Dilandau's howl echoed loud in the empty room, punctuated by the clatter as his blade met his opponent's. The two swords locked, combatants almost nose to nose and both seething. They were a curiously matched pair, both fourteen and equally strong, but one silver haired and scarlet eyed, the other raven and sapphire. Folken had pitted them against each other on a whim that morning, promising a fitting prize to the winner. Such battles weren't uncommon among his soldiers, but this one had one important aspect that made it all the more interesting. The loser would die. Dilandau had no intention of letting that loser be himself.

He ducked his head forward, snapping his teeth together a mere millimeter from the other boy's nose. His opponent ducked back in a flurry of black hair, snarling with annoyance at the smug grin on Dilandau's face as he slipped to one side, calculating.

His name..., Dilandau thought, noting the anger in the eyes glaring back at him, Ragan, isn't it? I'll remember that. My first kill...

He lunged forward, blade flashing up in an arc that nearly clipped Ragan's head from his shoulders. He only narrowly avoided it with a quick staggering step backwards.

"Ragan! Fight back, you bastard!" Dilandau slashed again, forcing Ragan to one side, close to the wall. His laugh was sharp and eerily high pitched, ringing off the walls even after he'd silenced himself. It gave the dark haired boy the creeps.

"You're nothing, Dilandau! He called back, his voice shaking, "Just an animal. I'll kill you like one!"

He rushed the albino, stabbing for his chest but catching the blade again instead. Steel grated steel until Ragan's blade struck the hand guard, unbalancing Dilandau's grip. Teeth flashed and for an instant Ragan feared the boy would try to bite him again. It was a typical but unnerving tactic and gave him the chills. Sometimes he wondered if they had truly tamed him at all. He twisted his arm suddenly, trying to loosen the sword from Dilandau's grip, but was stunned when the albino moved with him, forcing him all too close. One hand lifted from the sword and lashed out, scoring deep marks on Ragan's cheek. He cried out and backed off, glaring.

"Good try, Ragan, but you'll have to do better." Dilandau moved a few paces back, out of the way, and settled back on his heels. With his usual cockiness, he smiled and licked the blood off his fingertips. "Much better."

Ragan was still swiping at the blood trickling down his jaw line, icy blue eyes glaring past his bangs. "You're just an uppity runt. I've been trained since before you could even stand on two legs." He spat on the polished stone floor, shaking his hair behind his head, "You come near me again and you'll die."

At that, the silver haired menace grinned. "So you forfeit then? I have to be near you if one of us is going to win. You run, you die."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Really now." Dilandau started forward, circling, "You're so sure you can win? I've been beating you so far."

Ragan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He clutched his own sword tightly, keeping his eyes always on his opponent. "Maybe," he whispered, "But you haven't killed me yet." He stepped quickly to one side, putting himself in line with Dilandau's vulnerable back, and struck.

There was a flash of motion, a clatter of steel, and a sword was sent spinning across the room. It landed with a noisy crash against the far wall, leaving the albino staring hopelessly after it. He showed no fear, but a vague expression of anger crossed his features. Ragan moved in for another strike, expecting the other boy to make a dash for his weapon, but once again found himself surprised by the boy's brashness. Dilandau dove headlong into the attack, letting the blade swing past him twice before making the final lunge that took him within arm's reach. Ragan's third swing was broken as the silver haired boy ducked low and grabbed for the handle. Off guard, Ragan faltered, then fell as Dilandau's bare foot struck him hard in the gut and doubled him over. In barely an instant, Dilandau had snatched the sword right from his hands.

"Shit," Ragan spat, stumbling away. Dilandau came at him before the word had even left his throat, aiming with every intention of ending Ragan's life. He barely had any time to avoid the blow, and the move still cost him. Even as he dodged, he could see that he wasn't fully out of the way and braced himself for the inevitable. The blade bit right into his left hand, severing two fingers and leaving a bloody spatter on the floor. Expectedly, Ragan screamed, clutching the wounded limb to him and ducking back to the wall, breathing hard.

Dilandau skidded past, still growling. He froze for a moment, eyes tracking the damage, before he met his opponent's eyes once again. A moment later and he charged, ready to finish Ragan off. In a last ditch effort, the dark haired boy ducked to one side, dodging Dilandau's attack and sending him careening past. The blade glanced harmlessly off the wall, forcing the albino into an awkward recovery that left him perfectly vulnerable for just the few seconds Ragan needed. Within a moment, he was on him. A shot with his right fist to Dilandau's nose knocked the boy back and a kick to his wrist sent the blade, once again, skittering across the floor. Before he could recover, Ragan had him on the floor, pinned, both hands wrapped around his throat.

Dilandau panicked. He clamped both hands onto Ragan's wrists, digging his nails in until blood flowed, but only received a jarring shock as Ragan, enraged, slammed the albino's head hard into the floor. He gasped out in shock but no sound followed, only a shudder as he fought for air that wouldn't come. There seemed to be scarlet everywhere - pouring down his neck from Ragan's wounded hand, leaking from his nose, from Ragan's wrists - for a moment, Dilandau feared it would be more his than his opponent's.

Screaming a curse, Ragan forced all he had into strangling Dilandau. The albino struggled, kicked out, and finally - just as the darkness was closing in - broke down to his last resort. To Ragan, it looked as though Dilandau were simply succumbing. He went limp for a moment, his eyes unfocused. Thinking himself victorious, Ragan eased off. It was a fatal mistake.

The energy came in a single solid burst, forced out of Dilandau in a barely visible but perfectly tangible wall. Ragan was knocked straight backwards, landing with a solid thud on his back a few feet away. Despite his aching throat and chest, Dilandau wasted no time in throwing himself to his feet, snatching up the lost sword in the process. With Ragan so completely dazed, he'd never have another shot so clear. The dark haired boy had just enough time to stare fearfully into Dilandau's angry face and spit out half a scream before the blade came down, neatly severing his head from his body. A final twitch as the last nerves died and then it was over.

Exhausted, the albino collapsed, his left knee hitting the growing crimson pool with a soft splash, the sword falling from his grasp. He took a few painful shuddering breaths, shoulders shaking, and halfheartedly swiped at his still bleeding nose. With a weak growl, he turned and spat angrily on Ragan's frozen face. He had to admit, he was somewhat disappointed. At the very least he'd hoped he would have been able to rip Ragan's arm from its socket, not just throw him. Folken had shown him time and again that much more could be done. Every time he failed to do the same, it left him somewhat bitter.

But having killed the other boy still felt very good.

With a quiet sigh, he slowly rose to his feet and turned his back on the body. Folken was already standing in the doorway, a dark smile on that familiarly sinister face. "Well done." He said quietly, "You've lived up to my expectations perfectly, Dilandau."

The boy nodded, indifferent. "Fine. You promised a reward."

"Of course. Go to your quarters. Clean up. You'll see there." He laid a hand on Dilandau's shoulder and the both of them stepped out into the shadowy hall.

The door closed softly behind the both of them, leaving the room in darkness for only a moment before a pair of servants moved in to clear away the mess. Within minutes, Ragan was nothing more than yesterday's garbage, a distant memory and no more.

Dilandau smiled quietly to himself, lifting the white overcoat from the bed and holding it up to the light. The rest of the uniform had been all laid out for him when he'd arrived back in his quarters, ready for him to assume his new responsibilities. Ragan's death had indeed been more than worth it if the reward was a promotion to General. That meant no more meaningless training, an entire troop to command, and - most importantly - a bit of freedom.

It also meant that Folken would be expecting him in the main hall shortly. He'd meet those who would be under his command, maybe get his first assignment... the chance for a battle that he could dominate! It was a dream come true.

With utmost care toward detail, Dilandau dressed. It took only a few minutes before he found himself standing in front of the mirror, looking back at someone much more important than he'd seen there that morning clad in shiny new scarlet and gold armor, colors he never thought he'd see himself wearing.

There was only one detail left. He lifted the headband from the dresser and slipped it on, dragging fingers through his silver bangs to straighten them once it was in place. His hand dropped back to his side as he stepped back, allowing his gaze to trace the length of the mirror, taking it all in.

"General Dilandau Albatou." A grin crossed his face of its own accord as he whispered those words to the empty room. The title felt like a true success, a step in the right direction. He took one final second to check that his sword was securely in place, then turned his back and strode to the door.

The future begins here, he thought happily, My future. It will be bright...