They were all in a classroom standing on stools at metal tables in a semicircle facing Kline and a man wearing the same uniform, but with a brown leather shoulder on his uniform rather than a black one. He was a bit younger than Kline, with a full head of blonde hair that was whiting at the temples and a gaunt face.
Kline took a deep breath. “I’m sure you all have a number of questions before you get started. I’m going to answer a few of those now, and then it will be time to learn. First off, yes magic is real in this world. Almost everyone has at least a small amount of magical talent, but only a handful have their magicka channels opened enough to be true mages. Still, there are a handful of useful spells that all soldiers need to know. We are going to be focusing on magic, military norms, and language until you have all aged more. Your minds at this point are better at absorbing this kind of information.”
He gestured to the man next to him. “This is Teft. He will be teaching you the basics of magic and the small handful of spells you’ll need to know. Once you know all he has to teach, magic studies will cease in favor of other work. If you are found to have magical talent, you will continue to work with him for some time.”
He nodded to Teft, and took several steps back until his back was against the wall.
Teft looked at everyone. “What I am going to teach, will not come naturally to any of you. People here usually begin feeling their magicka channels naturally over time. For you, it will be like forcing a blind man to see.”
He held up a hand, and a small glowing ball began to coalesce in his palm. He raised his arm, and the light of it grew more intense, then he closed his palm and it ceased. “Before we can work on actual spells, you’ll need to find your channels. Close your eyes.”
Michael did so, taking deep breaths in the expectation that whatever they were doing would be similar to meditation. He very suddenly felt a jolt and fell from the stool he’d been standing on, landing hard on the floor. He looked around to see a number of others on the ground, some others hunched forward, a few more shaking their heads.
“What I just did was send some of my own magicka directly into you. A small amount that would automatically seek out your own channels. I’m going to need all of you to pick yourselves back up, and close your eyes again. This time, grip the table a little, and pay close attention. Once you can find your channel, you’ll be able to intuitively push the magicka out without being harmed. Until all of you figure it out, all of you will receive the jolt. Now…” he took a few steps toward the center of the room again. “I believe I said to brace yourselves and close your eyes again.”
Michael listened, climbing back onto the stool and gripping the side of the table tightly.
A different Penitent seemed to refuse pulling himself out of his seat and onto the table. He cursed in what Michael believed to be hindi as he made rude gestures. Kline walked over to him, and swiftly slapped him across the face with the thin reed he’d been holding in his hand and gestured to one of the soldiers. “Take him to a tomb for two days.”
They scooped up the man who screamed impotently in the body of a child as he was taken away.
Kline looked back to Teft. “Please continue.”
There was another jolt, and much like the first time it knocked his feet out from under him, but this time he managed to keep from falling by gripping the table. There was another one and this time he thought he could feel a trace of something. A cold line somewhere in his left arm and the top of his stomach. There was a fourth jolt and this time he was certain, he could feel a line of cold, like a river of ice, flowing from his left wrist all the way through to his stomach. He could feel smaller dots of cold too, not flowing like the other one, but sitting calmly like still pools. There was another jolt, and this time, when he felt the burst of magicka hit those channels he’d found, he intrinsically knew to disperse it, and make it diffuse until it was gone.
He rode a few more waves, and when he was certain he had the handle of it, he forced his eyes open. He could see a number of others who had their eyes opened as well. Pyotr’s were still closed, but Davi’s were open and a line of sweat was dripping from his forehead as if he’d been concentrating deeply. Ollie’s were open as well, but he didn’t look strained at all, in fact, he was looking at everyone with a small amount of confusion on his face. Marcus’s were open too, but he was looking around with less confusion then Ollie, as if assessing what was going on. Michael saw Kline subtly point him, and whisper something to Teft. Teft made a subtle gesture between waves aimed at Marcus, and Marcus didn’t react at all. He did the same thing to Ollie, and Ollie’s eyes registered something, then it went away.
There were ten more jolts until everyone seemed to have gotten the hang of it. Pyotr had been nearly the last, but he seemed to be having little difficulty by the final one. Two others passed out, and were taken away by the guards.
Teft looked across all of them slowly and nodded. “That will suffice for class today. Do try to remember that feeling you have now. We’ll be reviewing it first thing in class tomorrow.”
“That was a lot of time to just be standing around with our eyes closed.” said Marcus.
“What are you talking about?” asked Davi. “It feels like we just got here.”
Kline, who’d somehow heard him from across the room, spoke up. “It’s already been nearly two hours, actually.”
Michael and the others exchanged glances.
Teft looked at all of them and smiled condescendingly. “You’ll find that practicing magic always takes more than you expect of it. Be glad that in this case it cost you only time.”
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From there we were all taken from classroom to classroom with a short break for lunch. After magic was language, though unlike before there was a focus on writing and learning the alphabet, particularly any words that were going to be associated with military work. After that was bushcraft, learning basic survival skills with a primary focus on what plants were and were not edible, as well as what animals were going to be a problem. He was relieved to find that most of the animals from his world existed in this one, but there were several additions that were completely new to him.
Near the end of the day, when there was still a bit of light, they were brought out to a large open yard with well beaten gravel and two dozen posts lined up in a neat row. Each post had a single blunted sword in front of it, driven into the gravel. The swords were simple with two edges a black crossguard, and were maybe three fourths the size of the swords he’d been seeing the physically older recruits use to train as he was shuffled from classroom to classroom.
“You are all too small at the moment to engage in any physical training that’s too harsh, but there is one thing that you are never too young to start.” He took a few steps forward and lifted one of the blades. He took the grip in both hands and from a middle stance, he twisted his body to slam the blade into the nearest post, causing it to let out a solid thud. “A perfect swordstroke.”
He drove the blade back into the ground and pointed, surprisingly, at Michael who had made a point to keep himself more toward the back where he could observe before doing anything. “You. Come here.”
Michael complied.
“Grab the sword.”
He did so again, taking the sword and pulling it from the gravel. It wasn’t as heavy as most would expect. He’d known though, that it would be lighter than it looked. He’d visited a castle once where they’d explained that the average sword only actually weighed about two pounds. Still, not the easiest thing for him to lift, though he was starting to realize that he was a bit stronger than a normal three year old should be in the first place. Whether that was a feature of the world he was in or the alchemical mixture he’d been imbibing he was unsure.
“I want you to copy what you saw me do.”
MIchael did so, taking a middle stance and giving the sword a swing with as much force as he could muster. The thud he made was much quieter than what Kline had managed, but it didn’t exactly hurt his pride given their size difference.
Kline nodded. “Adequate. Surprisingly adequate. Your stance is a bit too deep though, raise it a bit, and make sure your grip is firm.”
Michael listened, and squared up.
“Okay. Now strike, and continue striking.”
Michael did so and as he did, Kline called another person forward. He would have each of them make a strike, make a few corrections, then move on to the next. Soon, all of them were making the exact same movement and he was walking the line.
“Hmmm. You may have been right handed in your world, but you are left handed here,” he said to Davi. “You will be training both hands anyway, but it is a good thing to keep in mind.”
“You,” he pointed to one of the takers that had been speaking chinese. “You have some martial training. Forget it yourself, or we will be forced to help you unlearn it.”
He stopped at the penitent that had been crying on and off all day. “For someone who is supposedly actually a child, you certainly picked that up without hesitation.”
The boy started to tear up.
“Don’t start now. You have to be realizing it’s not working,and I swear by divinity I will have you beaten for it." He gave him a firm smack on the back of the head and kept walking.
There was one break for watering, but aside from that they all practiced the same swing for nearly an hour, stopping once the sun was down. Michael found that he liked swinging a sword. He remembered play fighting with his kids, swinging sticks at one another. There was something very satisfying and tactile about swinging the piece of metal in just the right way and feeling the force of it as it struck something.
“Good work. Some of you may make half-decent swordsman.” He held up a hand for everyone to stop swinging.
Michael nearly dropped his sword, but managed to hold onto it. He had started swinging first, and his arm was lead by the time they’d stopped.
“Follow me. One more lesson before supper.”
They all followed, sweating and exhausted, still wearing gowns that made them look like cherubs, though their expressions and muttered curses were far from angelic. They reached a small building, very close to their own barracks, and were led inside.
The building had the same layout as the other classrooms, but against the wall rather than a blackboard, there was a single large mirror.
Kline took the position in the center of the room and looked across all of them. He pointed at the nearest person. “Shi,” He pointed at another, “Sanjay,” and another “Ren,” then he pointed at Davi, “Davi.”
Everyone exchanged glances.
“Some of you probably wondered why we never asked you your names. That’s because we knew them from the moment you were born. The same way that we knew you weren’t from our world.”
He pointed at the mirror. “In our world, who you are is written across your soul by the divine. Men and women here are made up of their titles and their deeds. Those who can read those titles and deeds on others are known as diviners. They are who held you when you first arrived, who outed you as killers and they are touched by divinity that grants them their powers. You all have a limited form of what they have. You can all divine yourselves, though you cannot read the souls of others.”
He took a long breath.
“Titles and deeds are a source of strength here. Some titles are granted by the divine, others by those who have great titles themselves. Deeds can be won by anyone, though gaining them can be a fickle thing. I want each of you to line up, and look into this mirror, and tell me what it is that you see.”
Everyone lined up and watched as each of them took a turn at the mirror. They would focus for a moment, and then they would say two things. One would be their names, and the other would be a title that the world had given them. Michael had expected them all to be the same, ‘lifetaker’, but every single one was different. They all had the same theme though. Pyotr held the title of 'The Resurrected’, Davi was simply ‘The Renewed’, Ollie was ‘Two-lifed’, and Marcus was ‘Lifethief’.
Michael looked into the mirror, and this time he focused harder on the golden words that seemed to float in front of his face, that had only been on the edge of his awareness before.
Titles:
Michael Mann
The Restored
Deeds:
His own title made sense to him, given the withered body he’d left behind when he died, and he imagined the others made sense to them as well.
Once everyone was done, Kline had everyone return to their seats.
“It is not only men that can gain titles and deeds. Weapons, beasts, even a mage's spells can earn them. With them come greater strength or sometimes abilities beyond those of average men. Right now you can only read the titles, but with practice diviners have told us you will be able to read the exact boons that they grant you. This is why there are mirrors in your barracks. Well, this, and to make sure your uniforms are on properly.” He smiled at his small joke. “You have all done well today. You will be escorted to dinner, and then to your barracks for the night. In the morning, I will grant you the hour of questioning that I promised.”