Two months after my joining the caravans I managed to get proper sleep every night. I became soft. I couldn’t hear and see better than a normal person, like I used to before. I was rusty and that was the reason I jumped away, cowering in fear, when a hand touched my shoulder early in the morning. A tall, seasoned man with scars on his face was standing in front of me. His smile didn’t have the effect of reassurance he expected. Irony was pouring out of his eyes and a thunderous laugh woke up most of the caravan people sleeping nearby.
“If you really think that with this reaction you would survive during a war, it’s better you go find a corner to hide and don’t dare set foot in my training grounds”. The alpha male has made himself clear towards me. A few seconds later more than two dozen men stood in lines in front of him, their eyes buried on the forest floor. Their discipline was almost charming and didn’t originate from fear that one punch from Ogre could crack their skulls open. His gaze alone was enough for anyone who crossed it to realize he’s had his fair share of experience, in combat and in socializing. Ogre was not your standard issue general who would make you clean feces and piss. If you swore obedience, you should make sure not to make a mistake. Why? Because the punishment would be strict.
Even if those few minutes seemed to be centuries, they were not enough to make me get past the thought that conquered my mind: “This man will be able to unlock powers I never even dreamed of having.” I left the training field thinking about the recipe for today’s meal, while a small voice inside my head was commanding me to follow Ogre in battle.
The next few days I had managed to completely forget what happened in that tavern. These thoughts were replaced by my scheme to approach Ogre and find calmness through everyday training. Tire myself to sleep without dreaming. The trainees met such challenging requests from the legendary warrior that every night practically fainted, coming back six hours later to resume their training without nightmares bothering their soft minds. Or dreams, for that matter.
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Even stronger was my need to find a role model, a necessity which led me to the best decision of my life. Like every important meeting, my first encounter with Ogre didn’t occur for weeks. I had to feel safe, I had to sense that this man would offer me more than the empire had taken away. The night I met Ogre I felt the need to speak with Mother. For six weeks I only watched her from afar since she wasn’t having her meals with the rest of us and free time was found seldom in the caravan camp.
Apart from cooking every day’s food, I was cleaning the caravan carriages, and from time to time I was helping people carry heavy crates. That night was one of the nights nobody requested help, everyone was able to have some fun, but not me. And there I was, standing outside her carriage, trying to prepare a proper greeting, something respectful. “Good evening, my lady”, I whispered as I entered her simple and cosy home. “Do you have a few words to spare for a simple worker?”
As always, the response was a warm smile and a loving hug. She pointed at the pillow lying on the floor across her, offered some tea and like reading an open book in front of her, she said: “What troubles you, young cook? Your eyes are filled with doubt and ambition. Only the eyes of a man who has dreams can hold that kind of spark.” And just like that I started talking.
“I’m afraid I might have started on the wrong foot with trainer Ogre. He made sure I never step foot on his training field, which to be honest made me feel completely empty.”
No longer did she need to read my hand moves and my eyes. She was the one who taught all of us how to talk properly, with her easy-going way and the reassurance that everything will be fine as long as you speak your mind. And only your mind.
“You desire to fight. You can feel your blood boil and you feel trapped between the kitchen and the several chores. Follow your father’s footsteps and teach someone how to cook. Show someone how to clean the caravan carriages. After a week has passed and you feel that you will not be missed from the kitchen, go and stand in front of this warrior. Look him straight in the eyes and make yourself clear about your intentions.”
The warmth and comfort of Mother’s presence was now a happy memory that had been replaced by unbearable anxiety. My hands started shaking, and just the thought of me holding a weapon made my body shiver. However, my mind was going too fast. Ogre didn’t let me touch anything that could kill during our whole training.