It was a bloody, sullen crew that assembled in the training room. Drill Sergeant Bidlack and all four instructors stood in front of us. Bidlack to the center, the other spaced evenly on the wall.

“Okay, trainees. Some of you are beginning to separate yourself. Those of you who have gotten your second priority point raise your hands.” Bidlack began. Jackson, along with four others, raised his hand. “Those of you with your hands raised fall out of the formation and fall in on the instructor of your highest priority.”

The five trainees all gathered at their instructors. Goldo had two trainees with him. The other three each had one. Bidlack nodded. “These trainees will be secondary instructors. You will do combat exercises under the direction of myself and these instructors, while our primary instructors offer individual counselling on your advancement.”

Each of the instructors called out a trainee’s name to follow them to their office. All the names called were in first squad. We all stood there, looking at each other.

Izzy finally called out, “Drill Sergeant! Are we not going to address what just happened?”

Bidlack had turned to the secondary instructors, and he was telling them something. He turned to Isabel with a raised eyebrow under his Smoky the Bear hat. “And what happened, trainee?”

“Monty and Chad just died. Just now, in the chow hall. Their bodies are probably still laying there.” She yelled. Lots of the trainees nodded agreement.

“There was a threat. The platoon handled the threat. Good job. Now go continue with training.” Bidlack said, turning back to the secondary instructors.

“No Drill Sergeant, that isn’t good enough.” Izzy told him.

Drill Sergeant turned slowly back to face her. He wore an impassive mask I’d come to associate as his training face. He walked through the formation to stand in front of the diminutive sea elf. Bidlack probably stood six foot five and Izzy might be three foot five. It looked like a mouse standing up to a lion.

“Trainee, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Can you repeat what you just said?” Bidlack said in a quiet voice.

Isabel gulped loudly. “I said…” She paused. “I said No Drill Sergeant, that isn’t good enough.”

The drill sergeant stood, looming over her for a long moment. “You are not here to think. You are here to learn. That’s none of your business.”

Izzy gaped at him. “You’re actually standing there saying if we die and turn into some type of flesh-eating monster… That’s none of our business?”

“Trainee. Go to your secondary instructor. Now.” Bidlack said quietly.

“Just answer the question!” She yelled. He backhanded the little sea elf to the ground. The platoon was deathly silent.

“Go to training.” Drill Sergeant said in the same even tone.

Isabel shook her head, like she was trying to clear cobwebs. She slowly stood up, resuming the position of attention. “Drill Sergeant, why did those trainees die? Why did they become monsters?”

He slapped her again, knocking the little woman back out of line. Izzy stood up, her jaw set. There was a thin line of blood coming from the corner of her mouth. She walked back to her position in the squad and stood at attention. “Drill Sergeant, why did those trainees die?” Jackson walked down from his position at the front of the room to fall back into the squad, right beside Izzy.

Jackson put his arm around her shoulders. He maneuvered the sea elf to his spot and took hers. He stood in front of the Drill Sergeant.

“You gonna be a hero?” Bidlack asked with one eyebrow raised.

“No Drill Sergeant. I just figure when you’re in your bunk tonight beating off about pounding on helpless trainees, it’d get you off better if you whooped up on me instead of little ole’ Izzy.” Jackson told him.

“Trainees. I’d like you all to fall out of squad order and gather around.” Drill Sergeant turned and called to the platoon. “Come on now, I don’t have all day.”

I traded looks with Jackson. He raised his eyebrows quickly, before returning to the laconic unconcerned expression he had been wearing. All the trainees gathered around, forming a circle.

“Trainee Jackson here is something of a comedian.” Bidlack said loudly, then turned back to face Jackson. “Repeat what you just said. Say it loud so everyone can hear you.”

“Uh, I said that when you was beating off tonight at the idea of pounding on helpless trainees you’d probably get off better if you whooped me than little ole’ Izzy.” Jackson announced in a loud voice.

There was an audible intake of breath from the gathered trainees. No one would make eye contact with Jackson. Most were just staring at the wall.

“Now, what this trainee is implying is that I enjoy beating on you. That is not true. It is my job to mold you weak civilians into killers.” He turned and punched Jackson in the face. It knocked the big human to the ground. “Part of that is teaching you the hierarchy of your current lives.” Bidlack kicked him in the chest hard enough to lift him off the ground. “For example, disrespect to a superior will not be tolerated.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Jackson had curled up into a ball, wheezing for air. Drill Sergeant kicked him in the face. It shattered his nose. Blood ran down his cheek to the floor.

“You will not be allowed to show disrespect to the cook any more than you would the queen.” His spit shined marching boots lifted Jackson off the floor again, scooting him across the room. The trainees kept their distance, the class moving like a jellyfish. “This trainee was disrespectful.” Bidlack went on in a calm voice. “Thus, I have failed to train him properly. He must, therefore, be retrained.” He kicked the human again, this time in an arm the trainee had wrapped around his head to shield him from other blows.

“Drill Sergeant, stop.” I yelled. “You’ll kill him.”

“Have you also not been properly trained in respecting your superiors?” Bidlack asked calmly.

“No Drill Sergeant. I’m trying to ensure an asset of the queen remains fully functional that it may fulfill her purpose!” I said in a loud and thunderous voice. There was a brief moment of silence.

“Did you hear that trainees? That is how to argue with a superior.” Drill Sergeant kicked Jackson again. “Now go to training.” He stalked off.

I dropped to my knees beside the human. I used my Heal skill to assess his injuries. Jackson’s nose was clearly broken, as was one of his cheekbones. A couple of ribs might be busted as well, hopefully none were floating. That could punch a lung. My low skill score couldn’t tell that. Two fingers on his left hand were 100% broken, and the hand itself might be.

“I guess… I showed… him.” Jackson moaned.

“You big lug, what do you think you were doing?” Izzy asked, kneeling on the other side of him. “What did he do to you?” She said softly. She quickly chanted the words to Pheromonal Healing. The sharp scent of evergreens flooded the air.

“Dude, what were you thinking?” I asked.

He smiled through his mask of blood. “I’m the tank brother. It’s my job to take the hits.” Izzy gave him a gentle hug when he said that. He grunted at the little bit of pressure she applied.

“You silly boy. I could handle it. He didn’t even answer my question.” The sea elf shook her head while wiping the blood off his face with a towel.

We got Jackson back on his feet. It was literally miraculous what those healing spells could do. Drill Sergeant sent most of third and fourth squad off to our additional duties. Back into the kitchen for me.

I walked through the double doors to see three guards standing around the corpses of Monty and Chad. Julian pointed to me when I came in. “Oh good. More labor. Grab one of them and help carry it off.” He said, pointing to the bodies.

I shook my head and walked over to them. I didn’t know either of these guys well, but seeing them laid out like that gave me chills. Hell, Monty had injuries that came from my summons. I sighed and grabbed Chad’s legs as one of the guards grabbed his arms.

The corporal in charge of the detachment seemed to know where he was going, so I just followed. We went down the hall and to the stairs. We carried the bodies up, up and up. I was exhausted by the time we got to the top. Gravy thick sweat ran down into my eyes.

This floor was better decorated than the rest. Most of the castle was pretty Spartan. We trod on thick carpet so instead of clattering the sound of our steps was muffled. There were well made tapestries hanging on the wall along with various types of art.

A chandelier of cut glass illuminated the hallway. Even the doors up here were of higher quality than in the lower levels. In most of the castle the doors were sturdy wood. The ones that went to the exterior had thick iron binding for strength. These were carved in panels, each one showing a wilderness scene. Across the hall was a large, iron bound door with a heavy lock.

“What’s in that one?” I asked the guard helping me with Chad’s body. He shrugged.

The corporal of the guard shifted Monty’s weight onto his knee and knocked on one of the doors. “Enter!” came a deep voice. It sounded like the gnome.

The guards shifted around until they freed up one of the corporal’s hands so he could pull the handle on the door. It swung open on silent hinges. Inside was the middle ages version of a lab.

Dr. Mingelt looked up. The monocle in his eye made him look like a comic opera German. He wore a rubberized apron and gloves, covered in blood. Sarine, the sea elf who had died earlier, was laid out on a low table with her ribs spread open.

“Two more trainees was kilt, suh.” The corporal announced as they carried Monty into the lab.

“Ah, very good.” The little man said. “Put them… hmmm, over there on that table.” He pointed to a partially clear table. The corporal walked over and looked helplessly at the clutter.

The doctor realized the problem and strode across the room. He picked up a handful of the scrolls and bottles, moving them to another table that also didn’t have any cleared room. Simply stacking the scrolls and such on top of the previous mess, he gestured to the now empty space.

They heaved Monty’s corpse onto the table. I and my helper carried Chad over and they helped us get him on top of the lizardman. “Anything else you need, Milord?” The corporal asked. Dr. Mingelt shook his head and made a shooing gesture as he walked back over to Sarine.

The three guards left. I paused for a moment. “Uh, doctor?” I asked.

“Yes, what is it?” He said sharply.

“What are you doing with these bodies?” I gestured to the three corpses.

“Oh, curious are you?” The doctor looked me up and down. “Well, come over here.” He gestured me over. I walked to Sarine’s body. The fluids had been drained so all her organs were neatly displayed. Gorge rose in my throat but I swallowed it down, gagging just a bit on the bitterness.

“Get me that bota on the table.” He pointed to one of the leather bottles. It was labeled COW BLOOD in neat handwriting. I handed it to the doctor.

“Your bodies are so marvelously changeable at this point in your development. Observe.” There were openings at the top of most of Sarine’s organs. They were probably where her fluids had been drained. He poured some of the red liquid into the opening at the top of the stomach.

It flexed. “Her organs still respond. Isn’t it wonderful?” He said, eyes shining.

“So she isn’t dead?” I asked. The stomach then intestines worked, moving slowly and digesting the fluid.

“Oh no, dead as a doornail. I have no idea why this happens, but it seems to be all of you that do it. This is the focus of my research.” He put the bota down and reached into her body cavity, pulling the stomach partially out. The organ flexed, squeezing the blood.

Dr. Mingelt started talking to himself, speaking below my hearing. He got some crystals and sprinkled them on the stomach. It stopped right away. He shook his head, mumbling. After a moment, he looked at me, surprised. “You’re still here?” He waved me away. “Go train or something. I’m busy.”