The next day passes much the same, the group of recruits following the wagon as Albatos lectures us about the subtleties of magic. That day's lecture focused on mana to mass conversions.

In simple terms, mana could be used to create physical mass, like earth magic. But unless you maintained the spell for a long period of time to solidify it in reality it would dissipate back into mana. The alternative to this was to pour a boatload of mana into the spell, but it wasn't recommended because of how easy it is to drain yourself dry.

The fact that mana could create physical mass that actually sticks around was concerning in a way. In my previous world, it was a rule as unshakable as the earth that matter could not be created or destroyed. And yet here I was casually told it's fine to just create something from nothing. It again made me wonder about the laws that governed this universe, but I know I'll probably never get answers to those questions.

As a side note it was highly stressed to us that unless we were willing to expend the mana to cement it in reality, we should never use magic to give ourselves food or water. Evidently you could really fuck yourself up by cutting off mana early to a spell you had used to give yourself drinking water several hours earlier.

When we stopped that night we were told to gather and await further instructions. So here we stood, in a group murmuring to each other.

Albatos returned to us leading a group of veterans, all bearing different looks. Some had a decent amount of flair and were looking over us with an inquisitive eye, while others wore equipment that looked decades old and stared at us with disinterest.

"Today, cadets, we begin your physical training. I'll be pairing each of you up with an experienced member of the company who will be in charge of whipping you into shape."

Albatos started pairing veterans and cadets together, and the newly assembled pairs wandered off to start individual activities.

As the pool of available veterans started to slim I got a sinking feeling in my gut. There was this one guy in the back who had the aura of somebody you would expect to have been in and out of prison at least a few times. His crooked smile revealed equally crooked teeth and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed or shaved in months.

So as I watched Albatos pair off all the normal looking mercenaries, I knew he was saving the worst of the bunch just for me.

Sure enough, eventually all the other recruits were paired off and it was just the three of us remaining. Albatos walked close to me and said in my ear, "I thought long and hard about who would pair nicely with a thief."

"Oi, Albatos. Wait up a minute." Zeph walked over and grabbed Albatos by the shoulder. "If you're pairing them up then Stein needs to go with Arim."

"Arim has more important duties than training inexperienced whelps. Why pull him away from his other duties?"

"Cause."

"What? That isn't a reason, Zeph."

"Then how about trust? Unless we've run out of that somewhere along the way."

Albatos' expression softens, "That's cruel, Zeph."

There's a moment of silence before Zeph responds, "Yeah, it was. Sorry."

Zeph motions at me, "Come on, kid. I'll introduce you to your new mentor." As we walk off together I vaguely hear that gross man ask Albatos what now.

Well, that's one bullet dodged.

Zeph guides me to a tent located at the edge of the camp where a man sits alone, sharpening a curved sword. "Arim," Zeph calls out, "I'd like you to teach one of the new recruits."

The man stops sharpening his sword and lays it across his lap, "Hm? How come? I'm in the middle of teaching Jakob how to defend against an axe. It'll throw off his training if you pull me away."

In all honesty, my first impressions of Arim aren't much better than the man Albatos had tried to pair me with. His clothes were tattered, his hair was wild and unkempt, and he had bags under his eyes deeper than any I had ever seen. What set the impression I got from him apart was the state of the sword he had resting on his lap. Covered in scratches and dents, it looked like it could have weathered several tumbles off a mountain. Yet despite that it was perfectly clean and shone with what seemed like a razor sharp edge.

"This kid's got some unique circumstances that I think you'll find interesting." Zeph then filled Arim in on my amnesia and that it seemed like I had known the djudirian flow style of swordsmanship.

"Djudirian flow? That style of swordsmanship is obscure at best. Even I only know the basics of it. How sure are you that you pegged it right? Some of the nomadic tribes in Kyltalia use a pretty similar style. It seems a lot more likely that's what it was, considering Djudiria is half a world away."

"I knew somebody who was close to mastering it back home. His movements were the same, I'm sure of it. I'd like you to try and see if you can draw it back out of him while putting him through the usual paces."

Arim frowns at him, "What's the angle, Zeph? Even if the kid did know djudirian flow, why stick him to me? You know half the camp is already coming to me for lessons. Wouldn't we be able to more effectively raise our fighting strength if everyone is properly trained instead of making me focus on a single recruit?"

"I know it's a weird ask. If you don't want to, I won't force you to."

"It's fine. At this point, I think we're all used to you keeping secrets."

"Sorry. I'll leave him to you then," And Zeph takes his leave.

Arim stands up and sheaths his sword. "What's your name, son?"

"Stein."

Arim paces around me, looking me over. "You're skinny. Why?"

"I haven't eaten very well for the past few weeks. Why ask?"

"You won't be able to train properly if you're underweight. I'll talk with Nika and get some extra rations for you. Let's start with something simple. Drop and give me 100 pushups."

"Right now?"

Arim raises his eyebrow at me. I drop to the ground and start doing pushups.

Thankfully my muscles are pretty toned, so pushups don't feel that hard. I start to feel the fatigue set in only a quarter of the way through, then reach my limit at 76. "I can't do anymore," I say, breathing heavily.

"Are you reinforcing properly?" Arim asks, eating a fruit off to the side.

"What does reinforcement have to do with pushups."

"Reinforce your arms and keep going."

I don't understand what he means, but I know there's no point arguing. I feed mana into my arms and try to do another pushup. To my surprise, it comes easily, despite the burning pain I still feel in my arms. I go through the remaining 20 or so and by the time I'm done my arms feel like they're on fire.

Next is sprints, in which Arim has me do more reinforcement. This presents a significant challenge since I have to reinforce my legs and my core at the same time or they fall out of balance and the fatigue slows me down. By the time I'm done with that both my legs and my arms have locked up in cramps and I'm left on the ground in agony.

"All right, what have we learned?"

I find it hard to answer the question while contending with the burning pain in my limbs. "If you use reinforcement you can push past your limits, but you'll still accumulate fatigue while doing so."

"You'll actually accumulate more fatigue if you don't figure out how to optimize your reinforcement. You'll figure it out as we go on. Go get some food and have Nika heal you. When you're done, set your tent up near mine and we'll continue."

I did as instructed, and as I ate my food with an extra helping I noticed that the other recruits occasionally shambled with similar cases of extreme cramping in the arms and legs. The fact that healing magic could heal something like fatigue was fascinating.

After I finished I went and set my tent up, wondering why Arim's tent seemed to be set up so far away from the others. I didn't have very long to ponder the question as I was subjected to more hellish PT.

The rest of the night was mostly focused on upper body strengthening, apparently we would work on cardio on the road tomorrow. With once again aching muscles I settle down in my tent for the night and fall asleep.

******

After a night of little sleep, we set out back on the road. Unlike the first two days, we recruits are left in the care of our personal trainers. So for me, that means running up and down the length of the convoy. All day long.

At midday, I was given a reprieve and spent my lunch hanging out with Bodelee.

"Heya, Stein. How's it going? Heard you got paired up with Arim. You getting along well enough?" Bodelee jovially starts up the conversation, walking alongside me as we both eat the rations Nika had handed out.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Yeah, he's not as bad of a guy as his appearance makes him seem. I just wish I had been able to get more than a little bit of sleep last night."

Bodelee gives a sad smile, "Yeah, I can imagine. I don't envy you on that front."

Last night I had been awoken by screams. At first, I had thought the camp must be under attack, but they turned out to be coming from the tent beside mine. It made sense then why Arim had set up his tent so far away from the rest of the camp.

"Has he always been like that?"

"So far as I know. I'm pretty sure he was one of the founders of our little company, with Zeph and Albatos. I once heard he used to be a knight, and is a master of most of the known fighting styles. Anytime somebody wants to be taught something they go to him, though usually there's a waiting list. His skill is in demand that much."

"Huh. Should I consider myself lucky he's the one teaching me?"

Bodelee shrugged, "Maybe. I know he'll push you way harder than any of the others. Most of us don't care for the teaching role, so it's usually done pretty half-assed. I think the other mentors saw that Arim is pushing you to the limit and didn't want to be outdone."

"Great."

"Training is never fun, but it'll be worth it if it keeps you alive."

I sighed, "True, I can't argue against that."

After that, I was called away and resumed my extreme cardio.

******

When we stopped to make camp for the night I was expecting another session of PT, but instead, Arim decided we'd start work on training.

We sat on logs facing each other and he asked me, "Stein, what do you think is the most powerful weapon on the battlefield?"

I couldn't remember ever hearing a more obvious trick question, "The mind I suppose? Outsmart your opponents and all that."

"Okay, that wasn't really what I meant, though you're not wrong. Other than your mind, what's the strongest weapon you could have?"

"A gun."

Arim chuckles, "Your body. Reinforcement can overcome most limitations. And when your weapons break or run out of ammunition it's important to remember you can usually punch your way out of a situation. So before we start with the sword we'll be going through basic hand to hand combat."

"Aren't we supposed to be a company of mages? It seems odd to me that I'll be training in the sword as a mage. I've always thought of mages as backline support who would use magic to bombard the enemy and support allies." In my mind I saw a wizened old man in flowing robes with a gnarled staff.

"That's an old preconception. In the days of the Summoning War that was what mages were relegated to. But once the war was over and people started fighting each other, it didn't really work the same. Once anti-magic area became more widespread, mages had to adapt and advance. Mages realized magic alone was no longer effective, but with their experience using mana, reinforcement came as almost second nature. From there, projections and domains emerged, and sorcerers became the strongest fighters to walk the fields of war."

Arim sighed, "We've gotten off track. The point is, weapons can be broken and magic can be countered. So the thing you should be most familiar with is what you can do without those things."

For the rest of that night I worked on hand to hand combat. By the end of the night I could feel the familiar motions of training in my old life finally coming back to me. I wish they had come back a lot sooner, but I guess that's to be expected when I was several years out of practice. So better late than never.

******

The rest of that week became a hazy blur. It was an almost constant alternation between reinforcement PT, hand to hand combat, and magic lessons on the road. On the days we had magic lessons Albatos would sometimes force me to read aloud from the magic book as we marched during the day.

Perhaps the only thing particularly noteworthy that happened that week was I learned how to get my magic to go at a speed at which it could actually be considered an attack.

Turns out when you imagine moving something with magic the default applied concept is usually the idea of picking said thing up and moving it around by hand. To get stuff to go faster you had to get more creative with the applied concepts. For example instead of simply carrying something around you could throw it instead.

The recommended concept to apply to something meant to be an attack was thinking of it like an arrow shot from a bow. I thought it would be more effective to think of it coming from a firearm but with that concept came additional concepts like barrel length, powder used, and recoil. Having a bunch of concepts like that which could be poorly understood made a spell unpredictable and unreliable.

So in the end, thinking of your spell as an arrow shot from a bow was simple and optimal. We had group archery training that evening just so we could better our understanding of the concept. When I asked what to do if the spell we wanted to use was bigger than the size of an arrow I was told to imagine a bigger bow. Since the bow was imaginary its size didn't really matter.

******

It was about a week and a half after we departed that something interesting happened.

It was a PT day, and I was in the middle of doing my reinforced laps up and down the length of the caravan when a full stop was called. I saw Zeph moving toward the stagecoach used by the caravan master and decided to follow from a distance.

You know, if a full stop was called, I'm pretty sure it applies to the entire convoy. Including the recruits having to do nonstop running. Yeah, that's the excuse I think I'll go with.

I wasn't the only one who noticed the leader of the band moving to speak to the caravan master, and a small crowd gathered around the stagecoach as workers and mercenaries alike listened in on the reason we had stopped.

The caravan master met Zeph with a look of serious concern on his face, "Well, what is it? Are we under attack?"

"No, the stretch of road we're on right now has brought us close to the northern sea. Close enough my scouts can see the coastline. One of them reports that there's a wreck less than half a league north of us."

"Okay, what of it? Do I need to remind you we're on a schedule here? We can't just stop to look at any curiosity that catches the eye. I'm sure there will be many more wrecks, it is the northern coast after all."

"Respectfully, I think this is worth a look. We passed this same route less than two months ago, so we generally know where most of the wrecks are. This one is new, it wasn't here the last time we passed by. With your permission, I would like to temporarily halt to investigate. If nothing else we can look for surviving records to give to the guild to take proper measures."

"I don't care about taking proper measures with a wreck that has nothing to do with me!"

"Sir, it would also give us a chance to check for survivors. Please, sir. Have some compassion. At least let us stop for an hour or two to check the surrounding area."

Hearing that, the caravan master felt the eyes of everyone in the crowd that had gathered focus on him. Under the weight of those stares he caved. "Fine. Go have a look if you must, but you better make sure not to leave any blind spots here. Don't forget what I hired you for." And with that, he stomps off.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to find Arim. "I was wondering why you hadn't completed lap 68 yet. Since you choose to listen in on our leaders' conversation instead of doing what I ordered you to do, mind at least filling me in on what's going on?"

As I fill him in, groups of people start breaking off from the convoy heading north towards the coast. I can't see the coast from here though, there's a ridge with scattered trees and bushes blocking the view.

After I finish telling Arim what I heard, I ask, "So do our scouts run around in front of the convoy? I'm just wondering how they saw that wreck when I didn't even realize we were so close to the coast."

"Ah, most scout mages usually use spells that let them get a bird's eye view above them. So despite us being unable to see it from here, I bet it was quite obvious to them. Anyway, if you'd like to go check it out as well I won't stop you."

Surprised and slightly suspicious, I ask, "What's the catch?"

Arim gives an attempt at a sarcastically kind smile that comes off looking more creepy than anything on his tired and unkempt face, "We'll just add all the laps you miss today onto tomorrows to do list."

Wonderful.

Arim waves me off and I head northward over the ridge toward the coastline. Reaching the other side of the trees and shrubbery, I see the coast is entirely stone, the rocky beach a jagged mess of crashing waves on half eroded shore.

I'm just glad it's not another sandy beach.

A ways to my right I see the ship, what looks to be a galleon, impaled on a stone spire a little ways off the coast. Along the beach there's piles of driftwood and other assorted garbage washed up from the sea.

I head over to get a closer look at the ship perched on its unnatural resting place. As I approach I feel a strange sense of deja vu, though I'm not sure why.

Looking among the caravaneers and mercenaries that hadn't had anything better to do than come look at the wreck I spot Bodelee and his brother talking to each other. Seeing me, Bodelee waves me over.

As I approach, Bodelee asks, "Stein, how exactly do ya think the ship got stuck like that?"

"I dunno, maybe they came too close to shore and a wave carried them up onto the spike, impaling them?"

Bodelin spoke up, "No, couldn't be. Look near the back of the ship, no way could that thing have still been sailing when it got up there."

Looking where he indicated I saw there was a sizable portion of the ship that looked like it had been cleaved through. Burn marks ran all the way down the side of the ship where it had been partially dissected.

"What the hell happened there? What kind of weapon cuts a ship to shreds like that?"

Bodelin answers, "No weapon I know of, that's for sure. Had to 'ave been the Terror."

"The Terror?"

Bodelee cuts in, "You haven't heard of the Terror of the northern seas, even though you came from Hornhaven?"

"Nope."

Bodelin elaborates, "The Terror's been around for about as long as anyone can remember, though nobody is quite sure exactly what it is. Some say it's a primal, some say it's an ancient creature left by Bymos in the summoning war to make sure nothing can reach past the northern sea."

"A primal?"

Bodelee says, "A creature of mana, biggest there is. They're like concepts given life, they are. They're also the nastiest buggers around. A fleet was once sent out to try and subdue the Terror, and all they got back was driftwood."

Bodelin continues where he left off, "That damn thing sure has been active lately. I was pretty sure sailors knew the boundary line well enough by now, but this is the second fresh wreck we've found in the span of two months."

"There was another? I thought this was the first?"

"You wouldn't know, we came across it on our way into Hornhaven. Oh, here comes our leader and tactician." Sure enough, Zeph and Albatos were making their way over to us.

"You lot found anything remotely useful?" Albatos asks.

Bodelin gives an overly dramatic salute, "Not a damn thing, sir!"

"It'd be nice if we could at least identify the ship, but with it stuck on that rock out there I don't think sending anyone to investigate would be worth the risk." Zeph muses.

"We have any idea what the cargo was?" Bodelee asks.

Albatos sighs, "Seems like it was mostly food, judging from the fact that all the washed up crates only seem to have rotted cargo."

His words jog my memory and I look at the ship a bit closer. "Isn't that the galleon we briefly visited, Albatos?"

He looks at the ship with an analytical eye, "Yes, I do believe you might be correct."

"Great." Zeph takes a seat on a rock, "Now that we know what it is, even if we don't know the name, we at least know where it came from and roughly when. I took a look around but I don't think there are any survivors. And since there isn't anything worth taking I think we had best just move on."

"Oh, at least give us a few more minutes," Bodelin complains.

"Why?"

"Look at the thing. Doesn't it make a pretty sight, propped up against the horizon like it is?"

He had a point. The sight of the mangled ship made for a scenic view with the horizon in the background. Our group spent a minute more taking in the sight before Zeph gave out orders to round the caravaneers back up so we could continue.