Rage darkened his gaze as he entered the small gymnasium that had been built for the royal family's private use. It was identical to the public gymnasium further in town except for the size. While the other nobles trained and were educated in the public gymnasium, this one was reserved for Styxx. Like everything else to do with him, he trained alone when most boys his age trained with friends.
Of course, it would help if he actually had some of those....
Galen met him at the entrance to his dressing room. "You're early, Highness."
Styxx hesitated. "If you have something else to do-"
"No, it's all good. You're welcome here any time, you know that."
Styxx inclined his head to him. "Am I to dress or undress?"
Most of their skill training was done in the nude, but actual battle training required him to wear his armor so that he could become accustomed to the extreme weight of it. And hopefully to build enough muscle that he could use it in battle.
"What does His Highness favor for the day?"
Blood.
"Armor."
"Then dress, my lord, and I shall meet you on the field."
Styxx stepped past him and went to where his armor was stored. As soon as he opened the upright chest, he paused at the sight of the cuirass he'd bought for himself a month ago to replace the one he'd outgrown to the point he could no longer lace it closed. When he'd foolishly asked his father for the money, the king had curled his lip in disdain.
The way you cower when you fight, you deserve nothing but my contempt and your old child's armor. When you prove yourself worthy of a man's armor, I'll replace it. Until then, do without.
But the bastard didn't know how he fought. He hadn't seen him train in years. So Styxx had pulled every bit of his savings to buy it, with Galen being kind enough to offer him a loan for the matching helm and greaves.
For an old grizzly war dog, Galen could be incredibly kind. He was the closest thing to a friend and father Styxx had ever known.
Suppressing a smile at his beautiful armor, Styxx ran his hand over it. Black as his soul, the cuirass was molded into the shape of a perfect muscled adult male chest. The hinges were gold leaves and the golden head of Athena rested in the center, just below his neck. On either side of her face were dragons facing each other. Two small gold circles rested over his nipples. And five gold dragon heads were studded into each leather strap of his pteruges.
It was the only thing of beauty he owned.
Maybe one day, I'll be worthy of it.
Pushing that thought aside, he removed his chiton and chlamys, and replaced them with the thick black wool chiton that padded his armor.
He tied on his pteruges before he lifted the heavy cuirass. Though most soldiers had shield-bearers to assist them, Styxx had been trained to dress without one. The thought being that in war, no one could be trusted at a king's back. It was too easy to bribe servants to sabotage equipment or to slip a knife into your ribs while he dressed you. Even bodyguards had been known to assassinate their charges. And given Styxx's past, there was no way in Hades he would ever allow someone that close who could harm him.
Not after his own mother had attempted to end his life.
Trying not to think about it, he reached for his greaves and laced them on then his vambraces. He took a moment to savor the heavy weight of the hammered bronze that covered his body. His armor was the closest thing to a mother's embrace he'd ever known. There was something extremely comforting about it.
A rare smile curled one corner of his lips as he remembered trying it on for the first time with Galen by his side.
"How does it feel, Highness?"
"Incredible. I feel invincible in it."
A slow, wry grin had spread across Galen's face. "Don't," he'd said with his usual curt sagacity.
If Styxx loved anyone in this world, it was Galen. While Galen was harsh at times, his trainer at least had some regard for him.
Styxx touched the stiff black and white horsehair plumage on his black helm. The same head of Athena that embellished his cuirass rested above his nose guard, and matching dragons ran down each side of the helmet.
He placed it over his head then reached for his plain sword and unpainted shield that quickly reminded him he wasn't really a soldier or a man.
Just an incompetent boy, playing at war and getting his ass kicked by an old, retired soldier.