The ringing of steel striking steel was like the finest music to Arte’s ears as she strolled from the cadets’ barracks to the training field. Fully outfitted in her cadet’s armor, she puffed her chest out in a proud swagger as she walked. Today was the most important day of her young life: her first day of training to join the King’s Army.

Ever since her older sister had left their home in Vorrah to become a King’s Lancer, Arte had held aspirations of following her as a soldier. Their father had been a soldier, Captain Magnus Morriarty of the Lancer Brigade, and his father before him had been a General. As Magnus had been fond of saying, “Heroism runs in the family”, and young Arte had taken those words to heart. She spent her young years learning to swing a stick-sword with the other children in her village, eagerly awaiting the day she would be old enough to enlist. Now here she was, finally 19 years old and about to take her first steps onto the training grounds.

Surrounded almost entirely by a low stone wall, the training field was a flat sandy circle with enough space to easily accommodate a hundred cadets as well as equipment. To the right of the gate sat a row of sword-training dummies, a dozen of them, each wearing plate armor. To the left were archery targets, all freshly built with no arrow holes in their canvas yet. Down the center were dummies for lance-training, and evenly spaced throughout the dummies were racks to hold training weapons. A group of perhaps fifteen trainees had gathered, some chatting idly while others inspected the equipment. On the far side of the training field, two senior cadets dueled one another, their swords clashing as they practiced their moves. Arte was so excited, she couldn’t stop grinning.

As she crossed the threshold into the field, one of the other trainees spotted her and waved her over, so she trotted to them.

“Hey, any idea when the instructors are showing up?” The cadet asked, and Arte shrugged.

“I just came from the barracks, sorry. I didn’t see anyone.” As if on cue, the gate on the far end of the field opened and the three squad Captains strode in: Sword Captain Morro, Archer Captain Sev, and Arte’s sister herself, Lancer Captain Kattrin. Even standing between the burly Morro and Sev, Kattrin was an imposing figure—she towered over the men. While Arte had neither the impressive bulk nor the stature of her sister, their familial resemblance was still very strong: both had the same sharply slanted golden eyes, the same white fawn-marks on their dark-skinned faces. Kattrin’s blue hair was longer than she remembered, tied back in a high ponytail. Arte had just bobbed her own green tresses short.

Now standing in front of the cadets, Kattrin looked the group over for a moment before letting out an ear-splitting whistle.

“Fall in, cadets!” She barked. The cadets did as they were told, some bumping into each other as they got into three even lines. Arte made sure to stand front-and-center so she could be seen. She wanted Kattrin to see how serious she was!

Once the cadets were in line, Kattrin looked them over again, nodding in approval. Arte’s heart swelled with pride.

“That’s better. Good to see a group so quick to follow orders!” Morro and Sev chuckled behind her, but Kattrin shut them up with a quick glance. A murmur shuddered through the cadets in awe of her authority.

“Sorry, Kattrin.” Sev said sheepishly. Ignoring him, Kattrin continued:

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, no point in wasting the time. As this is your first day of training, we’re going to start pretty basic: swordwork. I’m going to split you into two groups: one will go with Captain Morro here for defensive basics, while the other goes with Captain Sev for offense basics. Tomorrow, you’ll switch. Any questions?” She spoke briskly, her tone firm but not harsh. The other cadets glanced at each other, uncertain. Arte raised her hand.

“I have a question.” She said, and Kattrin gave her the same sharp look she gave everyone else.

“What is it, cadet?”

“When do we get to choose which weapon to specialize in?”

“You don’t. Everyone will receive the same basic training with all weapons, after which a specialty will be assigned to you based on proficiency. The placement evaluations will take place after four weeks of training.” Arte’s heart sank at Kattrin’s answer, her thoughts immediately going to the sword she had hidden with her belongings in the barracks. The sword she had begged her father for as a child, the one she treasured more than just about anything and had been saving for this very moment…she might not get to use it after all.

Kattrin divided the cadets for their training and sent them off. As Arte shuffled past to join Sev’s group, Kattrin stopped her.

“Arte, stop moping.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I-I’m not!” She reddened, embarrassed. Kattrin just rolled her eyes.

“Most of the cadets get swords, dummy. You’d have to be an archery prodigy to get a bow over a sword, and I already know you’re useless with a lance.” Cracking a tiny smile, Kattrin patted Arte’s shoulder. “Go on, now.”

“R-right.” Still burning red, Arte jogged over to her waiting instructor, reinvigorated for training by her sister’s words.

**********

Every inch of Arte’s body hurt, but she couldn’t have felt better. Her sword-hand throbbed, her fingers blistered and red, the muscles in her arms screamed, and she smiled. Training had ended hours ago, all the other cadets long gone back to their quarters, yet Arte remained behind. Kattrin had told her cadets were free to use the training grounds in their off time, so that is exactly what she did.

As the moons shifted position and the day slid into night, Arte trained. The only sounds coming from the field were her sharp inhales and the steady clank, clank, clank of the training sword against the dummy. She spun and parried and struck, keeping form just like her father had shown her. Sweat dripped off her face and into her eyes, but she ignored it. When she felt like she could no longer move she stopped, falling straight backward into the dirt, the training sword clattering down beside her. Panting harshly, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the dull throb of her blood in her head.

The soft sound of boots in the sand approaching made Arte open her eyes and look up, seeing Kattrin walking toward her. She had changed out of her armor and into plain trousers and a loose top that tied at the shoulders. She smiled when she realized Arte had seen her.

“Why am I not surprised you’re still out here?” Chuckling softly as she reached her sister, Kattrin sat beside her on the ground. Grinning tiredly, Arte joined her in sitting upright.

“I’ve only been dreaming of this since I was a kid. I couldn’t wait for everyone else to leave so I could have the field to myself!” Shoving her damp hair out of her eyes, Arte leaned toward Kattrin and bumped shoulders; Kattrin’s muscular arm felt like a tree trunk.

“You did really well today. I don’t think any of the other cadets suspected you’ve been sword-training since you could walk.” The teasing in her voice was obvious and Arte couldn’t help but feel a little called out. She scrunched her face up awkwardly.

“What, you don’t ever get cadets with experience?”

“Don’t be so defensive! It’s good you have experience! The Commanders love to see it and there’s nothing wrong with gaining favor with the higher-ups.” Turning toward Arte, Kattrin reached over and poked her sister in the forehead. Annoyed, Arte swatted her hand away.

“What was that for?” She frowned, but Kattrin grinned.

“I have something for you, to commemorate your first official day of training.” From her trouser pocket Kattrin produced a small cloth-wrapped package. Arte immediately recognized the wrapping as part of their father’s old uniform, and her breath caught.

“That’s…”

“From Papa.” Kattrin nodded and handed the package to Arte. “He gave this to me before he died, said it was for you once you were old enough to join me.” She looked a little sad, a tear in her eye. The topic of Magnus was a sensitive one for the sisters; they both had been very close to their father, and they both missed him terribly.

Feeling tears in her own eyes as she accepted the gift, Arte turned it over in her hands. The fabric was worn feather-soft, so familiar to touch that it summoned even more tears.

“It still smells like him.” She said softly as she carefully unwrapped the folds, letting her fingertips linger on each frayed edge. From within the fabric emerged a small round object. Arte inspected it closely.

In the palm of her hand sat a round silver brooch inset with a polished green stone that was nearly the same shade as her hair. Two wings crafted from the same fabric that wrapped the brooch adorned one side, and seeing this object sent Arte into a fit of emotional sobbing. Clutching the brooch with both hands, leaning into her sister for support, she cried until her chest hurt and her breath came in hitching hiccups.

Other than the color of its stone, the brooch in Arte’s hands was the twin of the one Kattrin wore in her hair every day. Magnus had made it for her years ago as an enlistment gift, blue to match her hair, identical to the brooch he himself wore on his cloak. It seems he had made one for Arte, too.

While Arte was overcome with emotions, Kattrin gently pried the brooch from her hands and affixed it in her hair. She smiled, tucking a stray lock behind her sister’s ear.

“It suits you. Papa would be proud.”

“I-I’m gonna make him so proud!” Arte wailed and embraced her sister tightly. Right then and there, she vowed to herself to not let anything stand in her way of becoming a high-ranking soldier just like her sister and her father.

She would make them both proud.

~