Sylos left quickly after Evelyn nearly drowned in her wine upon seeing him, feeling quite satisfied with his work for the evening. He retreated to the kitchens and deposited the tray, quickly changing out of his borrowed clothes and into his own. He was mostly done when he heard giggling behind him, and dragged his shirt down over his head in time to whirl about and spot one of the serving maids, who blushed and smiled at him. Sylos was somewhat embarrassed himself, but this was quickly eliminated by the onset of a fiendishly clever plan that would leave both of his fellow Children with better company- albeit one of them with only her own. He smirked at the maid and began whispering quietly into her ear. She continued blushing, but set out to follow the plan he had offered immediately. Sylos wandered back into the hall to watch his work unfold again, sitting down behind his drink and discovering that in his absence someone had finished it for him. He made a note not to return to the place.

He noted that Evelyn appeared to be in a foul mood from the moment she returned; he was unsurprised when, irritated already, she became very angry indeed at the sight of the serving maid he had dispatched to flirt Lucas out of the danger zone of Evelyn's ire. The slap was unexpected, however, though as he thought about he supposed being ignored in favor of the serving woman might be an insult to someone with Evelyn's pride. Nonetheless, as she stormed out the maid quickly recaptured Lucas' attention, and Sylos decided that all in all it was a job well done. He left a few coins on the table to pay for his drink, and then walked out the door into the night, whistling cheerfully at the evening's escapades until he noticed Evelyn standing just outside the inn and stopped dead, hoping he hadn't been spotted.

"So, what's your story?" Sylos almost winced. He hated that question. It was an attempt to draw out a summary of who a person was and why they were where they were, something rather difficult to summarize in the long run. But it would be impolite not to answer, and the last thing he needed was people in the officer's ranks AND the rank and file convinced he was an ass. He took a long sip of his ale before he answered, composing what he wanted to say in his head.

"I'm a younger son from a large and fairly affluent merchant family. My older brothers and sisters were successful enough merchants that my father didn't mind me turning out to be a dreamer and an explorer, so I spent the last few years wandering around most of the south. I got into a considerable amount of trouble, and when the last bit of it nearly made an end of me, I found myself here, somehow. My father always spoke well of the Children, and I always found The Way of the Light to be fascinating, to say the least. So... here I am, I suppose."

"I usually wander about town on my days off, so having an offer to do so in company seemed as good an idea as any. The Sundown is not an establishment I'm familiar with, although it doesn't seem too terrible." Sylos spoke to Edalia, deeming it best to let Zoe be drunk and foolish on her own power, though he did make a point of half-listening in case she said anything amusing enough to share with his roommates or the few people he had struck up a working relationship with in the Fortress. That, and of course it was good practice.

"I don't believe I've seen either of you around the Fortress very often- though apparently my own exploits have spread about a bit. How long have you been with the Children of the Light?" He asked, by way of keeping the conversation going.

Sylos had always been a troublemaker. His recent experiences with Evelyn had, all in all, not actually been as bad as some of the consequences this particular personality trait had evoked. He expected she might yet regret not actually killing him, as that would certainly have prevented his participation in the evening's events. As Evelyn went up to the bar to request more wine he smirked, and when she returned to the table, looking rather martyred, he quietly got up and snuck into the back of the inn, unnoticed by the other two Children. He knew going to get more wine had been an excuse to escape Lucas, since the inn sent servers about to tend to these requests periodically. However, he suspected that Lucas, not precisely interested in the actions of others, might have missed it.

They continued talking for a good half an hour -considerably longer, to Sylos' chagrin, than he had expected it would take- before ordering food. Nonetheless, he felt a certain immutable satisfaction when one of the wandering servers came and requested their food. Dressed in a serving uniform he had borrowed from a man all too happy to take the night off and still collect full pay, he quickly collected the food prepared by the inn's cook and deftly maneuvered through the tables to deposit it in front of the rather chilly couple. Though he supposed the chill was all the more remarkable for only coming from one of the two. "Your food, sir and madam." He said, fairly certain they had not caught the brief hitch in his voice where he had been forced to turn 'sirs' into 'sir and madam', catching himself on the military protocol which made all officers 'sir' regardless of sex. He waited a few moments longer than a server might usually be expected to do- but then, of the two only Evelyn would notice that, and that -of course- was the point.

"By the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth, I swear fealty to The Children of The Light. I vow to serve, respect and grant obedience to the high command. In the name of the Creator, I swear it." Sylos repeated the words formally, and tonelessly; he had not expected to need to do that, but something in the oath bothered him. Being a military organization, he supposed it made sense for the Children to swear obedience to the high command- nonetheless, he felt it left things open for difficulties if the high command proved less than competent- or, though he could not really wrap his mind around the idea, proved to be Darkfriends. Nonetheless, something inside him felt quieted, comforted, by the knowledge that he had taken another step on his path.

He left the yard, feeling something in between satisfaction at a job well done and elation at a goal brought nearer to attainment, and returned to his room. He sat down on his bunk, and pulled out some paper and a pen. He had been meaning to write to his family since arriving, but now that he was well and truly done with basic training he felt it needed doing far more. But something felt different. In the past, he had always been a writing as a son to a father or mother, a brother to a brother or sister. He had not been a succesful merchant writing home to his family about good trade deals, as his more business-minded siblings often did. He had always been just the wandering, wayward son writing home. Now, for the first time, he would have to write back as someone else's Child. As with the oath, he was unsure how he felt about the matter.

Present- if rarely accounted for. I'll work on that.

Present and accounted for!

Out of uniform, Sylos still remembered how to blend in with a normal crowd, a fact which he prided himself on. At the end of one of his off days from working as a Child of the Light, he found himself in a rather nicer inn than he had ever been willing to pay to stay in, but which certainly had better food than most. Although given his rather thrifty nature, that might not have been saying much. He was sitting alone at a table near one of the inn's fireplaces, looking for all the world like another tradesman in the city stopping for a drink.

He had noticed a slight hitch in his plan not to be recognized when he spotted Lucas, another Child he had been introduced to at the fortress, though he had never spoken to the man again after their first meeting. He appeared to be waiting for someone, which made Sylos smile. It was nice to know that the Children were still human, after all. Shifting slightly to another position at the table so that he could watch how Lucas' night went; nothing else of any interest had presented itself, after all, and his ale was still mostly untouched.

Thus he had a full view when Lucas' company for the evening arrived. He recognized Evelyn in an instant after his recent experiences under instruction, though the dress did throw him for a moment. He had never been able to imagine the stern instructor wearing anything but her uniform, but he had to admit that the dress definitely flattered her form. He didn't recognize the woman with her, but he did recognize from the way both of them were standing that Evelyn did not want to be at the inn, and the other woman was responsible for her unwilling presence. He grinned as he mentally tripled the projected amusement value of the evening.

Aha! She's going to be gone. Now is our chance to spring into action! We will seize the boards, and from here, conquer all of Dragonmount!

Or at least we would, if the internet were nearly as much fun as it should be.

:) Good luck on your finals!

"Very well. We will resume your training in a couple of days. Now move aside, recruit. Or do I need to remove you?" Sylos gave a genuine, cheerful smile in response, stepping aside with agility. "Of course not. I am nothing if not adroit in following my orders." Watching Evelyn leave, Sylos considered whether or not convincing her to continue training him had really been a good idea. He shrugged, finally deciding that the only way to find out was to see it through.

Heading back to his quarters, still mercifully absent of his roommates- he hadn't actually met them, yet, and suspected they'd been deployed in the field somewhere- he settled down onto his bed with an irritable groan at the pain it produced from contact with his numerous bruises. He considered going to the infirmary, but decided against it once again and, unable to get comfortable enough to sleep, instead sat up and began writing a letter to his father, who he still hadn't informed of his decision to join the Children.

Not that he expected his father to object, or at least not to the Children specifically, but his father had lost all four of his brothers to military service and didn't want to lose any of his sons the same way. Which left the difficult task of phrasing the letter properly. Settling into it, Sylos continued working for the remainder of the day, finally falling asleep due to sheer exhaustion sometime during the night.

Life in the Fortress quickly returned to what he had accepted as the normal pace, and as he got back into doing menial work around the halls and yards he continued his project of mapping the place out in his head, which provided a nice distraction from his still-healing bruises. His letter to his father was finished but still unsent when he awoke one morning to find a note ordering him to report to the main yard. He sighed and headed over immediately, presuming that it meant his training was to resume once more.

"I was out of order. I apologize. I will request you be transferred to another trainer. I do not find myself fit for that. I'm sure you'll be notified concerning my replacement." Sylos stared as Evelyn turned to go, having mixed feelings on the matter. On the one hand, she had given him a beating he was not likely to forget- ever. On the other hand, he'd gotten used to her as a trainer, and suspected that others might not take his insubordination in quite the same way. Too, there was the fact that she had kissed him, a mystery yet unsolved.

Unsolved mysteries infuriated Sylos, on a very deep and personal level.

This only left the task of convincing Evelyn that it was a good idea. And for that, he thought he might just have an idea. Grinning, he stood in front of her, barring her exit. "While I suppose that might work, it seems an awful lot like running away; and that doesn't strike me as being your style."

"Certainly, you could have me reassigned to another trainer, but that leaves two problems. First and foremost, I'm likely to end up infuriating every trainer in the fortress, rather than just your august self. Secondly, and probably more important from your point of view, is your unresolved guilt." Sylos' grin softened into a gentler smile, doing his best to show he was serious, and not mocking her. "You want to punish yourself for losing control and taking it out on a raw recruit? Well and good." He made a deep, flourishing bow. "Stick around, Lieutenant, and consider dealing with me your penance."

"What under the light were you thinking!?!?!" Evelyn's furious voice intruded into Sylos' thinking, as he tried to determine precisely how they had ended up with neither of them being punished, when he had been so sure both of them would be. Nonetheless, he turned to face his furious instructor, and his response had more than a little of his own anger behind it.

"I was thinking, sir, that I was not about to let you take the blame for a situation that was not your fault! I acted rudely and insubordinately throughout the entirety of that exercise, and for you to take punishment solely on yourself for the results is not only unfair to you, it is insulting!" Sylos paused to take a breath, and immediately continued, not bothering to give Evelyn a chance to respond.

"While holding a knife to my throat was well beyond what you should have done the rest, from my point of view, was entirely appropriate, and there are more than a few armies where the fact that I struck back would have put you well within your rights to have actually killed me. Since you didn't- which, by the way, I do appreciate- The responsibility for the entire fiasco is mine." Finally done, he watched Evelyn, waiting to see how she would respond, and hoping that she wouldn't insist on returning to the Master of Irons.

"We had a little mishap during one of our exercises. Things went a bit south and tempers were flaring and I stepped out of my role as instructor and acted in an unprofessional manner, which is unbecoming for a member of the Children of the Light. I take full responsibility in the matter and request a penance to rectify my error."

Sylos cursed furiously in his head, as he was now in exactly the situation he had been hoping to avoid by coming here. Now that she had claimed the responsibility herself, the best outcome likely was that they were both going to be punished. He briefly considered letting her take the blame, but it went too far against what he believed to be right, letting someone else be punished for his actions.

Clearing his throat to get the Master of Iron's attention, he put in his side of the story calmly. "Actually, sir, the matter was my fault. Throughout the training I acted with less than the respect an instructor deserves, and deliberately goaded the Lieutenant. My insubordination was the cause of the issues during that particular exercise."

He sat and waited after he finished speaking, hoping that the matter would not end too badly for either of them- or that if it did, he was the one to recieve the brunt of it. He still didn't understand why Evelyn felt it was her fault; he had been acting well beyond the bounds of his rights as a recruit, and her reaction to that was- to his mind- more than appropriate. At least, up until putting a dagger to his neck, but she hadn't actually killed him, so he was willing to let that go.

Sylos stood stock-still for some time, dumbfounded in the wake of both recent events and his instructor's silent departure. Trying to figure out what exactly had transpired, he decided that he would be better off sleeping on the matter and headed for his quarters. Upon reaching them, he stripped off his clothes once again and took some time to examine the damage his training- and subsequent battering- had done.

He sighed as he gazed over the bruises that were in the early stages of developments, knowing full well he was going to be very, very sore for at least a few weeks. But he wasn't about to go the infirmary for help; there wasn't any serious damage that he could tell, and he wasn't about to risk running into his instructor there. It would also be particularly unmanly, but that was only a concern because he had plenty of other reasons not to go, naturally.

It was only after this inspection that he realized he hadn't actually said anything about this whole disaster being his fault, and not Evelyn's. Which meant that, in all likelihood, she was still planning to report herself to the Master of Irons and get herself punished on account of actions not at all her responsibility. Or at least, not much so. Cursing his distraction, Sylos quickly found one of his clean uniforms, wincing as he pulled it on over all of his bruises, and headed for the Master of Irons' study with as much haste as he could.

Entering the study, he found the man he was looking for sitting behind a large desk filing paperwork. He saluted as he entered, both showing respect and catching the Master's attention. "Sir, I am here to report myself." He said, noticing from the lack of surprise in the Master of Irons' expression that this was not only common, but expected of the Children. The man gestured for him to sit down and explain himself, and he was just settling uncomfortably into a chair when his instructor walked into the room, her expression betraying her shock at finding him there first.

Sylos had gotten his clothes on quickly, planning to leave quickly in the hopes that there would be no further trouble stemming from this- and more than a little relieved to be alive. He was confused as to why his instructor just wanted him to leave, especially after beating him within an inch of his life, but was more than willing to let it go and hang on to that particularly important inch. Then he heard her speaking, and turned about to figure out why, and how fast he was going to need to run.

"After I get cleaned up I will go to the Master of Irons. To report myself. I assure you that my actions will not go unpunished. You're dismissed. I assume your training will be picked up by someone else." Sylos just stared at Evelyn, completely bewildered. He'd expected anger, or at the very least annoyance, and certainly had expected to be handed off to another trainer. He had not, exactly, been expecting guilt- particularly since, from his point of view, the entire matter was his fault.

He was just about to explain that too her, as well, when she slipped, and his first priority became ensuring that her injuries didn't get any worse. Catching Evelyn right before she hit the ground, he helped her stand, feeling slightly alarmed that she needed help with it at all. After all, professional soldiers were supposed to be able to shrug off this sort thing, weren't they? Opening his mouth to make some witty comment to that effect, he found himself unable to when, against any kind of odds he'd ever seen calculated, she kissed him.

Sylos thought, very quickly, about how to react. Then, remembering how much good this sort of thinking had done him so far, he gave up on logic and kissed her back.

Sylos slowly returned to regular breathing as Evelyn staggered back, though he could still feel every nerve ending in his body. He had been expecting trouble when he lost control and hit back- he had not expected to find himself at the end of a knife. He prided himself on knowing when a conflict was escalating to far, and mis-judging this one so badly- in addition to almost dying- had shaken him badly.

Looking across at the madwoman his instructor had turned into, he was startled to find that, rather than looking like a demon from the depths of hell, but rather simply looking confused. Rubbing his neck- he would have sworn under the Light that he could still feel the point of the dagger there- he tried to figure out something to do that wasn't going to end in violence.

"You know... I realize that I'm probably the last person you'd care to hear this from, but as nobody else seems to be around to ask... Are you alright? Sir?" His voice was very shaky, and he added the honorific very belatedly, hoping she was too disoriented to notice.

Sylos couldn't help grinning a little as Evelyn kept battering him. He was quite sure it had been unintentional, but because he was still wet, it wasn't hurting nearly as much as he suspected it should. Then her fist caught him at the lower end of his rib cage and he doubled over into another hit to the face, and the grin vanished.

Sylos was not a brawler. He didn't have the raw strength for it. But he was agile, and he had gotten into too many bar fights not to know something about blocking punches. Doing his best not to hit back because he knew that so far, he hadn't technically done anything that could get him in trouble with the higher-ups, he found his resolve wavering as she just kept hitting him and hitting him. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but for some reason she seemed to be getting madder and madder the more he tried to just let her knock him around.

Another hit to the face later, and he just couldn't let it go. He swung back, struck Evelyn across the face in return, and froze in place as he realized just how much trouble he had just set himself up for.

As Evelyn's fist made contact with his face, Sylos decided that perhaps his mastery of body language was not as complete as he had thought. It had seemed like his instructor, while not pleased, was not inclined towards doing anything about it. Then a wagon had flattened him to the ground, from which position he had time to consider that at least she hadn't gone for her sword.

He slowly stood up, the soreness in his legs from his recent practice for the balancing exercise making a nice counterpoint to the new throbbing in his face. As he stood he took a good look at his instructor who, soaked through and covered in dirt, looked a considerable mess. His first instinct on being punched was generally to return the favor. However, as he was naked and unarmed and his opponent was not so disadvantaged, he decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Sort of. "Well, it's good to see that even in such deplorable circumstances you can keep a firm handle on your temper, sir."

It didn't take very long for Sylos to get done with his surprise, and focus on dodging. The ice stuck to him, which he surmised to have been the point of the water- however, already being wet and cold, it actually had less effect even though it did stretch across more of his body as it slipped. His practice from the previous session had made him somewhat better; more importantly, howevver, he had taken the time Evelyn spent recovering from her injury practing his balance and convincing rather confused fellow recruits to throw rocks at him, which had made him much better. It allowed him to keep going for quite some time in spite of the added difficulty.

It was, however, an exceptionally task to manage, and as his body began to freeze up he began to consider just how unfair this whole situation really was. After all, not only had it been an accident in the first place, he had apologized. As the injustice of it all burned itself into his brain (related, perhaps, to the burning left behind as the air warmed his ice-trailed skin), he decided that he was going to have to take revenge of his own.

Much to the misfortune of his instructor, that revenge was close at hand. Perhaps because she wanted to see his displeasure up close, or perhaps because she hadn't really been paying attention, Evelyn was standing quite close to the balance set-up as she tossed ice at him. Desperately attempting to maintain his balance, a wicked thought ran through Sylos' head. Several minutes later, when he knew he could not possibly last much longer, he feigned tripping, and fell- directly on top of his vengeful instructor.

The ice had, as planned, had stuck to his body, and quickly melted caught between Evelyn's body heat and what was left of Sylos'. Less surprised and having had a cushioned fall, Sylos rolled and came to his feet, and took a few brief moments to wonder what the penalty was for an instructor of the Children skewering a recruit. That, and to consider the fact that Evelyn, being in uniform as required, was dressed entirely in white, and that his previous comments on equality were likely to get him in even more trouble.

Hmm..... Not really an expert, myself, although I can certainly talk about it. :)

Swords are (very) broadly divided into Eastern and Western weapons. Western weapons include weapons from across Europe, but also weapons from the Middle East and Northern Africa. Eastern weapons generally draw from weapons commonly used in India, East Asia and Japan.

Judging by the art associated with WoT, most of the weapons in it appear to be based on Japanese weapons; that is, they are single-edged, extremely sharp and very tough blades with very simple curvature. They typically take much longer to make than Western weapons and are extremely difficult to mass-produce with anything near real quality. They are meant to be speedier weapons and are typically used with the intent to cut with the tip or the forward end of the edge.

Western swords are a mix of single-edge and double-edge swords, but are usually used with the intent to strike with the mid-section of the edge, and put far more force behind the swing. They are generally constructed as cruciform swords due to the fact that European sword construction really took off after the rise of the Catholic church. I personally prefer the way these look because I've always find the symmetry of the blade to be very elegant. They are easier to mass-produce, and while they are generally less durable than Japanese swords they are much easier to repair or replace. They are also more varied, because as plate armor appeared in Europe weapons adapted to deal with the fact that cutting edges generally did little damage to anyone wearing it.

My personal complaint with Japanese swords is with the widely-held American belief (at least, widely held among those nerdy enough to carry about swords) that because they were constructed with more care and quality anyone skilled with one can defeat a similarly skilled swordsman with a European sword.

Like I said, I'm no expert. This is what I've managed to conclude, and if I'm wrong please correct me. Medieval armory is a hobby of mine, and I'm always glad to learn more about it.

Importance has nothing to do with either practicality or probability. :)

I liked Legolas in the books, but less so in the movies. Not such a big fan of Orlando Bloom I guess.

But to avoid wandering off topic... I like swords quite a bit myself, but in the context of Wheel of Time most of the cover art seems to indicate that Randland uses mostly Eastern blades, and I've always preferred the cruciform swords of the European knights. Maybe because so many people I know go crazy at the suggestion that a katana is anything less than the greatest invention of mankind...

Longbows are for range, and punching power. Welsh longbows with yard-long arrows could actually punch through armor better than a crossbow. Their big difficulty is that they are slow; they don't fire as quickly as shortbows, and they are worthless weapons if you're ambushed or otherwise unprepared for fighting.

And no, I don't think Legolas used a longbow- sorry about the confusion. :) Of course, what Legolas does in those movies is either imposible or impractical, so I'm not sure it matters what he does it with.

Mostly, though, I've just always felt that the Mongols and similar Asian steppe nomads were awesome, and shortbows are usable from horseback.

Personally, I've always been absurdly fond of knives/daggers/short sharp objects. The speed they can be used with is incredible, and they're very quiet, efficient weapons too- perfect for spies, or anyone who prefers to end arguments without attracting attention.

I've always felt longbows were rather over-rated; shortbows would be my preference for ranged weapons, simply because they're so much more portable and easier to shoot. Good for skirmishing.

Patrolling a relatively unfamiliar town in the darkness (And with the fiendish Instructor Evelyn no doubt well prepared to analyze and tear apart their every move), Sylos was scrupulously attentive to everything around him. He suspected he wouldn't even need to draw out the patrol route to remember- at least for a while. He was unwontedly quiet, he supposed, but his only real experience with Zoe and Edalia had involved their recent drinking binge- though he supposed only Zoe had actually gotten properly drunk, leaving him somewhat uncomfortable- that, and there was something about this night that didn't feel right.

It felt, in fact, rather like the night that a very angry man had almost taken his eye out. While he got this feeling often enough to know it wasn't any supernatural sense of approaching danger, it never hurt to be a bit careful. He heard Zoe and Edalia chattering and shushed them; he could tell they thought he was being overzealous, but he wouldn't feel comfortable until he was safely in his own bed again.

Several thoughts ran through Sylos' mind as he undressed, not least of which was 'this cannot possibly end well'- followed shortly by 'maybe it can, actually', as a plan began to form in his mind. He had been briefly concerned  as the female recruit showed up, but she vanished so quickly he suspected she hadn't even noticed him. He finished stripping in time to hear Evelyn say she simply wanted to make things 'interesting', and felt fear grip him even before he turned around. The ice worried him when he first spotted it, but quickly came to feature prominently in his plan he set his feet apart and balanced himself, doing his best to ignore the fact that he was naked in front of his female commanding officer. He decided, as he thought about it, that it was probably for the best that she had told him to shut up instead of going along with him- this way was actually likely to be less embarassing in the long run.

There were three advantages to the ice- firstly, it was much less likely to injure him. Secondly, since he had rediscovered some of his old balance the first time around, it would be much easier this time. Thirdly, and following the second, it would be much easier to toss the ice back. And given the nature of her revenge, he thought it only appropriate to do his best and make use of the fact that he had very, very good aim at short range- not to mention long practice tossing ice cubes and then fleeing his sisters' vengeance.