Chants, cries, and footsteps resonated throughout the enormous and empty mess hall as the time for supper approached. The clummer became louder as it inched ever closer to the food court.
The source of voices and the footsteps finally revealed itself from the hallway. The collected group of boys, battered, fatigued, and restless, were all too eager to be the first to have lunch as a change of pace. They dashed along the hallways, craving to reach the end of them.
“Praise to the Killer Grunt!” They chanted, careless of their volume. “Hooray for lunch!”
The challenges that remained after supper were minimal, as were their concerns. An early lunch meant a day of rest, which was the best possible reward for Vasil's group. His efforts had paid off, but now he found himself in another peculiar situation upon reaching the mess hall.
Vasil quietly distanced himself from the main gathering as they remained behind celebrating and dancing. As he struggled to get a grasp of his current position, he started debating his situation. Were they always this foolish..? He thought, bearing a confused expression. He strode forward, not giving it a second thought.
The typical lineups vanished, leaving just free space. The emptiness of the mess hall and the radiant natural light shining through the apertures on the wall provided a tranquil mood in contrast to the overbearing feeling created by the overcrowded number of groups that congregated in the afternoon.
To his right was an old wooden table and on top of it laid piles of trenchers. Vasil took a clean trencher from the top and returned to get his supper. Compared to previous days, the food collection appeared to be more diverse, spanning from various kinds of meats to a broad variety of fruits and vegetables.
Eager to eat proper for the first time, everybody followed soon after.
With smiles and grins on their faces, the boys eventually sat down to enjoy their well-deserved meal. Vasil sat in the corner of the table, his trencher in front of him, peacefully eating his meal of choice, which included various meats. He kept himself separated from the main gathering.
Reminiscing about past incidents, despite his understanding, he appeared reluctant to connect with those who had previously berated him.
He thought long and hard about all that had happened so far. Thomas truly saved my life, he arrived at that logical conclusion. Vasil's fate would remain unknown if Thomas had not intervened. Perhaps if his drive to get stronger had been suppressed, the group's actions would have been more severe.
His train of thought was disrupted as another individual took a seat to his right. He raised his head and cast his gaze at the person’s direction. His face turned to a grin and he spoke with a lighter voice, “Oh hey Reiziko.”
Sitting side by side, Reiziko’s figure stood out in stark contrast with Vasil’s, both in terms of height and physical prowess. He stood at around ten to twenty centimetres taller and had a broader frame.
However, that didn’t stand in the way of their conversation.
“Hey, Vasil.” He paused to take in his surroundings before asking, “Enjoying the food?” He inquired jokingly.
Vasil paused their chat to think about the question before responding. “Yeah…” he hesitated, feeling a weight on his heart as he spoke. “But I don’t know if I can maintain my performance…”
“Well, it doesn't really matter anymore.” He said casually, and then added “The bar has been raised. You must be able to keep up with us.” His tone changed drastically to emphasise the gravity of the situation.
Vasil’s eyes widened in hearing this sombre reminder; he knew his fate and worth was entirely dependent on his performance. Causing another mishap would abolish the trust he had built with the group up to this point, and abhorrent drastic actions may be taken by them. He was aware of that.
Reiziko looked at the concerned Vasil and casually asked, “Wanna train?”
- - -
Vasil and Reiziko returned to their training area, the inner courtyard. In opposition to most groups, they decide to make the most of their additional free time and train additionally.
They return to the small open area of grass, which had been surrounded by stone walls and riddled with leftover training equipment, and prepare to begin their training.
“Wait here,” spoke Reiziko, stepping away from Vasil. “I'll bring something.” He said while starting a run in the opposite direction of him.
Vasil did as such. Waiting patiently, he finally had the opportunity to observe his surroundings outside of the typical harsh training that consumed the most of his focus.
Observing the lush nature of the fortress’ worn stone brick walls and feeling the softness of the grass brought on a peaceful atmosphere. The silence occurring from a lack of people only worked to emphasise the sense of tranquillity.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep cleansing sigh, with a protruding smell of grass covering his senses. After recalling such peace, he wished for more chances to relive it.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Before long, Reiziko had returned in a sprint. With both hands he grasped a lengthy wooden sword, knotted with hefty stones. Upon Vasil realising his arrival, he strides forward towards him to meet halfway.
He observed the sword in Reiziko’s hands and his face contracted into a slight frown. I really hope we are not sparring with these… he thought reluctantly. Standing under the busking sun, practising the sword was not his forte.
Reiziko noticed the appearance of the anxious boy and exclaimed "Here you go!" before dropping the hefty wooden sword upon his frail arms. He makes a failed attempt to raise it from the hilt. But the force of the sword and the weight of it nearly dragged Vasil to the floor, with him hardly being capable of lifting it up.
His face takes on a bright red as he attempts to arm the sword in position, ultimately giving up and leaving the tip to rest on the soil. In an irritated tone, he asked, “And… what is this for?”
Reiziko pays no attention to Vasil's query and fixes his attention on the sun. Placing his hand above his eyes, giving him enough shade to be able to discern its location before turning his gaze back to the ground. He lifted his head and studied his lush surroundings till he came upon the shade of a lonely tree.
He pointed to it and said, “Do you see it?” He waited till Vasil's gaze hit the tree. “You're going to swing that sword until the shadow of that tree reaches half its length.”
Vasil remains in wonder before attempting to lift the blade again. With a grimace that revealed how futile his attempts were, he casually remarked, “Yeah, there's no way.” His small frame and weak physique wouldn’t simply allow him.
With a small grimace on his face, Reiziko could only present one solution: “Well, I think until you're able, you should just mimic to swing it.”
Vasil stared at the sword once more before exhaling a hefty sigh and gently dragging it by the hilt approaching the tree that stood forlorn in the patches of grass. He carefully measured the height of the shadow and marked the midway point with his palm.
“So I just have to lift this sword until the tree’s shadow reaches here?” He asked, seemingly exhausted by the sheer prospect of it.
Reiziko nodded in affirmation.
He sat and thought, reminding himself of the hurdle that is the blade’s weight. If this means I don’t get pushed around anymore… Reminded of his purpose, with a reinvented vigour, he took upon himself to tackle the challenge.
- - -
Vasil's face was drenched in sweat, having made no progress in his attempt to raise the heavy wooden sword he had been given. He nearly hurled the blade on the ground, his wrath boiling over.
“And in what way does this benefit me exactly?!” He questioned, annoyed by his inability to raise the awkwardly heavy blade. His question directed to Reiziko, who calmly laid on his side while on the grass floor, his head supported by his hand.
He threw a lethargic look at Vasil before responding to his query, “Well, swords often weigh half as much.” Leaving space between his remarks, he gathers his thoughts and says, “It would benefit you if you could carry larger swords easily for crowd control, and it's also good for strength training.”
His response resonated true in Vasil's ears, making it even more irritating. He looked back at the sword with a frown and made another frantic attempt to raise it. Planting his feet firmly to the ground, he raised the hilt with all his power, his forearm muscles tensing up at the attempted motion. But it remained as another fruitless struggle.
Panting frantically, he loosened his arms slightly, enabling himself to regain some composure before making another try. Once again, he cast his gaze at the wooden practice sword and then at Reiziko, a question that permeated in his mind desired to be addressed.
“Reiziko… I have something to ask.” He muttered gently, but still managed to get Reiziko's attention.
He responded with an indifferent tone, “Hm? What's up?”
He pauses to gather his thoughts before inquiring with a heavy tone, “Why have you been kind to me?” He waited for his response, still short-winded from the nigh impossible training.
Finally, he spoke his answer to Vasil’s question, approaching with a more serious tone of voice, “You and I both know the horror and the injustice of this fortress.” Reminding himself of the loss of his erstwhile ally, he continues, “The others aren't too keen on revolting, and it's not their fault. But I can tell that you come from a worse place otherwise you would have long ended your life by now.” His body moved to a sitting position.
Vasil nods in total agreement with Reiziko's allegations, but refrains from recalling his life before entering the fortress for the fortress. Even if it wasn’t for long, I would rather not recall that place… He thought to himself, with glimpses of his horrid memories showing through, his face betraying all his emotions.
A blighted place, without wealth, with children being harmed on a daily basis, powerless to stop savages’ dirty hands. Molestation was commonplace for women and children in that forsaken land.
Reiziko continued, interrupting Vasil’s disturbing train of thought, “I don’t want anybody to hurt anymore.” He lifted himself up and proclaimed, “I don’t think I can handle anybody else ending up like Joram or Thomas…” His face expressed a rageful grimace.
“It is only through us, the ones that bore witness to the darkest pits of hell and survived, that we can bring light to this fortress.” Reiziko's straightforward remarks echoed in Vasil's mind, allowing room for a deep reflection. He bore no particular interest for those surrounding him yet he desired to grow his own neglected ability.
Regardless of his thoughts, he couldn't stop Reiziko's ideology from seeping into his own. Perhaps their convoluted paths crossed in some manner, and he held a deep belief that via Reiziko he would be able to discern a clear path to true strength, one free of unnecessary hatred.
After a lengthy stretch of stillness, Vasil interrupted with, “So?” He spoke carelessly before asking, “What is your next step towards your revolt?”
Reiziko observed the tree’s looming shadow, its peak shrank to the dugout mark. Midday was approaching and the training trials were about to begin once more. With that incentive, Reiziko declared with a stretch, “Well first, let’s get back to group training-”
His proclamation was cut short by the rustle of bushes from a neglected area of the courtyard.