Gaelin awoke early next morning in the most unfamiliar situation he had found himself in for quite some time: not hungover.

So why then was there such a persisting rattling noise echoing through his head? It wasn’t until his eye opened and fully focused that he was able to take note of his surroundings, and recall what had transpired the previous night. It all came back to him at once in quick flashes. The raid, escaping, the party, Annallya surrendering, giving himself up as well, being imprisoned. That was where he was, imprisoned in Thylara. Sitting up in his new bed, which wasn’t that bad compared to his own, he noticed the guard banging the butt of her spear against the bars of his cell.

“Val’ Saida, make yourself presentable.” she commanded. “You have visitors.”

Huh, wonder who would be visiting me, he thought.

Despite his curiosity, Gaelin took his time washing up in the water bucket they gave him. When he had finished, the guard turned to check on him and, finding him as presentable as he was ever likely to be, proceeded to unlock the cell.

“Do with him as you will, you have ten minutes.” she instructed.

The guard opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the opening of his cell to be filled by three new figures, all of which were Titans. The one to his right was a pretty young woman with copper toned skin, dark eyes, and lucious flowing black hair, perfectly framing her angled face. She was tall, with a figure that was less voluptuous and more athletic, and appeared to be no more than thirty winters in age. The one in the middle was of a much darker complexion, and stood just a bit shorter. Her hair was arranged in individual dreadlocks, a style that Gaelin had only encountered in far off settlements. Though she shared her friend’s athletic physique, she was additionally endowed with an impressively curvaceous figure, that she made sure to show off in her stance. She also seemed to be a bit younger than her friend, perhaps a winter or two younger than Gaelin was. The third young woman had pale skin, and blonde hair to match. Her eyes were icy blue, and piercing. That was what drew his attention to each of them. Their eyes. They appeared to be . . . starving.

Each dressed in the typical Titan attire, a single white robe with a corset type belt that formed a skirt out of the lower half, and sandals. Gaelin stood before them, dressed as no man they had ever seen before. Their hungry eyes took him all in, measuring him up as a true predator would, before they took their first steps forward. The Guardian resolved not to move as they advanced on him. He had already accepted his fate upon surrendering to the Titans, rather than continue to hide away in his prison of a hut. Whatever happened to him, he chose it.

The Titans on his right and left advanced on him first, encircling him, placing a gentle hand against his body every so often. Feeling him, gripping him, testing him. All the while, they purred softly to themselves in anticipation.

“Oh I like this one,” the copper skinned moaned in a throaty, yet velvet voice. “He appears strong. I believe that he shall hold up rather nicely.”

“Against the three of us?” the pale, shorter one scoffed in a low tone. “That I would enjoy seeing.”

“He does not tremble,” the first one noted with a smile. “Do you suppose that he craves this?”

Her friend chuckled. “There is but one way to find out, and we only have ten minutes for the deed.”

With a Titan stopping on each side of him respectively, they each placed a slender hand on his shoulders and, with a grunt of effort, shoved Gaelin backwards, until he was sitting atop his bed, with his shoulder blades pinned against the wall. His back hit the wall rather violently, as the two Titans were strong, seasoned soldiers, and he didn’t attempt to resist their actions. The two Titans each held onto his arms, keeping him from rising, and allowing their bodies to be drawn tighter against his. Gaelin could practically feel their breath quicken with how close they were. The third Titan, the dark skinned one, had been watching the entire scene unfold, licking her lips in excitement. She swung her right leg up, and planted her sandaled foot directly on his chest, keeping him from rising with her own weight and leverage. Leaning in towards Gaelin, she addressed him directly.

“It has been a long time since any of us have had a man to ourselves to play with,” she whispered to him. “Scream or do not. It matters not to me. So long as I am given my pleasure.”

Their intentions were abundantly clear to Gaelin, who wanted none of it. Torture, he had expected. This, however, was something else. This was feeding him, his very being, to animals. He had seen this look before, though in men. To see it here, among Titans, was surprising. Apparently Annallya’s understanding of Titan reproduction was a tad ignorant. Everything was suddenly thrown into a new light in Gaelin’s mind, as he began to understand why exactly Titan’s covet human men so highly, and it made his blood begin to boil.

“Remove your clothes.” commanded the Titan that stood with one foot on his chest.

Rather than respond, Gaelin merely gazed up at her, and said nothing. The simple action of looking back at her, stripped the Titan of her hungry grin, replacing it with a frown and a slight recoil of the head. The man said nothing, nor did he allow any expression to show themselves among his features. No, what had elicited such a reaction from her was all in his eyes. There was something there within them, an invisible storm, a silent rage, boiling beneath the mask of calm he wore. He practically radiated fury, and the fact that it was so controlled was all the more unsettling to these women, who had believed him to be little more than a cowed pet.

“Do as you are commanded, toy.” said the taller Titan to his right.

Gaelin felt, more than saw, her arm curl backwards. With reflexes born from years of training and experience, Gaelin’s arm snapped up and caught the Titan by the wrist, before her hand could make contact with the side of his head. The woman flinched at the power behind his grip, hissing in pain. This was the first time that a human had ever hurt her in anyway. To be caused pain from something that was usually barely bigger than her finger was unsettling to say the least. With a quick twist of her arm, he forced her entire body to contract in agony, attempting in vain to stave off the discomfort of having her shoulder on the verge of being dislocated. Her friend to the left of Gaelin reacted instantly, attempting to climb to her feet, and rain blows down upon his head. This time his other arm shot forward, aiming for her neck. His fingers wrapped around the collar she wore, constricting her throat, and limiting her air intake. Suddenly panicked over her inability to breath properly, the smaller Titan changed tactics to clawing at his hand, trying to pry his fingers from the collar. Both Titan’s found the Guardian’s grip to be as solid as iron. At their full heights, Titans are unmatched in sheer physical power, and they are very well aware of that. Brought down to human size, though, their power was severely limited. Even their soldier conditioning was inadequate before the centuries old teachings of the Guardians, taught to Gaelin from a very young age.

The entire time, he had never ceased looking at the third Titan standing over him. Only now, she had seen him stop both of her friends with one arm each. The rage behind his eyes suddenly took on new meaning. Taken aback, the Titan removed her foot from his chest, and backed away a few steps. With a sharp shove, Gaelin pushed away the two women who had attempted to hold him down, and rose to his feet. The dark skinned Titan backed away a few more steps under his piercing glare, allowing him the room necessary to turn towards the open door, and exit the cell. The two guards that had been standing watch outside both jumped upon seeing him walk out alone, especially in such an untouched condition. Gaelin continued on passed them, forcing the guards to trail after him, giving the appearance of an honor guard, rather than a prisoner escort. His cell was on one of the higher levels, leading out to a stone walkway which ran the circumference of the massive circular chamber. The floor of the chamber was teeming with prisoners, speaking and interacting with one another. There must have been well over one hundred Titan prisoners. Even the walkway he now traveled down held a few individual Titans, each one of which gave him the same hungry look the other three had directed at him. Gaelin walked passed all of them without so much as a passing glance, the anger in his eyes had not entirely abated.

“Where are you off to, Val’ Saida?” one of the guards called after him.

“To wherever you get food around here.” he answered without slowing down for her. Brushing passed a Titan that had stepped forward to gain his attention.

“Prisoners earn their daily meals.” she told him, finally giving in and jogging ahead to catch up with him.

“Then tell me where I go to earn it, I’m starving.” he said.

Gaelin already had an idea of where they would take him, and so continued down the stairs to the chamber floor with the guards still at his back. As he began to descend, prisoners on the floor took notice of his presence. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps, all talking had ceased, as all eyes were turned upon him. The weight of their staring was pushed back only by the intensity behind his own eyes.

“You’re in my way.” he said in a low tone.

Not one of the Titans moved from their spot, each looking at him as a new play thing they had been given. The only thing they were waiting for was to see which woman would step up first to make claims to his hide. The two guards that had been behind Gaelin the entire time, stepped forward. With hands on their swords, they grew to a height of about fifteen feet tall, and began marching forward, forcing the other prisoners to back away, clearing a path for Gaelin to continue. They lead him to the opposite end of the chamber, where a large set of doors, much like the doors to the entrance of the prison, opened before them. The guards returned to their smaller height before they continued to lead Gaelin through the doors, and down a long hallway. The hallway lead to an extensive staircase, which lead to another hallway, and finally ended at another set of doors that, when opened, revealed a considerably smaller room. This room was entirely empty, save for a third set of doors, and several racks of weapons. The guards didn’t follow Gaelin into this room, but rather closed the doors behind them, and locked them. Taking a look around and seeing that there was nothing else in the room, the swordsman approached the weapons wrack, which held on it every conceivable instrument of violence and killing he had ever heard about. Of the numerous swords, there was one with a handle long enough to require both hands to weild. Picking up the sword, he tested the balance, trying out a few forms. It was not as perfectly balanced as the sword he had always carried, but it did not take more than a few swings for him to become accustomed to the blade. The doors before him opened, revealing another hallway, filled with the subtle hum of distant noise.

Gaelin traveled down this path, the noise growing louder before him, until a light ahead told him of an exit. The Guardian emerged from the hallway into an expansive arena, surrounded on all sides by rows and rows of benches, upon which sat a number of citizens of Thylara, shrunken down to human size to better view the action. Many of them were members of the Thylaran military, others were of the nobility class of the city, while the rest had paid an entrance fee for the spectacle. Two prominent seats were kept separate from the rest of the benches, and under heavy guard. Upon one of them sat Mistress Rhaolin, gazing down at him with a haughty smile on her lips. Besides her was a beautiful, dark skinned woman of about the same age, whom Gaelin could only assume was the Queen herself.

The colosseum had no roof, but was instead opened to the morning sun. Gaelin had to assume that this arena was directly on the roof of the Thylaran palace. He could see rolling clouds above him, almost taunting him with their freedom of travel. At ground level, all along the border of the walls were barred windows, from which a large number of fellow prisoners watched, each one eager to see the first ever fight between a man and a Titan.

The Guardian strode out towards the center of the arena, longsword in hand, to the uproar of the crowd. Never before had a human been selected to fight in the arena, especially not a man. Seeing one step into the battle arena was a spectacle never before witnessed in Thylara. Opposite to the entrance Gaelin had come from was another set of doors, from which appeared a young Titan warrior, wielding a longsword of her own. She was not an overly remarkable woman, coming to about chin level with Gaelin, with a head of chestnut hair tied in a braid, and delicate features. The armaments she wore were of the typical of all Titan soldiers, save for the lack of a shield. The both of them continued advancing until they had approached two lines painted on the dirt floor of the arena, ten feet apart from each other, at which they stopped. She looked him up and down, open disbelief painted on her face.

“You are to be my opponent?” she asked. “They have decided to send a child’s pet to fight me?”

Gaelin said nothing in response, as he scanned her up and down. He noticed that her collar, as much alike as it was to the other prisoners, appeared a little looser than the others. Was that by design?

“Have they instructed you in the least on how to use that?” she continued. Her voice was not so much scornful as it was disbelieving. “Although I will not argue with an easily won meal, I dislike killing anyone that cannot defend themselves.”

Gaelin remained silent as thoughts and memories long buried resurfaced in his mind. Memories of blood and fire. Of pain, and deep regret. The Titan didn’t know what to make of him.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she demanded.

“How old are you?” the man asked. She looked very young, for a prisoner of war. Did Titan’s recruit teenagers? Perhaps during desperate times. The girl was perplexed by his question, but before she could reply, the Queen stood to her feet, holding her arms in the air.

“Beloved citizens of Thylara!” she proclaimed to the crowd. “This morning we have been blessed with a truly unique spectacle. Before us stands Nefferel Tansole, a common foot soldier from the city of Oalam. A skilled warrior in her own right, you have seen her feed the blood of two opponents to the battle ground before.”

A cheer went up from the crowd in confirmation of two good matches that had brought ample entertainment to the battle hungry people. Holding her hands up again, Queen Phelonous sedated their cries so that her voice could be heard once more.

“She shall be more than adequate for verifying the identity of the opponent standing against her. As you all have seen, we have with us the first ever man to set foot in our colosseum. If his words are anything to be believed, however, he is no ordinary man, and certainly no pet. This man is named Gaelin Val’ Saida, Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight.”

Though that remark did not stop the crowd from cheering, it did silence quite a few of them. The legends of the Guardians were not sought after by many Titans who were not scholars. Though it was not forbidden from telling their stories, it was not the kind of thing that Titans relished speaking of. Perhaps because, in some far corner of their mind, they recognized the legends as more fact than fantasy, and were terrified of acknowledging that men with the power to strike down Titans existed. A good portion of the prisoners watching even ceased their jeers, switching instead to mutters shared between each other. Nefferel looked from the Queen back to Gaelin.

“Guardian of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight? I have never heard of such a thing. What is that?”

In response, Gaelin simply rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing the red cord coiled around his forearm, pinned with a golden star. He held it up for her to see, and said nothing more. The cheers of the crowd only increased again. Though many of them may not know what exactly a Guardian was, they could only assume that it would mean a good spectacle for them to witness.

“It cannot be a warrior.” she explained aloud. “Humans are not warriors, especially men. Now, what is it?”

Gaelin answered her with more silence, lowering his arm and slowly shifting into his standard guard position. The Titan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise for a second, before she changed to a battle stance of her own.

“Very well then. If you insist on going along with this farce, then I shall at least treat you as a warrior, and grant you as quick a death as I can.”

With that, the Titan slowly grew. The collar she wore was looser than the others, and it gave her enough room to grow until she was just a bit above eye level with her opponent. This encouraged the crowd to continue jeering.

“Toy with him, Nefferel!”

“Make him bleed for us!”

“Do not die quickly human! We wish for a good show!”

A nod from the Queen was all it took for the match to begin. Nefferel raised her sword, and dashed straight for her target, wanting to end the match swiftly. Just as she was in striking distance, the Titan gave a warrior’s cry as she brought her sword down on her opponent.

CLANG!

The very next sound to echo throughout the arena was the sound of a sword dropping against the ground. All eyes turned to stare at the lone weapon, then at its wielder. Nefferel gaped openly at her empty hands, that had once held the weapon that was now lying in the dirt, twenty feet to her right. Gaelin stood still for a second, locked in place with his own sword pointed directly at her throat. In one move that was hardly registered by both the crowd, and Nefferel, he had struck the weapon from her hands, and stopped just short of a killing stroke. The crowd had gone silent at the flip of a switch. No one dared breath too loudly as they processed what had just happened. A trained soldier, and proven warrior of the arena, had just been defeated in one move by a wild animal, a common house pet. They waited with baited breath for him to finish his opponent.

“Your grip was wrong.” he told her.

Nefferel, to her credit, swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, but made no other move. She steadied herself as she prepared for her death, and nodded to the man in front of her. Gaelin only looked back at her with impassive eyes, before he stepped back and lowered his sword.

“Your footwork leaves a lot to be desired as well. Pick up your sword.” he instructed.

The Titan’s mouth fell open, caught completely off guard by his comment. To say nothing of the fact that he had just allowed her to walk away from what was an assured victory. If Nefferel was surprised, the crowd certainly had no idea what he was doing at all. Their mutterings suddenly rose in volume, providing ample background music for their match. The only ones silent at the moment were the other prisoners watching.

“You have won the match.” the young woman croaked, finally finding her voice. “Do not draw this out any long than it need be.”

“Pick up your sword.” Gaelin repeated.

Never once taking her eyes from the man, Nefferel stepped cautiously towards her fallen weapon, reclaiming it, and stepping back into her fighting stance. Gaelin nodded.

“Never charge straight at an opponent if you aren’t familiar with proper footwork or have a strong base.” he explained. “Approach me slowly, and with better form than that.”

Not a one present could believe what the man was saying. Was he truly giving his opponent tutelage during a fight to the death? Nefferel herself was so caught off guard by his behavior, she actually found herself unconsciously following his instructions. She stepped over to her opponent, her legs spread in a much better stance, her weapon held in a guard position, almost the same as his own. Just as before, when she had closed the gap between the two of them, the Titan lashed out again, this time in a much more calculating manner, aiming for his neck. Gaelin battered the strike aside, as well as a follow up attack coming quickly from a new direction. The third strike he merely backstepped, looking as if he had all the time in the world to avoid her attacks.

“You don’t seem to be as used to this weapon as the shorter swords you Titans normally use.” Gaelin noted. “You can’t just swing it around like some club, hoping to lop off one of my limbs in one stroke. You’ll never touch me in the first place.”

“Be quiet!” she exclaimed. “We are fighting to the death you fool! Do you not comprehend this?”

“I understand exactly what’s going on.” he replied as he deftly repelled another two attacks. “And if I’m going to die, I at least want to have a good fight before I go out.”

At the drop of a pin, Gaelin suddenly switched onto the offensive. He stepped forward with his right leg, sending a sweeping slash at her right flank. Nefferel barely managed to get her sword up to block the attack, and was just as surprised by how quickly he flowed into a new attack, this time at her left. She was a hair’s breadth away from not intercepting it, and was not at all prepared for the upwards slash suddenly coming in from her right again. This time Nefferel was unable to get her sword in the way fast enough, and felt the steel of his blade pass straight through the cloth of her skirt, and graze her armored chest. The swordsman had not seemed to be moving with any particularly great speed, yet the way he flowed so seamlessly from one move into the next made it impossible for her to keep up with him.

Gaelin took a step back, allowing her a minute to catch her breath. “You’re so used to hacking away at your opponents on the battlefield with a lighter sword, you think you can do the same here with these weapons. But this is different. Every attack has to be controlled, so that you can react in time for when your opponent makes their next move.”

The swordsman launched an overhead strike at the younger woman, who managed to successfully block it, only to be taken by surprised by how quickly he switched over to an upwards underhanded sweep. On instinct alone, Nefferel skipped backwards, avoiding bisection by a tiny margin. The crowd, as well as the prisoners, continued to throw jeers at her. They almost refused to believe that a wild man was capable of such skill. She needed to stop playing around and finish him, or she would have no honor left as a warrior or a Titan! Nefferel barely heard them. She was only now beginning to realize that Gaelin’s first strike may not have been pure luck. She could not beat this man.

“It’s pretty easy to summon up power when you wield a sword with two hands.” he told her, slowly stepping into striking distance. “You shouldn’t have to try so hard, that’s not what your other arm is for. It’s for control. Control and time your attacks, and you can take advantage of your opponent’s openings.”

Nefferel was almost surprised to find herself nodding in response. Not only were his instructions insightful and practical, there was something about him. Some air that bespoke of experience, in addition to the demonstrations of his skill. The young Titan looked him over once more, noting how he stood, how he gripped the sword, and how he swung it. Doing her best to imitate his movements, Nefferel stepped closer to him, finally launching another attack. This time, her movements were much more conservative and controlled. When Gaelin intercepted her strikes, she was noticeably quicker in recovering and counter attacking. The Guardian allowed her to attack, giving her the opportunity to become accustomed to her evolving style of combat. Gradually, however, he began sending counter strokes her way, prodding her to practice deflecting as well. The two opponents sparred now, or rather, that is how it appeared to the untrained eye. The Titans were many things, but at their core they were warriors. They knew on sight who truly controlled the match. Nefferel was a lone soldier battering against a defense as impenetrable as any fortress.

In one quick burst, Gaelin sent five almost simultaneous attacks towards her, first from the left. The exact moment she blocked the strike, his whole body turned, striking in the same manner for her opposite side, forcing her to step away from the attack she could not entirely deflect in time. Gaelin used the momentum from his spin to continue swinging his sword in the same direction, arching it in a full circle above his head, to attack her right flank again. This time the Titan did manage to block the attack, only for Gaelin to instantly spin his whole body again in the opposite direction, this time sweeping his sword upwards, knocking her blade up into the air. Nefferel managed to maintain her grip on her weapon, and was prepared to launch a counter strike, only to freeze as Gaelin used his fifth move to bring his sword back down to rest against her exposed neck. The two combatants held their stance, the Titan with her sword still raised in the air, and the Guardian with his blade at her throat. The crowd held their collective tongues.

“Twice now you have bested me.” she begrudgingly admitted. “Please end it now.”

Gaelin took a deep breath. “How old are you?”

She hesitated. “Sixteen winters of age.”

“They draft Titans that young?” he asked.

“When our homeland calls upon us to defend it, yes.” she proudly responded.

Her opponent nodded at that, before he lowered his sword, once again surprising her.

“Th-this is a battle to the death.” she protested. “And you are the winner. Please, do not leave me to my shame of defeat.”

But Gaelin ignored her. “You fought well for someone so young. Keep practicing, and try to stay alive. I’d like to fight you again.”

With that, Gaelin turned around and headed back for the doors he came from, to the vengeful jeers of the crowd. Before he could travel more than five steps the crowd grew silent, causing him to pause. The Queen had stood from her seat again, and was gazing directly down upon him.

“Gaelin Val’ Saida,” she announced for all to hear. “You are the victor, and I commend you for your performance. Your match, however, is not completed until your opponent has been slain.”

The crowd started up again.

“Kill her!”

“She is no true Titan warrior!”

“Her display was pitiful, and should be answered with death!”

Mere minutes ago they had been cheering their fellow Titan. Now, they wanted her dead? Because she lost to him? Gaelin’s knuckles popped from clenching his fist too hard.

“IF ANYONE HERE HAS A PROBLEM WITH HOW SHE FOUGHT, EITHER PICK UP A SWORD, OR PICK UP AND LEAVE!” he yelled to the crowd, casting a look at as many of them as were in his sight. Then he settled his gaze solely on the Queen. “And as for you. If you wanted me dead, send an executioner. But don’t think for a second you can turn me into one.”

Dropping his sword onto the ground, Gaelin strode from the arena, through the doors, and down the various hallways and staircases. He took his time strolling through each stop, so that by the time he emerged back into the prison chamber, the Titan spectators were all present as well. Their talking ceased when he opened the doors and beheld the new crowd before him. They all looked intently at him, just as before. Only this time, something was different, something had left them. They were much less excited upon seeing him and more cautious. Gaelin met their stares with his own, scanning over the lot of them.

“You’re in my way.” he said.

This time, as he strode forward, the crowd hesitantly parted. Gaelin ignored them from then on, until he was back in his cell, waiting for his food to be brought to him.

*************************************************************************************

Annallya’s days were spent in restless study. Gaelin had been very extensive in much of his writing, and she devoted her time to memorizing each word. Other pages seemed incomplete, so she was forced to fill in the gaps with intuitive guesses derived from her knowledge of the previous pages. Every night before she laid down to rest, she would commit a portion of information to memory. Every morning upon waking up, she would reread exactly what she had spent the night learning. The time spent between that was spent in work. Tireless work, for she had limited time. Never work too quickly, but never let a minute go to waste. Rest when necessary, then return to work. As the days passed by, Annallya wondered fondly if this was at all like the routines of the villagers. The other prisoners certainly thought her mad, as they had no understanding at all of her activities. Even those that had glimpsed her before, could make out nothing of her actions. She paid them no mind. All that mattered was her work.

Gaelin had said that he had a promise that he had needed to keep. Annallya had made one to him as well, and she would see it kept.