Nikkolas woke early and left the Citadel, running through the hills in just his shorts, bare feet on the earth, feeling the connection, calling on his speed to move faster, sometime just a comfortable jog, other times he appeared to be just a blur moving over the landscape, this was when he felt free, running, nothing but himself, the hills and the feeling of freedom.<br/><br/>He slowed as he returned to the Citadel, his lessons today included fighting skills, he needed to go and collect his knives from his room. A resent from his father, his only present from his father. His thoughts turning sadder, the only respect his father had given him was when he proved he had some skills with deadly weapons. Upon reaching the age of manhood his father had given him the two Knives, inscribed and blessed and reinforced with spells they were supposed to accent his skills, enhancing them and yet he still could not find the peace and rhythm needed to wield them as he should... perhaps today would be diferent.