Chapter Seven:
Maybe I’m Just Tired
Dmitri
The battle arena was something thought only to be real in dreams.
Compared to our remedial equipment at the academies, this was an entirely new experience that true soldiers could only be excited about. Each section of the castle’s personal arena was designed to house tactical training in the various, yet limited, fields that the Common Weapon Law allowed us to fight with during civil war. Training for offshore combat was provided at base camps a few miles away, which helped those of us fighting solely for England focus on preparing to conform to such limited weaponry.
The Common Weapon Law allowed us to only fight civil wars with the weaponry that Silas Mortimer and his brothers used back in the 1400s. This divisive law was trying to make civil war all but impossible, yet somehow, Alexei and Joshua had managed thus far to make it work. Swords were the main form of combat alongside archery, combatives, and magic. Magic was only something a very few select citizens of England could still perform, an archaic art that was meant to die off with Silas and his brothers, yet it had come back over the last few years. It was the biggest weapon in many ways, and thus far, all countries had agreed not to use it. It was only a matter of time before this happened, though, and proof of that lay within Andrew hiring Gwenevere.
Only recently did naval warfare come into the fray, agreed upon by all countries, and it was only a matter of time for planes to follow suit. Slowly but surely, Joshua was curbing this war to allow him as much freedom as possible without getting himself hung. Each country had to agree to the induction of newer weaponry for it to pass under The Gods Sent Rights strict laws, and the kinds allowed thus far were only granted to try and end things faster.
The law was incredibly cumbersome, and truly made things as difficult as possible for most. Many of our comrades had spent their earlier days learning how to fight under the Common Weapon’s constraints, and these arenas were the perfect place to ensure each and every soldier in England could successfully handle themself in this strained combat style.
The sword fighting section was wide and long, with dugouts surrounding both sides so competitions could be held. Beautiful brass handles shown through the racks pure leather holders, containing the sharp and immaculate practice blades inside their sheath that I could have drowned in. The dirt floor of the arena had multiple sets of boot prints from practices that had occurred only minutes ago, and at the end of each day, this finely crushed dirt would be replenished and smoothed out for a fresh start for tomorrow’s practices.
All of us, like kids in a candy store, gazed upon the different sections in awe, and were interrupted by Zachary snapping his fingers to get our attention. “Alright everyone, welcome to our coveted training grounds. Practices are vital for staying fit and on top of our game in the army, and for making sure you are at peak performance. To begin, I would like you to pick an area and start feeling out equipment, especially pertaining to your nominations. Any questions…? No, then, hop to it.”
Instantly, I gravitated to the sword fighting section, where a group of soldiers were talking amongst themselves casually. When I crept over they halted their conversation to watch as I pulled a blade from the rack lovingly and balanced it on my fingertips to study the craftsmanship of the hilt. “Look who it is… Alexei’s baby brother…?” A voice called, which made me jump a little. The man who spoke was Jordan, who walked up and clamped a hand on my shoulder with a devious grin, “The famous swordsmen Joshua is so possessive over, eh?” His friends cackled at his taunting; I expected him to do something like this considering our awkward drive yesterday.
“I, um, I gue-…Unfortunately so, sir...?” I uncomfortably replied.
Jordan leaned in a little, “Well then, I think I’d like to go up against you, Pet. Let’s see how much ole Joshy boy really taught you.”
Andrew went to reprimand Jordan but saw the look that crept over my face, which made him back away hesitantly. “If you wish.” I answered simply, turning my back and walking calmly to the center of the field.
The soldier and I pulled our blades free and stood facing one another as Zachary came over, tapping his fingers on his arm. He brought his slate eyes from the soldier’s grimace to my stoic expression, then huffed once distressingly. “You’re about to face Jordan McCallum, who happens to be the seventh highest ranked swordsmen in The North Kingdom. Are you sure about that decision, Snake?” He mocked. I nodded once as I posed before Jordan.
Zachary called it without any more hesitation, and as Jordan ran at me I calmly side stepped, starting my performance. He paused before my blade slammed down on his, and jumped wildly at how much strength I backed into that first swing. I smirked before darting forward again, repeatedly slashing back and forth against every move he frantically threw my way. He finally steadied himself and turned on his heel, shooting for an uppercut into my stomach. I effortlessly duct out of the way, spinning once before swiping automatically at him again. My blade came into contact with his handle on the third blow, making the sword jut from his hand and spin wildly through the air. I finished by smacking my handle into his gut, causing him to double so I could push him to the ground and hold the blade to his throat. “So, you were saying?” I said, out of breath, as he stared up at me in complete awe.
Jordan’s friends were laughing hysterically at the look on his face, while he gazed up at me like I was God himself. “God damn, kid!” He croaked as I helped him up. He brushed the dirt away from his shoulders before clasping his hand with mine, shaking it fast. “What an arm! And the technique? I’ve met few people who fight like that! Maybe you are worth the trouble after all, so long as you keep that sword in The West’s neck and not mine?”
“I have no intentions on doing anything different,” I assured.
“Can I have a go?!” A woman cried, which caused a string of requests to pour at me from every direction. I stumbled to respond, but didn’t have the chance, as she had already shoved a sword back into my hand and guided me towards the arena.
“Someone’s rather popular…” Andrew commented, leaving me sandwiched between his enchanted soldiers while he went to watch Stefan’s practice.
╬
Practice ended, lunch as well, and we slid into our afternoon classes. I was not only exhausted but sore beyond belief and was not entirely in the mood to participate after my relentless sparring this morning. I faced twenty soldiers before Zachary told them to give me a break, but by that point, I was a corpse on the dugout floor. He simply kicked my side and told me to hop to it once again, which I appreciated in a weird way.
Our teacher was Atticus Leonetti, head of staff for the castle as well as academic affairs. He was humble and soft spoken, but extremely smart, and was not exactly taking any bullshit from us reckless teenagers. We had class with a few other soldiers Andrew had hired from the North Academy, so in all, there were thirty-two of us. I was seated in the back of the first row, alphabetically based by last name, and was distant enough where I could hear his lesson and equally get lost in my own world; and that I did.
Two things distracted me as Atticus went through classroom protocols: the fighting in the arena outside the window, and the dark-haired angel sitting in front of me. Gwenevere had stolen my entire focus since we were assigned our seats yet had no clue I was secretly enamored with just about everything concerning her. I unashamedly spent most of class studying her, my cheek in the palm of my hand as I tapped my pencil methodically to an imaginary tune.
I began to detect certain patterns in her wardrobe choices, such as how she wore her waist length hair in a long braid, and only in training did she wrap it into a bun so no one would chop it off on accident. With her hair braided as such, a set of two tiny beauty marks nestled below her ear were now exposed, a minute detail that I found mesmerizing. She wore her white button down and green form-fitting pants as told to, but I could see she added touches to personalize it. One was a tie which held multiple ironed on patches that Atticus had scolded her for but let slide since she had such a manipulative smile.
Somewhere in between my obsessive thoughts Atticus smacked a notecard on my desk, scaring the absolute crap out of me and making my classmates burst into giggles. “Let’s stay awake, Mr. Mortimer.” He scolded firmly with a slight glare.
“I apologize.” I stumbled nervously as he moved on to the next student. The notecard was for our first assignment, which had us writing an essay about any array of topics Atticus found important. When I flipped the card, I found the topic for my project in neat type-write, Opinion on the significance of Civil War.
“Alright everyone, that’s all for today! I'm cutting things short while you’re all adjusting. I suggest The Cavalries go investigate your new offices; I'm sure Andrew’s had some things dropped off for you to fill out. Please return your trade forms to me by Friday so we can begin to organize students properly.” Everyone thanked the lord for our freedom and got up from our seats, collecting our bags with groans of relief.
As I put my belongings away I heard a string of girlish squeaking behind me, which made me raise an eyebrow and peek to my right. Three girls were whispering to one another before one of the three, a ginger with big brown eyes, shoved her friends to the side and stormed up to me. “Ah-hem!” She snapped, puffing her chest out.
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“Yes?” I asked politely.
“I don’t think we’ve met yet; I'm Juliet.”
Her boldness was different from the glares I had grown used to; “Dmitri; nice to meet you.” I shook her hand, which she followed with a sadistic smile.
“So, Mr. Prince of The West, you’re a Calvary now, eh?”
“As far as I know,” I joked, which made her giggle flirtatiously.
“That little punk is already getting girls!” Stefan bawled to The Cavalry, who snorted hysterically as they watched the scene unfold.
“What were you nominated for, handsome?” Juliet prompted, which made my throat close instantly now that I caught on with what she was doing. Oh lord; Dmitri Mortimer’s brain is not equipped in the field of women.
“Sword fighting, mainly,” I said in a casual, trying not to show off but totally did, tone.
“Mainly? Talented in other ways?” She slyly offered while biting her lip.
“I, uh, I guess so?” I stammered like a total loser.
Juliet walked her fingers up my shirt to flick my nose, “Well, if you’re looking for a proper opponent to face, come find me on the battlefield. Or better yet, we can have a private practice.” She winked and skipped off, her friends cheering for her as I rolled my eyes to The Cavalries.
“Look at you, you little flirt!” Martha laughed, nudging me slyly as we went to the hallway and around the corner towards the west wing.
I shrugged lamely, “Please; I have no interest in dating right now.”
“Well mister tall, blonde, and handsome, half the girls in class were talking about you and your adorable blue eyes!” Stefan mocked.
“You are seriously too awkward for flirting,” Michael added.
“She was kind of cute though. Cocky, but cute,” Stefan tried.
“Then you date her.” I scoffed despondently.
“Heck no! I do not want your sloppy seconds!”
“I didn’t even say anything to her!” I roared in defeat.
“What are we going to do with him?” Gwenevere sighed with slight disappointment in her tone that made my heart ache. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I wasn’t interested; opening my mouth and saying I wasn’t looking to date probably was not the best start.
Abruptly Stefan paused, his eyes locked on someone who was standing across the hall from us. It was a girl our age with hazel eyes and hair, who was tucking strands of curls behind her ear. She was as delicate as a petal and looked almost elven in her uniform. “Yoo-hoo, anyone home?” I sang, waving a hand in his face as he gasped like a fish.
“Who… is she?” Stefan whispered.
“As if any of us know?” Michael joked.
“Must…talk…” he moaned like a zombie, raising his arms as he wobbled forward.
“And… We lost Stefan.” Martha teased as he swayed his way over to the girl, nearly bumping into four students on the way over since he was so distracted. They exchanged a few words before the girl flashed red, and Stefan winked to us as the two walked down the hall.
“Well, our player is playing the field, Dmitri,” Michael sighed, shaking his head.
“I'm so proud of our son!” I bawled like an overprotective mother. We shared a laugh at that and gave up on waiting for him to meet back up with us.
Finally, we approached our offices, where we each pulled out keys and searched door numbers for our assigned rooms. “Ah! Here we go; two-o-seven!” Michael called as he shoved his key in the door and rapidly started unlocking it.
“Hey, we’re in the same office!?” Martha cheered to him, and the two shared excited blushes at the prospect of being alone. It was quite cute to see how infatuated they were with one another, but unlike Stefan, I didn’t plan to pester Michael about it.
“What number do you have, Dmitri?” Gwenevere asked sheepishly.
I turned my key over, “Um, two-ten?”
Her eyes widened, “Oh, cool. Me, me too…”
We both gnawed our lips as Michael and Martha cackled darkly, throwing open their door. “We have work to do, bye!” They yelled, slamming the door shut obnoxiously.
“I swear to god, there is something wrong with those two.” Gwenevere snorted as I opened the office door for us, rolling my eyes. We both entered in awe, then hissed in horror at the stack on each of our desks. “Bloody bastards!” She shrieked as she dug through the packets, which made me chuckle before moving to my side. I gently opened my messenger bag and procured an ancient set of reading glasses, which I fumbled to unclasp before sliding up the bridge of my nose. I usually wore contacts so reading without them would not be an issue, especially if I were going to be out in the field, but my eyes needed a break once in a while, and I figured our early days of training would be a good time to let them breathe.
For around fifteen minutes Gwenevere and I worked quietly, signing off on contact sheets and such before she glanced up with a hesitant smirk. “So, um, I'm assuming they paired us up for a reason?” She began, which broke my concentration and made me peer at her over the bridge of my glasses. She watched curiously as I set my pen down in a deliberate spot, so that it was aligned perfectly with the other three I had set up on the desk prior.
“Oh, yes, I suppose so.” I commented as I laid another sheet face down beside my pens.
She tried to balance her own pen on her nose, and frowned when it fell on the desk loudly, “I highly doubt it was for our nominations. Then again, since you’re skilled in just about all trades, I suppose you would pair well with any of us. What kind of weapons do you like to work with, by the by, besides your nomination of course?”
“I can work with anything fine should I have to.” I set my glasses in their case with a forced grin, “I must say, I’m fascinated by your nomination. I’ve yet to meet many people who are skilled in magic, and am quite envious of anyone with experience, especially enough to become a Calvary. Where did your interest peak?”
She turned a ferocious red and had to clear her throat slightly to bounce back from my comment, “Um, well, my father was an apprentice of Ramah’s back in the day. He taught me an extraordinary amount when I was younger, and once the Common Weapon Law came into play, I knew it was only a matter of time before magic would truly come into the fray.” She traced the inside of her palm with the back of her pen as she spoke. A solemn sadness flooded over her, and she used the pen to distract her thoughts, “I trained at an academy specifically for sorcery, then transferred to The North Cavalry Academy to become a Naval Specialist. I needed to have a backup so I could do something useful while waiting for Joshua to play his cards. Not many people push to be nominated for Naval experience, and Andrew was enthralled to have me on board with the amount of water surrounding the castle.”
I slid my chin into my palm, “Fascinating… Truly fascinating. A double nomination is nothing short of astonishing in my opinion. How are you with hand-to-hand combat?”
“I pride myself on being a decent swordsmen, so I’ll be able to hold my own just fine. Have you ever done any work with magic?”
“I can tinker, but admittedly, I can’t do much.”
“I see,” she paused, then smiled a sweet smile, “You seem to be adjusting well?”
Her comment made my stomach turn; “I’d like to believe I am,” I nervously replied.
She slid the end of her braid loose so she could re-braid the strands casually, “You’re talking much more, which is nice. I was quite worried for you. You don’t seem like the type of person that is quiet for no reason.”
I swallowed as I fiddled with the clasp of my bag, “I, uh, I suppose I'm not.” I turned away from her slightly, “I'm, sorry, if I seem distant. I, I still have a lot to get used to…” I sighed miserably, upset that I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut. She frowned and laid her paperwork beside her to give me her full attention as I continued mumbling. “I mean, I understand everyone’s hesitance towards me, really I do, but the vicious comments are kind of hurtful sometimes. I didn’t think Andrew would ask me to drop my alias so quickly, so I didn’t have much time to prepare myself for the backlash that came with it. It’s, hard, to adjust to, I suppose…”
“I understand completely but try to remember that The Cavalry are not going to treat you like that. We all promised Andrew that we’d be open-minded, and I at least intend to do so. Granted, a lot of these soldiers have lost comrades to your brother, but that doesn’t mean you’re the one who killed them. I don’t know… The situation is sticky, and I’ll allow everyone to have their own feelings. I know, for me, you’re innocent until proven guilty.” She said with a sincere smile. I smirked back, but did so unsurely, so she changed the subject, “Have you figured out which trade you’re going to pick yet?”
“I was thinking about medical, so I could help out in the hospital. Having a medic on the field is a big asset. It would make me more valuable as a soldier, and hopefully, help the others adjust to me…” I rambled a mile a minute.
“I asked what you wanted, not what the other soldiers did,” she scoffed over me.
Her comment caught me off guard and made me stammer for a moment before I tripped over my words, “N-No, no, I like it!?”
“Well, if you say so,” she shrugged wearily, then snapped her fingers, “I almost forgot! What topic did you get for the essay?”
“Opinions on Civil War…” I growled through my teeth in annoyance.
“I did as well; want to take a crack at it together?”
A flush of excitement burst through me at her offer, “Sure, I’d love to; as long as we’re not practicing, I'm available!” I chimed, grateful she had taken the chance and asked me.
Her smile grew even wider, and her eyes were alight with happiness, “How about next Saturday? I know we have to attend all those meetings this weekend, but next week is supposed to be flexible. Hopefully the boys will be out, so it’ll be quieter.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She looked back to her work, as did I, but I could tell I wasn’t the only one who had butterflies gnawing at their stomach.