The Knight returned, and with it another 15 people. With the 20 that were from Malums previous village and that made 35 new sacrifices to the blood machine that was war.
A few stood out immediately, notably another 3 hunters. It would be in the morning to see who could catch the most out of all of them.
Interestingly there were 4 woman out of the 14 that came. The conscription was sexist, but volunteering wasn’t, that meant the 4 had chosen to be in their position or at least at face value they had.
It didn’t really matter in Malum's head. Life was unfair, he had tasted that poison, so he cared little if others had too as well.
Continuing on as normal Malum kept an eye on the new group whilst also doing his best during the morning hunts.
Nobody had really caught his eye yet, but maybe they hadn’t been given the opportunity to show their talents.
This time they came through a thick bog before they found the last village in their journey. Malum thought of selling his goods again, but decided against as he didn’t really need anything. Instead he decided to use the time to create himself a bow.
Well, he could buy one, but he thought the skills of creating one would be a valuable lesson, so he stuck to it.
First he needed a good piece of wood, that wasn’t too hard as the village was situated in a woody area. These fallen sticks however could not be bent in the right direction, so Malum had to think of how to get a stronger piece.
He thought of what he knew about wood. It came from trees and didn’t taste great. It could be eaten although should be boiled first and it also was flammable. Though it was more flammable when dry.
None of that was useful for the task at hand, so he decided to do some fieldwork tests.
Perhaps he needed a darker wood, or perhaps he needed one from a larger tree.
After some tests, Malum found a piece with the highest results from his tests. It was a darker wood, and the piece was somewhat wet from the rain. Malum didn’t know what kind of wood it was exactly; he knew they had different names but that was for agricultural scholars to know not some soldier sent to die.
Anyway, Malum bent in into shape and used some self-made rope to create the string.
Next on the agenda were arrows, Malum didn’t need iron tips, and made do with some simple wooden ones carved by himself. At least he no one to blame except himself when they snapped on impact.
With his gear in hand, Malum decided to hunt some extra pray. It would add to his social goals so with the sun high in the sky he set off.
The squealing of a rabbit allowed for Malum to return his next arrow back to his belt. He had forgotten to create a container for them but his belt, whilst uncomfortable, did work as an alternative.
He packed his prey into his rucksack and started to head back. Whilst hunting he had realised that he could bring the rucksack to light, as questions wouldn’t asked as long as they were eating well.
The sun began to glow a warm orange as Malum returned to camp with his prey. His extra efforts were praised by all who fed on his food and the rucksack was simply seen as good karma for his good deeds.
He could now say with certainty that he was universally liked, or at least accepted as part of the troop. Some other hunters found his efforts threatening, but they still enjoyed the feast Malum had prepared.
The Knight ate as well, even thanking Malum for his extra effort. Every piece of favour he could get was good, so Malum sat down that evening a happy man.
He had also eaten more than his fill and a full belly was a need for a hardworking individual. Some marching would need to be done, Malum looked to the side to see the Knight climbing onto his horse, but that was easy and so he decided to rest his eyes a little. Small nap for the journey ahead.
He worked, he rose, and he marched.
The new group had another 24 people join the soon-to-be-afterlife. None were woman this time, it seemed 4 was an outlier. Malum thought it was likely the Mayor, there prejudice tended to trickle down as he had seen so many times in the different villages he had lived in.
A sad amount of 4 were hunters, although that was still double the amount Malum had offered up. Feeding the group was not an issue, the thing Malum was interested to see was how the four merged into the troops social dynamic.
He would need to keep an eye on the big players, and follow his plans to the letter.
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The Knight had said it was 2 days before they reached the boot-camp.
Personally, Malum could not wait.
The forest parted a few miles ago. Malum had seen endless green slowly turn into dead woodland. Brown bark was half of all the things Malum could see, the leaves had fallen to the floor and created a carpet of death for him to step on.
The crackle of the trodden leaves filled his ears, the 60 people (including the Knight) made their way towards a large wooden gate.
Above the heads of those in front of him, Malum could see guards on sentry huts. A glimmer of metal coming from the arrows on their backs.
The Knight shouted to those behind the gate,
“New recruits!”
And with it, the large doors began to slowly open. Apart from a few wooden blurry buildings, Malum could not see inside so instead he focused on listening into the Knights conversation with the guards who opened the door.
“Michael, oh how I have missed you.” Said one of the guards towards the Knight, Malum noted his name as they began to hug. After, the guard turned to inspect the newbies.
“So these are the new recruits are they? They look a bit green; how many can hunt?”
“9 of 59, so a 1 of 6.”
“Oh, that’s shit. Well we can only hope that some gems can be found in the rough, if not, I wish them the best of luck.”
“That’s all we can do.”
The two parted from the depressing conversation and the Knight began to lead them deeper into the encampment.
As it was getting dark, and even the Knight was looking tired. The huts were the first location Malum was showed to, here Malum was assigned a dormitory with 7 others with 4 bunkbeds at each corner of the room.
Being the child he was, he obviously choose the top bunk. Height was a territorial advantage, that was basic strategy.
The others in room included 1 of the woman of the group, and Malums villages other hunter Trent, the rest had no notable information that Malum had gathered.
Everyone was far to tired to talk, instead they all opted to get into their pants and climb into their beds. The march was finally over, and yet they had only entered another training nightmare.
Waking up early to the sound of the waking rats, Malum stashed his pillow and extra comforting sheet back into his sack. He then climbed down and found 8 new sets of clothes just in front of the door.
They were each identical, being a blue coloured cloth top, some more firm fabric black trousers as well as a distinctly brown cap. It didn’t look great, but they were just food for demons so...
Depressing realisation aside, Malum put on his new uniform and then quietly exited his room. Sneaking around wasn’t quite the phrase he would use, he was more so scouting out his future training areas.
Looking around, the camp seemed to be fairly large, and Malum guessed it could train around 2-3 hundred recruits at any one time. It held several obstacle courses which all looked hellish, and there were also several other buildings Malum did not know the use off.
There seemed to be a central area, one centered around a flagpole showing the Kingdom of Britania’s beautiful 4 colours.* Malum had not been to any other Kingdoms, but his Uncle had warned Malum against unfounded hatred to other Kingdoms and people.
He had said the Kingdom was insular, it hated outsiders and such outsider hated them as well. That gave a good cover against the Alliance as little information flowed in and out and it was the reason his Uncle had chosen that particular kingdom.
Demi-humans were something universally hated in all parts of the Kingdom, but his Uncle had said they weren’t that bad, just humans but with different stereotypes. Malum would see for himself to judge, but he was at least willing to keep an opened mind and it didn’t hurt that some of the things he had heard were absolutely absurd.
Side thought aside, Malum had little to do except wait so he decided to return to his room and try and catch as much sleep as possible. Sadly, just as he was about to fall asleep again, the door came swinging open.
“RISE AND SHINE RECRUITS! MEET BY THE CENTRAL FLAG AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, IF YOU ARE LOST, FOLLOW SOMEBODY WHO’S NOT!”
Malum was extremely tempted to swear. Just his luck.
Getting out of bed as quickly as he could, he put on his uniform as he began to stumble outside. People from other dorms followed him as he looked like he knew where he was going so by the time he arrived it didn’t take long before everyone had lined up in neat rows beside the pole.
A few were sneaking a few words to each other, wandering what was gong to happen next but that was quickly answered when the deafening shouting returned.
“WELCOME, GOOD MORNING RECRUITS!”
A strange silence overhung the recruits. Before a brave few eked out a,
“Good morning Sir.”
The shouting man whispered something to his colleague next to him, before returning in a normal voice.
“Alright boys and girls, today I will you turn you all into men and woman. From villager to solider. To achieve this change is a simple process called initiation. We will begin immediately, and for it I will only give a single order.
Come at me with the intent to kill, if you do so then you will go home just as quickly as you arrived.”
The mention of home turned the downtrodden depressed zombies around Malum into frenzied cannibals as they began scrambling towards the Troop Leader.
Malum thought slightly more than some of his companions as he wandered what the trick was. There had to be more to it than to it then an easy way home. The Troop Leader did look built, but no normal human would last against nearly 60 desperate villagers.
Yet as they climbed the small hill the Troop Leader spoke from, Malum thoughts turned from confusion to horror.
Speed so quick Malum could hardly see, power so strong his comrades were sent rolling down the hill, and technique so graceful Malum thought he was dancing.
The Troop Leader, a well-worn man into his sixties with a gruffy beard that looked similar to his Uncle’s. Malum thoughts went to cultivation but that equally made little sense.
In his martial studies he learned of the rarity of cultivation practices and how it was monopolised by those in seats of power so some small Troop Leader wouldn’t be able to practice it. Especially not in such a backwater kingdom.
How did it make sense then?
As faces were bruised and bodies were beaten, slowly the crowd turned scared. People no longer were rushing in looking for blood, instead they circled the man like hawks.
Minutes passed as the man continued to pummel the new recruits into the ground. Turning what was once a pleasant hill into a muddy dormitory.
There were one way people learned that they could escape from this process and that was simple. You had to be unconscious. Running was stopped by other army personal which left people even more desperate to attack their final hope.
Malum gave it a shot. He even used his knife, but alas the Troop Leader only caught himself a small cut on his hand.
A clean punch to the stomach and Malum began to feel dizzy. Only now did the reasoning behind the initiation come to mind. It was a show of force. To show the new recruits that they were the authority here, and so they should suck it up or fall to their hands.
That was all Malum managed to think before darkness called him away.