Tarrin Allene stood straight, facing the soldiers of the Royal Guard as they trained. It wasn't often that they called her in to train new recruits, but His Majesty was currently in public court right now and her services were not required. The Royal Guard practically jumped at the chance to have her school them, for they knew Tarrin could be a ruthless teacher. She showed no pity nor remorse when the trainees complained so they came out all the better when training was over (however, they also came out more bitter towards herself, but Tarrin hardly cared about what some new rookie soldier thought of her). "Rookie!" She yelled facing a chubby-face young man with blonde hair whose face was red with exertion. "Your form is weak, and you're laying your chest bare for the enemy to strike at," she chastised. "If you think the enemy isn't going to exploit that, you're severely wrong. Now keep repeating that drill until you get it right!" The man nodded frantically as he wiped the sweat from his brow and Tarrin took the opportunity to talk to the man's partner. "You're doing fine, soldier," she said to the other man, brown-haired with a bit of stubble coming in. Everyone who knew Tarrin knew that she didn't hand compliments out lightly. "But the next time the man across from you leaves himself open, don't let him get away with it, we clear?" The man nodded before going back to the drill and Tarrin began walking among the rookies once more. Being among these young soldiers reminded Tarrin of when she first tried to join the Guard. She was fourteen at the time and had been thrown out on the streets with nowhere to go. Orphaned at a young age, Tarrin didn't have much of a family to speak about (well, she remembered them, but she's never acknowledged their existence to anyone else but herself in private moments since they day of their passing), and so she grew up in the local church with the nuns and priests, but was soon thrown out onto the streets when she became more trouble than she was worth. With nowhere to go and only basic sword training, she tried to join the military or militia. However, her skills among a sword were learned as a means of self-defense with a cheaply crafted sword she stole off the body of a merchant who seemed to have been attacked by highway men on his way to town. If someone were to ask her why she joined the Royal Guard instead of becoming a commander or general, Tarrin would simply shrug and say "They were the only ones who would take in a fourteen-year-old girl." And it was true. However, very early on into her training, the head of the guard must have seen something in her as well as the benefit of being able to train someone from such a young age because Tarrin began receiving special training as well as a place to stay among the barracks of the guard. It was at the age of sixteen when they revealed that her new duty would be to guard the prince, whom was close to her age and years have passed and it's been that way ever since. That wasn't to say that she wasn't part of the Royal Guard, however. She still was, and if war ever broke out, she would be on the front lines alongside the commander of the Royal Army. That was her duty. But the prince's orders were her first priority no matter what. Her duty to him was greater than her duty to the Guard. Tarrin was shaken out of her reminiscing by the shout of a man who was struck down by a sword. She rubbed her dark, choppy hair and laid steely grey eyes on the man on the ground before swearing under her breath and moving towards him to inspect the wound. "It's naught but a scratch," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Suck it up for now and see the medics when training is over," she ordered.