Chapter 20: Form
"Damn it!" I exclaimed, gasping for breath as I trained with my gladiator companion on the outer wall of the Red Keep.
"Once more," Sari commanded.
I panted in response, feeling the scorching midday sun beating down on me. The ocean breeze from the Blackwater Rush offered some respite as we stood atop the wall, enjoying the gorgeous view of the sea to the east.
Sweat dripped from my hands, and my grip on the training sword became loose. I lunged towards Sari with all my strength, but he quickly disarmed me with a casual parry.
"Focus," Sari chided. "Calm down."
I wiped my forehead and grumbled, "Rah! You'll pay for mocking Ser Ryam's teachings!"
Sari yawned, "Maybe in a hundred years. Take a break."
I let out a frustrated cry. I had been trying to land a hit on Sari all day, but he was always one step ahead.
Ser Ryam had always emphasized the importance of realistic combat simulations, but Sari took it to a whole new level, both physically and mentally.
I retreated to the shade of the gondola and poured myself some orange juice. Theodore was busy scribbling away in his ledger while Brien was engrossed in a scroll.
Phoenix, who had shed his light leather Unsullied armor, was now dressed in a loose-sleeved cream doublet, his hands clasped behind his back.
"He provoked you," Phoenix commented.
"Hmm?" I glanced at him, surprised.
"He mocked Ser Ryam. Provoked you on purpose," Phoenix explained.
"Did he? Thank the gods it wasn't by accident!"
"Pfft," Theodore scoffed.
Phoenix glared at Theodore, "I'm not joking."
Brien looked up from his scroll. "Please forgive Theodore. He and I have been with Rhaenar for most of his life, and he tends to deny obvious truths at first, typically with anger."
"Fuck you, Brien Flowers!"
Brien chuckled, "See?"
My anger dizzied me, and I realized I was proving Brien's point. I took a deep, sobering breath through my nose.
"Apologies. I admit I've been somewhat of an emotional, spoiled brat."
Theodore raised a brow, "Somewhat?"
'AJHGFSHFGSHDG!'
Brien saw my eyes shaking, "Why are you so angry?"
"I've been getting my ass beat all day!"
"No," Theodore said, "It's something more than that."
Phoenix, who was usually reserved, shifted slightly in his place.
"What?" I asked him. "You're not in Astapor anymore. Speak your mind."
"...I agree with Ginger," Phoenix finally said.
"Hahaha," Brien teased Theodore. "He called you Ginger."
Sari took an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite.
"Don't read too much into it," he said. "Many of my victories are won with words before the sword. The Prince instructed me to teach Rhaenar as I would a successor, and that's what I'm doing."
"By being a jerk?" I retorted.
"I'm trying to kill you. That should make you angry enough," Sari said. "What difference do my words make?"
Brien smirked, "The tongue is mightier than the sword. Get a grip, Rhaenar Targaryen."
I was dumbfounded. That tends to happen when your own words are used against you.
As someone who had witnessed the power of art to move people to tears, laughter, happiness, and even anger, I should have realized that words were no different.
Sari's art was combat, and his provocations were just a part of his craft, his ultimate form.
However, I would not give my company the satisfaction. I pouted in response.
"Whatever. Let's go again."
"Very well, show me your stance," Sari said, pointing at my feet. "Now, listen to me Rhaenar. See how your feet are about a yard apart?"
But before I could inspect my stance, Sari's hand slapped me so hard that I fell, and my face was engulfed in a searing sting.
"Lesson number one," Sari said, "Assume everyone wants to hit you. Because they do, Rhaenar.
"Everyone wants to hit a little shit."
.
..
…
..
.
My introduction to training with Phoenix was very different. My excitement was uncontrollable. I came to Phoenix's chambers before the first light of his official first day with us.
I always knocked on my companions' doors before entering to wake them up. To my surprise, the door opened within the first few knocks.
"Master," Phoenix said.
"Rhaenar," I corrected. "You're free now, remember? Though when in public, you should call me Prince Rhaenar. How did you sleep?"
"Sleep? No sleep."
I understood how Phoenix felt. When I was reborn in this world, the contrast between prison life and the safety of the Red Keep scared me. I wondered what his life would be like in Slaver's Bay.
"Don't hesitate to call if you can't sleep again," I told him. "Our maesters can always whip up some milk of the poppy."
Being treated so humanely threatened to shatter Phoenix's brain. "Unsullied learn to take pain. No poppy."
"I understand. You Unsullied train from the age of five, all day, every day. Not just for your skills but also to numb your mind. The perfect soldier does not need empathy or individualism, as the old masters believed.
Ironically, the Unsullied are inspired by the Ghiscari legions of old, and we've found no record of them castrating the soldiers of their legions. Come, I wish to see your skills in action."
One of my favorite spots in the Red Keep was the Godswood. It was multiplied during dawn, with the orange rays pouring through the blood-red leaves like golden syrup.
"So, what will you show me first? Some spear moves? Or maybe how you handle the shield?"
As I went to touch the weapons on a table, Phoenix stopped my hand.
"Spear? No spear. Shield? No shield."
I raised a brow. "Okay, then what?"
"Feet. We march."
I watched as Phoenix marched around. He was surprisingly fast but very stiff.
"You want me to do that?"
"You ask teach. I teach."
I scratched my head. "Yeah, but... You have to admit that's a tad underwhelming."
"You talk about Ghis legions. But you forget true name."
I searched my mind, and the revelation hit me like a sack of potatoes.
"Lockstep Legions!" I exclaimed. "Over five thousand years ago, Grazdan the Great - the founder of Ghis, created the Lockstep Legions - famed for how tightly they marched together."
"Yes. We Unsullied learn march first. It is known."
It felt like a lightbulb exploded in my head, the ultimate eureka!
"Why didn't you just say so?"
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
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