It was nice outside, and the sun hung just over the castle low on the horizon. It was a late Friday afternoon, about 2 hours before sunset. The air was neither hot nor cold, temperate might be a good description for it. Perfect conditions for some physical exercise and training.
“Attention!” Sable called to the Lunar Guards.
The squad stood in less than formation, just outside the barracks which were themselves just outside the castle on its southeastern edge. Like most barracks, the set of buildings was nothing special. Some wood and stone on top of some kind of concrete like aggregate. Cheap, and quickly made, like so many things in the military. In truth, it brought a smile to Neal’s lips. Knowing the two worlds shared at least that little bit of familiarity between them. His smile was further broadened by the fact he didn’t have to bunk in them.
Sable was insistent that the squad take at least two hours a week for physical training. It was a sound idea, not that Neal was particularly good at it in this world, at least by their collective measures. The standards they had here were wildly different from what was on earth, and his human body didn’t fit their objectives.
For Neal, when he was back on earth, he was required to take the physical readiness test. All ROTC and soldiers in general were. The tests were different from each branch, and for the Navy’s version, his scores had been good overall. Quite literally a point away from excellent, a fact that continued to bother him in this world. His physical condition had improved from when he started in the ROTC, but being just that one step away from ‘excellence’ bothered him.
Now that he was in a completely different world, one where that exact test didn’t exist, it was a permanent reminder of his inability to excel at something, to just be ‘good enough’. Perhaps, that was one of the reasons the guard appealed to him so much so much in the first place. It was a chance to get back into old, good habits, and build back that strength. Even if it would no longer be recorded, if he could at least hit the scores for excellent, maybe he’d feel better about himself. Like he had accomplished something, even if no one else would know.
Unfortunately, everything was different here, and he never really had the chance to build up those body skills. Sure, he could have done it on his own time, but that would have required a level of initiative he didn’t have. Neal wanted victory, just without needing to work at it.
Thinking back to the readiness tests, Neal dreaded today. Rather than normal exercises, Sable wanted to run their own version of the Guard’s readiness exercises. It didn't have any kind of fancy name. Normally, they do a test like this every season or every 3 months. For some reason, Sable declared that they would now be doing it monthly. Much to the rest of the squad’s chagrin. The captain claimed it had something to do with appearances, that since their squad was so close to the princess, they needed to not just ensure but also show they were at the peak of condition.
However, Neal couldn’t help but think it was, in part, because of his presence in the unit. Like Sable wanted to rub in his face that he was unqualified at the most basic level to be there. This was a test of sorts, one Neal consistently failed.
‘No’, with a shake of his head he had to remind himself that wasn’t true. It was just in his head. He wasn’t the main character of some story, this was just life, and it was coincidence that his captain insisted on doing these set of exercises, and recording it, and laying it all out in front of everyone to see.
Again, back on earth, the Navy physical readiness test measured 5 areas over 6 exercises push-ups, planks, running, rowing and two swimming. For some reason, there were two swimming measurements, though that didn't matter too much. Your scores were averaged and that was your final score, his last and best was a score of 74, which made him the high end of good, and yet again, that one point away from excellent.
The guards of Illania were also measured against 5 larger areas of skill. Those being speed, strength, agility, magic, and combat endurance are usually just called endurance. They would then take your score from your best category and use that as your grade. Measures were technically simpler too without numbers in the end report: excellent, good, acceptable, poor, bad and failed.
For a short time, when Neal first heard of them, it seemed some kind of classification from a game, like S, A, B, etc. At least, until he actually had to do them and it became quite real.
Officially, the guard didn't take anyone who couldn't manage at least acceptable in one area. So a guard could fail everything but speed and still be considered a good or excellent ranked guard, in speed.
Speaking of which for testing speed, they did a short run. As luck would have it that was Neal's second best on Earth, scoring at high-excellent. Just 12 seconds away from outstanding at a 9:27 mile and half time. A number that, like the aggregate, still bothered him. After those years training, he still didn’t manage shave that last 12 seconds off. But again, none of that didn't matter here.
This test measured speed not distance. They didn't run miles or kilometers. That was seen as an extremely long distance by many of the races. Only sprints were tracked, and he just couldn't compete with the fastest, which is all that mattered.
In a sense, there was logic behind it. Combat was different here. Most battles were mock, being more like a dule then a real life and death fight. You would rush in, fight, and a winner would decide. Here, death was unusual in war. Due to that, the Guard’s structure and methods showed how unserious things often were in Illania.
Looking at the larger squad, most wouldn’t pass this particular exercise. Which was expected, there would be some other attribute that they would. Well, most of them anyway.
“Mithril you’re next… Get ready, go!” Sable yelled, and Mithril took off from the makeshift track just outside the castle walls. Saying it was it was quick would be an understatement, Mithril received “Acceptable, 14.13 seconds” Sable announced. Or about 25 MPH. A world class athlete could maybe do that, maybe.
Neal was no such thing.
“Neal, you’re next… Get ready. Go.” Sable’s voice was much less enthusiastic for him. It didn’t matter, using every bit of energy he had, he forced his legs to move. Less running and more like stomping, but forward. His leg muscles burned, but his lungs barely had a chance to really start before it was over. “19.96 seconds, fail.” At 18 MPH, any human would be impressed. The captain though, was not. In fact, there was almost an air of smugness in Sable’s voice as he marked his notebook with the score..
In the end, Mithril, Hastam and Sable were the only ones to get acceptable scores. Toss was surprising, for as heavy and stocky as he was, he pulled off a 'bad' rating of 16.92 seconds. The rest all failed, but again that was expected.
The cut off to get even a bad score was 17 seconds or less. In terms of speed, that was about 21 MPH. Getting excellent would require sprinting about 40 MPH for about a tenth of a mile. While there were some beast kin species that could pull those speeds off, humans, and Neal specifically, would always be hopelessly out classed.
Speaking of out classed, Delibis was still trying to finish when everyone left the track for the next event. His time would be about 184 seconds, a marked improvement from his last which was a ‘not completed’ after he collapsed. Technically that was a failure, in both cases.
“Please. Wait. For me.” His voice drawn out and soft, it almost sounded like he was begging, but was far to proud to ever admit to it.
In truth, Neal kind of admired the Elf. Ever since that night in the bar, his admiration had only grown. He tried, much harder than Neal did. Delibis helped to remind Neal why he was here, to better himself, to become stronger not just to be stronger. Ignoring his captain for a moment, he waited near the tack for the elf to reach him.
Sable looked back as the squad moved on, he didn’t seem to like his response, “Stay with the squad recruit! Next time you leave I’ll make you run a few miles around that track.” Sable had this almost grin in his voice. Like he was looking forward to seeing the human fail the rest of the tests in some way, while ignoring his larger squad’s abilities and scores.
It was tempting to call his captain out and remind him that he left one of his squad behind. But he decided against that, calling out your captain was generally a bad idea, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Delibis who was close to catching up, just, a few more, steps…
“Thank you Neal.” The elf whispered as the two made their way to the test that was already in progress, the strength test.
Neal was not what someone would call physically weak, which isn’t to say he was overwhelmingly strong either, but he did take care of himself. Or at least he used to, his pudgy belly would argue back. Between his core strength and arm strength he had both an outstanding and excellent score in his old tests, respectively. Yet this strength test wasn’t the same, and just wasn’t possible for a human.
“Neal, max one arm lift is 35 Weights, Failed.” Again, that smile in Sable’s voice was evident. You were expected to pick up and hold progressively heavier weights for several seconds. Each weight measure was close to a kilogram maybe a bit heavier. Truthfully, He could pull off the next level up the 40KG weight. At least he could if they let him just jump right to it, but the other weights just burned out his arms too much.
It wasn’t surprising to see the two strongest members of the squad, Mithril and Toss pass with exceptional scores. Mith was able to lift the final 120KG like it was nothing, Toss had to work for it but still could probably have gone a bit heavier if there was more. Their strength was impressive. He already knew Mith could lift him up with one arm, but actually seeing it as a number really made it hit home.
The third tests were for agility and weren’t particularly challenging by themselves. It was the timetable that made it so difficult. The goal of the exercise was to climb to the top of a ‘tree’ and fire a single arrow at a target, hitting it dead on or as close as you could. You were scored both on climbing time and accuracy of hitting the target. The worst of the two scores was kept, getting to the top tree in under 30 seconds was the real challenge for him.
The tree wasn’t particularly tall, it also wasn’t a real tree, rather a mockup. Neal could feel the fake bark under his shoes which would slip more than real bark would. While he never actually fell, slipping back down was a common occurrence. Finally, reaching the top, he readied an arrow from the bow he carried, a somewhat short yet still long bow. He had tried for the archery team in high school, so he was capable enough with a bow, though nothing like the actual archers. Readying his arrow, he couldn’t help but remember watching them fire shot after shot at the practice fields. Some, were good enough to hold 3 or 4 at once and fire them in quick succession, a skill he wasn’t even close to duplicating.
Blinking his eyes, he mentally returned to the exercise. He didn’t have any time to really aim just pull back and let go. The arrow flew from the string with a satisfying swish and impacted the target with a subtle thunk, right along the edge of the blue mark. Based just on the target it would look like an Acceptable score judging from the hit, but his time to get up the tree is what would fail him. 52 seconds was just-
“You failed the climbing time; your score is failure”. Sable rubbed that last word in again for good measure.
Climbing down was strangely slower than going up. He had time to consider his failure. His accuracy had improved quite a bit. The first time he wasn’t even able to fire the arrow in the first place.
Standing with the rest of the squad, Neal rubbed at this shoulders and arms. It still pulled and hurt to move up the tree that quickly. On the other hand, watching the elves almost literally fly up the tree showed how outclassed Neal really was. Their jump height alone was strong enough that they could just skip most of the actual climb. Their balance made jumping from each branch effortless. The final pull and strike could be done while standing on a branch, they didn’t even need to brace themselves like Neal did. Even Delibis made it to the top in under 2 minutes. A failing score, but he hit the target dead on, it would have been exceptional if that was the only measure.
The bats though, they made even the elves seem slow. RedFern in particular was at the top in under 8 seconds, a perfect score for the test. The bat launched himself from the last branch and while still in the air, readied an arrow and hit the target right at the edge of the red mark at the center of the target. “Excellent marks in speed and accuracy. Well done.” Sable’s praise was understandable. Even a human gymnast couldn't hope to do half of that.
Neal did have one bit of enjoyment out of all this, watching Mith try and climb the tree. Her hooves didn’t give her the best grip against the trunk, slipping a few times worse than he did. Once up there, her arrow missed its target completely. It was just within the bad score range, but her minute and half climb times gave her an outright fail. The climb down, really more of a semi-controlled fall, was even more enjoyable. Take branches and leaves filled in her hair. A handful of laughs around him made it hard not let out a chuckle himself. Her glare was just enough to stop him from laughing, barely.
In the end Ivy, RedFern and Aspen all scored excellent, Teuta and Somnum had good scores. Sable and Hastam had bad and Poor scores respectively. No one else passed this exercise.
Magic would be the next test. Of course, without any magic ability it would be an instant failure for him. Standing in the middle of the circle on the field he wasn’t even sure what to do. First, he would have 30 seconds to cast as many bolt spells as he could, then he’d have up to a minute to cast a large area spell at least 15 meters across. Larger would earn more points, but that didn’t matter since he couldn’t cast to begin with.
“Begin.” Again, there was a laugh behind Sable’s voice that caused a few of the others to chuckle as well. Just what was he supposed to do. With a shrug, Neal had to laugh, it was all absurd. Choosing to make a show of the joke test he tried to lean into it. Rasing both his hands he began to chant “Kamehameha!” It was a big show as he shook his whole body in a violent rage culminating in a final push of his hands outward and then… nothing. With the remaining seconds he dropped his hands and looked mournfully in front of him. As absurd as it was, a part of him was hoping that it might actually work.
“I tried.” He shrugged towards Sable who looked very unamused.
“And you failed. If you want to make light of these exercises, maybe the guards aren’t for you.” Sable’s glare and words attempted to tear into his soul, and it would be a lie to say it was totally ineffective. “We’ll skip the large cast test for you, next!”
Normally he’d just ignore the captain, but maybe the Wolf had a point. Neal knew he should take it seriously, but what was he expected to do? Just stand there; how was that better? Maybe that really was the real point behind these tests, and the constant examination. A reminder that he didn’t belong here. Part of him joined the guards expecting it to be like the ROTC and armed forces of his own world, all be it with a few differences here and there. But everything was different here. He couldn’t even do some of these exercises. Plus, was there even a point for the guards? This world was peaceful. The closest thing to a war was 15 years ago, and even that would barely have made the news on Earth.
Stolen story; please report.
It was a lot for him to think about while the others each completed this last test.
None of the beast kin present could cast anything, not even Sable. Which was quite amusing to Neal, but he knew better than laughing. The elves, on the other hand, were amazingly skilled at it. Somnum, was able to rapidly throw spells like it was nothing, she only struggled with the larger cast, which dropped her to, “Somnum, Good at magic.”
Teuta was slower, but still on the right side of excellent, same with the larger spell cast. “Teuta, Excellent at magic.”
Delibis was the more interesting one. He struggled a lot with each cast. Forcing one after the other, 10 in total. Just enough for a good rating. As for his large cast, he pushed himself hard, channeling all the mana he had. It was quite a light show. It was like it was actually fighting against him, tearing, and pulling at his insides until it worked. Just not well enough for ‘good’. “Delibis, Acceptable at magic.”
The sickly elf fell to the ground exhausted and breathed heavily. “Damn. Thought I’d. do it this time.”
He wandered back in the squad, not far away from the human.
Desiring an escape from his own boredom and self-pity, the elf’s comment was suddenly all Neal could focus on. “Do what this time?” He asked.
“I've been practicing that spell for a while now. Thought I'd do better, faster, and bigger, maybe ‘good’. Next time.” He was still out of breath. The casting clearly took a lot out of him.
Amusingly Mithril tried to do the same thing he did “Kamehameha!” and then paused in her pose. “Yeah, I got nothing either.”
Sable’s eyes were like daggers as he glared at the minotaur, “Mithril Hammer, I’ll remind you to take this seriously. Failed at magic.”
It was kind of surprising how few of them knew magic, only the elves really. Though Toss could cast a few, it barely enough for a ‘bad’ rating.
They would not be doing an 'endurance' test today, thankfully. A bit of misnomer, at least as far as Neal was concerned. 'Endurance' or more accurately, ‘Combat Endurance’ was the ability to withstand pain and other combat draining activities. There were two parts, for the first you were to be blindfolded and hit with a heavy padded log, pushed with enough force to knock you down. You were awarded points if you were still standing, if you could still defend yourself and more still if you managed to hit the log or its pusher with something immediately after being hit. The fact that even Mithril went down her first time taking the test should show how hard it truly was.
A second part of the test involved getting hit with a so called ‘wind punch’ spell. Impact wise it was about the same as the log, but with magic instead. The effects were quite a bit different, particularly with different species. Your scores were added and the total determent if you passed. It was the only test he didn’t outright fail. For the physical part of the test, he had basically failed with the worst score. The impact had knocked him halfway out of the testing circle, and nearly broke his rib. However, the magic part, he was able to stay standing. It knocked the wind out of him sure, but he was able to hold his weapon up and defend against a hypothetical second blow. It was enough for a bad rating in endurance at least. He didn't realize it at the time or even in the present, but that magic part was the harder of the two for most races.
So when it was all said and done, Neal had failed the speed test, failed the strength test, failed the agility test, failed the magic test, but he would have managed a bad score for endurance if they had actually done it today. There was probably a reason why none of the other guard branches wanted him, and it wasn’t just because he was a human, though it certainly played a roll. Technically, he was categorized as an ‘Endurance’ guardsman, with a rating of ‘bad’. Technically, because no guards were allowed in without at least one ‘acceptable’ score.
“Tests are concluded. I recommend you each consider your scores and work on your worst areas.” Again, Sable glared at him. It was hard to tell if the wolf truly thought Neal could do better or just wanted to rub salt in the wound.
With the tests done, there was about an hour of mandatory exercise left. As he stood around, he found he had a dilemma. Part of him just wanted to run, it would be easier and frankly the most fun thing out here. But another part considered the ‘trees’ for the agility test. If he could get faster, just under 30 seconds he'd have a higher rank there. Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things, but for him it did matter. Even if only a little.
However, both thankfully and regretfully, his decision would be made for him today. “Recruit Neal. For insubordination during the exercises today and making a mockery of it you will be running laps.”
“Thank you, sir, I was thinking about running.” He tried not to smile, and even after he said it wondered if it wasn’t a bad idea to have just said nothing at all.
“Oh, is that right. How does 10 laps sound?” The captain said that as if it was a lot, but the track was only a bit more than a quarter mile. He was originally thinking of doing something closer to 3 miles or 12 laps.
“I was thinking 12 laps...” He paused, perhaps he shouldn’t have said that.
Sure enough, Sable’s gaze turned almost angry, “Oh, is that so. Let’s make it 24 then.”
Shrugging in response, that was still only a bit more than 6 miles, maybe 6 and a quarter mile. He used to run half marathons on the weekends and full marathons every month. Even being slightly out of shape, it wasn’t a particularly challenging number for him. “Yes, sir.”
“Mithril Hammer, you’re running laps too. Give me 4.”
“Yes sir…” The minotaur on the other hand was far less enthusiastic.
The first lap was easy for the human, he took it slowly and steadily, probably somewhere around a 9-minute mile. He could go faster, if he really wanted to. He could have pushed closer to 7-minute miles for the whole distance. But it had been a while, and the slower pace felt good as his leg muscles pulled and stretched in the right ways. These slower run was just more natural than the all out sprints he had been doing.
Speaking of sprints, Mithril passed him on her second lap. She was pushing much faster, probably closer to 4-minute miles, and it was clearly draining her.
“Mith, you should slow down. You’ll run further if you do.” He called out to her.
She gazed back at him, eyes starting to glaze over. “I. Don’t. Know… how. You. Do it. Human.” She slowed down a bit, trying to keep pace with him. Her chests heaved and he could hear her breathing.
“I just go slow. Find a speed that works for me. Then, keep at it.” He looked at her body, the muscles under her shirt were quite visible. Clearly she was strong. Very strong, but that wasn’t necessarily an asset with running.
“Running slow. Kind of. Hurts.” Her voice was almost a whine, something he was not used to hearing.
Between his breaths, Neal was able to let out a light laugh. He knew just how to run, how to control his breathing and could keep up a normal conversation. “It takes getting used to. But, if you do it right. You might be able to push a couple miles. Well, eventually anyway.”
Neal pushed past the starting line for the third time. Mith was working on her fourth and last go around. Her face was contorted as she gasped in pain. She may not have been used to longer runs, but not even a mile seemed kind of absurd.
He almost felt a pang of frustration watching her. “It’s kind of nuts that we don’t run more. If we were part of a Navy contingent maybe I could understand. But we’re basically the army. All this guard cares about is raw speed. Not stamina.”
“Why would they?” Her face was focused on the track in front of her, the question back to him seemed like more of an afterthought. As if she wasn’t even following the conversation.
Coming up with an example was easy for himthough, “Well what if you have to do a forced march. With gear?” As he said the words, it occurred to him, they hadn’t even done any real marches either, aside from those parades, and it wasn’t just the Lunar Guard either. He had a month in the guard but suddenly was just becoming aware of aspects that didn’t seem to make much sense to him, even with how different this world was.
Again, it was like she wasn’t fully following the questions. “Why would you?” It was as if they were just alien to her.
‘Why would you?’ The question echoed in his head. It seemed like such a simple question, you’d have to do it because that’s where the enemy was, will be, or could be. Maybe because you wanted to deny them access to somewhere. It was just a basic aspect of tactics. You’d march somewhere because you had to. How else would you get there before the enemy? Would you expect the enemy to just wait for you at the border or in a specific place?
The question itched at him, Mith wasn’t much of a tactician but she had to have thought about this, “Ok, so how would you get to the enemy before they attacked?”
Mith’s head shook and wobbled, it was exhaustion from the run and the questions that she didn’t get. “I don’t understand, your question. You’d meet, with the enemy, on the field of battle. They’re not going, to start fighting, until your there.”
Again, much like she didn’t understand the question, Neal didn’t understand the answer, “But what if they don’t do that?”
“What? That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t they wait?” Her voice was raspy, and the talking was taking far more energy then she had.
Neal was growing agitated with this, and it showed in his voice, “Because they can capture or sack a territory before your even there! Or they could just move forward taking more territory. Even just finding a more defensible position. I mean, this isn’t even a basic military tactic, it’s just common sense! At least I thought it was.”
“I don’t know human. I don’t understand what you’re saying. You’d meet your enemy in the area and fight. If there’s no enemy, you don’t fight.” Mith stumbled to her side, she was clearly in pain. “Fuck! How much further.”
“Another few feet, you’re almost there!” He tried to be enthusiastic to help her drive that last bit, but it was hard. His mind was still transfixed on her counter question ‘Why would they?’
As she crossed the lighter patch of gravel she started at Mith quickly slowed down to a lumbering walk as Neal pulled ahead of her. “Void and shadow take you Neal. I’m going to have several heart attacks over here.”
“You should at least do a cool down walk.” He called out as he passed her by.
“Gods no. I’d rather die…” Her head collapsed to the ground she fell down at, and she staired aimlessly into the sky, her chest rapidly rising and falling.
A smile crossed him as he watched the minotaur collapse on some grass. As funny as it was, he couldn’t help but remember a time in ROTC when after running with full gear. It wasn’t long after he started.
At the end of a forced 5 mile march, he had the gall to sit down for a moment without his Commanding Officer’s approval. Sargent Gayjoy, a name you only laughed at once, ordered the slightly younger Neal to stand, by shouting at him.
“Who gave you permission to sit marine?” He yelled, barely an inch from his face.
Of course, he was a sailor or would be, not a marine. That didn’t matter to this Sargent though, when you were under him, you were a marine. The fusion of Navy and Marines ROTCs still didn’t make a lot of sense to Neal. But no one, certainly not him, dared question the man that looked like a Greek god come to life.
“Sir, no one sir!” The panic in his voice was subtle, it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Still, he feared what was coming.
“Tell me marine. What does my name mean?” The Sargent loved to bait people into this trap.
‘Try not to laugh. Try not to laugh.’ Those words ran though his head as did his best not to smirk or even smile. “That you are happy all the time, sir, and love spreading happiness to all your recruits, sir.”
“Correct! And when am I happiest?” Again, his face inched closer to his, the subtle fire in the Sargent’s eyes burned.
Quickly Neal thought of the most mundane thing, “When you’re running laps, sir?” He almost bit his tongue after saying that.
“Close enough marine. I’m going to be extra nice to you today and have you run 3 laps in full gear. Now get to it!” The Sargent’s legs began to stamp in place, “Double Time!”
Neal’s own legs took the hint and began moving out, away from the insane instructor, “Yes, sir!”
Even as Neal ran, his Sargent was barely a foot behind, “What was that?” The Sargent yelled out.
“Oorah!”
At the end of it, Neals legs were nearly jelly when he was done, but he was smart enough not to sit back down. That very well may have saved his life, he doubted his heart could have taken another lap, much less 3.
Maybe it was the masochist in him, but in the present day he couldn’t help but smile at the memory.
Again, he turned to stare at Mith who was still laying on the grass. He didn’t even want to think what that old Sargent would have done if he laid down. Probably still it would probably have been better than when laughed at his name.
‘Why would they.’ The words still echoed inside of him. Everything was so different here. Would he ever understand it.
His mind drifted off, pondering the question more. Times like this, he really regretted leaving his phone and head phones at home that fateful day. The music he had on it would have made this easier right now. Lap after lap went by, and his legs started to burn a bit. Sooner and more intense than they used too but that was expected. He hadn’t really kept up with running sin his time here. Briefly, he wondered if he’d even be able to pull off a marathon anymore.
This wasn’t good. He knew he needed to get in better shape, he had been slacking off too much. Lost in his own melancholy. Wasn’t that one of the reasons he joined in the first place?
At the end of 24 laps his running slowed as he dropped to a quick walk. A hair shy of a quarter marathon, and he was already burnt out. The pace wasn’t a particularly challenging one either. He still had a bit over half an hour of training time left. Maybe he could do some pushups or something.
Most of his squad seemed to be engaged in various combat activities, like sparing. The elves all seemed to be working on their magic skills. He supposed he could work on his swordsmanship. He could hold a blade now, but it was clear to everyone wasn't particularly skilled.
For how organized and ordered things could appear, Sable didn't seem to have any real plans for actual readiness. 'Why would they?' That question continued to haunt him. For being here, a little over a year he just couldn't understand this world, it felt like something out of a cartoon at times.
"You ok, Neal?" Mithril had picked herself up some time ago and was busy swinging her war hammer against some practice dummies, and activity she paused to talk to him. That seemed to be what she liked to do, just raw physical shows of power and strength. In other words, hitting things.
"Fine, I'm a bit out of shape. I used to be able to double that with less effort." He let out an embarrassed smile and chuckle as he rubbed at his legs.
A smirk crept up Mith’s face, like she was impressed by his boasting, "I can't tell if you're lying or not. I've never seen anyone run that long."
"Maybe I was cooped up in the castle when I got here but, I mean, don't people run here?"
"I guess. Just not like that." With a shrug she lifted the seemingly weightless hammer over her shoulder. "Want to spare with me, little man?" The look on her face and in her words always held this subtle implication of things. Like she was thinking something either lewd or violent. Maybe both.
"Ha! I think I would die. So, what are you doing with the rest of the day, I mean after this?"
"Eh, looking to hang out?" The minotaur tilted her head and frowned slightly, implying the answer was no. "It's the first Friday of the month, I'm going to have dinner with my granddad. His birthday wasn't long ago, and he's been looking frail recently. Just want to spend more time with him before… well. Also, he's the only family that wants anything to do with me. I'd invite you over, but he'd probably kill you." The sudden upward twist in her smirk made him think she was joking, but a subtle sadness in her eyes said the opposite.
“What are you two doing?” Sable quite literally barked at the two. “Training isn’t over for another half hour. Find something to do or I’ll pick, and you won’t like what I pick.”
Mithril when back to hitting her practice dummies. While Neal set up next to her, but not too close with a practice sword. With every strike and swing of the sword, Neal could tell he was doing it wrong. Both because it didn’t feel right, and because of the laughing minotaur next to him. He had a lot to work on.
His shoulders and back ached when he had to stop a few minutes later.
The laughing minotaur made it a point to slam his rather sore back a few times, and he couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse. “You’ll get it one day, Human.” She continued to laugh while leaving the field.
A few of the other guards seemed to smile and smirk at him as well. Being the butt of everyone’s joke wasn’t a particularly good feeling. Holding the sword, he considered trying this for a bit, but if he didn’t know what to do in the first place, how could he get better?
The human wasn’t expecting the voice next to him, spoken by the deathly silent Teuta’s “I’ve never seen someone run as long as you did without being winded.”
The voice caused Neal to jump, just how long had he been standing there?
The dark elf continued. “I’m impressed you could even hold that sword afterward, much less swing it. Even if you’re doing it wrong, Human.” The dark elf’s normally flat voice remained monotoned, but somewhere in it, there felt like just a hint of warmth, of acknowledgement. The dark eyes started at the human for a while longer, in silence. Neal couldn’t be sure if he was going to say something else, or just stare him down for the rest of the afternoon. It almost looked like he was trying to say something, just not speaking. Eventually though, words found the 2nd in command again, “Sable told me to help you with your sword training next week. Said your form was an embarrassment to the whole squad.”
“Ha, surprised he didn’t say that to me.” It was even more surprising to Neal that Sable didn’t just call him out in front of the whole squad more.
“Oh, he wanted to. Wanted to make a show of it. I convinced him otherwise.” Teuta sight and shook his head like he had something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. “Next week, come see me before we start training. I’m usually here earlier than everyone else.”
Holding the sword up in a mock stance, Neal wondered if he couldn’t goad Teuta into a quick match or possibly some early pointers, “Sounds great! Can you give me any advice before then?”
Unlike most of his words, the dark elf wasted no time in his still flat response, “Yes. Stop. You’re just going to hurt yourself.” With that, he wandered off the field leaving the human alone to his thoughts.
Neal put the training sword down into its holder. His thoughts on the other hand, he couldn’t so easily put down.
‘Why would they?' That thought just would not leave him. How would he even respond to that question if it came up again?