names and he just so happened to be the best craftsman in the lot. Even his master, the patriarch of the Black family commissioned him for all his weapons and allowed no other to possess a sword forged by him save his daughter, Valerian.

She had broken her last sword during a training match with her father. It had not been Taris' fault. He had not made that blade. The creature that had, however was bleeding and destitute in the deeper solitary pits for causing the Lady such embarrassment. It was now Taris' job to make sure no other sword shattered or bent in her hands. It was no easy task given the hard impact of an Eyrien in the heat of battle and he had been working on it for many days.

Hefty blow after hefty blow he hammered the metal into the perfect shape and as it glowed red hot he carved into the slightly liquidious silver the intricate curling letters that formed his Master's daughter's name. Once he was done he dropped it into a trough filled with cold fresh water and went back to work on the arrows.

[Valerian]

“Lady you father wishes to speak with you at once.” The tall Eyrien warrior informed Valerian as he walked along side her to the blacksmithing stall.

“Yes Prince you have already told me.” She replied in a flat emotionless tone. It was tone she used for everyone. It was the tone she learned to develop after all she was her father’s daughter and to show emotions to all was nothing but a sign of weakness. “And as I told you already you can tell him I will see him when I’m done.” She spoke before the Prince had a chance to protest. “Now go,” She dismissed the male before entering the blacksmith stall.

The heat from the fires engulfed her at once, it would bother most but she showed no sign of the discomfort she felt. Her golden eyes took a moment to readjust to the dim light, but once it did it was easier for her to spot the very male she came to see. His back was towards her and she hesitated a moment before making her presence known as she heard guards outside passing by.

“Slave,” She called to him. “I’m here for my sword. It better be ready and worth my time.”

[Taris]

Once the metal had cooled he dumped the arrowheads onto the large thick wooden table. With an expert's eye he examined them, wrapping the good ones in cloth while tossing the faulty ones into a barrel. Later he would smelt all the defected pieces for more steel and try again until it the barrel was empty and fresh materials put in it's place. Then the cycle would repeat itself on and on - there was never a lose of demand for weapons.

He did not pause in his work. Keeping busy was the key to staying alive within the high stone fortress and he had been there long enough to know the only time to rest was the hours allotted for sleep. Moving back to the trough he removed the blade, weighed it in his hands momentarily before moving to the stone wheel. Bending over he racked the steel along it's strong unyielding surface, shedding excess and sharpening the blade.

Even over the constant sizzle of hot metal and water or the slamming of hammers, nails and bending of steel Taris' senses honed in on every sound that did not belong to the area around him. He was not surprised when he heard the dominant feminine voice approach his stall, followed by a more submissive clinging male soldier. Instead of stopping and waiting to greet them he merely continued, shaving the sword's edge until it was razor sharp.

“Slave. I’m here for my sword. It better be ready and worth my time.”

Straightening his back he dusted the shavings of metal from the weapon before weighing it once more in the palms of his hands. "It is finished as promised." He replied, hardly angered by her hasty and demanding tone. The Eyriens were all the same - impatient, strong-willed and cruel. If one did as one was told they need only see one side of them. Turning to face her he held out his hands, head bent in respect. "Your sword, Lady."

[Valerian]

Valerian was the perfect image of an Eyrien Queen. Everything about her demanded attention and commanded power. She always wore an emotionless mask upon her face, her gold eyes revealed nothing as to what she was thinking, she was born to a mighty warrior race and after years of training she only honed her natural talents as a Blood Queen and Eyrien Warrior. To her family she was nothing but perfect… so much so that the family already plan for her to some day rule. After all it was the Black family that ran things; the Queens of pass were only for show. The ones pulling the stings were always the Black family or those connected to them. But it was her father that had the final say in anything. So it was no wonder that he would plot to have his only daughter rule one day.

"It is finished as promised."

“Good,” was her only reply as she took the sword from the slave and began to inspect it with a train eye. She tested the balance, the weight, and the sharpness. “Not bad slave.” She admitted while holding the sword up to the light to study the detail that went into making such a beautiful sword.

“It truly a piece of art,” She lowered the sword and pointed it directly at the males chest. “But the question remains how will it hold up in battle?” Her eye brow rose. “I don’t need just some pretty piece of equipment. I need something that will be functional.” She took a step forward and let the cold blade of steal press against his chest. “Are you will to back up your work slave?”

Time passed slowly for a moment. Something about this slave seemed different. Something about him made her want to think of him different. But how could she want to do such a thing… after all he was just a slave.

A small smirked played on her red lips as she step back and lower her sword to her side. “Grab a sword and follow,” She commanded before leaving the stall and headed for the training grounds. There was only one way to test out a new sword and that was in combat.

[Taris]

She was beautiful even by Eyrien standards and demanded the attention and awe and any she came in contact with. It was not a slave's duty to stare at their masters and Taris was no exception. He kept his eyes on his work... even as his thoughts lingered on her honey colored eyes and full lips. She was not so cruel a mistress as others were even if she never complimented him. He'd made the seamless armor she wore. It moved and breath as fluid as a second skin - impenetrable.

For a short moment his thoughts drifted to what lay beneath the molded steel and chainmail. Then he cleared his throat, shoulders straightening. Those were dangerous ideas - ideas that would get him killed should anyone ever suspect them. When she plucked the sword from his hands he stood, head slightly bowed as she held it gingerly. His work was the best in Askavi. Throngs of guards and overseers alike came to him for armor, weapons and repairs. For a slave he was well known and praised but only through his master's name of course.

Cold steel lingered just a few inches from his heart. Had been young and brash he might have disarmed her and shown her just how good the sword truly was. Surely she would have had his flesh flayed from the bone... Which was good because he was much older and wiser than most. Dark green eyes merely met her tempestuous gaze, one eyebrow rising slowly. "Then you should be glad I am no artist. Milady," He added her title to the end of it slowly even as the metal pressed against his flesh.

At her question he was silent, as a slave should be. Some questions were rhetorical after all and he had served her well enough in the past that she should have no question of his expertise. When she smirked his lips parted slightly... To kiss such lips. Her voice snapped him quickly back to reality. "As the Lady commands," Was all he said before kicking a sword from the stand beside her. It flew into the air, twisting the blade down as it fell. He caught it, twirling to the side before following her out into the cool morning air.

[Valerian]

"Then you should be glad I am no artist. Milady,

A smirked crossed her red lips at the slave’s comment. “You do realize a remark like that will earn you a whipping or even death… lucky for you that wont happen today… after all I need a sparing partner why Father is away.” She lied, she wouldn’t have killed him but if others were present she would have not have let him gotten away with such a remark. She maybe a Black by blood but that’s as far as it went. Unlike the rest of her family or other Eyriens tied into them something deeper sired in her, something that wasn’t expected… she felt compassion for slaves. Believe they where more then just that, they were also Blood and should be treated as so. Such thoughts were dangerous to have and she buried deep within her core.

She led the way to the training grounds and didn’t slow or stop until she was in the middle of a sparing circle. Her wings stretched out behind her as she twisted the sword in her wrist around. Her wings snapped close to her back as she turned around and eyed the male in front of her. “Do not make the mistake of holding back… I will be able to tell if you are and if you do it will cost your life.” It was her first and only warning as she fixed herself into a fighting position. She was one of the elite fighters of her family and Eyrien race, only second in swordsmen ship to her father… for not at least. She planned on changing that.

When he looked ready, Valerian didn’t waste a second thought as she raced towards him with great speed as the sound of metal meeting echo into the air as the swords collided.