Where Lies Adventure!

           “I did want to know more about your sword,” Van said as his laughter died down. “What would you like to know?” “First, I’d like to know if I can hold it,” Van said eagerly.   “You’re my brother now, but a sword is a personal thing.   Nevertheless,” Finnian smiled as he drew the blade and handed it hilt-first to Van. Even up close, the sword was a work of art to behold.   Van delicately wrapped one hand around a hilt made of what appeared to be ivory.   The cross guard was a silver metal that gleamed like a star in the light of the moon.   The blade itself was perfectly balanced in Van’s hand.   Even though Van was not gripping it with two hands, as the weapon required, it still felt incredibly light.   In the moonlight, the blade was silhouetted with a dull glow.   “Incredible,” Van said with the awe of a priest who had just met his god.   “What is it made of?” “Starlight,” Finnian replied quickly. “What?” Van took his eyes from the blade and lo

        It was a brisk night.   The moon shone full and bright in the sky, drawing Van’s eyes upward as he walked next to Finnian down the cobble stone street. “Van?” Finnian’s voice drifted into his ears, as though riding the gentle breeze that was in the air. “Hm?” “You haven’t said anything since we left the coliseum.   How are you feeling?” Finnian asked. “Fine,” Van said simply.   “I just…it’s hard to believe that a year has gone by so quickly and that tomorrow, I’ll officially be a soldier.” “Do you have any regrets?”   “Not at all,” Van turned to his friend.   “Thank you Finnian, for choosing me as your brother.   For encouraging me.” “Ha, it was my pleasure my friend.   Just don’t cry.   I don’t know how to handle people who cry,” Finnian replied. “Have no fear,” Van said as he let out a small laugh.   He let his head fall as he rubbed the back of his neck.   It was tense from the day’s fighting.   His eyes fell on the sword at Finnian’s belt.

           The pair passed by another dyad, Patrick and Tom, going into the arena for their final sparring session.   Van and Finnian found seats on the first level of the coliseum with a clear view of the combatants.     The pair in the arena were walking in opposite directions, taking their place for combat.   This was the battalion’s final stage of their training before becoming an official unit of the king’s army.   After today, they would be placed on duty to serve their city.   No one in the battalion knew much about Patrick and Tom.   But what everyone knew for certain, was that the intense training over the last year had clearly taken its toll on them both. That was not how things began.   Each dyad began the training process with zeal and vigor; excited at the prospects of the dyad system and the potential unity it could bring to the battalion.   The original members of Thrace’s older unit; men who had served with him from the beginning and volunteered to

        The rain was falling hard in the coliseum; a small circular arena with no ceiling located down the road from the main barracks.   This is where Thrace’s battalion had spent most of the last year training.   It was just large enough to sit one hundred men.   In the arena, two soldiers were facing one another, the fog of their breath visible in the cold, grey drizzle.   On the dais, overlooking them all, sat the captain.   Thrace was watching.   Thrace was judging. Van held his sword as still as he could, but his arms were on fire.   Over the last year, he had made several strides toward a more controlled method of swordsmanship.   He had grown tremendously, impressing others and himself along the way.   But now he was finally facing off against his brother in arms, Finnian Pell, in mortal combat.   The training was over.   Van had to prove he could hold his own against the recklessness and cruelty of real war, and that meant sparring without holding back.   Finni

            “Yes,” Van replied simply, still with a smile on his face.   “Undoubtedly.   Finnian Pell is still my brother.   You were my brother too, once.” “I still am,” Thrace barked.   “Perhaps an older brother, admittedly.   I think the two of you are fools and I do not believe this is a good idea.   Van, you have natural talent but it takes discipline to be a soldier.” “Thrace please,” Van grew earnest and let the smile fall from his face.   “Let me prove to you that I am not a cynical man.   I simply have not found what I was put on this earth to do.   I want to do something I believe in, with people I believe in.   Let me fight for you.” Thrace looked hard at Van, studying the resolve of this would-be recruit. “You’re drunk,” Thrace said simply. “A bit, yes,” Van admitted, the smile returned so easily.   “But I’m honest when I’m drunk.” “Please Thrace,” Finnian pushed. “You understand you’ll have to change your entire way of living if you join my b

            “So what is this dyad initiative?” Van asked before the silence became noticeable to the others.         “It’s actually quite a brilliant idea,” Finnian enthused.         “By the king’s grace, I will be given command of a battalion of one hundred men in defense of his city,” Thrace began.  “The dyad initiative is an experiment.  The battalion will be trained as a group, just like any other.  But in addition to training as a single unit, all the men will be divided into pairs.  These pairs, or dyads, will be training together, fighting together, responsible for each other.  This ensures that each man in my battalion has someone watching their back, and that they’re watching someone else’s.  Like brothers, they will be.  Each man is accountable.”         “The brilliant thing, though, is that this extends beyond training,” Finnian said excitedly.  “Soldiers, by their very nature, must live by discipline.  By rules.  We sleep when we’re told, eat when we’re told

INT. KIKI’S KITTY CAT CAFÉ Along the walls are a bunch of loose cushions and bean bag chairs – lots of soft stuff. Kids are running all over chasing and playing with all kinds of cats. High-top tables line the center of the room where trendy adults stand, sipping organic teas and ignoring their kids. Behind the coffee bar in the back is a 40-ish white woman with the build of a shot-putter – like from the Olympics. This is KIKI, and she watches on with a relaxed smile. A THIN WOMAN and TREVOR, her ten-year old, approach Kiki.                           THIN WOMAN                We’re done.                           TREVOR                But mom, just a little longer?                           THIN WOMAN Trevor, I said no. It’s time to go to your dad’s.      (to Kiki) How much?           KIKI Let’s see, two hours…           THIN WOMAN      (to Trevor) Wow, two hours. See? How good a mom am I?           KIKI And six boysenberry