“Newbie! Move those jugs!”

I scrambled to my feet and saluted the cadet, before running over and attempting to move the jugs filled with grain. I got down on my knees and picked them up one at a time, nearly toppling over at the sheer weight. I walked with concerted steps, slowly making my way to the spot the cadet was pointing at.

Cadet Ghala, a brunette haired boy older than me by two years, was exercising his role as squad leader of the junior paladins. He had it out for me ever since I joined. It's been three months of getting picked on. I had to think he felt threatened that I was the only boy who had a temporary pact. As soon as I joined, our sergeant made me cut all my hair off and do drills over and over. I stayed in the barracks, only ever able to see my family on weekends, and oftentimes after the day’s practice was over, Ghala would flex his authority, often having me perform inane tasks. It was an interesting ride. I had come to learn magic, and I started to feel like I was farther from it than when we lived in the Copper Ring.

“Cadet Ghala!” I said, “I moved the jugs just like you asked, sir!”

“I didn’t tell you to move those jugs. I told you to move those!” He pointed at another set of three jugs, all filled with water.

“No, you didn’t,” I rebutted.

“Are you calling me a liar, cadet?” Cadet Ghala threatened.

I sighed, “No sir.”

“I think you are. I’m feeling a little hurt, why don’t you drop down and give me fifty push ups. Every time you come up, say Cadet Ghala is not a liar.”

As I dropped down to do the fifty pushups, I thought about how I got here. When my parents moved me to the Bronze Ring, they told me I wasn’t going to see Ictar as much anymore. It sucked because I liked the old monkey and I was still learning to utilize the four paladin spells Seshat had granted me. But Ictar had a consolation prize. He was good friends with Sergeant Bhufo, and was able to get me into the Junior Paladins. I was an idiot. I wanted to learn magic. I thought this was my best chance. Now I was doing exercise drills by day and being tortured by a ten-year old by night. I was told that once I get stronger, I would be granted access to more paladin spells. I had been training for months though and no new word had entered my lexicon.

I finished the fifty pushups. Sweat beaded down my neck and my arms ached. I stared at the jugs of water he pointed at. I knew that once I moved them, he would just find some other way of torturing me. I completed it. Cadet Ghala was about to command me to do something else but Sergeant Bhufo walked in, and we all saluted in the traditional Tethran military way. Curled our fingers so that they looked like an open-palmed fist and held it over our hearts. In sync, we all replied ‘Sergeant Bhufo!’ He told us we could be at ease.

“You bags of flesh are going on a little date.”

A date? I thought.

“The young Duchess Yajaira is going to go to the Bardic College, four days' travel from here. They have a convoy but asked the princep to provide some extra hands. I volunteered you runts so that we could thin our numbers.”

I was going to meet a duchess? I wondered what I would wear. Oh, right. I’d probably wear a chest plate. I wonder if I could decorate it with something. Flowers? Maybe that was too much.

I felt Bhufo slap my head, “Cadet Eres,” Bhufo called out, “You’re spacing again. You’ll practice formations so you don’t make me look worse than you already do. Got it?”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!” We all said.

“That’ll be all. And move these jugs back, what the hell are they doing here?!”

“Cadet Eres moved them, sir!” Cadet Ghala said.

“Eres, move them the fuck back.”

“Yes, sir!” I stole a glare at Ghala.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“That’ll be all. Report at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

He excused us, and we all relaxed. I had decided something. In my plan to become emperor, getting in good with a duchess was my best option.

“You heard him!” Ghala told me as he walked to his bunk, “Get moving.”

“How about I kick your mouth and make you do it?!” I replied. Ghala faced me with ferocity in his eyes.

“What the hell did you just tell me, you little punk!?” Ghala asked.

“You heard me. I’ve got a duchess to meet. Once I do, I’ll be promoted and be higher than any of you rotten dorks playing Paladins. Don’t even have a pact with a god yet!”

Ghala gave me a glare, “This is why we all hate you.”

“I know why you all hate me, it’s because I can take the abuse.”

“Well,” Ghala said, “Get to it. Newbie.”

I could not. My arms were total jelly. They had been ripped to shreds from the exercises we had done, the jugs I had moved twice, and the pushups. I smiled, “Sure thing, Ghala! Happy too!”

I approached the jugs and grabbed them, then commanded, “Second Wind,” Seshat’s magic provided me a small burst of stamina again and I picked up the jugs with relative ease, moving all six heavy containers back into place. I looked back at Ghala with a shit-eating grin. He gave me the most nasty glare. There it was, the reason he hated me. It was because I had actual paladin powers before he got them. I guess Ictar got ahead of himself by giving them to me. They only saw a guy who joined the Junior Paladins late and was instantly better than them, not all the hurt and training it took to get there.

“That’s great,” Ghala said with a smirk, “It’s too bad you ended up dropping one.”

“I didn’t drop one.”

Ghala placed his foot on one of the grain jugs and pushed, causing it to topple over. The grains spilled all over the place.

“Whelp,” Ghala said, “you better get that before Sergeant Bhufo sees it. You were in charge of the jugs and we don’t want ants, do we?”

I grabbed the lip of the fallen jugs so hard my knuckles turned white. Then I kept grabbing them, my grip getting even tighter. A chunk of the clay cracked off in my hand.

“You’re right, Ghala. We wouldn't want ants.”

We all went to sleep that night, me long after the other guys because of my duties. When everyone was tucked in bed and I was still awake, I had finished my task, but I wasn’t done. Ghala locked us in for the night. I looked out the window of the barracks as I cleaned the grain and saw that across the courtyard was the kitchen. I looked at Ghala who had fallen dead asleep. It was his duty to protect the key with his life. Honorable, and I had no intention of stealing it. I didn’t have to.

I went over and grabbed the lock, feeling it. I could picture the internal mechanism. It was a primitive key, not using a tumblr with pins that populated my old world. I didn’t have to use much magic on it at all. I merely had to whisper in Sylvan that the metal inside moved slightly and silently. It opened. I snuck through the dead of night with my swift spell and got into the kitchen, using the same technique as before. I found exactly what I was looking for. I knew one thing was certain, when I met the duchess, If I met the duchess, it would have to be as someone worthy. Someone important. Someone like the head cadet of the Junior Paladins.

Ghala felt some tickling on his face, he grabbed at it in his sleep. Still more tickling. He scratched and scratched but the tickling persisted and multiplied across different areas, expanding from his face and traveling through his chest. He opened his eyes, wondering what that was. He could smell something distinctive. A sweet aroma which permeated through the liquid he felt on his face. He reached over, wondering if that’s what that was. When he looked at his hand, strands of the amber substance stuck to him. Not just that, but when he looked closer, he saw that his whole arm was covered in red dots.

“What the Duat?” He asked. When his eyes focused, he saw that the red dots were moving all around his hand. They were red ants. Once the panic set in, so did the stinging.

“Ow! Ah!” He yelled, “Ouch!” he whipped his blanket off and saw that a ribbon of honey had been streaked over him from his mouth to his belly. I wasn’t a monster, I didn’t want red ants to go near his junk.

“What the hell?!” He jumped out of his bed and took off his sleeping robes. He slapped the ants on him, yelling. The slapping and dancing only made the red ants bite him even more. He was in nothing but a loin cloth. He was screaming as he woke up everyone who looked upon his body and laughed as he ran outside yelling, “GET THEM OFF ME!”

He finally hopped in the fountain at the end of the courtyard, all the boys scurried outside to gaze at him. His head stayed for as long as he could manage but eventually his eyes crested above the waterline like a hippo, unable to look at us for the fear that we were all laughing at him. And you know what? We were.

I’m going to have to take this guy down.