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The Winter dawn sky lightened from velvet blue to a deep rose, and the cool shadow of the night still lingered in training yard of the barrack. Azar Al-Hashim made her way out onto the practice yard dressed in in loose linen trousers and her breasts bound tightly in a linen scarf. Her bare feet sunk into the sand as she moved through the empty yard. In her hand she carried her spear which shown in the pale dawn light, dark ebony wood separated the leaf-shaped blade from the sharpened end. It was a lighter spear not favored by many of warriors of Ankhais who sought a more substantial weapon, but Azar knew looking impressive only got one so far in a battle. She planted the sharpened wooden end into the sand, and began to move through a series of stretches then into a basic warm up. Her muscles finally warmed, and her blood heated to the point when the seasonal chill did not bother her so much she retrieved her spear and began to more through her paces.
The spear flashed through the air as Azar fought imaginary opponents, her mind falling into an almost serene state as she moved. Things had been interesting since her arrival in Ankhais, many of the local soldiers watched her when they didn’t think she was paying attention. Her paler features from her half Eldur blood and Mücevherian marks often brought her attention, but what she believed held their interest more was her competence as a warrior. Azar had experienced more challenges than normal settling into this barrack, usually she took down the two biggest men and they left her alone. Here she seemed to have earned herself the position of the one everyone tested their strength against. She didn’t mind the distinction, it simply meant that she had more opportunity to test herself against different opponents.
Hefting her spear she sent it flying through the air to strike the center mark of a training dummy, Then she flipped her body forward and let herself roll with the impact, as if she was leaping over an enemy's weapon. The roll put her in front of another training dummy, which she confronted in a position just off to the side of. From this position she could control the enemy’s nearest arm, and if he tried to strike her with his/her opposite fist it would present her with their unprotected back. Azar moved to deliver a lightening swift kick the back of the ‘legs’ of the training dummy, and drew her concealed dagger then hurled it at the third (and yet unharmed) training dummy.
Azar felt Siavush stir, and fluff his ebony feathers in annoyance at this disturbance to his slumber. A smile touched her lips at her Bonded Raven’s annoyance, someone had to fight off some other Ravens from one of his precious treasures and was now in a sour mood. He alerted her to another’s presence entering the practice yard.
Yet she made her way to the training yard all the same. She was undoubtedly out of place among the grit and grime, dressed in the bright robes that signaled her rank among the priesthood and her hands, adorned with the symbols of her worship, shining with a cleanliness that signaled her elite status.
Not that there were many, if any, who would not recognize her anyway, either from the royal guard trailing her or because they knew her personally from visits made previously, nearly all of them because she was in search of her fierce sister and commander.
So it was that she journeyed to the training yard now, finding it nearly empty save for a lone figure, light on their feet as they rolled and tossed weapons she couldn't yet make out. She squinted against the rising sun, but didn't find the warrior familiar to her; curious now, and hopeful they might be able to point the way to Sabra, she advanced, offering them a polite and pleasant smile when they - a woman, she saw now - turned to acknowledge her arrival.
"Sa'la, dammira," she greeted, using the generic title for a warrior. "I seek Kheper Sabra, but find the training yard is absent of her presence. Might you know where the khadim spends this morning?"