The forest was dark, damp with the fog that had filled it through the day. Adrian stalked through the wet undergrowth, squinting in the dark.

Too spread out. Every other man held a flaming torch to bring light to the forest. The Hunter’s Bureau had taken all day getting all they could from the local noble and then the villagers.

Once the contract was made one shouldn’t play with the terms again. The Hunter’s didn’t care, the extra coin slipping into the pockets of their leaders.

Adrian rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

There was a hiss of undergrowth against something.

He drew his sword and angled it down, driving it through the chest of the wolf jumping at him. The beast took his blade with it.

Another came from his right side he turned, putting his right arm up in the path of the wolf’s teeth, it clamped down, he could feel the bones snap in its jaws as he fell, the beast’s claws raking his side, its back legs digging into his leg leaving bloody furrows as he grabbed his dagger with his left hand.

He drove it into the beast’s neck again and again. The beast clawed his face, half his sight gone. He kept stabbing its pace slowed before hit something vital and the beast dropped on him.

He coughed blood in his lung, wet and heavy.

Adrian startled awake, sweat pouring from him, his blanket twisted around him. The room had the damp smell of mold, sweaty men and not enough air or cleaning.

His bed was one of two stacked atop one another in the bunkhouse, a pillow of straw and canvas, a field blanket to keep himself warm.

His face stiffened against the heartbreak and loss. Maria’s father had been the one to sit him down and tell him that the engagement was off. He’d learned later that she was looking for other suitors before he’d been discharged from the hospital.

He pushed the blankets, his right leg missing above the knee, the infection took that in his fever dreams before he regained consciousness. His right arm, his sword arm ended just below the elbow.

Adrian sat on the side of the bed, taking the cloth he’d laid out the night before and dipping it into the wash basin.

He gave himself a wash as others started to wake up. At least most of them were mercenaries so Adrian was left to himself.

Finished with his wash, Adrian dressed and slung across himself, lifting himself with his good arm over to his crutch. He stood up on his good leg, holding the bunk above with his good arm, getting his sword arm over his crutch, pushing what remained of his arm into a brace along the crutch to hold it easier.

He tightened up the laces holding it to his arm. His breathing heavy already, his stomach growling for food while his body craved more sleep.

Adrian picked up his washbowl and cloth in his good hand walking with his crutch through the bunkhouse, other ex-fighters making room for him as he passed through.

Some had been wounded, others were drinkers, others didn’t have anything after they’d left fighting behind, others just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Adrian reached the bathhouse attached to the bunkhouse, pouring his bowl into the grate that would take it out of the city.

He put the bowl and cloth to the side, taking a canteen from his bag. He drained it and hooked his crutch on the water pump, holding his canteen under the spout to fill it. He drained it two more times, suppressing the hunger within him for now.

“Bowl of water and cloth by your bed?” A young lad asked, picking up his bowl and cloth.

“Thanks Ivan,” Adrian passed a copper. The boy gave a big smile. “Have a good day mister Adrian!”

Adrian nodded and started on his trek to the outskirts of Goran.

The brickworks was a massive compound, with raw materials coming in one side, being hand molded into shape, then passed to kilns that dried them out before they went onto firing kilns.

Adrian moved around to the end of the compound, the sorting yard.

Adrian nodded to the time keeper in his hut. He put his name on the page and the time.

“You won’t get extra pay even if you are here for longer,” The timekeeper said.

Adrian shrugged. He was slower than others, getting in early he could do more before they arrive and by the time they left for the day he’d have the same amount done as the others.

Adrian moved to his row. Laborers wheeled over carts with trays of bricks atop. They brought them level to the table row and pushed the bricks off their metal tray onto the metal topped tables, before they carted the tray back to the kiln to get more.

Adrian grabbed a wheeled cart and started to walk down the row, lining up the bricks, checking them for cracks or deformities. Anything that wasn’t good enough he tossed into the wheeled cart, continuing down the line.

People filed in as his shift started properly. He drank from his canteen and ate half the meal he’d left himself from the day before.

His lead over his coworkers drained away as the day continued. Laborers started behind him, clearing away the bricks he’d okayed, ready to be sent off to build more homes.

“Adrian,” A voice pulled him from the monotony, he’d noticed someone moving closer but disregarded them.

Adrian threw a bad brick into his cart and peered at the other man. “Everett sir?” He tried to straighten for the older man, one who’d taken him under his wing years before.

“Interested in a different line of employment?” Everett asked.

“This works good for me,” Adrian said. He didn’t need no charity, he’d work this out on his own.

“Needs workers.”

“Usually they have to be a bit more able,” Adrian chuckled. He glanced at the man’s sword. “I don’t know you to be the type to put down the blade.”

Everett seemed to mull over his words. “I can’t promise anything, but I can offer you a chance.”

Everett looked at the brickworks. “I got a job here.”

Everett didn’t argue with him. “Sometimes we have to take risks.”

Adrian grit his teeth, anger flaring before it deflated. “Not like I have much more to lose.”

He saw the flare of recognition in Everett’s eyes.

“Lady Lilah needs those who are loyal and capable. I picked you. You know the Rackson Coal yard?”

“Yes.”

“Meet there tomorrow for dawn. At the very least you’ll get to eat as much as you want and meet up with some of the lads.”

Everett didn’t give him any pity, he gave it direct. Adrian was thankful for that. “Tomorrow morning sergeant.”

He walked off through the brickworks, nodding to others among the workers.

Adrian continued working on his row. Tomorrow morning.

***

Len and Rick were enjoying a breakfast on an old scarred kitchen table out of the way of the kitchen staff moving around them. The kitchen just a few doors down from their room and had been in full swing creating vast pots of stews and soups, before Len woke up.

Lydia stumbled in, bags under her eyes.

"Rough night?" Len asked.

Rick choked on his oatmeal, struggling to clear his airway. Lydia shot him a glare, too tired to rebuke him verbally.

"Longer than I thought it would be," Lydia admitted, nodding in thanks to a member of the kitchen staff who approached with a plate piled high with food. "Thank you, Dale."

"Not a problem, miss. After all, I’ll get to tell my friends that I served the Black Thorn her breakfast before she defeated everyone in Goran." He winked and hurried back to his duties.

Lydia screwed up her mouth in rebuke but Dale was a fast and smart mover getting out of range.

Lydia sat down at the heavy old kitchen scarred wooden table opposite Rick and Len and began to eat.

"Were you watching how much she'd eaten before you went through your training?" Len asked, surprised at the speed at which Lydia was consuming her food.

"I gave her a stamina potion during our lessons," Rick explained, finally getting his coughing under control as he sipped from a tankard of tea.

Len nodded. It was going to be a challenge to replace those potions.

"Wait, this is a city of fighters, right?" Len asked.

"Yeah," Rick confirmed.

"Then shouldn't there be apothecaries, healers of some sort? There must be plenty in the city.”

“You can barely throw a stone without hitting one," Lydia said, her mouth half full of food.

"Is Tenebrook still here?" Rick asked.

"Of course he is. Why would he ever leave?" Lydia frowned. "He might not practice physical treatments, but his apothecary remedies are some of the best in the city. Main family is pissed off that he doesn’t come into their service."

"Can you deal with the veterans coming in?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, sure." Len replied, eating his toast. “You think that this Tenebrook could make us potions?”

“If anyone could its him. Mind if I grab some of the ingredients from the crate and a few vials of the different potions?” Rick asked.

“Go for it, if we can get an alchemist started now, that’s going to speed up the rate we build up cultivators and give us a huge advantage.” Len tapped his spoon against his bowl. “There aren’t many naturally mana enhanced ingredients out there yet. We’ll need to make a growing house. Keep any seeds that come with the ingredients, or keep three of them back so I can get them growing.”

“Can do farmer Len sir,” Rick said flippantly. “Good thing you’ve been saving those plants we found around the place.”

"Are you gonna make it to my fight today?" Lydia asked.

"I'm planning on doing so," Rick said. "Who are you fighting today?"

"I'm fighting a Sword and Shield user, called Iron Wall Mulligan." Lydia frowned. "He's a smart fighter. Uses his feet to power his shield strikes. And take the impact. Most just take it on their arms. He's fast too. Only has a medium kind of armor. But his shield work is some of the best I've ever seen. And his arms are..." Lydia took on a lovey-dovey expression.

So Rick made a grumbling noise as Lydia let out a lovestruck sigh for emphasis. There were a few chuckles from the kitchen staff.

Rick had assured Len that while the staff here was small they were trustworthy.

"You trying to give me a damn nervous breakdown over here?" Rick asked.

"What? A girl has to have her own interests, right?" She smirked. "After all, the legend of Rick is well known throughout Goran."

"Oh?" Len raised an eyebrow.

"Not. A. Damn. Word." Rick glared at Lydia.

"What? He's gonna find it out one way or another. There's enough people to tell it." Lydia had a wolfish smile on her face as she continued eating breakfast.

Len chuckled, interested to learn the story, but also amused with Rick's awkwardness.

Len turned his head at the sound of approaching boots.

The guardsman they’d seen last night at the gate cleared his throat at the entrance into the kitchens, causing all to look over at him. "I was told to inform you that your patients have arrived.”

There was a greater surety in his movements and the training last night at least helped with his confusion of how to treat Len and Rick.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Ah, okay." Len stood, hurrying the last bits of food into his mouth. "Be there in a minute. They out back in the training square?" He pulled his messenger bag on as well.

"Uh, yes, sir," the guardsman said.

"Perfect." Len said, holding a plate out to an approaching Dale. "Thank you so much for breakfast. It was delicious." He gave a closed-lip smile to everyone inside, getting a few pleased grins.

“Also, the chickens you needed are out the back door leading to the training yard,” Dale said.

“Perfect!” Len hurried out of the kitchen, waving at the guardsmen to lead the way.

"What's your name again, son?" he asked.

"Oscar, sir," the guard replied.

“Good to know, Len.” He said as they went through the back door to be greeted with crates of living chickens.

“Sweet sweet essence.” Len grabbed up a crate in each hand the chickens getting all riled up.

“What was that sir?”

“Don’t worry about it, grab a chicken crate.” Len walked for the training square, passing through the sound cancelling formation’s area of effect.

***

Adrian was a sweaty mess. Of all the days to sleep in. He hobbled across the city, his arm chafing from the crutch harness, he didn’t dare to take the time to fix it.

He reached the coal yard, the man at the gate looked him over and waved him through the gate. “Down that way on the left, hurry, cart just showed up.”

“Thanks.”

The man saluted. “Lady Lilah.” He returned back to the gate.

Adrian hobbled on, a bit stunned at the salute. Its also to the Isendia, not just Lady Lilah.

Though he could understand the change. Since lady Particia and major George died and Tyrus took over, things hadn’t been the same.

A group of men were loading up into a covered coal cart, several with canes and other visible injuries.

Adrian picked up his pace as the last three were getting aboard, those already up, helping them.

Adrian got to them, puffing as the last man was hauled up.

“Well sergeant, what you call this time?”

“Corporal Gibson?” He asked the stout man, an odd bump in his pant leg.

“Was a lance before the old leg decided to snap itself,” Gibson reached down, another man on the other side with scars across his face and a painted mask covering most of it, reached down as well.

“Well they must be scraping the bottom of the well to find you,” Adrian grinned as he took the help of both men, planting his good leg on the back of the cart, letting himself be levered up into the back.

He dropped onto the bench seat as the two men brought up the wooden back of the cart and threw down the tarp, agitating the coal dust in the back of the cart.

A man at the front thumped on the wooden backing behind the driver.

Hooves clopped on the ground and the cart pulled forward.

“So what’s this all about?” Adrian asked. Gibson was always one for chatter.

“Don’t rightly know, but this lot here, we’re all loyal to the old family, and we’re various levels of fucked up,” Gibson said. “Everett recruited us all.”

The Lady’s own knight leading it.

Adrian coughed from the coal dust and leaned back against the cart. Sometime later they stopped, gates opened and the cart continued on before coming to a stop.

Two guards wearing the red edged armor of the Isendia family guard threw up the tarp, revealing Everett. “Welcome to Blue Manor lads, now get out of the coal cart will you?”

The tailgate was dropped and the guards helped them down to the ground. Adrian felt like a child in their grip. Damn they’re strong.

They walked along the back of the house, paths leading further into the yard. Crated chickens were being unloaded and carried down one of the paths.

Everett led them into a large sparring area surrounded by bushes that hid them from the outside world.

The sound stopped behind Everett and started up again infront of him as he focused on the gravel path around the training space.

He felt more alert as he followed Everett to long tables that had been set up under a field tent, made of poles, tarp and string.

“Serve yourselves up food!” Everett said. They passed stew pots, hardy bread, large bowls and cutlery. Adrian loaded up.

“Want a tankard?” Gibson asked, filling up one himself at the end.

“If you could?”

“No worries sarge. Save us a seat will yah?” Gibson grabbed a second tankard.

“Can do,” Adrian said.

He got down to the furthest table, joining some of the lads there.

Gibson followed shortly after, dropping off an extra tankard. Adrian gave him a nod of thanks, Gibson waved him off like it wasn’t a big deal.

A younger lad walked in as everyone was eating and drinking their fill.

Adrian elbowed Gibson and nodded at the kid and guard with him, both holding a crate of chickens.

“Troops,” Everett’s voice bringing their attention on the young man. “This is Len, he’s going to be helping us out today.”

The young man looked over them all, without a hint of apprehension, his eyes evaluating them. Other than his young appearance he had the bearing that came with a veteran.

Barely old enough to join the mercenaries.

Everett moved over to the man.

Ever since he’d been mauled Adrian’s senses had heightened, allowing him to hear what the two men were saying.

“Rick?” Everett asked as he got close and Len put down the chicken crate.

That the name of Lady Patricia and George’s kid?

“Off to go hire an alchemist. I’ll get started on everyone here.” Len was studying all of the veterans “Got all kinds from the simple broken bones to missing limbs. Testing us?”

“Wanted to see if there are a limit to your abilities to understand them better,” Everett said.

"Mornin' everyone," Len said, stepping forward receiving grumbled and hesitant replies. Each of them quietly judged and understood the others.

Who the hell is this kid?

"Today we're going to be solving a few problems. Miss Lilah has commissioned me to get you back to work," Len announced.

There were some chuckles to that.

"I'm going to go get set up in the facilities. Oscar will guide you over there,” Len indicated to the chicken crate holding guard. “Then Everett here is going to beat your asses around the training square to make sure you remember how to use a sword."

"Alright, eat up and see you in a little bit." Len clapped his hands and turned to whisper to Oscar. "Where am I set up?"

Adrian kept listening in.

"You're in the spring gazebo," Oscar said. "That's the boarded-up one in that direction." He pointed.

"Thank you.” Len took his leave picking up his crates of chickens. “Bring more of the crates over to the gazebo, Everett these are your ones to kill,” Len pointed at Oscar’s two crates with his foot before leaving the training area.

“Do we have a volunteer?” Everett asked the group.

Heads turned to one another.

Adrian pushed himself to his feet. “Might as well see what this is all about.”

Gibson shifted out of his way as he crutched over to Everett and Oscar.

Everett nodded to him. “Good luck lad.”

Oscar led him out of the training square and along of the paths he’d seen before to a boarded up eight-sided gazebo with the door ajar.

Oscar put the chicken crate down and opened the door. Adrian checked the room inside. It was nearly bare, except for a cask of beer, crate of jerky and a chair covered in straps to hold someone down. Metal stakes were in the ground around the room and the man had his messenger bag open to the side with glass bottles and more metal stakes. Papers with words rested on the table

Adrian hobbled into the room, the same odd sensation of loss and gain of sound coming over him and that feeling of relief he’d had in the training grounds.

“Heard that you’re looking for veterans,” Adrian wheezed, then gestured at himself. “Whatever condition.”

His body betrayed him as he convulsed with a cough. His mouth turning down in embarrassment.

“What beast mauled you?” Len asked.

The man raised an eyebrow. “What says it was a beast?”

“Scars, the way your missing the arm. I’m guessing it bit down on your arm and clawed the rest of you up. Got your sword arm.”

The man studied him some more. “Wolf, mutated one, took down one, but the second got me across the legs. I got it on the backstroke, but another got my arm. Arm was shattered, leg took on an infection we had to cut off.”

Len studied him closer.

“Must’ve been a decent level, formed your white vapor core, and opened a mana gate,” Len waved him to the table and took out a pencil. “You kill it?”

The man laughed darkly, looking off a bit into memory. “Yeah.” He didn’t move towards the torture chair.

“Alright, and your name?” Len reached out his hand.

“Adrian,” he took it and shook it.

Len did a double take. “Might have heard of you a long time ago. Who would’ve thought? First thing we’re going to need you to sign a contract.” Len picked up one and handed it over.

Adrian read the information, then the sigil on the back of it, nothing he’d seen before. “Agree to not betray you, Rick, Lady Lilah, or those you are associated with, to abide by your orders in return you’ll pay me according to my rank in the Isendia mercenaries. I get food, accommodation, training and healing? What’s the catch?”

“You can’t tell anyone about our training techniques and the term is fifteen years.” Len held out the pencil.

Adrian put the paper down, lowering the pencil to it and adjusting as his depth perception was crap with on eye. He lined it up and signed.

The paper burned up, his grip changing as if to use the pencil like a dagger. “The hells was that.”

“Magic mister Adrian. Same kind of stuff that’s going to heal you. This way,” Len waved him to the chair.

“Magic, like that mana stuff?” Adrian asked.

“You know about it?”

“Seen it at work with some of those hunters. Was working with them to track beasts in a remote area when I got injured.” He’d heard from others how they were angry he’d killed the wolves, as if he should have died so they could kill them instead.

“You want me to sit in that?” Adrian asked, staring at the torture chair.

“Something we us to restrain people when we’re healing them. Got to re-break the bones before setting them again,” Len said.

“I ain’t sitting in it,” Adrian said.

“That’s fine, I can do some work now, see what you think and if you trust me enough to get into the chair,” Len said.

“Alright,” Adrian shifted his grip and stance.

“Pencil?” Len held out his hand.

Adrian passed it back to him.

Len put it on the table and then lashed out at Adrian, he didn’t have time to react as his ribs shattered, the breath coming out of him.

Len grabbed him by his shirt and put him into the chair as Adrian hummed, the bones shifting around under his skin.

Finally shit stopped moving and making it painful and Adrian breathed—and there was limited pain. He breathed again, his muscles were in pain, but he could breath, and much deeper than before.

“What?”

“Got a better idea of your injuries now, a right mass of scar tissue on the side you got mauled, same as your thigh and face. One eye to replace, arm and leg too. You constantly hungry but unable to put on weight?” Len asked.

“Yeah,” Adrian said.

“Your mana is trying to heal and its draining you of all the resources it can, your stamina is bottoming out with all of this.”

Adrian let out a confused grunt.

“Lets line up those mana channels again.”

Adrian’s body twisted again, painful as he fought against it.

“This is why we have the straps,” Len said, one hand on Adrian’s chest to keep him in place. The broken pieces lined up and Adrian felt something flow through him that had been all tied up and creating weird pressure.

“You’ve been passively moving mana into your body to repair the damage.” Len muttered.

“Hmm?” Adrian grunted, trying to focus.

“You feel that power spreading throughout your body?” Len asked.

“I think so?” Adrian focused through willpower. He could feel an energy moving through his body.

“Okay, now draw that inward, through your channels, to the very center of your being,” Len said.

Adrian’s mana drained towards his core, a faint thread, most of it directed to the rest of his body.

“When you look at your level progress what do you see?”

===

76% to Level 2

===

“Well you’re not going to need the chickens,” Len said.

“The chickens?” Adrian asked.

“Quick way to level up. No worries.” Len moved over to the desk with his messenger bag. He pulled out a clear glass bottle filled with a green liquid.

“You’re straining your body past its limits right now. This will boost your stamina massively giving your body the resources it needs to heal you.”

“Okay,” Adrian said. “What’s happening?”

Len explained levels, tempering and cultivation.

“And this is what the Hunters use to increase their strength and speed?” He said as Len passed him the potion.

“They just kill shit and level up, I hope. Yes, now drink this,” Len pushed his hand towards his mouth.

Adrian looked at it, to Len and then back to it, putting it to his lips to make up for his loss of depth perception and drank.

“What’s it supposed to—” Adrian shuddered as he swayed. Len grabbed the potion and grabbed the man by his shirt, pushing him back into the chair.

“And this is why the chair is a great idea,” Len said. “No one trusts the scary strap chair.”

“Torture chair,” Adrian said and let out a groan. It was like his body was coming back to life. He felt energy coursing throughout him. The haze of fatigue that had plagued him lifted and his brain felt like it could work for the first time in a long time. His body ached but he was clear headed and moving himself wasn’t like being weighed down contstantly.

“Not that kind of service Adrian, damn man,” Len said as he stepped back.

He felt the skin around his eye shifting as he brought himself back under control. That mana was still spread out throughout his body but he could feel himself recovering in slow reverse.

Adrian looked around the room.

“Okay, you can remove the eye patch now,” Len said.

Adrian raised his hand protectively. “What?”

“Blink.”

Adrian blinked, feeling something scraping against the inside of his eye patch, he could see light around the edges.

He pulled the eyepatch off, tears forming as he saw everything again.

“I cast a spell to heal the damage, that should help with the depth perception.” Len grinned.

“How?”

“Magic lad,” Len moved to the desk and took out a metal stake, it was actually a flat ingot looking piece of steel carved with glowing characters and lines and a bandage.

“There’s good and bad news. The good news is that all the parts I’ve fixed are tempered, meaning their stronger than they were before. Though they’re at varying levels of tempered, so say you have ten damage to your eye, you have thirty damage to your side. That means your side is three times stronger than your eye, creating an imbalance. Are you paying attention?”

Adrian was blinking at his hand and around the room. “What’s these colors? They’re thicker in the middle of the room and around those pieces of metal in the ground.”

“Ah, looks like you’ve figured out how to use mana sight. Temper your eyes, pass mana through them and you can see the mana around you,” Len said. He put the bandage and glowing metal stick on a nearby table and grabbed a tankard filling it.

“Can you see this?” Len held out his free hand, characters appeared around it, before it ignited with power and turned into a flame hovering above the characters.

“There’s all kinds of letters in a circle that is under the flame?”

“Will casting, the core of casting spells. Take a concept, an idea and infuse it with mana to make it work.” Len finished filling the tankard and turned back around walking to the chair.

“Okay, so you were saying that my eyes are less tempered than my ribs? So there’s a difference in strength?”

“Say you worked out your right arm all the time, lifted a shield every day while the right did nothing. To fix the imbalance you’d need to exercise the other hand right?” Len asked.

“Yes,” Adrian swallowed.

Len handed the tankard to Adrian. “Drink this down.”

He started drinking, then started chugging as the thirst hit him.

Len scooped him a bowl of food and a spoon, putting it on the armrest. “So we’re going to have to temper the rest of your body to the same level as your ribs.”

Adrian slammed the tankard on the other armrest and set to eating.

“Couldn’t you have done that with painkillers or something?” Adrian asked between mouthfuls. He was so hungry.

“They body sees it as a poison and fights to clear it out and you didn’t have the stamina for it. If I cut the nerves it wouldn’t work either, they’re rather easy for mana to fix so they’d repair quickly. Also this was faster.”

“Right.”

“Ah, don’t worry wolf slayer, we’ll have you killing behemoths in no time,” Len grinned. He held up the bandage and the healing enchantment. “Put this on a stump, the more mana you put in, the faster it will heal you. Though it will go from a dull itch to painful. You wear it around it’ll be itchy, step inside mana gathering formation like the one in here or the training square it’ll get more painful.”

Adrian accepted both. “You’re going to need a lot of food to get back your arm and your leg. Also those stone pads in the middle of the training square. They help regen your stamina, lay on them. Speed up things as well.”

“Okay.”

Len stepped forward, taking the bowl, spoon and tankard before gesturing at the chair. “See why we use the straps now.”

“Yes,” Adrian sighed.

“Good, spread the word, I’m a lazy man and I hate having ton convince people to get strapped down.” Len frowned and looked at the ceiling.

“Sounded better in your head didn’t it?”

“Much.”

Adrian grunted and stood up.

“Thank you Len.”

“No problem, one fighter to another,” Len smiled.

Adrian saw it in him, the way he looked at the others, the way he talked to them, he was one of them. Adrian nodded and hobbled out of the gazebo, past the growing crate pile of chickens.

Oscar was walking back down the path. Adrian followed and turned off for the training square.

“Next up!” Adrian said as he walked in.

There were more fighters at the tables, these wearing the armor of different units and groups, still serving. They were mixed in with the retired.

“Sarge, your eye,” Gibson said.

Everett walked over too, others quieting to listen in.

“He fixed up my ribs and my eye, said that I got to go lie on the recovery pads and strap this to my leg,” He held up the metal thing.

“Must be a new enchantment he came up with,” Everett said looking him over. “Shit.” He said in disbelief that turned into a wide smile as he clapped Adrian on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re not going to be able to skip out on training too much longer.”

“Well shit captain,” Adrian grinned back.

“Hell a fucked up leg sounds easy compared,” Gibson said.

“There’s a chair in there, got straps, trust Len and get strapped in, makes things easier and faster,” Adrian said.

Gibson hesitated.

“I see you hesitating Lance corporal?” Everett asked in the way that only old NCO’s could where the pucker ran all the way up one’s spine.

“No sir!” Gibson gave Adrian a ‘save me’ look. “Eight sided gazebo off that aways,” Adrian pointed it out.

“Aye sarge,” Gibson sounded like someone had stolen his ration.