Chapter 2 – Training for the Future
I look at the ceiling I’ve seen since I was a child every morning. It used to be in better shape, but with the torrential rains of recent years, the wood has aged faster than expected. The beam, also made of wood, is slightly crooked, with a few spots of decay. “I think Father might ask me to help replace the boards soon so we can have a peaceful winter.”
"Wuitt, wake up and come here. It’s time for breakfast, and you need to eat to stay strong and eventually replace your father as lord of the city.” As she said that, I dragged myself out of bed and to the table. She served me a little bowl of soup, placed it in front of me, and said, “Eat while it’s hot.”
I carefully picked up the little bowl and started sipping the soup until it cooled. My mother watched me eat with a smile. Feeling a bit self-conscious under her gaze, I sped up to finish quickly. After I finished, she got up and said, “Change your clothes quickly; your father is waiting for you in the training field.” Hearing this, I hurried back to my room, changed, grabbed my helmet, sword, and shield, and she walked with me to the training center to meet my father. Walking through the city, I saw my friends running along the road, talking loudly and laughing.
“Mother, why can’t I have as much fun as they do? I know I’ll have to take Father’s place, but I wish I could also have time to enjoy myself like they do.”
My mother looked at me first with love in her eyes but then turned serious as she said, “We are nobles, even if of the lowest rank. We still have to act above others, and you, in the future, will be the one to manage and care for this city. Your orders will be final, even though we are as far from the kingdom’s center as can be. We must act with proper conduct.” With that, she quickened her pace, and I struggled to keep up.
After passing a few soldiers and some houses that looked more worn down than ours, I saw the stone building always guarded by six men—the armory. To the left, I spotted my father waiting in the middle of the training field. I walked over to him, and he put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. “I see you’re more enthusiastic about training today.”
I looked into his eyes and replied, “I’d rather be out there having fun with the others.”
“Obey your father,” my mother said, looking at me with a stern expression. Then, she walked toward my father, gave him a kiss, and said, “I brought your lunch, dear. I hope you like it.”
“It’s always wonderful; after all, everything you make is.” My mother gave a big smile and flicked my father’s forehead, “Get back to your duties, dear; we’ll talk more tonight,” she said with a wink and a smile, her cheeks slightly red. I pretended not to be there anymore, watching the high walls and the guard rotations on the watchtowers, the dark green-dyed leather armor contrasting with the morning sun. “I wish I could wear armor like that.”
When I turned my attention back to my parents, I saw my father smiling and saying, “Now I’m eager to come back home.” And my mother replied, “Take all the time you need for work.”
“Alright, I need to check the food supplies; it might take a while. And you, Wuitt, what are you doing standing there? Start running, now!” He pushed me by the head and pointed to the field. I had the pleasure of hearing his voice behind me as I started running: “I’m in a good mood today, so you’ll just have to run until you drop. When you fall, pick up a wooden sword and hit that scarecrow. When your arms can’t lift anymore, start running again. Do that four times today, and after that, I think we can have a real sword fight so you get used to the weight.” And so I started running.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Hours later, on my fourth attempt when I could barely move a muscle and was covered in sweat, my father gave me a moment to rest while calling one of the guardsmen to train with me.
After a bit of rest, my father brought one of the men, and we positioned ourselves face-to-face. He looked at me and chuckled. I charged with my best attempt to hit him, but he deflected my sword and hit me on the head with his shield. I heard his voice: “Kid, strength and speed aren’t all that matter in a fight; you lack technique and experience.”
Recovering from the blow, I advanced again, more prepared this time. He sidestepped and dodged my sword, hitting me once on the back of the knee, making me fall, and landing another blow on my shoulder, which left me in pain for several seconds. As I tried to ignore the pain, I felt a hit on the back of my head and heard my father’s strong voice.
“Stubborn boy, get up! No matter the pain, the situation, or whatever happens, you’ll get up to stay alive. If you give up, you’ll die. If you pass out, you’ll die. If you succumb to anger or pain, you’ll surely die. Your duty to me and your family is to survive. Do you understand, boy? Be strong, fight with strength and intelligence, and never lose your life. You may lose everything else, but everything can be rebuilt unless you give up or submit.”
Even hearing that, I couldn’t muster the strength to move, and I heard a “pathetic” from my father, and footsteps echoed in the sand, approaching me. I felt someone kneel beside me, close to my ear, and then a shout so loud it shook my soul.
“GET UP, GRAB YOUR SWORD, AND FIGHT UNTIL YOU HAVE NO STRENGTH TO THINK. GET UP AND USE YOUR HEAD, GET UP AND WIN, WUITT!” Then he moved away again.
Hearing that, I felt I found every last drop of energy in me. I forced myself to my knees and began rising with strength I didn’t have anymore. Or at least that’s what I imagined, as I failed and couldn’t stand. My opponent approached, and I looked around, seeking something or someone to help, but all I saw were sand, stones, and my father watching with bright eyes, expecting me to do something to lead to victory. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I grabbed the ground and my sword, waiting for the soldier to come closer, trying to ease the pain in all my muscles. The sun was in my eyes behind my enemy, red in the late day. Shadows stretched out, and I felt sweat run down my body. When he was close enough, I threw sand at him, hoping to hit his eyes. He reflexively raised his shield, and I rolled to his side. When he looked at me, he was half-blinded by the sun, and I struck him as hard as I could, hitting him low, making him kneel and fall in pain. I collapsed next to him, too weak to breathe properly.
‘That scream probably echoed across the city,’ I thought. I heard applause and my father’s voice: “You’re alive, and your enemy is incapacitated beside you. There’s no one else around, so today, you won and came home whole.”
A memory hit me then.
“Stop running, Wuitt. Get inside now; it’s raining, and you’ll get sick.” I kept running through the storm until I slipped in the mud and hit the ground. My mother saw, ran to me, took me inside, gave me a scolding, and threw me into hot water. I never did anything like that again and caught a fever that left me in bed for three weeks, shivering and sweating. I survived but suffered for weeks. ‘Mental note: just because I’m home doesn’t mean I’m safe.’
My father pulled me from my memories, hoisting me onto his shoulders and dragging me home, and then went to address the food shortages.
This training routine lasted a few years until the day before my journey to the capital, where I would train with the royal guard to learn the ways of knights and the art of war, to be worthy of my future position.