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After composing himself, Zack gathered the courage to rise from his bed and to take a look outside the large glass window. Aptly made, the glass shimmered when light entered, almost heavenly, as if the gods would grace the guest whenever they awoke from their mighty slumber. When Zack looked outside, he had a great view of the courtyard embraced in the center of the castle. The courtyard was vibrant with green, surrounded by trees and covered in the purest of grasses. Inside the courtyard, Zack found many of the wolf-people hustling and bustling about the area, used to the natural beauty of the place and as such ignored all of it. Some were praying by the fountain that lied in the center of the plaza, an exquisite piece, and one that celebrated the Terran Deux, Akiel, a strong warrior with a proud face covered in the finest and impractical armor ever crafted. Zack sat on the small out-cove along the window, a place that allowed guests to sit and view the castle's beauty from a comfortable position, and smiled, remembering the first time he had to study Akiel. When asked by his father why the Terran celebrated him, Zack responded with the first idea that came to his mind: Anyone who went into battle wearing that had to be a god. He would have died otherwise.

Also in the courtyard were the training grounds, a place where young knights trained to defend the kingdom from danger. Shame that I'm the danger right now Zack sighed, eyes closing slightly before opening abruptly when he noticed a quite peculiar person in the training grounds: A girl. She was a Terran, and couldn't be more than two years older than Zack himself. She was among the trainees, clearly younger and shorter than the rest, but she was with them nevertheless. When were girls allowed to become knights? Zack wondered. Truth was, the Terran army had no women, a clear distinction from their enemy, who applauded itself for its female battalions. Perhaps the Terran were more fearful than we previously thought.

Zack could have appreciated the beauty of the courtyard the entire day had it not been for his father's interruption. Luther entered the room unannounced, ruining the peaceful morning Zack had been enjoying. He turned towards his father, and was greeted by that same false smile that he greeted everyone with.

"The guard informed me that you had a rather restless night of screaming and thrashing. Is this true?" Luther asked almost concerned.

Zack shrugged. "Just a nightmare, nothing to concern yourself with." Zack turned his gaze away from his father and back out the window, back out into the rest of the world. Luther stepped forward, approaching the window and its observer.

"Watching the trainees, are you?" Luther gestured, his smile still present.

Zack stared back at the training grounds. Truth be told, he wasn't previously looking at the warriors practicing their fighting, only to begin when Luther brought them up. He was really staring at a small patch of flowers beside the training grounds; some still with bulbs and others bloomed. His face cringed when some of the knights-in-training crushed them, blindly stepping on top of them as they sparred.

"No, you're staring at those flowers," Luther stated, as if Zack wasn't even in the room, "Interesting. Say, surely by now you've noticed something strange about the aspiring knights." Another statement.

"One is female, and young."

Luther nodded. "And why do you think she's with the knights?"

Zack paused, knowing that he should know the answer, something his father probably taught him during one of his lessons. He reached into his mind, venturing through the limited amount of knowledge he's collected in his short life, until finally realizing the correct answer.

"She's the king's daughter."

Luther's smile remained. "Correct. The only females allowed to earn the rank of knight are those of royal lineage. In the event that there is no heir to the throne, whether through the incompetency of the king to produce a son, or the son were to pass before ascending the throne and/or providing a son of his own, a daughter must be battle-trained when the likely event of usurpation occurs."

Luther scoffed at the lunacy. "After all, men have shown to be the most-able bodied people to lead the world." He turned to face Zack, staring at him eye to eye. "Sometimes I wonder if the time we truly earn peace is the time when women are able to call themselves king."

Zack was ignoring Luther's speech, a skill he was encouraged to learn in order to survive the days where Zack spent dulled by Luther's rants of philosophy. He liked to learn what his father knew, but there were times that he wanted to be outside practicing with a wooden sword or simply staring up into the sky. These times were never apparent when his father was home from war, and as such he would grow numb to whatever he was taught when the teachings became too consistent. He looked back on to the female Terran. She was sparring with a plump knight-in-training. She was stronger than him, easily blocking and repelling any of his strikes. Zack took note of her weapon, a slick wooden blade that was longer than his father's longsword. She wielded the sword with two hands but it wasn't a claymore or a bastard sword. She was also shield-less whereas her pudgy counterpart was carrying a standard wooden sword and plank shield. Zack released a small laugh when she quickly overcame her opponent in one strong strike.

"How idiotic," Zack whispered underneath his breath. "That would never work in an actual fight."

Luther, who had finished rambling a short while ago, also took notice of the display. "Perhaps, but there is an advantage to her technique. If she doesn't overpower her foe, she can exhaust him at the very least."

"That only applies if she could block every strike with that sword. If she needs two hands with the thing, the weight must exhaust her as well. Plus, any fool with a dagger or dirk could overcome her in an instant."

"Ah, but she has an ace up her sleeve! Observe..."

Zack focused in on her duel. Her new opponent was a smaller lad, thinner and quicker than the previous combatant, and as was compliment by his size, he carried two small wooden sticks, ones that mimic daggers. When her strikes weren't fast enough to hit, and her blocking wasn't perfect, she was faced with a swift strike to the right. The strike should have hit her, but in an instant, the wooden stick was blown out of the small lad's hands and impacted the ground. Everyone ended their duels abruptly, staring at the girl. Quickly, she faced towards the instructor and began speaking. The two strategists couldn't hear what she was saying, being so far away, but they both knew what she had done. It's considerably dishonorable to use magic in a sparring match, and eliminates one of the key lessons one can learn from fighting another person: When you get hit, you don't make the same mistake. The instructor ordered her to one of the wooden benches that surrounded the area, and she reluctantly followed as demanded.

"Rule number one of honoring a sparring partner: Never use magic unless the purpose being to practice magical talents or if the task is to see how strong the combatants can be using everything they know." Luther stated by definition.

Zack nodded in agreement. His mother had near frightened him from using magic outside of real combat, making jests such as "The games end when someone gets incinerated." Zack couldn't help but smile when thoughts of his old home emerged from their hiding place, finding new ways to torment his conscious with every passing second. Much time would pass before Zack would be able to control those thoughts. Everything about this place was a complete reversal from what he had known. The people were different, the house was different, and the parent was switched.

Luther marched back towards the door and folded his hands behind his back. "Well, what say we take a tour of this dusty place? We're going to be spending a good amount of time here, we might as well find all the ways to sneak into places we're not supposed to and the fastest way to steal a pastry from the kitchen and back."

Luther's smile was vain, but not false. Zack rose from the out-cove begrudgingly. He truly couldn't say no, and staying in this room wouldn't ease his homesick thoughts. He met Luther at the doorway and tried to conjure a smile. He failed.

Luther looked down on him, "Oh come now, the castle isn't so bad. Give yourself some time to settle in and I'm sure you'll end up loving this place." He paused, looking back out towards the window. "Well there's a thought. How about we head to the training grounds? We can meet with the headmaster and maybe you can give the recruits a lesson in human swordsmanship!"

Zack hated that idea with every fiber in his being, but that did not stop him from following his father. He changed out of his night attire, donning a brown shirt and matching pants. He rummaged through his luggage and found a soft green cloak. The cloak was the most important item in that entire room, and its appearance radiated that sentiment. While a tad too long for the boy, Zack wore this cloak wherever he could, despite the fabric nearly treading along the ground. Underneath the black one he wore the night before, he wore this one. Had Zack had his way, he wouldn't have worn the black piece at all. Luther insisted, declaring the green cloak too childish for the occasion of meeting the king. In spite, Zack hid his cloak underneath the more mature one.

The hallways they traveled through gleamed from a concoction of gemstone and marble. Columns decorated the walls, and each hallway contained a small chandelier that cradled the three Deux of worship. Each one depicted the same image, as was tradition, and that image was of the brave warrior Akiel slaying the traitorous Neera who had threatened the existence of every living creature in this world. In each, Akiel was a proud man, as prideful as a man can be when slaying the dragon monstrosity that was Neera the Sinner. He carried a sacred blade of the Terran, a weapon similar to what the female fighter was wielding in the courtyard, only this blade was much more refined than the wooden replica. Neera was as maniacal as ever, statured in a way that made her appear to be striking the mighty warrior. The two humans were placed in the west wing of the castle, the throne room being in the front where as the courtyard was encapsulated in the center. At the end of hallway was a large spiral staircase led to either the third floor or the first. The third floor was pure luxury, containing extravagant rooms where the king would bring guests for celebrations. The first floor was where the purposeful resided, those who allowed the castle to exist from dedication and hard work. When leaving the staircase, the two entered the main foyer. Gorgeous streaks of crimson, gold, and blue covered the walls of the room, and one could see their reflection off the well-polished floor.

Luther, who had taken a midnight tour of the castle on his own accord, was already adapted to the inner workings of the castle. He knew exactly which hallways would lead to the courtyard. Upon entering the courtyard, the two guards that were stationed there bowed distastefully. The king had informed them of who exactly these two humans were, but the wounds Luther inflicted on their people would not be so easily forgotten. Luther didn't appear to care, fixated on one task at a time, and barely greeted the two guards. Zack bowed respectfully, his only hidden objective was to not make any enemies in a new world where every man and their mother had a legitimate reason to hang the two of them. Zack would never forget the day he learned of how truly fearsome his father was on the battlefield. It was the same day he met Ulrich.

Distracted by the memories of the burning trees, Zack had not noticed when they had already approached the training grounds. He also failed to notice the dozen or so pairs of eyes that were staring directly towards him. The knights had noticed the human invading their grounds and dropped their quarrels within an instant. A week prior, when the king received word that Luther had arrived within their borders without issue, he began to discuss his arrival with the castle attendees. The knights knew who he was regardless of this, as they had been trained to kill this man on sight. Now he was an ally. Now he was an alleged friend. Now he was a traitor, a brand not so easily removed, and one that warrants caution.

The knight-commander approached the two humans. He was an older fellow, his fur was ghostly, and his walk was reserved, whether through pain or apprehension. Like the knights, the commander had more than enough reason to despise the man before him, and yet when he reached Luther, he did nothing but bow, and unlike the guards at the doorway, this bow was not filled to burst with bile.

"Sir Luther, a pleasure. What can we do for you?" The knight-commander said. His tone did not match his bow. He despised halting his lessons, for anyone, including the king himself.

Luther smiled as per usual. To lead a life like his, he knew he would have to grow used to the hate. A lesson he taught Zack very early on in his life was that whenever someone would treat him poorly, just smile. Smiling is a sign of victory, one that your opponent cannot take away from you while you still draw breathe. If you're smiling and he's not, who has truly won in this engagement?

"I'm escorting my son around the castle, taking in its beauty and admiring its diligent caretakers. Zack here," He put a hand on top of his head. Zack was about half his father's height. "Took notice of your knights and wanted to get a closer view. If that displeases you, we can move ourselves elsewhere."

The trainees were silent. Some looked at Luther with daggers for eyes. Some probably have lost a brother or two to this person, and here he was parading himself around their home like some sacrilegious whore. One courageous wolf spat on the ground, another keeping their false blade at the ready.

The knight-commander glanced towards Zack, his expression equally as apprehensive. Zack attempted to look into the knight's misty green eyes, but he could not overcome the disgust that lied beneath them. He was used to the glares of the children back in Lucina, but this was one of the few times an adult looked at him with venom. His father would tell him to simply smile and engulf the toxin, but Zack preferred his mother's alternative.

To Zack, the day he heard his mother's words began when he was sent home early from his classes. He spent a short amount of time in the local schooling facility, a vain attempt by his parents to help Zack find friends his age. Unfortunately, the children and the instructor learned the hard way that Zack wasn't a normal child. During breaks in between lessons, the children would often roam the streets, causing mischief and crowding the streets of the village until the headmaster would gather them all up and force them back into their studies. In order to gain his teacher's favor, Zack did not venture far from the building so that when the time came, he wouldn't be a hassle to bring back. He would sit on the stone steps of the building and watch the people that traversed the town. He would watch the baker, who had a small cart-shop that he roamed the street with, knead dough or the street performers who played music for a grand crowd of three in the grand center of the village. Today instead, he watched as a plump, scruffy-haired kid with big blue eyes and a craven face was harassed by two of the older kids. While only a few years apart, they were bigger, and their faces filled with ignorant ferocity. They jested about his weight, making snorting noises and other grotesque sounds that seemed clever in their tiny minds. Zack rose from his place on the steps, If someone is in trouble, try to help them, his mother's voice entering his head.

When Zack approached them, he had helped the small plump boy in one way, but what occurred was unexpected, even to someone as thoughtful as Zack was. The boys turned their attention away from their last victim and saw their new one.

"Oh look, it's the wolf-boy!" One of the boys said. He had golden hair that reached down past his shoulders. A sickly smile grew on his face, as if he's always wanted to use a word that he had heard from his parents and now he had the golden opportunity. "How's that _wolf-loving_father of yours?"

"Is she a trophy from one of your father's massacres? Perhaps a whore from the slums of the beast capital?"

In truth, Zack only understand one word in that sentence. Thankfully, it was the only word he really needed to have heard. In near a flash, the blonde child began screaming. Zack stood, near emotionless, as the child tried to stop the blazing fire that destroyed whatever had existed on the top of his scalp. The blonde hair was gone, and had he not put the fire out in time, so would have his skin.

Zack refused to return to the main part of the village after that event. His mother had received a letter regarding Zack's expulsion from the school a few days later, as well as a warning about controlling his magic, else he'd be punished through legal measures. The night of the event, Zack explained what had happened as he finally let the tears fall from his eyes, now that only his mother could see. After he was finished, he let his face drop so that he could try to compose himself. There are few times a man can cry in his life. When you do, make sure it's worth it, his father would say. His mother held him, her own tears almost filling her radiant hazel eyes, and whispered "I'm sorry." over and over and over again. When the tears were gone, and the two had composed themselves, she let go of him and stood taller than before. She was strong, just as strong as his father, possibly stronger.

"Zack, no matter who your parents are, you are yourself. If someone chooses to see only who you came from, ignore them. Let them stare, let them spew hate. If you're proud of who you are, whatever that may be, then what does it matter what other people think? You aren't defined by who brought you into this world; you're defined by how you change it."

At this moment, with a dozen poisonous eyes staring straight at him, the courage to be himself had not come to Zack. He couldn't even attempt a smile, as his father would tell him. Instead, he imitated his mother, and folded his hands behind his back. These weren't stupid children; these were young adults training in the art of killing, many of them carrying a grudge against his father. The knight-commander approached and knelt down to meet Zack eye to eye. He studied him with his eyes, looking for every single weakness that could be exploited, Zack thought. The knight rose, now staring Luther in the eye.

"I trust he is somewhat knowledgeable in the sword?" He asked.

"If he'd like, why not have him spar with one of your knights? They can't be that much older than him, and there've been times where I've become disarmed when training with him!" Luther spoke confidently. The age of the trainees was never a factor in his mind.

Before Zack could openly state the idiocy of the idea, the entire courtyard erupted in laughter. Their laughs like pestering birds, smashing their beaks against an enemy or prey. Even the female novice, the one who was most likely the closest in age to Zack couldn't help herself from chuckling. Zack stared up at his father annoyed. He planned this all along.

He turned his gaze towards the master, straightened his posture and finally found the courage to return the venom.

"Pick any one of them. If you want me to fight all of them, might as well send all of them at once. It'll save us some time."

Surprised by his shift in tone, the knight-commander ended his laughter and looked down on the child with a humorous expression. He called for a training sword to be brought to him. A trainee begrudgingly carried one to the knight. Zack was given the blade, but immediately dropped it onto the ground. This raised more laughter. This is a training sword for an adult. Do they truly think me too inexperienced to know the difference?

Amidst the laughter, he surveyed the area. Everyone seemed to vanish before him, enabling an intense focus on finding whatever he needed. Luther remained, but stood silent. This was a test to him, and he would not intervene. Underneath a tall tree along the training grounds was a sturdy-looking stick. The stick was decent in length, and most likely the perfect weight to be usable and swift. Zack made his way towards the tree, earning himself some cries of cowardice from the crowd. He returned with the stick, his assumptions proving true and prepared himself for combat.

"That's not a sword, boy, that's a stick. Are human instructors truly so incompetent?" The knight-commander spoke, but Zack ignored him and faced towards the dozen opponents.

Inhaling deeply, he embraced the courage borne through humiliation and spoke, "Who'd like to be first?"

One boy, barely a man, jested with his friends about how he'd "show these humans the strength of the Terran people!" and met with Zack within an appropriate sparring distance. He carried the same type of training sword that they had given his opponent, a standard blade that was meant to be wielded with two hands. As such, the wolf didn't carry a shield.

He smiled arrogantly towards his opponent, resting his blade on his shoulder while placing a hand of his hip. "With respect to your personal arsenal, I'll withhold using a shield."

His comments were returned with a blank stare and the sly hints of a smile that formed about Zack's face. "You certain? If so I'll gladly accept your offer."

The boy was at least a foot taller than Zack. When the two stood ten feet away, the correct distance an honorable duel should begin at, the boy appeared big enough to be his father. The knight-commander gave the signal, and the duel began. The wolf charged, his wooden bastard sword at the ready to deliver a quick victory in one fell swoop. Zack stood his ground, grasping the stick with both hands for better control. Like his father, Zack surveyed the situation. When he saw the charge, a devilish grin grew on his face. From a charge, there's very little the wolf could do, and Zack could do near limitless things with that knowledge. He knew direct confrontation would immediately break his stick, so he chose to deflect the downward strike. Due to the weight of the blade and the recovery from charging, when the wolf missed his attack, his face met with the end of Zack's stick. He recoiled, attempted to recuperate after the blow, but Zack proved too swift for him. Knowing the fragility of his weapon, Zack delivered his blows as if he were wielding a whip, allowing the flat end to attack and pulling back to reduce the likelihood of the stick snapping. Finally, the duel ended when the wolf made another mistake, a mistake that resulted in Zack breaking the stick over the wolf's head, knocking him to the ground nearly unconscious and his blade falling as well.

Silence entered the courtyard. Half of the aspiring knights had their mouths agape, the other half slowly nodding in approval. The female had a curious expression on her face, her head tilted in a cock-eyed manner, trying to decipher what had occurred. Even the knight-commander was speechless, his joyful ignorance newly erased and replaced by a sudden realization that spread across his face like a pair of shears removing fabric that had covered his eyes. In truth the only two not surprised were the two humans. Zack discarded the broken stick and turned towards his father, tilting his head to gain a response. Luther smiled and nodded once in approval. With a newfound confidence, Zack turned back towards the astonished knights.

"If anyone would like, I'd be willing to go a few more rounds...Although I'll need a new weapon, preferably a wooden short sword. I'm afraid the one you provided me is a bit too big for someone like me."

A few brave knights stepped forward, believing the previous duel to be a spark of beginner's luck. Zack was provided a new sword, something light enough that he could adequately use. Terran were naturally stronger than humans, so the blade was still a bit too heavy for his liking, but the sword was better than the mockery that they had presented him with before. Just like the first time, Zack was able to analyze and easily defeat each of the knights that challenged him. When the males had their fill, Zack was barely breaking a sweat. Each successive opponent learned from the previous, but each would make careless mistakes, whether through underestimating Zack's speed and versatility or mistiming a crucial strike. Each fell like dominoes, each carving a path that would lead him to his final opponent.

"Enough!" The knight-commander snarled, the realization of his failure stabbing his heart deeper than any blade. His knights still weren't ready for what is to come. "I think you've had your fill, boy. Now take your father and-"

The female rose, grasped her abnormal blade and stepped forward off the bench. Surely, the knight-commander was too embarrassed to care that she disobeyed a direct order. When she was within range of Zack, her youth and naivety revealed itself. She truly could not be Zack's elder by more than two years, and in terms of height, she was barely taller, inches stacking on inches. Even then, when she looked at Zack with her crystal blue eyes, she had shown no fear. Whether her fear had taken a shadowy form, or never existed in the first place, seemed to make no difference in her stance. She stood proud, and yet, not dominating. She stood as an equal to Zack, a clear contrast to the arrogant stances that the other wolves had taken with him. Her fur, like Zack's eyes, was an endearing grey. Her hair was brown, as her father's was, and pulled up into a knot so that the length would not interfere with the training.

"I'll give you one thing," She spoke, a breath of confidence invading her voice, "You can best us in single, sword-to-sword combat, but you must know the trump card that has kept us alive all these years."

She waved her hand around the air, pushing the atmosphere back and forth with each motion. Small, beautiful pigments of stars appeared around her fingertips, condensing around her index finger. With a snap, they vanished, creating a gust of wind that blew Zack's hair onto his face. Quickly fixing his hair, he stared straight ahead, seemingly unimpressed with the spectacle. Seemingly, of course, as he's never seen wind magic this up close, and his inner curiosity was near bursting with excitement. "Never let your opponent gain the upper-hand by conjuring an emotion from you. When you emote, you give your enemy information," his father's voice rang through his head.

"I propose we have an actual match. Magic permitted, and whatever tools a real human warrior would use in a duel. Non-lethal, of course." Her smile was unwavering.

Zack turned towards Luther, who simply nodded his head and made a hand motion, which was followed by a snap! Zack smiled, seeing his father's jest about the female.

Turning back towards his opponent, he straightened his expression, removing the joy he had and replacing it with a cold stare. He accepted her terms, and brought his shortsword onto the earth. She did the same with her blade, clasping both hands on the top and bowing her head. One of the few things in common with the two species was the way they began a duel. The knight-commander, sensing something out of the ordinary, started protesting the event, telling the female to stand down. Luther stood to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispered something. While displeased with whatever he had said, the knight-commander silenced his cries, mutters hidden under his breath.

Luther gave the signal, and the two combatants began. Unlike every other opponent Zack had faced that day, she did nothing to begin, bringing her sword up in both hands and entering a defensive posture. Zack, unfazed, slowly began to approach, considering each option before him. She could begin with magic, or she could be waiting for my first attack, or maybe she's-

A sharp pain was felt on his right hand, as sharp and quick as a whip's crack. Still in her stance, the female grinned, "Too much thinking during a fight leaves you open. Some things," She began her advance, engaging the surprised Zack with quick, powerful blows. Zack tried his best to deflect each, but was forced to pull back, losing some ground. "Require instinct, feelings, cleverness," With each word, she followed with a strike. "Not every opponent can be beaten from exploiting mistakes."

Can someone truly be this stupid? Zack grunted, finding a pattern in her strikes and returning the fury with his own. "If every battle could be won with blind aggression, you wolves would be winning and yet," The two clashed, blades running against each other, "You're not. Speaking of which, where's that trump card you've raved about?"

The comments, while superficial, did as were intended. Breaking the clash, the female bared her fangs and bitterness filled her once joyous face. Seeing her anger, Zack prepared himself for the wind. Wind magic begins weak, needing the time to grow and become agitated so that the user can easily manipulate it. She's been charging it while we've traded blows. While fast, wind magic can easily be countered by any other type of magic. She'd be perfect against humans, who carry no magical talents. Shame she isn't fighting one.

When he felt the surge, he countered the air with his flame. Tiny particles of fire appeared around Zack's body, creating a barrier of cinder. When slashes of air tried to pierce the wall, the heat dismissed each attack effortlessly. Her face aghast, Zack ended the duel, disarming her easily. Silence filled the area once again, the only noise being a small clapping noise that came from Luther. This time, when Zack received their glares, their eyes were not filled with venom. Instead, as he had received many times before, their gazes were a concoction of bile, disgust, and pity. The only face he could bring himself to look at was his last opponent, who was purely confused, never encountering such a creature before. Zack walked towards Luther in silence, who nodded his head and led Zack towards the door, where they left the courtyard and the faces that inhabited it. Zack returned to his room alone, Luther leaving at the door to find his king. When Zack entered his room, he fell upon the large mattress and stared blankly into the ceiling. He allowed his exhaustion to show, and pulled his green cloak around his front. In a few hours, the whole castle would know that the villainous Sir Luther's son was a product of sacrilege, one that went against every tenet that the terran held dearly. They would know that Zack was of mixed blood, a rudiment of sin.