[i]You want to learn to fight? First rule, learn to fight dirty. Honor gets you killed, and is worth nothing to the dead. You need to be underhanded, ruthless. A handful of dirt in their eyes, a kick in the groin - do whatever you need to do to stay alive. You understand? In a real war nothing there are no rules. I've seen how the nobility fight, the so-called knights with their code of chivalry. They may try to fool you with their fancy armor and meaningless titles, but in the end they die just like any other man.[/i]

His father had once told him that when they used to speak - a time so long ago it seemed like a whole other life. Jahan supposed it [i]was[/i] a whole other life, in some ways. A performer and a soldier would be regarded as completely different professions to the masses; the purpose of one being to frivolously entertain whilst the other risked their life on a daily basis. It seemed almost impossible to imagine one of the carefree travelling folk taking up arms for a cause, but that is what Jahan had done, regardless.

He had long sought a purpose in life, his desire to make a true difference was what had led him to join up with the Black Shields in the first place, and whilst some may long for the freedom of the open road, Jahan had only ever really wanted some kind of order in his chaotic life. So he joined an army, hoping that it would give him everything he had wanted in life. He wasn't stupid - he knew that it would be damn near impossible for a lowborn man to get enough recognition to join gain a commission of his own - but he also knew that he was more than up for the challenge. He had people skills, something that came naturally to someone of his birthright. He also had a considerable knack for combat, and whilst he didn't fight in the honorable style of a classically trained warrior you couldn't deny that he got results. After all, the point of combat was to walk away alive, surely? As long as you walked away and the other man didn't, that was all that mattered.

He had joined the regiment a few days ago now, and had set up a tent in a rough circle of other tents. Whilst he knew the importance of bonding with his fellow soldiers however, he hadn't made much of a concerted effort to get to know anybody. His particular religious beliefs were a bit of a sore topic in this part of the world, and so he had kept to himself as much as possible in an attempt to keep his secret. It wasn't that he was stupid enough to outright tell anybody that he didn't believe in their god, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time before somebody found out. People always did. So he spent a lot of his time alone, training the acrobatic skills that he had known since birth. It was unconventional, and it definitely turned a few heads, but it was the best way he could think of keeping in shape. And of course, at war, fitness was vital.