The next morning, Maiz woke up early to the rather… pungent aroma of the common sleeping room. He was convinced that only a few of the other bondservants actually bathed, despite the public bathhouses replete with water purification enchantments. He himself went there at least once a week, though it was difficult to find the time considering the insane demands of the Sharir. He swiftly changed into one set of the training clothes, finding them to be a simple set of loose tunic and pants in orange and green--the Sharir colors. Maiz often wondered who exactly had decided that those two colors would look good together, because at this point they caused him an almost physical pain when he saw them.

Walking out into the street, he was mildly surprised to see that it was still dark outside. He thought the sky had a slight pink tinge, indicating that the sun was coming up soon, but at the moment there was still a biting chill in the air. Shivering, Maiz broke into a jog, carrying his bag--more of a sack, really--over his shoulder.

As he jogged through the empty streets, his surroundings brightened slowly, illuminating his surroundings and making it easier for Maiz to find his way. It took about fifteen minutes of intermittent jogging and walking to reach the edge of the city, where there were wagons in a long line pointed towards a road heading west out of the city. It took him only seconds to spot a cart painted with a prominent seven pointed star, the symbol of the kingdom of Corunti. Maiz thought the drawing was rather crude--the lines looked jagged and uneven--but it was easily recognizable. Hesitantly, he walked up to the cart. It was pulled by two horses that looked to be of desert stock. Most of the wagons here were also pulled by that breed, though there were a few northern animals that already looked to be suffering from the severe conditions here. Maiz knew that at other departure sites from the city, there would be groups of camel trains assembling in the same manner, carrying goods on each individual camel to more easily traverse the desert. Of course, those groups would stay close to the edges and be escorted by hired guards. There were far more monsters, and even Dungeons, deeper in the desert that could threaten merchant trains. On the road Maiz would be taking, the only threat was bandits of some kind. Except that, at least here, there were few people with combat titles who didn’t serve one noble house or another.

“Boy, what are you doing?” A rough voice cut through Maiz’s thoughts With a start, he focused back on the star-marked cart to see a grey haired man with even darker skin than most people in the area. He was also wearing clothes similar to Maiz’s own and to that of the City Watch: loose billowing pants and vest with a crest on the chest. The man looked to be about Maiz’s height, but he had a certain… solidness about him that indicated a high Strength attribute. He wasn’t wearing armor, which was unsurprising considering that it was to be blazing hot later in the day.

Maiz bowed deeply, his eyes focused on the man’s feet. “I’m sorry sir! I’m supposed to travel with a supply wagon to the…” What were the military’s training grounds actually called? “You see sir, I got my title yesterday and--”

“Stop that babbling!” The man sounded sounded half asleep, but there was still an annoyed growl in his voice. “You’ve got a combat title and you’re to go to the training grounds, right?”

Oh. They were called ‘the training grounds.’ “Yes sir.”

He grunted. The sound was phlegmy, likely meaning that the man smoked something or other when he was off-duty. Maiz knew that there were plenty of magical and addictive plants in and around the desert. Some were valuable to Alchemists and other similar crafters, and others were only useful to those looking for something cheap to burn.

“Show me your title, boy.” Maiz mentally scrambled to obey. He went to open his Name Sheet, but as he thought about his title appearing, the man grunted again. “Just so you know, I’m a Journeyman Slasher. If you’re not who you say you are, just leave now, or it won’t turn out well for you.”

The casual threat surprised Maiz more than anything. By the time he’d processed the man’s words, he was already turning back to the cart. The man walked with a grace that belied his apparent age, which supported his claim that he was a Journeyman combatant.

“You can sit in the back,” he called over his shoulder, “Don’t bother me until we get there, unless someone tries to steal the supplies. And don’t touch anything back there.”

“Yes sir,” Maiz tried to reply, but the man was busy untying the reins of the horses from a stake in the ground. Maiz rounded the corner of the wagon and clambered up into the open back. There were sacks of what he assumed ws grain, and jugs of water stacked in the back. The number of jugs looked to outnumber the grain by a large margin, which was somewhat surprising to Maiz. There was a fairly large aquifer under Caelos, augmented by enchanters and water mages who worked to collect as much precious water for the city as possible. Was the training grounds devoid of such a source? It seemed impractical to carry so much water to the place every week. What had possessed the military to build their encampment in an area without water?

As Maiz considered the questions, sitting down and making himself comfortable on the rough wooden bed of the wagon, he saw someone else approach the edge of the structure. It was a young man who looked to be about Maiz’s age, but taller and much better muscled. He was also wearing a tunic, one with sleeves that strained against the muscles of his arms. Maiz privately wondered if that fitting had been intentional or not. He had the black hair, eyes, and dark skin common to the region, and Maiz saw the flash of white teeth as he looked at Maiz.

“Hey there, I didn’t know someone else was heading off to training too! The large young man clambered awkwardly up into the wagon, then inclined his head towards Maiz. As he did so spectral green words appeared above his head. Hugan-Novice Warden. Maiz felt his eyebrows raise slightly as he ducked his own head, willing his false title to once again appear above him. A Warden? The name sounded somewhat familiar, but Maiz didn’t remember actually meeting anyone with that title before. Of course, that didn’t mean much, as Maiz wasn’t in the habit of making friends with the City Watch.

As he looked back up at the young man, he could see a similar confusion mirrored in his eyes. Stutteringly, maiz spoke. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.” Wasn’t there something else… “My name is Maiz.” He said quickly. Right. Have to be polite. He felt out of practice speaking with people he didn’t secretly want to murder.

The young man didn’t seem to mind his awkwardness. “Hugan.” He said, smiling. “If you don’t mind me asking, I’ve never seen a title like that before. What’s your specialty?” The question was spoken in an open, honest tone, but Maiz still balked a little at the forwardness of it. It could be considered rude to ask anyone about their title, but especially combat-titled individuals. For the same reason that most weren’t in the habit of keeping their names and titles on display, few were willing to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of their abilities.

Still, considering the fact that Maiz was not actually a Spellsword, this could represent a good opportunity for him.

“Oh, I’d never heard of it before either,” he said casually. “I’m supposed to be able to cast spells through weapons or something like that. How about yours? It seems familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Warden before.” His voice was much more confident now, which almost made him uneasy. Why is it so much easier for me to lie to him than to say hello?

The young man--Hugan--looked interested. “Oh, that sounds like it could be really useful!” Then he flashed that white smile again, looking somewhat smug. “And I guess you’ve probably heard of at least one Warden. You know Roon the Defender?”

Now it was Maiz’s turn to be interested. Roon the Defender was a local Caelos hero. Centuries ago, there was a rash of some of the worst monster incursions ever to come out of the desert. Roon had been a guardsman for the governor of the city, but he had single-handedly defended an entire quarter of Caelos from the attacks long enough for reinforcements to arrive. After that, he had risen quickly to lead the defense and counterattack of Caelos’ forces, carving out a safe buffer zone in the desert and turning Caelos into the defensive linchpin it was today.

“He was a Warden?” Maiz asked, now genuinely interested.

For some reason Hugan looked put out at this question. “Uh, yeah.” But then the brilliant smile returned to his face in full force. “So one day I could be just like him!”

Does he not understand how life works? It wasn’t like this boy was the first Warden to be born since Roon himself. It took more than a rare title to actually achieve anything impressive--even Maiz, with his unique legendary title, knew that it would take non-stop effort and dedication to realize his plans. And Viselys’ plans too.

“You know, the priest who did my ritual said that I was the first person since Roon to be given the Warder title! I was so excited, because I’ve always wanted to be just like him!”

Maiz’s jaw dropped for a moment. Then he snapped it shut. His smug feeling of a few seconds ago suddenly gave way to chagrin. Then curiosity. If the title was that rare, then it was likely that, like Maiz himself, Hugan had gone extremely far in the Naming Ritual, possibly even reaching the start of the trial and choosing it there. That meant there was more to this young man than he’d thought.

For the moment, he tried to be sincere. “That’s really incredible Hugan. I wish you the best of luck.” Gods, why do I sound like a fifty year old Arbiter?

Surprisingly though, Hugan simply nodded regally and said, in a tone ten times stuffier than Maiz’s own, “I thank you.”

Huh. I guess I’m not the only one who’s bad at talking to other people. Still, Maiz thought that was somewhat unfair. Hugan would have to be truly incredible to be worse than Maiz at social interaction. Just then, the cart began moving beneath the two of them, prompting Hugan, who had been standing, to stumble and nearly fall before quickly taking a seat beside Maiz with a laugh. “So, what did you do in the city before you got your title?”

Most children under sixteen did something or other to make some money, unless they were nobles, of course. Maiz replied evasively, “I helped at a scribing office for a few years.”

“Oh!” Hugan looked both surprised and perhaps slightly jealous. Maiz suspected that the young man couldn’t read or write. You didn’t get arms like those by sitting at a desk flipping pages., and most laborers never got the chance to learn letters or numbers. “My father’s a smith,” he went on, confirming Maiz’s suspicion. “He was sort of disappointed I didn’t get his title, but he was still happy for me!”

The young man continued, talking about his life in Caelos and his title almost nonstop, occasionally shooting questions at Maiz which he did his best to evade. All the while the cart trundled down the road, taking them towards place where, Maiz hoped, he could finally gain the power he needed.

************************

In a few hours, Maiz was eyeing the jugs of water out of the corner of his eye. Hugan’s stream of words had dried up only an hour ago, and now Maiz missed it. At least the incessant rambling had distracted from the heat.

Hugan was now sprawled on his side of the wagon, eyes closed, arms resting atop his head. There was a thin sheen of sweat that Maiz could see glistening on his neck, but he gave no other sign of discomfort from the blazing sun above. It was indeed the time of day that most laborers went inside to sleep before eating lunch, but Maiz hadn’t ever gotten into the habit, having spent most of his days indoors. Worse, he hadn’t ever developed the tolerance for heat that most people in Caelos did, which explained why he almost felt like risking the wagon driver’s wrath by taking water from one of the jugs.

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Fortunately, before he could do anything he would regret later, there was an indistinct shout from the front and the wagon finally rolled to a stop. With a jerk, Hugan woke, looking blearily around, and Maiz sat up as well to look at his surroundings. They were in front of a large set of gates on the side of the road. The gates were a combination of wood and iron that looked to be well maintained, though with a layer of mud and dust. They obscured anything beyond, but they were framed by an equally impressive grey stone wall that appeared to form a perimeter around the training grounds.

In a moment, the gates were swinging open slowly, revealing another road that cut through an empty field of sand that looked like the desert in miniature. The wagon began moving again, and in a few minutes it stopped in front of a squat stone building. The driver yelled back at Maiz and Hugan, “Get down now, you boys. Come around here.”

Even as he said the words, a pair of large, tired-looking men came out of the building. Both of them made Hugan look as scrawny as Maiz, and they were clearly meant to unload the wagon. Quickly, he and Hugan hopped down from the wagon bed, and walked up to the front of the wagon, where the driver was untying the horses’ harnesses from the wagon. Maiz was wondering if they were going to follow him to a stable, but then another, equally tired looking man who looked more normal than the other two, though he moved with an unnatural grace. All three had been dressed in the same tunic and pants, though in different colors. Were these workers, or trainees? The graceful man took the reins from the grey-haired driver, who grunted at him, then again at the Maiz and Hugan, before walking of in another direction.

Shooting a quick look at each other, the young men followed him.

This place was completely unlike the city. Instead of closely packed buildings and stone-paved roads, there were swathes of open space--some fenced off, others dotted with rows of cloth-and-wood dummies, and some left bare of everything but sand--occasionally broken by grey stone building. No one was out on the fields at the moment, likely because they were either eating or sleeping, but Maiz imagined that at other times they would be full of sixteen and seventeen year-olds learning how to fight and use the power of their titles.

The gruff old man led them to another stone building, this one larger and taller, but otherwise indistinguishable from the first they had stopped at. There was no door here, only a rectangular opening that let in some light to an otherwise dark room. He gave the two younger men a glare, and gestured to the doorway, before walking off in a different direction, fumbling something out of a pouch at his side.

“Do you know what we’re supposed to do?” Hugan whispered to Maiz, apparently feeling intimidated by the grumpy driver’s demeanor. Of course, if the man was a Journeyman Slasher, he could easily kill both of them if he wanted.

Still, Maiz tried to sound more confident as he replied, “Probably go in there,” while gesturing at the building like the gruff man had. Glancing back, he saw that there was a trail of black smoke rising behind the man as he continued down the trail. Sighing, Maiz turned back and walked into the building, with Hugan cautiously following.

The doorway faced directly into another one, this covered by a curtain. After he and Hugan had brushed themselves off, Maiz walked through the curtained doorway. In the next room, there was a single, slight woman sitting at a desk lit by a pair of candles. The room was surprisingly open and spacious, though behind the woman there were several shelves that were filled with boxes. One such box was also on her desk, opened to reveal hundreds of files. As they entered, the woman glanced up, revealing an angular, sharp face framed by long black hair. Above her head were the words Karena-Journeyman Scholar. The Scholar slid the sheet she’d been writing on to a cleared portion of the desk, which Maiz recognized as a spot reserved for letting ink dry. She then looked up and gave Maiz and Hugan a sharp, but disinterested look.

“You two just came in with the supply wagon?” Her voice was as sharp as her eyes, and when Maiz and Hugan nodded, she went on, “Show me your names and titles.”

They did so, Maiz half expecting a reaction from the woman at their unusual titles. However, she showed no reaction, only asking “What city are you two from and when did you receive your titles?”

Hugan beat Maiz to the punch this time, proudly declaring “I’m from Caelos in the third quarter. My Naming Ritual was three days ago.”

Maiz, feeling a little embarrassed at his companion’s overbearing pride, said “I’m also from Caelos. My ritual was yesterday.”

The woman only nodded, then stood and went to a book on a nearby shelf. Opening it, she retrieved a pair of papers from it and sat back down. She read over both of the papers, looking first at Hugan. She wrote something else down, then handed a sheet to him. Then she turned her eyes on Maiz. This time she took longer, looking at the paper and back up at Maiz, as though she expected his title to change somehow. However eventually she wrote something short down on another sheet and handed it to Maiz. “Take those and give them to the man in there,” she said, gesturing to the curtained doorway at the other end of the room, past the shelves.

Maiz looked over at Hugan, who was holding the sheet as though he was afraid it would fall to pieces at any moment. He wasn't far off the mark, to be fair. The stuff was low quality, with patches of color and uneven texture. Still, the woman’s note was easy enough to read:

Spellsword- Unknown title with magical and physical attribute bonuses. Unclear application and specialty. Building 2-C

Maiz didn’t really understand what the note meant, but when he looked back up the sharp-eyed Scholar was scowling at him fiercely. In an annoyed voice, she barked “Go!” and he and Hugan scrambled to obey.

The next room was much smaller than the first, with only a single desk and a man in robes sitting at it. However, unlike the Scholar from the first room, when this man saw Maiz and Hugan, he smiled and jumped up from his stool excitedly. Over his head were the words Rin-Journeyman Scholar, but unlike every other Sholar Maiz had met--admittedly a small number--this man exhibited a healthy exuberance completely at odds with the somber surroundings. His robes were red and yellow, the colors of the kingdom, and his large frame hidden beneath their folds. He had a round face and neatly trimmed beard, and looked to be fairly young, no more than a decade older than Maiz himself. “Hello! I’m Rin, and you two are?”

He had a light baritone voice, surprisingly soothing. Maiz and Hugan both introduced themselves, handing over the sheets the other woman had handed them.

After accepting the sheets, Rin glanced at them for a few seconds, then looked back up at the two young men. “My, my, you two have some very interesting tiles!” He rubbed his hands together as though he was cold. “It’s been centuries since the last time a Warden was known to be Named, and Spellsword… well, I will have to do some research into the history of that one. In any case, I should let you know that my specialty is the study of combat titles, their applications and histories. I will work with both of you to develop an image of what styles of fighting will best fit your titles, and of course your own talents and abilities.”

Maiz blinked at the rapid pace with which the words that poured out of the man mouth, as well as the near-manic glint in his eyes, but he was already continuing. “Now then, Hugan, your title is obviously specialized in physical combat, so starting tomorrow you’ll begin training in the Novice practice field. Karena’s put you in building 2-C, so you can go ahead and get settled in there!” He gave Hugan some directions to the barracks where he was to stay, and told him to be up an hour before dawn and follow the other Novices out to the appropriate field.

After receiving these functions, Hugan flashed RIn a brilliant smile, saying “Thank you sir!” As he turned to leave, he gave Maiz a friendly pat on the back which momentarily winded him. By the time Maiz recovered, the other Novice had already left.

“Now then,” Rin said, making that strange hand-rubbing gesture again.”Your title is apparently a bit more difficult to evaluate Maiz. Will you please give me access to your Title Sheet?”

Maiz didn’t see why not, considering that he had shown it to several people at this point and none had seen his true Title. When Father Gavrel had first asked that question, Maiz had almost panicked, but apparently his Title Sheet showed others only the information for the title he chose to display. When the request for permission popped up in his vision, he thought yes, and Rin’s eye’s grew unfocused as he looked at his title. Idly, Maiz opened his own title sheet as the Scholar looked at it:

Spellsword- Spellswords use their mana to augment their martial prowess, focusing on channeling elemental effects through their weapons and armor. They are especially suited to small-scale combat and breaking enemy lines on the battlefield.

+1 to Intelligence, Wisdom, Constitution, and Attribute of Choice per rank.

Just as Maiz finished reading over the title description again, Rin asked him in that excited tone, “What was the starting talent you received?”

“Um, it was called Flaming Strike--”

“--Do you know how to view your skills and spells?” The Scholar interrupted. When Maiz nodded, he said eagerly “Read the skill description out to me, please. Leave nothing out.”

Maiz, somewhat flustered, took a moment to open his Name Sheet and then select the Flaming Strike skill. During that time, Rin stared at him impatiently, making it even harder to focus on navigating the mental data. Finally, he reached the description.

Flaming Strike(Spellsword): Creates an aura of fire around the caster’s weapon which lasts for one attack.

Rank: 1

Cost: 30 mana

Damage: +50 Fire (Chance to burn)

He read the description aloud, though he omitted the “Spellsword” denotation. He somehow thought that other people didn’t need to know what title their skills and spells belonged to. As Maiz spoke, the glint in Rin’s eyes grew more and more pronounced. By the time he finished, the man was rubbing his hands together so fast that Maiz thought his skin might start peeling.

“Fascinating! You know, that sounds more like a short-term enchantment than a regular elemental spell. Have you tried to cast it?” He looked expectantly at Maiz.

“No, I--”

“--Ah, well, we’ll have to do that another time, then. I expect the spell uses mana to form a temporary enchantment matrix and empowers it with fire. But, in any case, the practical application seems quite powerful. Fifty damage! And that’s at the first rank, no doubt it will only get stronger over time! But, of course there is a slight problem.” Here the excited Scholar took a breath, allowing Maiz to interject.

“Is fifty damage for a skill unusual, sir?”

The Scholar looked taken aback at the question. “No need to call me sir, Maiz. I don’t want to seem too familiar, but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t stand much on ceremony.” The large man rubbed his hands together again. “As to your question, yes! The spell has a mana cost similar to most Novice-ranked spells, but the damage is more like an Apprentice skill or spell. Of course, this is most likely due to the issue I mentioned. You see, this spell requires you to fight enemies at close quarters.”

Right, that was what Riala said. Thinking of Riala only caused Maiz a slight twinge as he considered Rin’s other words. He and Hugan had both called him sir, of course. It was the standard honorific for someone older or of a higher station. But whenever Maiz used the word, he thought of the slimy bastard who’d been his taskmaster for the past two years, so he didn’t mind dropping the formality.

Rin continued, “The big problem is that you don’t really have any big physical attribute bonuses, or skills that help you hit the opponent. A Slasher, for example, gains points in Dexterity, Strength, and Constitution per rank. Their first skill varies, but it’s either some sort of targeted attack or, rarely, a passive ability that improves their skill with bladed weapons. In contrast, you only get a bonus to Constitution, and the spell you have only makes your hit do more damage, it doesn’t improve your technique or guide your strike at all.” Rin didn’t look particularly put out by this fact however, even though Maiz thought it constituted a rather severe drawback to his abilities.

“Now then, I’ll be doing more research into your title, and we’ll try to find you some spellbooks to improve your arsenal if we can. The only question is, how we want to train you. You’re clearly a mage, but you’d certainly benefit a great deal from the physical training the melee combatants go through.” The Scholar gave his hands one final rub. “I suppose that the only thing to do is to put you into both! Lucky for you, the Novice melee and mage groups meet at different times, though your schedule will be a bit tight.”

He gave Maiz a set of instructions, indicating that he was to go out out with the melee group an hour before dawn, then meet with the mages directly after his midday meal. Apparently after that time the melee troops spent their time on chores and duties around the complex, and before it the mages did the same. So I guess that I won’t have to do any of those, at least. It was a small mercy, but Maiz hoped that it boded well for his future. After giving Maiz the same set of directions as Hugan, Rin bid him farewell, apparently planning to inform the appropriate authorities of Maiz’s unique situation.

Maiz left the building and setting down the trail Rin had directed him towards. The sun was lower in the sky and it appeared that young men and women were beginning to organize onto some of the previously empty fields.

During the walk, Maiz examined his own feelings. He felt… different than usual. There was something that felt strange about this day. He’d met two people, Hugan and Rin, who’d actually talked to him willingly. At length. Though both had been strange in their own ways, the fact that they had treated Maiz like another human being of their own accords wasn’t lost on him. Part of Maiz wondered if that wasn’t simply because he had an unusual and powerful combat title, but another, larger, part was excited that he would be living in the same building as Hugan, and that he would be conducting more tests of his title with Rin. For the first time since his father had died, Maiz was truly optimistic about the future.