You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Though the phrase brings to mind a catchy little tune, I’m unable to muster up a smile under the current circumstances. Six hours into the first day of training and I’m ready to give up on this group of scoundrels and ruffians led by Jorani and Chey. When I started this, I knew there’d be discipline problems and a general aversion to authority, but I figured it’d be easy enough to work around it. Beat up the worst offenders and the rest will fall into place, easy peasy, right? What I didn’t count on was the utterly nonexistent standards for bandit recruitment, resulting in this motley collection of unqualified and inadequate would-be soldiers arrayed before me.

I thought bandits would be better at running. I mean, it’s their whole shtick, hit hard and fade away, but boy was I wrong. Five hours to run thirty kilometres, it’s ridiculous. That’s less than six kilometres an hour, I could walk faster than that. Granted, it was all uphill, but even then, c’mon son. They weren’t even trying. I’d say getting them to run was like pulling teeth except pulling teeth is substantially more difficult. At least they ran, albeit slowly and under duress, but I’ve had to resort to outright physically restraining recruits to get their teeth out.

Things are not going as planned.

Only now do I realize how my former crippled soldiers spoiled me. Not only were they more physically fit, they had determination and grit in spades, taking their lumps with minimal complaints. These new trainees bitch and moan about the smallest things and go to great lengths to avoid even minor discomforts. Hell, I had to cite military law and threaten them with execution before they'd show up on time and I’m still purposely arriving five minutes late. Don’t even get me started on the dress codes, the modifications they’ve made to their outfits are downright ridiculous. Sleeves ripped off and midriffs exposed to show off their muscles, piercings and tattoos, coloured handkerchiefs and bandanas to indicate their unit or squad affiliation, old bandit logos displayed on banners and badges, the list goes on. It’s not so bad on the women but if these idiots keep ripping their sleeves off, they’ll freeze to death before winter arrives.

To make matters worse, for the first time, my strong arm tactics have failed me as one unwilling participant is still in possession of all his teeth. With both meaty hands clamped over his mouth, the hulking half-dog Ral cowers before me, eyes wide and knees clattering as I struggle with the cowardly giant. “Dammit Ral,” I snarl, ineffectively tugging at his arm. “Just. Open. Your. Mouth. This. Won’t. Hurt. Much.”

I’m totally lying. It will hurt tonnes and Ral knows it. Too scared to even speak, his hands remain firmly in place as he shakes his head and retreats despite my many helpers trying to hold him in place. Fleeing does him no good though as I’m involuntarily brought along for the ride, literally hanging onto him by his elbow, with both feet braced against his thighs. Good god he’s strong. Around us, the watching trainees chuckle and nurse their aching jaws while they await their turn with the Healers, taking pleasure in my futile efforts.

Dropping from my perch, I give the onlookers my best glare, daring them to make another sound. Breaking all eye contact, the trainees feign ignorance, though I spy several poorly hidden smirks. Glancing back and forth between the trainees and Ral, it crosses my mind to double down and order the trainees to help hold the giant down, but those useless bastards will just get the crap kicked out of them. He may be dumb as a brick but Ral is no slouch in combat, a natural at Reinforcement to augment his already impressive physique.

Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. Ral’s like a giant kid, so I should earn his trust with kind words and gestures before mercilessly betraying him. Yes, that's how I'll play this. Breathing out all my frustrations, I paste a smile on my face and turn to the cowering half-dog, speaking in a calm, gentle tone. “Hey big guy, let’s talk about this okay? I promise I'm not gonna force you anymore, so why don’t we have a little chat?” His fearful stare remains but his floppy dog ears twitch at the sound of my sweet, sickly tone. Both hands still shielding his mouth, he follows me south towards the edge of the plateau, taking a seat on the ground beside me as we stare out into the province.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation to give Ral time to calm down, I break the silence with a question. “Beautiful isn’t it?” I ask, gesturing down the autumnal hues of red and orange, heralding the oncoming winter. “I love it up in the mountains. Nowhere else can you find such scenic views to enjoy in peace and quiet.” Well, quiet now that all the screaming stopped. No more teeth to pull except Ral’s. “This is what I fight for. This is why I train, to defend these lands, these views, and the people living in them.” Turning to Ral, I ask, “Why do you fight?”

“Dunno. Don’t like fighting,” came the answer, his voice muffled and muted, the big coward still unwilling to lower his hands. “It’s scary and messy. I likes petting quins, listening to Jor, bathing with Chey, and going to the market. Jor took me to the market in Sanshu, it was real fun.”

I'd like to 'bath' with Chey too. God, he has the mental capacity of a child. Should he even be here? “Why’d you take the oath? You had plenty of chances to find other work, you didn’t have to be a soldier.”

Resting his head on his knees, Ral shrugs. “Jor ses he gonna soldier. Chey ses she gonna soldier too. I’m bigger and stronger then they are, so I’s gots to protect them.” Frowning, he adds, “They said we’re gonna be your Bekkies, so why you taking their teefs? You hurt them real bad, it wasn’t nice.”

Great, now it looks like he’s contemplating if he should protect Jor and Chey from me, probably by squishing me like a bug. Forcing myself to relax and smile, I shake my head. “It’s not that I want to hurt them, Ral. I’m trying to teach them to Heal. Like this.” Drawing my dagger, I cut deep into the flesh of my palm, showing him the spurting wound. Letting the blood flow for emphasis, I watch as his eyes widen with panic before reaching for his handkerchief, a filthy, crusty square of cloth. Stopping him before he contaminates me with it, I channel my Chi and close the wound, flesh knitting together right before his eyes. After rinsing my hand with water, I let him inspect it before speaking again. “Don’t you want to learn how to do the same?”

Fear forgotten, Ral enthusiastically nods his head before wavering, shying away like a scolded child. “I do, but I’m no good at learning things. Jorani ses it’s cause I’m dumb.” There’s no shame in his tone, only a statement of fact as he sits there prodding at my hand.

It’s not entirely Healed, I only stopped the bleeding and closed the wound. It hurts something fierce, but I grin and bear it, determined to collect Ral’s ‘teefs’. “Don’t worry about being dumb,” I say, straining to keep from groaning. “All those Healers are here to help you learn.” Technically, they’re here to practice too, but I’ll be damned if I admit it. “Ral, soldiering is dangerous and knowing how to Heal can save lives, not just your own. Let’s say you get hurt in battle while surrounded by the enemy. You’re too big for Jorani or Chey to drag away, so what happens next? They going to abandon you? Hell no.” Well... maybe. They’re a pragmatic bunch. “They’ll stick around to protect you, or they'll die trying. Is that what you want?”

Thinking carefully before he answers, Ral looks me in the eyes and answers with all seriousness. “If that happens, then I’ll try to die faster so Chey and Jor can run away.”

Jorani must be Blessed by the Mother to have such a devoted friend.

With a lot more coddling, Ral finally agrees to let me take one tooth, hoping to learn how to Heal so he can better protect Jorani and Chey. Trembling from head to toe, Ral latches onto the grass for dear life before opening his mouth and closing his eyes. Drowning in guilt and feeling like a tooth-stealing monster, I peer into the abyss and recoil in terror at the sight of his cavity riddled molars. “Ral, how often do you brush your teeth?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Opening his eyes with a sheepish grin, Ral shakes his head. “Dun like brushin'. Teef hurt too much.”

“They hurt because you don’t brush them.” Choking off an added ‘idiot’, I poke around his gums and find three loose teeth. Without even using a tool, I yank out a tooth with ease, Ral’s eyes widening in surprise at how painless the process was. Leaving the other offenders in place, I escort him to the Healer and give strict instructions not to fix the other loose teeth so I can pull them the next time we practice Healing.

Ridiculous.

Leaving the trainees and Healers to contemplate the mysteries of Panacea, I summon my next training subject with a whistle. Bounding out of the grass, Aurie stops chasing butterflies and hops to my side, happily accepting his treat. Seeing his specially-made leather leash and harness come out of my pouch, Aurie voices his objection with a loud, “Mwarrrr!”

“I know you don’t like the harness Aurie, but this is training. Bear with it.” Ignoring my infallible logic, Aurie flops to his belly and resists my efforts to harness him, grumbling the whole while. I had this wild idea to teach him to stick close to my side, worried what might happen if we were ever caught in battle. I can’t always spare warriors to escort and guard my pets during battle, and if the poor sweetlings get scared and run off, I might not have time to look for them either. To this end, I figured the sweet, pliable Aurie would be easiest to teach, so he’s my beta tester before moving onto my problem kittens, Jimjam and Sarankho.

Bears should be easy to train, right?

Despite standing eighty centimetres tall at the shoulders, Aurie is still nowhere near as large as his pony-sized mother (Rest in Peace). At one and a half years old, he should be more or less at his natural size, which means his deceased mommy was both really old and capable of manipulating Chi. I don’t know why, but animals who can use Chi grow to ridiculous sizes, it’s just what they do. I assume it’s because they, being animals, equate size with power and instinctively bulk up, but I could be wrong. Either way, I want Aurie to live a nice, long life, which means I need to teach him to channel Chi and obey my commands regardless of what’s happening around us.

Plus, if he gets big enough, I have a wildcat mount. How awesome is that?

Careful never to respond negatively, I try to distract Aurie from the leash with food and games with zero success. Within minutes, the tough leather leash is in tatters as Aurie rolls around in the grass, trying to dislodge his harness. Note to self: start while they’re younger. I should have rope or cloth harnesses made for the bears so they can get them used to wearing them. After half an hour of getting nowhere, I give in and remove the harness. Free at last, Aurie tilts his head and makes little noises to gauge my mood, sensing my displeasure. Grabbing him by the head, I vigorously rub his cheeks and give him a kiss on the nose, feeling all my frustrations melt away. “Dammit Aurie, you’re too cute, but I need you to be a good cat. Can’t you see I’m trying to keep you safe?”

“Mrwah.”

“You need to live long enough to keep Lin and Mila company after I croak. I’ve only got hundred odd years left in me, but if you’re smart and strong enough, you’ll outlive us all. Got it?”

“Myarh.”

“I don’t need you to fight, but when shit hits the fan, you need to know how to look after yourself, yea?

“Mwarr.”

“You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”

“Myawp.”

His furry head resting in my hands, my grinning kitten looks relaxed and carefree as can be. I wish he could stay this happy forever, but we live in a cruel, man-eat-cat world. Maybe I should get him a colourful vest to make it more obvious he’s a pet. Wouldn’t want a random hunter shooting him for his pretty golden pelt. A hat too, something to make him look friendlier so strangers stop screaming when he tries to greet them. My poor fur-baby just wants to say hi and maybe a taste of whatever you’re eating, he’s harmless. Whatever, we’ll try the harness again tomorrow with a chain leash. If he can claw through that then at least I'll rest easier knowing he can Hone.

Hmm... Animals don’t use Spiritual Weapons because they have natural weapons, claws, fangs, hooves, etc. In fact, humans make Spiritual Weapons from those same body parts, macabre though it may be. Technically, it should be possible to Hone my teeth or nails in the same way. Is it worth practising? Probably not, but it’s worth thinking about. If I can make my teeth into Spiritual Hearts, pull them out, and regrow them, then wouldn’t I have an infinite number of Spiritual Hearts?

...It’s possible I’ve developed an unhealthy obsession with gathering teeth.

It wouldn’t work anyways, it takes animals hundreds of years to form Spiritual Hearts and there’s no guarantee the regrown teeth will also be Hearts. Oh well.

Coaxing Aurie to follow behind, I run him through the hastily built obstacle course, a familiar sight to Jorani and his bunch. Bulat and Ravil crafted something similar at the Freebooter Hideout and it’s useful for practising a multitude of skills. Lightening to get over the wall, Stability to traverse the balance beam, Reinforcement to move the boulders, and other exercises based on Du Min Gyu’s theory of instinct over knowledge. Since everyone manipulates Chi in different ways, the idea is to have the soldier first learn to use Chi instinctively before discovering how they use it and working from there.

Splitting my time between the trainees and Aurie, our first day of training stretches on longer than intended. The trainees are slow at everything and my sub-bosses aren’t used to their new roles. While Bulat and Ravil are comfortable being bully sergeants, Rustram, Chey, and Jorani have yet to adjust and I need them to step up, especially Rustram.

So bothersome. How does Akanai stomach all the inadequacies and mediocrity? I should give her a few more gifts to show my appreciation.

I can’t spend all my time coddling the rank and file, I need time to myself. Not only for personal training, there are a thousand and one tasks I’ve yet to finish. I need to figure out the finances and decide who’s getting Spiritual Weapons first. I also need to decide if I want to buy horses, since there’s no way we’ll have enough quins for everyone. Then there’s the ideas I have for my next Spiritual Weapon, but I haven’t had the time to talk with Mila and Husolt about it. I still haven’t finished checking all the soldiers for Defiled or Tainted, though I’ve found none of the former and remarkably few of the latter. Normally, this would be great news, but after learning what those sweet Spectral remains are, I’ve been hungering for more of that sweet, Heavenly Energy. Unfortunately, I barely have enough to fill the gaps between my teeth, gathering a negligible amount in the past few days.

I was hoping to channel some pure Heavenly Energy into Sarnai and see if Taduk can do anything with it, but at the rate I’m going, she’ll die of old age before I gather enough. It feels shitty to think it, but hopefully, the slaves I asked Lin to buy will be more Tainted than the soldiers. Soldiers are trained to seek Balance, offsetting the effectiveness of the Spectres, but untrained slaves should be vulnerable and defenceless. Honestly, knowing what they know, the Empire should treat their slaves better seeing as how any random mook like Gen can turn into a face-melting, claw-wielding maniac.

I am not jealous of his claws. Not even a little.

...Fine, I’m super jealous, but anything he can do, I can do too. Better, in fact. I’ll have my bear claws even if I have to graft them on myself.

The setting sun finds us well behind schedule and I’ve no choice but send everyone home. The ‘train high, live low’ spiel is complete bullshit, but these pukes need to toughen up. Running is mostly willpower, of which my trainees are sorely lacking. Dastan’s bunch should be fine but even Ulfsaar and his intimidating cutthroats could barely keep up. Even if we cut the running time to four hours one way, we’re still wasting a third of the day on travelling to and from camp. Thirty kilometres in two hours, that’s the goal. As long as I give them an hour of rest before and after running and feed them well, they’ll be fine, right?

The moon hangs high overhead when we step foot into the tent-infested city. Utterly exhausted, the trainees crawl back to their sleeping quarters while I remind them of tomorrow’s meeting time, pretending not to hear their mumbled profanities. I don’t want to actually hang anyone, but I will cut them from the training program if need be. Can’t waste time and resources training people who don’t want to be trained. Ugh, there’s still Jester Wang and a hundred of his people back on the Island. I left Pran, Saluk, Viyan and Birca there to keep an eye on him, and Jochi and Argat volunteered to stay behind to supervise, so hopefully they won’t slack off and can get those bandits into shape. Maybe I should send Ravil or Bulat back too, but I need them here. Dammit, so much to do with so little time, and with winter on its way the days are only getting shorter.

At least the housing problem is more or less solved, the leather yurts coming in clutch. One small victory under my belt, though credit mostly goes to Chakha for parsing my shabby description together. With a small spring in my step, I notice the city is surprisingly active for the late hour, with people still moving around in the streets. Guess I’m not the only busy one with everyone scrambling to get the defences in place.

Outside my tent, Alsantset and Charok sit side by side, apparently awaiting my return. Keeping my voice low so as not to wake the twins, I whisper, “Good to see you both, but you shouldn’t have waited up. You both look exhausted.”

“Have a seat, little brother.” Charok’s grim tone makes my heart skip a beat, and I obey without question. Wrapping his arm around me, he sighs and whispers, “Grave news arrived while you were out. The Defiled have broken through the Western Wall, with millions of their warriors pouring into the province. The missive is weeks old and already three cities have fallen. Who knows how far the destruction has spread.”

Cold dread grips my stomach as I swallow my fear, knowing just how close the North was in sharing their fate. “So what’s the game plan? Gather an army and fight back?” Guess I had less time than expected. Off to join the crusade and reclaim the west.

Shaking his head, Charok can’t speak through his rage so Alsantset answers for him. “The borders have been ordered closed with no refugees allowed to pass,” she says, a tear falling from her eye. “Those poor souls have been abandoned. Henceforth, the Empire no longer has a Western Province.”

...

With a single order from one man, hundreds of millions of lives have been consigned to death.

What use is an Emperor who cannot protect his people?

Chapter Meme