In one heartbeat, every ounce of pride he'd temporarily gathered drained out of him. Time to get my brains bashed in.
Strangely, he was looking forward to it.
I am a masochistic bastard. Sighing, he headed out to the arena, where Galen was already dressed and waiting.
Galen saluted him as soon as he entered the field. Styxx returned the gesture.
"Ready, Highness?"
"Give me your best."
Galen laughed. "That's the spirit, young prince. I love when I hear the fight in your voice. It warms me." He lunged at him.
Styxx barely blocked his thrust and staggered back from the force of it. His whole arm stung and was numbed. Damn, for an old man, Galen had a surprising amount of strength.
Biting his lip, he rolled his shoulder, hoping to alleviate some of the misery.
Galen pulled up short to allow him time to recover. "Are you coming in injured, Highness?" His instructor's euphemism for asking if he'd been beaten for something. Because they often trained in the nude, Galen alone knew how harsh the king could be with his heir whenever Styxx displeased him.
Which he did a lot. Sometimes by doing nothing more than breathing in the same room.
"Nay, sir. Just clumsy. I'm still not used to the weight of the new armor. It's throwing off my center of balance."
"It makes a big difference, doesn't it?" Galen flipped his sword up, caught the blade of it then offered the hilt to Styxx.
He frowned.
"You need a man's sword to fight with and not that unbalanced toy you hold." Galen gently touched the pommel to Styxx's cuirass. "Go ahead, Highness. It's time."
Styxx threw his iron sword aside and took Galen's into his hand. While he tested the heft and made a few practice swings, Galen went to retrieve another one from his headquarters.
The old man was right. There was a huge difference in how this xiphos felt compared to the iron one Styxx had been using. Right down to the worn leather grip. He stared at the leaf-shaped, serrated edge blade that had probably taken dozens of lives in Galen's masterful hand. The words To the Glory of Pallas Athena were etched into the bronze, and the circle pommel held the same emblem of the goddess's head that Styxx's armor had.
"Is something the matter, Highness?"
Styxx looked up from the sword to Galen as he returned with a matching one. "What is it with you and Athena?"
"Every man chooses a god to invoke in battle. Ares, Apollo, Deimos, Phobos, Zeus, Nike, Poseidon ... For me, it will always be the Pallas Athena." Galen glanced down to his own pommel where her face stared up at him. "Anyone can battle for pride, power, vanity, greed, or hate, but war should always be approached with an equal measure of wisdom and strength. It's not just enough to know when to fight, but to know when to lay down the sword and negotiate. Not everything in the world is worth fighting for."
Styxx considered that for a moment. "Is anything worth fighting for, Master Galen?"
"Of course."
For his life, he couldn't think of a single thing he'd shed his blood to protect. "What?"
"Love and family."
Styxx bit back a snort. He knew nothing of love and what he knew of family he could do without. "Not country?"
"Countries come and they go, good prince. They're only worth preserving when the loss of them would cause harm to the people you cherish."
So as Styxx had said, there was nothing to fight for. But he was curious about one thing....
"Who do you fight for, Galen?"
"At one time, I fought for my beautiful and gentle wife, who left this world at far too young an age." He winced as if someone had struck him. "Even after all these years, I feel her absence as a physical pain, and hope that you will one day find a woman so fine and decent ... One whose face fills your heart with pride and love." He offered Styxx a gruff smile. "These days, I would fight for my daughter and grandchildren. And I will always fight for you, Highness."
Those words warmed him. Since Galen seldom said anything tender, or even kind, Styxx knew he meant them.