the city like an avalanche, and it was impossible to find a vantage point.
"Joven!" a voice called out to him. It was familiar, but Joven couldn't place it until he spotted the arm waving to him from the crowd.
"Korvos!" Joven replied, waving. "I knew you'd be here!"
The man named Korvos pushed through the crowd to stand in front of him. It wasn't hard as he was easily as strong as Joven. The two men clasped hands with a grin.
"Of course I was going to show," Korvos replied. "Only way to prove who's next, once and for all!"
Korvos had run into Joven several years before while he was also training to be a guardian. The second son of Dravik of the Rathe bloodline, he had been young enough to train for the position and old enough to be two years Joven's senior. Their training had intersected several times over the last six years, since both the Rathe and Rothel bloodline training regimens were nearly identical.
Joven laughed. "Yep. When did you get here?"
"About an hour ago." Korvos replied. "Got a place over by the sparring yard staked out with a good view of the front doors. Come on, you can stand with us."
Joven nodded, and pushed through the crowd after his friendly rival. When he arrived, he spotted several others of the Rathe bloodline standing around, making room for Korvos. His three brothers and four sisters were there, as well as their father, Davik, and grandfather, Grask, who had managed to retire several years before. Joven thought he recognized one of Davik's brothers hanging around nearby in the crowd.
Unlike Joven's family, Korvos' family was expanding, while his was shrinking. Only three sons and no daughters, uncles or aunts. It wasn't Daelen's fault that his mother died in childbirth with him, but it had greatly cut into the family line. Perhaps Korvos wasn't aware of the statement they were making by letting Joven stand with them, but Davik was sure to.
Joven leaned on the wooden fence separating the Ergkinoa's training yard from the rest of the world. Even with the crowds forming, the Ergkinoa still practiced and taught like nothing was happening. A couple of young girls sat along one side of the yard against their great hall, being recited a story by an elderly woman. Joven tried to listen in as he waited, but the sounds of the crowd milling around him made picking out the details almost impossible.
"She's telling the story of King Turk's rise to power as the fourth to take the throne by force." a woman's voice came to him from his side. A young woman in bleached white winter clothing stood on the other side of the fence, smiling at him, her blue eyes mirthful. Joven noted her hair was shoulder length blonde, nearly the same length and color as his. "It's a good story."
Joven nodded. "I've never heard it before." he replied. "I'd like to hear it sometime."
The woman slowed her approach, a frown crossing her face. "I thought everyone was taught the lineage of kings." she replied, concerned.
Joven raised an eyebrow. "When do they teach that lesson?"
The woman stopped a few feet from the fence. "Usually on the month of their fourteenth birthday, with emphasis on the kings who had the same totem as theirs."
Joven snapped a finger. "Ah." he replied. "I was hip deep in the wolfman attack on Winterhearth my fourteenth birthday. Got the scars to prove it."
The woman seemed concerned, but no longer at him. She walked over to the fence and leaned against it a few feet in front of him.
"You were fighting Wolfmen at 14?" she asked. "That's a little unusual."
"I'm Joven, son of Daelen, of the line of Rothel." He replied. "Our training is... more intense than your regular warrior."
Recognition dawned on her. "Ah!" she exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands together. "You're one of the guardians!"
"Yep." he replied, giving her a broad grin.
She smiled at him. "I'm Anna." she said. "It makes sense now! Of course, it's possible you'd miss lessons, but didn't you get to sit in on any others?"
Joven
Learning to Kill: Stories