A series of images flooded through Reuben’s mind. Scenes of men being torn in two, followed by wave after wave of fear filling up his soul, sounds of destruction, sensations of agonizing pain. He wanted to scream at it to stop, to get away from him, to leave him alone, to finally make it all go away. Yet he couldn’t. No matter what he did he was trapped, helpless. Somewhere in the distance he heard a scream- one he recognized. The same one constantly haunting him. He knew that voice it was-

A loud gasp filled the quiet shack as Reuben’s eyes shot open and he launched himself into a seated position. As sweat dripped down his forehead and his heart raced, he felt the memories of the nightmare quickly fading from his vision. Within seconds he had no idea what had woken him and soon the feelings of unease dispersed completely. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to sleep once more.

While he drifted off, Reuben’s ears became aware of the dull snoring on the other side of the shack. Once again he was reminded of the wager he had made with the brutish sorcerer. One month. That was all he had to beat Greyson, a Greyson who was no longer holding back. Reuben couldn’t help but feel his face burn every time he realized for the last month he had been fighting nothing but a shadow of Greyson’s true strength. It made him realize just how little he had actually progressed despite all his hard work.

He tried to reassure himself that he would still continue to get stronger. That he would see the guards everyday and train with him, that Jacobs would be helping him progress as fast as possible. Still the lump in his throat persisted and the feeling of unease wouldn’t go away.

Despite the tension and anxiety plaguing him, soon exhaustion took over and he drifted to sleep once again.

The next time Reuben woke up it was from the Sun shining through the various holes and cracks that lined the shacks walls and ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes it was always a gamble if he'd wake up gently or seized by terror, so he always appreciated the kinder awakenings. His eyes softly fluttered open and he looked over to see Greyson sat in front of the table and helping himself to food he had procured from the market yesterday. Reuben noticed it was more food then he had ever bought before, and of much nicer quality. He couldn't help but wonder if this was a genuine sign of good fortune in his favor or an official sendoff for their upcoming fight.

Getting out of bed, Reuben walked over the table and sat down. Greyson said nothing to him at first, but when he reached for a piece of honey dipped bread, Greyson roughly smacked his hand away/

“I’m not feeding you anymore, boy. You belong to the barracks now as far as I’m concerned. As a matter of fact, you can find yourself a bed over there too,” Greyson explained, pulling his pile of food as close to him as possible.

A wave of irritation came over Reuben at the sorcerer's selfishness and malice. Still he couldn't be surprised at this point, yet he was still disappointed and a little distraught. It meant the sorcerer had already accepted giving him off to someone else, that Reuben truly meant nothing to him anymore. Not only that but he was indulging in pettiness by eating this hoard of delicious rich food in front of him. Some of it Reuben had never even seen before and the smell made his mouth water. Damn that old bastard.

Determined not to give into such a trivial tactic, Reuben scowled and said, “Fine. I’ll go somewhere with actual hot meals and a shelter that doesn’t get me wet every time it rains.” He quickly began packing his bags and preparing to leave, something Greyson paid no attention to.

Before Reuben swung the wooden door open, he turned and asked, “Why did you wait this long to stop holding back anyway? You could have broken my arms on day one or left me outside the town, any number of things. Why wait this long to finally put your foot down?”

“I could have crushed you the moment we met,” Greyson replied sinisterly. He tore into a piece of meat and swallowed it. “But I didn’t think I’d need to. At first I figured you’d give up right away. Between the running and beating, I thought you'd go home crying, but then you didn’t. So I had another plan, a much more enjoyable one.”

Reuben asked, “And what was it?”

Smiling like a foul monster, Greyson said, “I figured I’d actually let you gather a bit of steam. Then once you thought you had made it somewhere, had this nice bundle of confidence built up, I could finally shatter it. I figured why break your body then when I could break your spirit later?”

“But you didn’t break my spirit,” Reuben replied, without a second's hesitation. He wouldn't be dominated in the conversation. “All you've done is show me that once again I can get back up regardless of what you do. So now I’m going to train more until I can truly beat you. No, you haven’t done anything to keep me down. Not at all.”

With a shrug, Greyson said, “You are right about that, As annoying as it is to admit, I didn’t break your spirit, yet. So that’s why I’m letting you nurture it a bit more. I’ll give you your month to train, to spar with the bumbling idiots at the barracks, and then? Oh... then... Reuben, I am going to crush you. I’m not trying to wait you out, or exhaust you anymore. To hope that you finally let go of your delusional fantasies. This time I’m going to let you do everything you can to make yourself feel big and strong- and then I’m going to get rid of you for good. I'll ensure you never bother me ever again.”

He stammered, “W-wait… do you mean…?” There was a wave of discomfort that overcame Reuben. Did Greyson intend to kill him? No… there was no way. If Greyson was going to do that he would just do it right then and there. Still, a lifetime of being a paralyzed cripple may not have been outside the realm of his viciousness.

“See you in a month,” Greyson replied quietly, ignoring his questioning. “Now get out of my house.”

When Reuben arrived at the barracks, he was still shaken up. Whatever Greyson intended to do to him when they met again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to recover. He still didn’t believe the sorcerer would kill him, but he could envision a dozen broken bones, a coma, any number of horrific life changing injuries.

He could give up. He could run. He could become a guard. He could do any number of things to get out of it. Guarantee his safety in the town walls, behind the protection of the guards and train under them.

Then he remembered just how safe his village had been. Even with the wooden walls lining the town he doubted it would fair much better if something ever truly attacked. No… he had to fight. He had made the wager, he had come here, he had spent a month trying to progress and get stronger. What was one more month? It didn’t matter what was waiting at the end of it. He would… No, he had to be strong enough for it.

Entering the big wooden building he was greeted with the sight of men still in their night clothes lounging around food and drink. He quickly shuffled over to the table and sat himself down. Again no one said anything and he sort of wondered why not. He was just a random kid entering their building after all.

Then someone shouted, “Ay it’s the kid who’s gonna kick the sorcerer’s ass!” To which a few people laughed or shouted a hoorah. A few more shouts of appreciation followed by chugging of drinks.

It confused Reuben. As Jacobs heard the commotion and walked over he asked the captain quietly, “Greyson told me he saved some of these people’s lives. Why are they so… excited to see me fight him? Not only that but they’re hoping I’ll win. It makes no sense.”

Jacobs took a seat beside Reuben. He sipped from his own mug then began explaining, “There’s probably only two or three people here who actually served with Greyson. If he told you anything else- well… he’s not the most honest man.”

That caught Reuben’s attention. Despite everything else about the cruel and rough man, he considered him fairly honest. He wondered if he had lied to him about anything else.

“From what I’ve heard,” Jacobs continued, “He was a very harsh commander as well. Not one for socializing or... fun. His constant vigilance and strictness certainly kept his men alive, but damn if they didn’t hate him by the end of their tours. Truth be told though, none of that matters much. That’s in the past. Most people here dislike him now because well… you’ve met him, and so have we.”

Not needing further elaboration, Reuben just said, “Yeah.” Then his stomach growled and he remembered he was at a table full of food. Without another word, Reuben began digging into the food around him.

As Reuben ate, he idly wondered, "Are all sorcerers like that? Mean and imposing?"

While Jacobs was excited that Reuben was asking something, it was something he didn't know much about. He answered honestly, "It's hard to say. I've only ever met three in my life, and they were all... hmm. The one I worked with kept to himself. He only showed himself when there was an attack or something that needed settled. Even when we served together, they still are just... isolated from everyone else in someway."

Reuben asked, "And what about the other one? Besides Greyson?"

"That would be our court sorceress, Felicity. She stays at the top of the hill to assist our lord. I seldom see her except a few times out of the year. I honestly couldn't tell you much about her."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

That was something Reuben had never expected. His eyes widened as he asked, "There's a sorceress in the town? Greyson never mentioned that! Do you think she would be willing to teach me at all?"

Sighing, Jacobs said, "No, she wouldn't. She already is working on raising the town's next sorceress who was hand picked by the lord himself. I'm afraid you have even less of a chance with her than Greyson."

Disappointed, Reuben said nothing and just resumed eating. Despite Jacobs sitting next to him, Reuben said nothing more to him and the captain mostly spoke to his guards the entire time. The few questions he tried afterwards were met with short replies and Jacobs conceded that Reuben still wasn’t the talkative sort unless it benefited his dream somehow.

After the meal ended, Jacobs began walking around the table with a list in his hands. He began, “Reynolds, Smith, Arlington, Winston, all of you are on patrol today. Sort among yourselves who takes up which posts. Everyone else gather on the field for training.”

As soon as Reuben heard that he was on his feet and heading over to the field. Meanwhile four men began walking to the bedrooms and would soon be coming out fully armored.

Once outside, Reuben began heading over to the shed where the poles were kept. He wanted to get started as quickly as possible. He had no time to wait if-

Jacobs called out, “Hold on a moment, lad. We’ve got quite a bit to do first before we go to all of that," which stopped him dead in his tracks.

Reuben was confused. He had come here to train his bladework and fighting. What else could Jacobs possibly have in mind?

As Reubens began walking back over, Jacobs began to explain, “We have a bit of a routine here. We warm up with a job through town- something you’ve missed, but no matter. Then we work on a bit of physical fitness. Something you probably could do with…”

Reuben wanted to object, but even he had to admit he was hardly well built. Despite the hard years of farming and intensive labor, an equal amount of malnutrition had done little to help his physique any. He supposed being physically stronger could go a long way as well.

So instead of sparring, Reuben walked over to a group of guards lined up. They paid him little mind and instead listened to Jacobs as he began issuing a few orders.

With each order the group assumed various movements and Reuben did his best to follow along. They did pushups, squats, situps, and even lined up in front of a pole jammed into a wooden post to pull themselves up. It was exhausting work that Reuben had never exposed himself to before but he did his best to keep up.

Of course he was going against grown men who had no interest in holding back or slowing down for the sake of a young boy’s pride, and he constantly found himself gassed while others continued doing dozens of repetitions on end without fail. Even with the armor they wore did little to slow down their movements and Reuben was further vexed by the difference in physical prowess.

By the end of it, Reuben’s body was sore from the exertion. Had he not been used to sparring when exhausted from his run, he likely would have been done for the day.

“That was a good effort, although I’m sure it didn’t surpass your expectations” Jacobs remarked as Reuben got back on his feet from the push up position. All around him the guards were making their way to the shed to grab their poles and prepare for the next few hours of sparring.

All Reuben would give was, “I’ll do better tomorrow. Now will you help me improve my fighting skills?”

“Aye, of course, that's what we're all out here for after all. We do an hour of drills then an hour of live fighting so you’ll have to wait a bit longer though,” he explained, and seeing Reuben’s face contort with objection, added, “Don’t worry, the drills are still with other people and involve quite a bit of movement. You’ll get your day’s worth by the end of the half hour.”

“Fine,” Reuben said, then headed off to find a pole of his own to use.

It was true, the drills were plenty to occupy himself with. Truth be told, most of the guards didn’t even want to bother working with him, seeing him as too amateur to be worth their time. Despite their earlier cheers for him to beat Greyson, it seemed none of them actually wanted to bother helping him with the task. He ended up working with Jacobs more out of desperation than anything else.

They would spend ten or fifteen minutes on each drill. Hundreds of slashes, thrusts, blocks, parries against the air followed by going against someone. A lot of it focused one person attacking while the other defended for a few minutes before switching. Of course Reuben had no shot at properly getting Jacobs off guard, but damn if he didn’t try his best.

After that they moved to live fighting and Reuben insisted he go into the actual group and move from opponent to opponent like everyone else did. Jacobs sighed and gave in, but warned, “No one break the kid, or I’ll do something to you twice as bad.”

The warning angered Reuben. He was tired of everyone going easy on him or seeing him as less than their full effort. Already the guards didn't want to bother sparring with him and now they'd just be more annoyed at having to handicap themselves.

Yet the bitter truth was that was exactly what he needed. Even when he went all out against the bored guards lazily swinging around their poles, Reuben still struggled. Every swing was blocked and he had to frantically move on the defensive to keep them from reaching him. He wanted to scream. Even when they fought with barely anything he still was too weak.

There were eighteen guards on the field that day. Reuben lost to every single one. Whether it was by a knockdown, points, or blow that would be lethal with real weapons. He had managed to get two hits in total, a pathetic number.

This time Jacobs said nothing, he knew it would only upset the youth further. Instead he rounded up the group and said, “Alright men, let’s move to the next rounds. Drop your poles and get those hands raised! Let's see how we move with ours fists!”

Once again they moved to similar drills and fighting. As they did, Reuben felt a bit melancholy as he thought about the guards themselves. All of them trained everyday, for hours, just to…

The vision of the bloody guards in his village rose up through his mind and he felt ill. He tried to push it away as he helplessly thought of everyone around him torn apart and ripped to pieces. No matter how hard they trained they still could be killed.

Then his mind continued wandering. Despite the guards dying, despite... his brain drifted from the most painful thoughts and he remembered that there was still one man who hadn’t been killed. The man who had taken down the two beasts, who had emerged victorious over them and saved his life. The man who hated him more than anyone else, but a man who he had to beat, who he had to earn the respect of. A man who was going to teach him magic.

So Reuben moved to the field and got back to work, pushing away any thoughts of grief or terror with the visions of Greyson shifting the world around him. Someday he would be capable of just as much- and more.

The rest of the day hadn’t fared much better for Reuben. He got hit over and over, and his record of two strikes only rose to five by the end of it. During dinner he sat alone and felt miserable, and any attempts Jacobs made at talk were met with hostility akin to a pouting child.

So instead he finished his meal and offered, “How about we go out back for a few more rounds?”

“Okay,” was all Reuben said, but by now Jacobs was more than used to such a cold shoulder.

“You’re very strange,” Jacobs commented as their poles smacked together. He pulled back and dodged a blow from Reuben. If he expected a reply he would get done, the boy was entranced in his own combat.

So Jacobs continued, “I’ve seen very few men as possessed by the desire to be perfect- to be the best as you are. It really does interest me what drives you so hard. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me?”

Reuben just said, “It doesn’t matter,” then continued with the duel. There was no reason to get into his past or motivation. Right now he just needed to get a hit in- just one hit. If he could set up-

A gentle thud to his forehead sent him back a few steps and he scowled at his clumsy footwork. He immediately fixed his stance and went back to work.

“What does Greyson think of this whole affair?” Jacobs asked curiously.

Another smack as Reuben managed to block. He pushed forward for a hit, only to be parried and poked. He answered, “Greyson thinks it’s the perfect chance to finally get rid of me. We’ve agreed that if I lose then I give up on having him teach me sorcery.”

It was silly, but Jacobs felt proud of himself anytime he was able to retrieve more than three words from the boy at a given time. Emotionally neutral words at that! Maybe he was making some progress after all.

Always one to push his luck. Jacobs continued and asked, “So what if you do lose? What will you do then?”

“I won’t lose,” Reuben replied, clearly offended. His attacks became a bit more frenzied as he hastened his pace and began moving in closer against his opponent.

Of course Jacobs merely intercepted and countered each attack before pushing him back once more. He said, “Well I’ll certainly do everything I can to prepare you for that fight then. Still, if you do fail-”

“I won’t!”

That was the end of the discussion and they spent their remaining time in silence until it grew too dark to continue. Jacobs looked at the sky slowly turning darker shades of purple and said, “Well I suppose it’s time for you to head home then, isn’t it?”

There was an awkward silence. Reuben had nowhere to go, and he didn’t want to risk sleeping in the exposed town. He knew that even the smallest village could still have a few rotten inhabitants. His certainly had, and they made him the leader.

Yet it was hard, so damn hard to ask- to expose himself as needing help. He let out a deep breath and quickly said, “Greyson kicked me out. He said he won’t help me any longer.”

“I can understand that, actually,” Jacobs replied. “No sense in feeding the enemy, is there? Well, we have a few extra beds in here if you’d like.”

“I would like that,” Reuben admitted hesitantly. He assured himself that it would only be for a month. One month of eating their food, using their beds, relying on them. After that he would never have to again. He would dedicate himself solely to sorcery.

Just one month of training as a guard. Training for the next step.

So he followed Jacobs through the door and to the bedroom at the end of the building. It consisted of several beds stacked against the walls with a bed hanging over them as well. Some men were sleeping, some were reading, while others socialized and played cards with one another.

“I don’t suppose you enjoy card games, do you?” Jacobs asked, hoping to help Reuben warm up to some of the other guards.

“I don’t,” Reuben replied sharply. He wasn’t there to play games or make friends. Not only that but… god damn he was tired. The beds around him looked very comfortable, much more than the floor he had been sleeping on for weeks.

Rather than try and get him to mingle, Jacobs just gestured towards an empty bed. Reuben didn’t need to be told twice. He fell into it as much as he actually laid down and had fallen asleep in seconds despite the laughter and roaring of drunken men around him.