Page 20 of Dark Angel

“See, that’s all I am asking for you to do.” Matthew tosses an arm over his friend’s shoulders.

Jordan rolls his eyes at him.

Matthew gives Jordan a brief run-down of where everything is within the Ascendancy before they train. The bottom floor consists of the kitchen area, a dining hall that can occupy three dozen at a time, drawing rooms and the marvellous ballroom.

The second floor is the spare sleeping quarters for anyone needing a place to stay temporarily, as well as the music room and the library.

Training and education fill the entire third floor, and the top floor is for the offices of the Elders and gathering rooms for any Ascendancy meetings.

There’s also a basement where the infirmary is located, and the Bastille-the holding ground for prisoners or Marked creatures awaiting trial by the Ascendancy and a Diviner.

Jordan peers around at the training level, taking in everything Matthew is pointing at. One entire side consists of glassed off rooms. Inside each individual room is an entire wall stacked with all sorts of finely polished weapons.

On the other side of the floor, overstuffed lounges face each other, and the walls are lined with books. There’s also dressing and bathing rooms are at either end. Training leathers are usually what people will choose to wear, but some stay in their usual attire. Some Seraphim choose to only wear their training leathers, but most follow the social rules of the Mortals and dress formally when out in public.

“That’s the Commons. You can study there or unwind after training.” Matthew points out to him when he sees Jordan’s eyes glancing around.

Two girls sit together on one of the dark green velvet sofas, both of them reading a book and giggling together. They seem to be around Jordan’s age. One with long blonde hair, crisp and golden, and pale skin freckled with tanned spots. The other with short brunette hair and olive-toned skin. “That’s Clara Lockewood and Mabel Sallows.”

The two girls peer up to see who said their names and spot Jordan standing beside Matthew. The two of them are dressed in their training leathers already as they run their eyes down his front, considering Jordan with hooded, intrigued eyes.

“Who’s your friend, Matthew?” The blonde calls out across the room. She closes their book, her hand still parting the pages, so they don’t lose their spot.

Matthew jabs Jordan in the ribs, and he cuts him a glare in return. “Jordan Carter. He’s new to London, so be nice to him, girls.”

“We’re always nice.” The brunette chimes before they start giggling again.

“That you are,” Matthew agrees before turning back to Jordan, “And these are the training rooms,” he continues on, shifting to the other side of the open floor space, “created downstairs in our basement by our very own Percy and Lewis Chiswick. Robert, our Ascendancy leader, is having more made for the other Ascendancies in the region. The glass is soundproof and has some sort of illumination enchantment mixed into it. You can use it to change the scenery within the room when you’re training to make the ambience more realistic.”

He points towards the training rooms. Inside, it’s lit up to appear as though gardens of an estate are blooming inside. Tall trees projected amongst a gravel path down the centre. A fake sun shining from the top of the room, illuminating the space in summer sunshine. It’s magical and like nothing Jordan has experienced before. “How long have you had these?”

Matthew gives him an effortless shrug. “Not very long. A couple of months, perhaps. Some Seraphim are still learning how to use it properly.”

Jordan walks to the next room. Through the glass he watches a boy and girl fighting, their combat looking slack and chaotic. The boy is swinging his blade around aimlessly as the girl pulls out her dagger and races towards him without concealing herself.

Jordan shakes his head disapprovingly at the sloppiness and terrible tactics being used. Some people aren’t born with the graceful combat trait.

A sigh escapes him when the boy falls backwards and the girl tumbles over him, bringing down her knife and missing his arm, even without him flinching away.

“Daniel and Beatrice are not the best fighters we have. They will most likely be employed for finances or education.” Matthew says with a twinge of humour in his voice.

It is the duty of Seraphim to train and fight off Infernals and any other threat that Marked ones come across. Some, however, aren’t trained enough or are better suited for working within the Ascendancy, where combat is not required of them.

“Shall we train now?”

Matthew shows him to an empty room. They select their weapons of choice off of the wall at the back carrying an array of weapons. Jordan selects two fairly weighted daggers, both with white wrapped hilts and shining silver tips, while Matthew pulls off a bigger bronze blade and several pocketknives.

Positioning themselves in the middle of the room, the overhead lighting shifts to become dimmer. Jordan’s hooded eyes watch Matthew, scanning his features.

His gaze locks onto Jordan’s right arm, where he holds the dagger. Left foot forward that he’s going to use for leverage. Mouth pursed tightly together as he cocks a dark brow.

Jordan can read him like a book. His first move will be something rushed and un-calculated. He’ll take some time to warm up, might even miss on his first attempt. He will put too much weight into his swing, tilting him off balance and that’ll be the perfect time for him-

Before he can continue this thought process, Matthew charges at him, lifting his blade back and sweeping down in a graceless arch. Jordan easily ducks out of the way of his weapon.

Matthew stumbles forward and Jordan takes the moment to turn on the spot. Grabbing a hold of his shirt collar, Jordan pulls him backwards until he’s steady on his feet again. With a swing of his blade, Matthew turns, and the edge comes within inches of Jordan’s head.

Moving gracefully, Jordan avoids the blow, pivoting to pin Matthew’s arms behind him. Pushing him to the ground, Jordan’s knee leans into Matthew’s back, pressing him against the floor.

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