Running, balancing a spear in one's hands, and sitting down on the still-wet ground were the most common sensations I felt the second day we had to go through the training circuit. Part of me was hoping that rainy conditions the day before would cause the benevolent Jenusians to cancel the planned training today but no such luck was to be had. During the whole day of training I don’t remember saying one word to anyone else, and that includes the lunch break where I sat with Max and Louis. Both of them haven’t been as conversational as they had been up until Leigh left, and without them kick starting conversations I didn’t feel too talkative either.
The lack of socializing is definitely influenced by the physical strain we were all under, but from what I gathered living with them, the departure of Leigh influenced them a lot more than it had myself. Max and Leigh were friends for more than five years, having grown up in the same area and their families were tightly knit, often having dinner parties at each other's houses. The fact that Leigh has been absent now for four days has deeply affected Max, even more so because there was no warning before he did begin living at the Magisterium.
From what I have observed though, Louis was less social for a different reason to Max entirely. The source of Louis’ gloominess is definitely envy. Out of us four, he was the most excited about the knowledge that he could live out his dreams of being a hero of sorts with fantastical powers, and the shock that came as a result of not having passed the aptitude test weighed heavily on his still immature mind. Worse yet, someone relatively close to him had succeeded where he had not, and without being able to talk about this sense of inferiority with Leigh, these feelings are beginning to fester into something a lot more malicious.
Not having the option to converse with my roommates as much as I did before does give me an opportunity to reflect on the goings-on however, and as I was eating the prepared sandwich knowing full well that this wasn’t enough food as I would have liked to sustain me for the second part of the day, I noticed a hair fall off my head and down onto the food in my hands.
The last time I got my haircut was about a month before Athletics Day, and now having been in Euphelia for a month it was becoming a bit too long for comfort. The whole appeal of having your hair cut by a professional regularly was lost on me, and I wouldn’t care much for its current state in normal circumstances. But the idea of what these ‘normal’ circumstances were has changed, I spent one day in three strenuously moving about and the other two I was following the plan that Mr. Reuter suggested it to me through Max.
If I left my hair as is, it would be terribly inconvenient as it kept irritatingly shifting into my eyes. I doubt I could book an appointment with a reputable hairdresser in Krilos, so opting to prioritize convenience over aesthetics I decided to cut it myself tomorrow before working out. Wrapping up my lunch without finishing the sandwich with my own hair in it, I powered through the rest of the circuits on what was essentially autopilot. I would disassociate myself with the pain in my muscles as much as possible, and that made the whole experience a lot more bearable. I wasn’t doing much more than running on a flat surface or keeping my hands in the same position for a while so it wasn’t as dangerous as situations back home where I would almost get hit by cars when crossing the road because I was zoning out.
The servants at the compound were very accommodating to my request for a knife which I conveyed using a combination of broken Rahlian and hand gestures. They were understandably suspicious at first, requesting a knife out of the blue is quite unreasonable depending on the circumstances. But with my intentions made clear by pointing out my slightly long hair and assuring the frightened woman in the kitchen that I would return the knife tomorrow, I eventually convinced her to lend me one.
The knife was about half a foot long (15cm~) and looked to be at the end of its expected durability. It was essentially the same shape as those I used when cooking back home but the material of the handle was entirely wood as opposed to the more familiar plastic. My biggest concern after obtaining something to cut my hair with was now to avoid injuring myself stupidly, defeating any hope of being lent another in the future. I entered the empty room where I usually slept and shoved the knife into the makeshift gym bag, making sure to wrap the knife in the towel so that it wouldn’t stab through it.
After the lessons the following day I carried my bag and the bucket I used to wash my hands and face in my room to the deserted storage area and began the difficult task of cutting my own hair with something other than a comfortable pair of scissors. There was not a single mirror to be found in the entire compound, and when Gloria asked our teacher whether the Jenusians had mirrors at all he proudly explained how they produced the best mirrors on the entire continent, but the combination of their price and scarcity meant that only the affluent nobles could afford them, himself included.
A bucket of water drawn from the well behind one of the buildings in the compound would have to be made to make sure I didn’t mess up my appearance too badly. The whole process took about 15 minutes and thankfully I only cut my fingers on the blade of the knife once in a place that did not bleed too much. When examining my work in the reflection of the bucket I was visibly surprised that my face looked different to what I remembered. The night before we were transported, I had a good look at my face and body in the mirror in the comfort of my own house and even though the reflection in the water wasn’t perfect, I could definitely see many changes already.
To begin with, my hair was a mess, and if I saw someone on the street with the scruffy haircut I gave myself I would most likely avoid them entirely by crossing the street. That wasn't what changed about me the most however, my cheeks were a lot slimmer than before, and when looking down at the bucket on the floor while kneeling I didn’t see as many chins doubling up as what I had expected. It seems the silver lining about no longer being on Earth is that I'm now getting in shape. Seeing the positive effects of the suffering I was going through for the sake of no longer being weak gave me an entirely new wellspring of motivation, and as I was going through my regular exercises the fatigue from the previous day seemed to disappear as if it was a dream.
Entering my room later than usual due to having returned the knife to the relieved woman in the kitchen, my roommates were already asleep, all of us were no longer plagued with problems relating to sleep. The tiredness would overtake us as soon as we were comfortably in our own beds, there is most likely not a single insomniac remaining among the students and teachers in the compound.
In the morning my roommates made no comment about my changed appearance, I had cut my hair as short as I could hoping that the added surface area that could be exposed to the air would be able to cool me down during times of physical stress. This had become the usual routine and apart from a good night, or good morning nothing much was said between us.
My first thoughts when this began happening was that things were returning to normal for me. Back in America I wouldn’t have thought it odd to spend days on end barely speaking to those I did not have to speak to. After a few days of this happening though, a feeling of unease began to sprout in my gut. I actually liked my roommates as far as people go, there was nothing inherently evil or bad about them, and any imperfections were overshadowed by the positive emotions that came as a result of spending time with them as friends. The feelings of happiness I experienced in the times we spent together before the aptitude test must have exposed me to something that I began to consider the new normal. Meaning that going back to my previous solitary lifestyle was no longer seen as something positive.
I was like a caged animal that had experienced freedom, and now told that life in a cage was what awaited had I not done anything differently. These fears of awkwardness and solitude pushed me to take some initiative when it came to my roommates as opposed to being dragged along by the currents like before. I began to force some conversations with Max and Louis over the next few days with mixed results, it became apparent that on the days when we had normal classes they were a lot more likely to be open for conversation, but after I tried to talk to them about the terrible fatigue that we must all be feeling after a day at the garrison barracks Louis just told me to shut up.
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This routine continued on for two more weeks with little changing throughout. I was waging a war against my own body, forcing myself to continue on with my personal training even on days when it was an arduous task to even walk up the stairs to the floor my room was on. The other conflict was against the antisocial tendencies of my roommates, this was a much easier task the longer it went on, and Max even began to return to the person I remembered prior to the aptitude test. Louis seemed to be hell-bent however on shutting us out, and there was even an occasion on which we physically dragged him out of the room on the day off to come hang out with us, hoping to break his apathetic streak.
One day though, when we arrived at the barracks training ground expecting to run the circuit as per usual, the presence of more soldiers made me think that perhaps we were finally over the introductory period of our training. A sour taste in my mouth began to make itself known as I speculated as to what horrors the Jenusian soldiers would be putting us through but my thoughts were interrupted when Kuvira’s personal knight banged his gauntlets together creating a loud sound, and motioned for all to move closer to him.
“Good morning, I am Grant Woodsbane an Imperial Knight, from this day forth we will be expanding your training as per the wishes of his majesty the Emperor. This training is mandatory for all men, the women however will be only partaking in the endurance training. To my right here is the Deputy-Captain of the garrison, Bodevan. He will be aiding me with teaching you Ironguard swordsmanship. You will all be issued a pair of leather gloves to prevent injuries, we will begin with learning the forms of Ironguard using practice swords and wooden heater shields” He ended his announcement, and unceremoniously began shouting orders to all of the soldiers present.
There were quite a lot of them, and many did not seem too eager in having to teach us to begin with. I was assigned a middle-aged man who, when I tried to introduce myself, shooed me off and told me to stop dallying about. The gloves I was issued were visibly old, and felt quite coarse when worn but it makes sense to use this kind of disposable equipment when you’re just training, but it was not suited to battle in my opinion.
The sword and heater shield were likewise disposable and as such seemed to have been used by others for training before me with a few chips on the sword and shield visible to the naked eye. My instructor for the day was explaining the sets of movements called ‘forms’ and said that they were common enough that even an imbecile could be taught to use them. I did not have any real point of reference on how I should move with the sword and shield so I just copied the sword fights I watched on TV.
This did not earn me any praise from Janis, who finally shared his name with me when taking offense to me just referring to him as ‘you’. He kept saying that the way I was moving was wasteful, and that if he were fighting me he would be able to tell exactly what attack I was trying to do, defeating the purpose of using the shield to hide your attack. This is similar to how ‘telegraphed’ punches work in martial arts, so I managed to wrap my head around the idea after a while. The whole first day was spent going through the forms, with circuit runs in between.
David, a classmate of mine and also part of Kevin’s ‘posse’ dared to ask a question which was on my mind as well.
“Why are we learning to move around with both a sword and a spear, wouldn’t focusing on just one be the reasonable move?” David asked Tec, the soldier who was assigned to our class on the first day of physical training.
“You never know what kind of weapon you will be forced to use in a dangerous situation, learning to use the spear and the sword basically means you can fight comfortably no matter where you find yourself” he replied stoically, before ignoring any follow-up questions.
About a week after swordsmanship was introduced to us in these lessons, our personal instructors began to require us to participate in practice duels. These were not done between students themselves, but rather with your personal instructor. It makes sense when you think about it, as even though these swords were made of wood, they were still quite heavy and a well-placed attack could maim a man.
Janis did not go easy on me in these duels either, and I was just thankful that I could block most of the attacks with the shield in my left hand. The force that was projected through these strikes was still substantial, and had I not begun doing push ups in my own free time I might have dislocated a shoulder. The others were not as lucky however, as a 9th grader who was admittedly very frail-looking even after all this time of physical training was late to blocking an overhead slash and caught it with his nose.
The shrill scream that erupted as a result of his injured nose caught the attention of the entire training field, including Sir Grant. He immediately ran towards the screaming kid, and after seeing his bloody nose, his gaze settled on his instructor. There was no hesitation at all in his actions as he calmly walked up to him, and drew his sword in one fluid motion immediately slashing the instructor's neck, after which he sheathed the sword back into its scabbard.
***
Grant Woodsbane sat in the office of the deputy-captain of the Krilos garrison, nervously fiddling with his hands, anxiously awaiting the shitstorm coming his way. He was not nervous due to his location, as soon as he was appointed as the personal knight of the Emperor’s daughter his status had risen higher than he ever thought possible in his life. The commoner
deputy-captain now would have to obey him unconditionally, or suffer the consequences. The cause of his anxiety was the imminent arrival of his mistress, to whom he would be accountable for the injury of one of the summoned.
The seconds seemed longer than days, and he had on more than one occasion considered fleeing the Empire entirely during this excruciating wait, before rationally judging the chances of him making it past the capital region to be slim to none and accepting his fate.
The priestess of Gera entered the room as she usually did, and calmly sat down on the other side of the deputy-captain’s table to Grant. Her ever-present smile was still there, but her eyes were the most intimidating part of her face no matter how many times he had been in her presence. The room was silent for a solid minute, before Grant opened his mouth to begin his prepared speech about how sorry he was for failing her, etc. etc.
He was not given the chance to atone however, as Kuvira interrupted him with her hand, signaling for him to be silent.
“You will not die for this mistake Sir Grant, you should calm yourself if my visit today is to include any productive conversation” Kuvira said, the content of her words not quite matching her tone.
“I apologize my lady, I am willing to bear any and all punishment you think appropriate” Grant began to speak, not quite believing her words.
“Punishment? You will not be punished. In fact from what I have been told you are the punisher'' She coquettishly joked, a well-practiced giggle escaping at the end of her words.
“I’m afraid I do not understand. Who am I to punish?” He asked, the stress of the situation impairing his critical thinking abilities.
“Why you have already slain the stupid commoner who dared to harm a messenger of the gods. That display is sure to stay in the minds of the summoned for their entire lives. There’s nothing quite like witnessing a death with your own eyes, you have already become an object of fear in their minds my Knight” She answered, no longer a comedic tone in her voice.
“Now, I need to know if any of the summoned show promise in regards to swordsmanship. There have been quite a few ‘duds’ in my group so far, which is quite disappointing considering how much potential they have” She inquired, switching the conversation topic away from today’s incident.
“It’s too early to say my lady. The vast majority of the boys have healthy bodies that can be molded into stellar soldiers. But this is very wasteful considering your previously stated purposes for these ‘messengers’ ” He responded, which caused Kuvira’s face to change to a confused expression, a first for this conversation.
“I feel you are wrong there Sir Grant, the training I have prepared for them is exactly according to the plan. You are not aware of the full scope of the plan, so you are mistaken” She calmly assured him, a condescending note to her words.
“In my opinion today’s accident will not be the last. The training of the summoned to be competent in swordsmanship is reasonable, however teaching them to fight in the Ironguard school is a flaw. This is the style we use to teach our garrison soldiers so it is easy to find instructors for them, but this style is simple and defensive in nature which is an appropriate style for disposable soldiers. There will be more injuries in the future, and from what I’ve inferred, the summoned are anything but disposable” He reasoned, thinking that the priestess was not aware of all the peculiarities.
“Oh? You think I do not know the characteristics of the most common swordsmanship school in the Empire? I do. The reason Ironguard is the first one selected to be taught to them is that I expect the vast majority of them to be ‘duds’ just like the imbeciles in the sorcerer's group. Only those who show talent and stand above their peers will be nurtured into something greater, or are you that anxious for an apprentice Sir Grant?” She said, dispelling the notion that she was simply ignorant of the intricacies of swordsmanship, before ending her statement with a joke.
“No, no, I am far too young and have much to learn before I can take on an apprentice. My concern is simply that today’s events will repeat themselves in one fashion or another, and then I will have to answer for my shortcomings in front of you my lady. Today only a broken nose was earned on the training ground, but who’s to say some day they receive an injury which might cripple them?” He asked, still hoping to convince his mistress on the merits of his argument.
“Some of the summoned becoming injured through the training process could also be interpreted as the Goddess’ intention. ‘A few broken eggs in the kitchen won’t ruin a feast’ after all” She mysteriously replied.