I had my servants deliver some bread to my chambers since I could not spare the time. Liber’s loaves were a bit stiff today, but I forgive him for putting up with my antics as a child. Though now responsibility weighs on my shoulders, I won’t forget that kindness.

It also helps that I consider his goods better than any baker’s in the country, but that I shall keep to myself.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 6th Note.

Dolish walked towards the training grounds near his camp with purpose. A scribe walked beside him, noting down the titles that he requested of him.

“Sanasira Shipment Reports, Compiled Historical Vignettes of Elneshe, Elneshi Architecture and Design…“ he droned on and on as the scribe noted each down. The bespectacled boy was a slight figure compared to Dolish’s heft, but that was true of most Ravenishtani compared to him.

“Have you taken an interest in the history of the country, General?” the scribe asked as he adjusted his glasses.

“Somewhat. Call it a passing interest for now, soldier,” Dolish said out of reflex.

“And will that be all?” The scribe said as they burst out of the thicket of tents and onto the stony field where Bladeborn practiced.

“Quite. Care to join me for a bout?” Dolish asked as he waved towards the field.

“Good one, General,” the scribe chuckled, but Dolish’s face didn’t change.

“Are… are you serious?” the scribe asked.

“Scholarly pursuits are no reason to disengage from physical training, soldier.” Dolish moved towards an open area in the field, between the duelling Devourers and Planars, as the scribe followed.

“Apologies, Sir, but it is when your opponent can lift you with a finger,” the scribe told him.

“Only if they get the angle right,” Dolish corrected.

“An angle they can force with enough strength. I don’t see the point in tempering my body when something so above me exists,” he said, then paused, “… Uh, sorry, if that offends you, Sir.”

“Tempering this,” Dolish said as he poked the boy in his chest, “also helps with this,” he then pointed to his mind. “It’s a dichotomy. One cannot work without the other. Without either, you fall into non-function. Remember that well for your future,” Dolish finished instructing the boy and went to a free table to put away his coat.

The scribe stuck around for a moment longer, eyeing the practicing Bladeborn before chuckling to himself and walking off. Shame, I could have used the practice without my powers. As it was, Dolish would have to contend with it some other way. He placed his coat onto a nearby wooden table and went to the field, searching for any free Bladeborn.

The first one he spotted was an Afterburner coming down from the skies with a sheen of sweat on his face. He was a young fellow with broad shoulders and long dark hair swaying by his sides. He glanced at Dolish as his eyes widened, the General motioning for him to come closer.

“Yes, Sir?” the soldier asked as he saluted him.

“What’s your name?”

“Yureal, Sir.”

“Have enough bewl for a match?” Dolish asked him.

“Uh,” the Afteburner stuttered, “Y-yes, I do.”

“Then how about it?”

“Well, I… I wouldn’t want to ruin your uniform. A-and I don’t even know if we’re allowed to…”

Are all our Bladeborn this stiff? Dolish wondered. A look around the field showed him that many more eyes were on him than not. People tensed when they talked, stood straighter or fought more passively in the bouts that they did have.

But I don’t even have my aura active, Dolish thought. He knew his presence would be a bit of a surprise to the soldiers, but did it really seem that arcane? He sighed as Yureal kept rambling on in front of him.

“Soldier, this isn’t an order. This is just a request from one Bladeborn training to another, understood?” Dolish explained. The mood of the Afterburner seemed to at least lighten at that mention, as if he thought Dolish would have him executed if he laid a finger on him. They weren’t a kingdom, so archaic as to consider death an acceptable punishment for a simple faux pas.

“…Yes, I would be honoured to, General,” Yureal said and they each moved to a side of the field. They were equally spaced from each other, a rough area decided upon for their fight. Dolish had the say of when the fight would start, obviously, and he tensed his muscles before he began.

“Now!”

Immediately Yureal took off into the sky, sending a blast of dust outwards as he did. Dolish put a hand to his face to not be blinded, looking up to peer at the Afterburner.

Yureal floated in front of the sun, making it difficult for Dolish to see him. Dolish let himself smirk a bit as he expanded his Commander field from his body. There were so many people in the camps his senses felt like they were filtering through sand. But when a large enough grain floats in the air, you take notice of it.

Clever, soldier, using the sun to your advantage. Use of terrain like that is the mark of a good strategist, Dolish sent the thought towards the Afterburner. Though it was hard to see, he saw the dot that was Yureal’s spirit jolt in the air, before a reply came back.

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Uh, thank you, General, he replied.

But hesitation like that isn’t, Dolish taunted. Yureal jetted downwards after that, Dolish sensing him all the way down. Yureal tried landing a punch on the general, but Dolish blocked it with his fists.

But when Yureal’s fist receded, Dolish still felt pushing. He attached a jet to my forearm, Dolish realized as Yureal jumped backwards. The force of the jet was putting him off balance, pushing him in wild directions as he adjusted his arm.

Dolish sent bewl throughout his whole body, reinforcing it and holding against the effects of the jet, but it still kept him off-balance. Yureal knew that too, because he rushed back in just as Dolish’s left foot left the ground from the thrust.

He tried kicking at Dolish’s feet, the General jumping in time to avoid it. But that sent him falling back onto the ground. Damned Unmaker! Dolish cursed as he grunted. Yureal didn’t give him the time to rest, however, his Commander field telling him the Afterburner was approaching.

Yureal cocked back a fist and Dolish thought of options. Anything he could use really. Yureal, stop! He shouted into the boy’s mind just as the fist was about to connect. The Afterburner hesitated and Dolish grabbed onto the boy with his free hand.

Yureal’s face was replaced with shock for only a moment before he tried to fly off again. But Dolish wouldn’t let him. He grabbed onto Yureal with his other arm, straining against the still running jet. Then he wrapped it around so that it pulled the Afterburner closer.

Yureal began to panic, shifting around wildly and trying to escape the General’s grip, but he was too strong. Dolish pulled him down under and locked him into place, panting as he did so. Yureal struggled through the process, but conceded once Dolish had him in his grip.

“You did well… soldier,” Dolish said through breaths. To his surprise, a small crowd of Bladeborn had gathered around their little match. If he looked further, he could see even his honour guard there.

Dolish let go and stood up, the Afterburner still laying there. He held out a hand to Yureal, who grabbed it and was hauled up and off the ground.

“Ingenuity, Quick thinking and Confidence. You’re going to make a fine Afterburner, soldier,” Dolish told the boy, who nodded and whispered a thanks. He walked away and into the crowd, towards where bewllan crystals sat upon the tables for refreshing their powers.

Dolish walked as well, towards his honour guard. The onlooking Bladeborn parted around him as he did, letting him get a look at the gathered guardsmen.

“You really had to beat the kid up like that?” Borne asked him, arms crossed and a smile on his face.

“It was just a warmup, Borne. I tried not to hurt the boy’s confidence too much,” Dolish replied.

“Warmup?” Jerre asked.

“Yes,” Dolish said as he moved past them towards another part of the field. There, rocks sat upon the ground, carved into shapes that were easily held by human hands.

“What are you up to, Venastian?” Borne asked, confused.

“Exercise,” he replied.

“In your age? With your powers?” Vaness asked. She had a clipboard held in her hands, jotting down what appeared to be a report of Dolish’s whereabouts for the hour.

“Yes, Vaness.”

“I always assumed Bladeborn had no need for it,” she said. Borne chuckled.

“You think we’re all just born with these physiques?” he asked as he flexed an arm, slight muscles bulging under the uniform. Despite the display, Vaness looked unimpressed. She flexed her own arm, the thickness just barely bigger than Borne’s. But it did succeed in making Borne open his mouth.

Vaness smiled at the small victory as Borne muttered softly.

“How does she even have those?” She ignored him and turned back to Dolish, who was lifting and setting the weights back down slowly.

“But you don’t need it, do you, General?” Vaness asked him. He shook his head.

“Bewllan and bewl itself may not be rare to come across, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to get lazy. An Afterburner too heavy to fly, a Devourer too slow, and that could be the deciding factor between life and death on the battlefield.”

Vaness adjusted her hair behind her head. Dolish did a few more reps, Borne joining in halfway along with Jerre. The two seemed to get into a competition at Borne’s prompting, trying to see which among them could do more counts of the weight.

The procession of Bladeborn looking at them never really faded, but the numbers did waver after a while. The air was still more stiff than it was before Dolish’s arrival, but he ignored it in favour of making sure he got his exercises in. The movements helped him concentrate, release any stress and clear his mind for the future.

I am the Form of the Talwar, sharpening myself for the battles that may come. He thought to himself as Vaness continued to watch.

“Is the difference really that visible?” Vaness asked as Dolish sent another weight thudding down onto the ground.

“Perhaps not, Vaness, but even still the task is worth it,” Dolish said as he took a cloth from Bark’s hands and wiped the sweat from his head.

“What does it do for you then?” Vaness asked him.

“Discipline, Vaness. It builds discipline,” Dolish told her. Finally, she set down the clipboard in her hand and moved next to him. She tested the weights one by one, picking one up and joining him and the rest as they continued their exercise.

During his counts, Dolish noticed something in the distance. Far away was a figure standing among a walking crowd. Dolish himself wouldn’t have noticed the man had he not accidently glanced at him. He was cloaked in brown, hiding his face, standing like he was frozen in the same spot. It looked as if the figure was observing him, but how could he when his cloak obscured his vision? Perhaps he was waiting for someone else? Dolish tried to just ignore him.

Sweat fell to the ground in drops as he and his honour guard continued. They complained through the process, Vaness and Borne chief among them, but they only stopped once the General was satisfied with their performance.

Dolish dropped the heavy stone onto the ground in front of him and let out a deep breath, satisfied. As soon as he did, he felt how cold it really was. The exercise distracted him, but now the cold wind pierced through his thin shirt.

He looked behind him and saw Raisha had appeared as well. Beside her on the ground were several books which Dolish presumed spoke of Elneshe. Bark and her talked, only noticing them once the sounds of they realized the sounds of their movement had died down.

“Ah, General, the books you requested,” Raisha told him as she pointed towards the stack beside her.

“You should’ve told me that you were there, Raisha,” Dolish told her. He wiped away the sweat on his face one more time.

“Borne, pick those up,” Dolish told him. He gave him a sideways glare, rubbing his arms.

“After I had to do all of that?” he asked. Dolish just returned the glare. “Sure.”

He picked them up, grumbling all the while. Dolish was about to grab his coat, but then he remembered. He looked behind him towards the tents, where the cloaked figure still stood. This is ridiculous.

Dolish flared his Commander field, the deep blue pillar of light alerting his honour guard along with the other Bladeborn. The figure seemed to notice as well, as it started walking hastily away from him. Who is that? He tried to search through his field, but it stopped just at the edge of where the figure had been standing.

He couldn’t get a read onto the man’s spirit as he walked away.

“Borne, follow that brown cloak,” Dolish ordered. Borne’s eyes narrowed and he took off into the air an instant later.

“What’s that about?” Jerre asked him.

“A figure in the crowd. He was looking at us the entire time,” Dolish explained.

“Maybe an admirer? We do attract them,” Jerre told him.

“No. No, he didn’t look the type.”

Borne came back a moment later, shaking his head.

“I searched, Dolish, but there wasn’t anyone matching the description. Was it someone important?” Borne asked.

“I don’t suppose so…” Dolish took his coat and wrapped it around himself, the brown cloak still at the forefront of his mind. He buttoned it up and set it straight, presenting himself as the ideal model of a Commander.

“Now, we’ve got research to do. Let’s get to it,” Dolish commanded.