The only good thing that could be said about the food at the mercenary camp was that it was plentiful, and each and every one of us was entitled to a second portion should we wish to have one. The taste, however, put off quite a few of the well-off mercenaries, which meant that in essence even a third portion wasn’t out of the question. We had to go to the large open area where I had my spar with Al for our meals, and the laughter and noise here was as boisterous as any tavern.
Squads sat together, with the squad leader meant to sit and chat with his men although Gorkas was noticeably absent from one of the fires we sat around. The platoon leaders who commanded four squads sat together, although they did not eat the same food we were entitled to. They sat at the only table that was present, with the two leaders of the mercenary band, the Captain Lydon, and the vice-captain who’s name I didn’t yet know.
Since the food was not exactly delectable, most people in the company chose one of two routes. The first being to wolf it down as quickly as possible, trying to limit the time the discomfort would last, the second option was to eat it slowly, which was coincidentally the choice I made. Since I didn’t exactly have much choice in regards to my nutrition I chose to accept what I had contentedly, and I had an inkling that I probably ate something that tasted worse in my mother’s cooking.
With the exception of Dorian, there were few people of varied skin tones in the whole band, but even then there was a lot of variety in regards to peoples origins. Rahlian of course was the ‘lingua franca’ in the mercenary band, although here and there I could hear words that were hitherto unknown to me, and probably originated from the various dialects of Rahlian that sprung up with the absence of general education.
The second most popular language was Aswang, or at least I thought it was. Since my only time hearing it spoken was when El and her companions offered up some choice words to translate, I could at least understand those when they appeared in both the conversation between people in other squads, and also when Opie, Edmund, and even Herman spoke them.
Since I had no precise idea as to the location of Netsam, Herman’s home country, I assumed it must have been some place nearby to share a common tongue, and the fact that there were some people in this group who spoke it meant that it probably passed through lands where Aswang was spoken.
Since it was physically impossible to spend all the time training when there were no commissions to do, I decided to ask them to teach me some more during our off-times, although that would have to wait for another day. This evening’s discussions were more directed about when our next commission would be, and what kind of job we’d have to do. The type and nature of the commission did not depend on our wishes though, Gorkas had the final say in that regard.
My squad had just come back from doing a simple escort, and they were fortunate to find one where they were paid for travel to and from a nearby city. Targis was miles safer than the neighboring Tarli, but it still mattered to merchants to have security when moving around. According to Cameron, escort jobs were the best value for the type of work required, and he joked that we’d know for sure within the near future.
Until we got concrete news regarding commissions, my squadmates would spend their time lazing around, or helping the rest of us practice swordsmanship. It really depended on the person though, with Opie eager to teach his younger brother how to fight, but someone like Herman for example only willing if you bribed him with a drink.
It didn’t make much sense to me, but the mindset of people wasn’t easy to change, and they didn’t see it as something worth their time to teach those who would literally be fighting side by side with them how not to die better. Dorian was willing however, still euphoric about my promise to show him the Sylrift forms, so we agreed to start first thing next morning.
The night went by peacefully, and in the morning I was met by a bright-eyed Dorian in the same place where we had our dinner. Breakfast was already ready, and after eating it as quickly as possible, we decided to leave the camp to find some privacy. Dorian was graceful enough to first practice the Warthog forms with me, as they were nowhere near perfect after a few days of effort. The footwork especially was something that I had a lot of trouble with, owing to its static and passive nature, although I suppose it was somewhat similar to Ironguard which I had some experience with.
When both myself and Dorian were out of breath, we decided to take a short break during which we discussed some more things about the mercenary life, with him adopting an attitude of a ‘senior’ mentoring a ‘junior’. He told me about some of the things I should watch out for, and what to do should things turn ugly. He said that even though he had been in the band for a few months, he had already seen enough death to last a lifetime.
I was no stranger to it either, with my journey to Targis featuring an arrow being shot into my cuirass, but the fact that it would be even more common from this point on did not exactly make me glad. There were some positives to this development though, as being in a mercenary band made you both put yourself in dangerous situations, but also provided a certain level of security in numbers.
I could sense it from the very beginning, the brotherly bond that developed from enduring life-or-death situations along with others. Perhaps people in sports teams developed something similar, but to a much shallower extent. The word ‘sports’ and ‘Leon’ were rarely used in the same sentence up to a few months ago, so I couldn’t say for sure, but I could make conjectures based on what I saw.
After thanking Dorian for his advice, we went straight into learning the basic Sylrift forms. I didn’t attempt to imitate Gaspar and his method of teaching, as it would look absurd coming from a literal teenager, but I was confident that I could at least get the gist of his teachings across. Dorian was a much better swordsman than I, and not only because he was older. While I had a certain affinity for swordsmanship, and even enjoyed it most of the time, he was something of a maniac, or perhaps addict would be a more apt description?
After seeing me do the moves for a form once, he could copy it almost seamlessly, which made me think for a second that he might’ve possessed as good of a memory as mine. I decided to ask bluntly, and his reply was that he tended to forget most things, although swordsmanship wasn’t one of them. He explained it with an off-handed comment of ‘If I don’t care about it, It won’t stick’, which was fair enough.
That meant that Dorian was someone with a true gift, something that could be matched with willpower and effort, but could not truly be replicated. Our first session was very productive and by the end of a few hours of practice I had nothing more to teach him. He didn’t interpret my comment with humility at first, suspecting I was trying to weasel out of our agreement, so he insisted passionately that we make this a regular thing, at least until our next commission came in.
Even though I had known Dorian for only a short time, he seemed to be an upstanding guy, and I felt that he was someone worth befriending. We had grown closer, and when we returned to the camp a little while before dinner, we were met with questioning gazes from some of the squad. They had spent their time either sleeping, or practicing as well, and after Dorian praised my teaching skills as almost ‘otherworldly’ agreed to go practice with us as well, thinking it might be worth exchanging pointers or something.
There was still no news regarding a commission yet so the conversations during dinner and after ranged from inconsequential to moronic. I couldn’t blame them for it though, since in a world with few things to entertain oneself with, there was only one thing men thought about regularly. Listening to their conversations also gave me a chance to find out what my squadmates spent their earnings on, and being a city with so many mercenaries camped out outside of it, the brothel industry in Verorum was booming.
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The following day Cameron, Opie, and Edmund accompanied Dorian and I outside after breakfast, and apart from myself all of the others either didn’t have any knowledge worth sharing about other swordsmanship styles, or picked up the sword for the first time after joining the band. Edmund didn’t even start out as a mercenary, and worked in the supply team answering to the disabled soldier I saw on my first day.
Having opponents to spar with that weren’t Dorian aided me greatly, although the ones against Cameron would probably result in my newly-acquired shield being ruined earlier than I would like. The friendly guy was anything but when it came to swordsmanship, and if I didn’t know any better I would have thought he was trying to ruin it with how strong he struck it. Not feeling like being Cameron’s punching bag any longer, I suggested we take a break, during which I heard Opie and Edmund talking once more in their native tongue.
This reminded me to ask them to teach me some Aswang, and they readily agreed although their magnanimity cost me another round of drinks. They went through with me some of the common phrases I was likely to hear, and also corrected my pronunciation of some of the words I had learnt in the tavern from El. My desire to learn to speak it was not from nowhere, as being a place that's far away from Jenusia it wasn’t out of the question for me to end up in places where it was spoken one day in the future.
The biggest drawback for me was that they were illiterate, and being able to remember words with writing was making it quite difficult for me. And without even noticing our break had extended well-past what I intended, and Opie in particular was becoming more and more irritated with me as time went on. I chided myself for being so inattentive, and apologized to both of them for being pushy, but Edmund said he’d be willing to teach me in the evenings since he wasn’t doing much then anyway.
He wasn’t trying to temper my enthusiasm either, as after eating dinner he dutifully began talking with me through words and phrases that came to mind, as well as names for things in Aswang. I had the same issue though, of being unable to see how words were written, and after taking a stick to draw in the ground with and asking a question about the Aswang alphabet trying to recall what El had shown me on a tavern table, Fisk butted into our conversation.
He was surprised that someone like me could even read and write, much less remember the word for ‘forest’ in Aswang. That was quite unexpected, as I thought Fisk spoke Rahlian in a similar accent to mine, and wasn’t even an option for learning the language from. I told a half-truth in my explanation about knowing how to read and write, which seemed to not satisfy his curiosity completely. He then took the stick out of my hand and began correcting some of the vowel’s ends, something I remembered having trouble with back then.
He didn’t outright say that he would teach me the writing system properly, but he didn’t stop with his explanation either. I just decided to sit there with rapt attention, only asking the important questions that popped up in my mind.
Since he was able to read and write in Aswang, and also incorporate Rahlian letters into his explanations, I got the feeling he was someone who came from an educated background. After becoming tired he said that he would head to bed, before throwing the stick he was using to draw in the ground at me, and making himself scarce. Just as I was about to head to the same tent to get some well-deserved rest, Gorkas came to the fire we were using and got our attention.
He announced that our days of rest were over, and that tomorrow morning we were to be ready to leave the camp at dawn for a commission.
***
To outsiders it would seem that the days of the princess of Jenusia were always busy, with little time left for rest and relaxation. This was a carefully cultivated image meant to show the virtues of royal blood, and the lengths to which those in power would go to provide for their subjects. Kuvira didn’t see it that way however, with any time spent on leisure irking her greatly, and making her restless. She almost felt thankful to the summoned boy who escaped, and dropped a large amount of work in her ‘plate’, letting her partake in things which were up to then beyond her reach.
The first thing she busied herself with after the search for him failed was to arrange for yet another aptitude test for the ‘mundanes’ in the compound, seeking to spot those who managed to hide their abilities the first time, or had since developed them naturally. The knowledge regarding arcane power and the ability of humans to wield it was not precise, and the aptitude test was just the best way to currently gauge if it was worth teaching someone sorcery. The second aptitude test revealed two youths, one boy and one girl, with practically nothing in common. They showed great enthusiasm at being able to become ‘magicians’ and as such Kuvira did not suspect any ill-intent behind them failing the first time.
The political significance of a select few being able to become sorcerers, was very suitable for nobles who saw themselves as above the average man. It was no secret to the Jenusian center of power that those who were summoned by them did not come from anything resembling a ‘noble’ bloodline, but such things were explained by them receiving divine guidance, or some sort of blessing.
Kuvira didn’t believe it though, but that did not mean she didn’t believe in some ethereal being’s existence. She just thought that if such an entity existed, it wouldn’t be bothered to deal with the comparatively insignificant lives of mortals, including herself. Being free from divine punishment, also gave her a lot of leeway in how she lived her life. According to the religious texts, a woman had no place in a secular position of power, and her only choice was to either be a prim princess, or go to the priesthood.
She chose the latter, seeing the ability to break through the mold of her gender there, as the wisdom of the divine was something that could convince a layman of practically anything. She had never regretted her choice, and knowing that should anything go awry in her schemes the priesthood would have her back assured her greatly.
Today she would visit her former master, to discuss her fiancé with him. The man who she had chosen had shown great promise, somehow resembling the child of an important noble to a tee. His outgoing personality was the main attraction, being able to draw on a large circle of friends among both those who were mundane and not.
His magical studies were not going that well however, at least that was according to Magister Kenner. He was one of the most hard-working and diligent people she had ever met, with his end goal being to become the first sixth-circle sorcerer in Jenusia in a generation. While such a thing might have at least some appeal to her, it did not entice her betrothed as much.
The man while dutifully doing everything that was required of him by the Magister, did nothing more than the minimum. He had reluctantly agreed to forego learning swordsmanship when he was found to possess some talent for sorcery, but after the news that the one who he used to torment and treat disdainfully used both swordsmanship and sorcery to great effect, defeating a handful of armed men, he insisted on learning the sword in addition to sorcery.
His friends who were mundanes played a part as well, with the chief culprit David even teaching him some of the things he was learning when they met. His desire to learn swordsmanship as well had caused him to completely cease his magical studies as a form of protest, requiring the Jenusians to allow him to learn with David in order to resume his training.
This was the reason that Kuvira was going to meet with her master, as the man almost went as far as discarding the prized ‘guardian’ as his apprentice, but the knowledge that the man was betrothed to the princess thankfully stayed his hand. Kuvira had already worked up a ‘game-plan’ in advance, carefully analyzing her past interactions with the Magister in order to predict his responses to her queries. This usually worked for the most part, but being one of the most powerful sorcerers in this part of the continent did not make him the most predictable man.
She calmly knocked on his door, before hearing his words of ‘come in’, and entered the room with a worried expression on her face. Kenner was sitting on his chair by the window, enjoying the breeze and only turned his head towards her when she was only a few steps away.
“If you’re here to talk about your fiancé then I’ll save you some time, he can remain as my apprentice but I will not be teaching him personally, that task will now be Reyneke’s” He stated casually, before looking through the window once more.
“I’m afraid that is contrary to our plans, as you well know a strong Guardian taught by you is a vital part of the reason for the summoned even being here…” She responded, before pausing. She resumed only after a few moments, seeing the Magister had no intentions of looking at her.
“...the fact that someone you did not deem worthy has managed to study swordsmanship, and even stumbled into learning sorcery through some means has ignited a fire within the boy. ‘If he could do it, then why can’t someone who was chosen like him’ he says, and I agree with him” She finished, and her underlying criticism of the Magister finally urged him to face her.
“If I do not deem him worthy, then he is not. It must be the greatest accident of the century that he managed to do it, and this is a fact.” He said resolutely, a neutral expression on his face.
“The emperor has decided to grant the guardian’s request, so it is beyond you and I to protest any furth-” She explained, before being cut off by him.
“You mean you convinced him to grant that arrogant boy’s request…” He corrected, but she just took his comments in stride.
“As far as I’m aware your master also had some apprentices who either came from military backgrounds, or continued to use weapons in addition to sorcery. Why are you so against your apprentice doing so?” She asked, not understanding this particular quirk of his.
“Using sorcery to end someone’s life is nowhere different than piercing their flesh with a weapon, and as far as I’m aware that is what separates us from the mundanes, they are little better than animal-” He explained, before Kuvira interrupted him herself.
“Even my father?” She asked, with a gloating expression on her face.
“Except for His Majesty of course…” He corrected himself, but not saying anything more.
“You don’t have to worry on that front, as I will make sure that he is well-accustomed to taking another’s life before agreeing to Kevin’s request. After all, it would not do for us to have a Sword Guardian who is all for show…” She elaborated vaguely, before taking a pause to steady her thoughts.
“You mean you will get him to kill some poor soul? That’s quite cruel, even for you” He responded, before turning back to look out the window.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn't wear blood-stained clothes or weapons to the Magisterium” She joked, before looking out of the window as well, at nothing in particular.