The Capital of Lescatie kept its soldiers and trainees within a barracks built deep within the city’s center. It was positioned on an steep incline that soldiers had to walk up and down everyday. While it did lead to many complaints, it was an effective way to train stamina for the city’s defenders. In terms of city planning, it was placed just above the Serf Quarters and just below the Noble Quarters. The entrances to both were but a short sprint away from the north side entrance of the barracks. This was to allow them to get into either quarter of the city at any moment should the need arise.
The barracks itself was structured like a coliseum. A circular wall made of wood and thatch formed the outer ring where soldiers ate, rested, and socialized between their training regimes. An armory sat within the west wing, its door open but guarded at all times by Knights appointed by Priest Noscrim himself. The east wing held the larders where soldiers went to slake their thirst and hunger. The food and water was bland, but it filled the belly well enough. Even when the portions were small. Finally, the south wing held the dorm rooms where soldiers who had no home to return to rested at. The rooms were cramped, the sheets and pillows were only washed once a week, and many a time the soldiers complained of waking up with cricks in their backs. But for those with nowhere else to go at night it was better than nothing.
The inner ring of the barracks was where all the training was done. A roofless, open area, the ground had been turned to rough sand by the armored boots stepping on it at all hours of the day. Weapon racks sat against the outer walls and support columns while red and white flags rested on the ground in heaps. Banners representing the Noble Houses of the nation flew in the breeze from their positions hanging on the walls. Half of the soldiers couldn’t remember them by name. The other half felt an inflated sense of self worth at seeing their noble lineage represented even among the common soldier.
It was within this inner ring where Elt sat with his back against one of the columns...and a line of people standing before him.
“Thanks, Elt! See you later!”
“You’re...wel...come,” Elt’s hand fell as another trainee ran off with his now polished spear. Elt shook his head and sighed, before looking up and shouting, “Next!”
One of the veteran soldiers walked over, a sword carried across his shoulders as hie shadow fell over Elt. Elt looked up to stare into the man’s baggy eyes. The veteran grunted before dropping his broadsword in front of the sitting Elt. Elt, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him of the veteran’s skepticism and annoyance, placed his index finger on the dirty and slightly rusted blade. The grime and rust were eliminated, the dents were buffed out, and the edge was sharpened to a point. By the time Elt took his finger away, the weapon looked good as new. He felt the veteran’s feelings swiftly shift to gratefulness though his face certainly didn’t show it. He simply grunted before picking his broadsword up and walking away.
Elt waved goodbye to the man before turning back to the line that had gathered in front of him. He quickly counted the number of people waiting to have him polish their weapons for him. He felt his eyebrows quirk upward in surprise by the time he reached the end. If his math was correct, he still had about twenty people left to go. A glance to his left revealed the thirty other people he had just finished helping. That would be fifty total. Which was the total number of soldiers, besides him, that showed up for morning training.
Elt did a double take at the number of people all around him. Was...was everyone really doing this? But wasn’t one of the most important part of being a soldier knowing how to take care of your weapon? She certainly drilled that into his head when he first started training. He didn’t think Merse would be happy if she saw them all letting someone else polish their weapons. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but the next person in line immediately dropped his dirty axe and shield in front of Elt. He waved a hand through the air, “Hurry up. I need this polished so I can get back to training.”
“But...shouldn’t you be-“
“I said hurry up!” the soldier yelled at Elt, arms crossed and foot tapping against the ground.
Elt winced but spoke up in spite of his uncertainty, “But Commander Merse always said that you should learn how to take care of your own equipment. You all shouldn’t just be letting me take care of things. Otherwise you’ll never be able to maintain your weapons in a battle.”
Elt tensed as he prepared for the soldier’s angry response. He turned his head to the side, bracing for the soldier’s angry response. However, as he eyed the soldier's clean shaven face, he beheld something that gave him pause. As the soldier blinked his eyes seemed to cloud over for a second. The moment was so fleeting, that Elt certainly only noticed it because he was looking directly into the man’s eyes. One moment, the man was staring at him with barely contained annoyance. The next his eyes were filled with shame. He looked away from Elt and reached down to pick up his weapons, “Y-You make a good point. I’m going to-go do that. Don’t tell the Commander about this, ya hear!”
He ran off without giving Elt time to continue speaking. Elt stared at the retreating man, surprise evident on his face. He slowly turned his eyes to the rest of the people in line. What he saw were various people looking very ashamed of themselves. No one dared look him in the eye with half blushing from embarrassment. One of the few female soldiers excused herself and walked off, taking a piece of cloth out of her pocket as she did. Another followed after her. Then another. And another. Until, eventually, the entire line of soldiers was off polishing and fixing their own equipment.
Elt could only blink in shock as he stared at the situation. A whistle came from his left as Marcus crouched to be level with Elt. The boy waved a hand at the retreating soldiers, “Wow, Elt. You can fix up any weapon you touch, had a lucky streak that most people could only dream of having, and now this. With just a few words you managed to convince everyone to do things the hard way instead of taking advantage of your generosity. What next? You gonna puke up a couple of priceless gems and make us all rich.”
Marcus laughed while patting the silent Elt on the back. Elt was staring out at the rest of the barracks with a blank look on his face. His mouth hung open as he considered everything that had happened to him today. Understanding the orphans’ emotions, all those lucky events, what happens to weapons when he touches them. All of these things were...completely unbelievable. None of these things were natural. No normal human could do the things he was doing. Not without the blessings of the Gods anyway. Yet he could do them effortlessly. Why could-
He was driven from his thoughts when Marcus’ arm went around his shoulder. He was pulled toward the young man, as Marcus lowered his mouth toward Elt’s ear. Elt squirmed a bit as the man whispered conspiratorially, “So, you gonna help me out?”
“Wh-What are you talking about, Marcus?” Elt asked, confused and uncomfortable with his acquaintance’s words.
Marcus shook his head, “You don’t have to play dumb with me, Elt. I know what’s up here. You got blessed by the Chief God, didn’t you?”
Elt’s eyes bulged until they were wide as dinner plates. He opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus quickly covered it with a hand. He shook his head in faux understanding, “Ah, ah. I get it, I get it. You don’t have to explain anything to me. You want to keep this one on the down-low. Make sure the wrong people don’t find out about it. And, as a friendly sort, I’ll make sure to keep my lips sealed...as long as you agree to my proposal.”
Elt kept shaking his head, shouts muffled as he tried to deny Marcus’ words. But the other soldier refused to move his hand. He just nodded his head, “Not gonna ask for much. Just want to ask that you don’t forget little ‘ol me when you eventually get sent to the Noble Quarter. Put in a good word for your buddy Marcus Dieru. You get me? Of course you-“
“Dieru! Elt! The two of you better either be kissing or wrestling over there! Otherwise I’m gonna need to kick both your asses into shape!”
Marcus and Elt both stiffened at the familiar voice. Marcus quickly let Elt go and stood to his full height, saluting while his eyes focused on the entrance to the inner ring, “Commander Merse!”
Eyes widening, Elt pushed himself to his feet, saluting the same manner as Marcus. He repeated Marcus’ words as his Commander stepped into the inner ring of the barracks.
Lady Merse Dascaros. One of the most distinguished Heroes in Lescatie, she led Elt’s division of the nation’s forces. And the attire she wore was befitting one of her station. A short green jacket hung loosely across her back, sleeves ending with cross shaped cufflinks on the edges. Her no doubt calloused hands were covered by rough black gloves that made it easy to carry her double-headed halberd. Her midriff and thighs were open for all to see, with tights covering her knees and going down into steel boots. She wore tight fitting shorts with a cross shaped buckle at the front, while her breasts were covered by twin steel plates. She idly adjusted her loose red tie with her free hand as she walked toward Elt. The strangest part of her appearance was her hair. It was tied into five pointed tails that stuck upward like a bird’s feathers. They were held in place by a long, green eye-patch that covered where her right eye should be. Her left was a shining gray that stared out at the world with a jovial light shining within it.
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Her lips were curled into a smile that only grew brighter as she caught sight of Elt. Elt met her singular good eye and immediately felt his breath hitch. Because as Merse got closer he became aware of a familiar feeling within her.
One he had felt within Sasha before he left.
Love.
He almost didn’t catch it when she called for him to spar with her.
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“...They’re just standing there.”
Marcus pointed out while waving a hand at Elt and Merse. The trainee and Commander in question were standing in the middle of the training field. Wind blew by, sending the sand beneath their feet into the air. Small dust clouds formed and blew past the two holding their ground in front of each other. Marcus looked over his shoulder, the numerous soldiers standing behind him glaring daggers at him. He met their stares with a shrug, “What? It’s true. Their just standing there staring at each other. Any of us can do that.”
“The brat is right,” one of the older male soldiers said. He furrowed his brow, “But...does anyone else think something’s up with...what’s that boy’s name again? He’s always training with the Commander but I never-“
“Elt,” Ray stated, sitting with his legs and arms crossed as he focused intently on Elt and Merse, “His name is Elt. And what the kind veteran is talking about, is Elt’s form.”
All the soldiers in attendance blinked before looking back at the spar with new eyes. They didn’t see anything wrong with their Commander’s stance. No matter how she wielded her halberd, she always did so perfectly. Part and parcel of being a Hero. Her beautiful body was tense in all the right places, while still being loose enough to move as she wished. Her feet were precisely spaced to allow for the greatest range of movement, while her hands held her weapon’s shaft in a firm but loose grip.
Merse being perfect was expected.
What wasn’t was-
“Elt’s form is perfect,” Marcus said aloud, his mouth hanging open. It didn’t take long for the rest of the soldiers to realize he was right. Elt held his spear in a grip similar to Merse’s. His hands were ready and waiting to use every part of his weapon to help him win. His legs were spaced a bit farther apart than Merse’s to take advantage of his lower center of gravity. His body was tense yet loose at the same time, ready to leap like a spring at Merse’s first move.
Ray nodded in response to Marcus’ words, “Yep. Further evidence that Elt’s become a Hero.”
“What?” multiple soldiers shouted at the man’s sudden declaration. Another spoke up, “That can’t be true! That kid doesn’t have the chops to be a Hero!”
“Then how do you explain that?” Marcus pointed at Elt, a frown on his face, “Did he just manage to learn that in his slee-“
Everyone was rendered silent as a massive wave of force suddenly slammed into them. Marcus and Ray nearly fell onto their backs, but managed to remain sitting by holding onto their knees. The rest of the soldiers were either sent to their knees or fell onto their backs from the sheer air pressure. A large dust cloud followed the explosion, blocking everyone’s vision for a brief moment. Only when the dust cleared could anyone see what had caused the wave of force.
And when they did, their disbelief not only went through the roof but extended to their Commander as well. And that was because they became aware of three things.
First, the wave of force had come from Elt and Merse clashing weapons. His padded spear was holding back the padded halberd, its shaft held in both hands in the just where its blade met the shaft.
Second, the ground around them was clear of sand and dust. The dry, brown earth could clearly be seen beneath their feet.
And third, they were evenly matched. Merse was pushing against Elt’s weapon, her enhanced strength being brought to bear against the young man. Yet, despite the strength of a Hero being worth 10+ men, Elt wasn’t even budging. He was holding his ground against one of the strongest women in the nation.
And neither of them seemed to be willing to back down.
The two of them stared at each other. The soldiers were speechless, frozen in place at the impossibility standing before their eyes. No one made a sound, unable to come up with a way to describe how any of them were feeling. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Elt and Merse pulled away from their clash. Merse’s lips curled into a nonchalant smile as she patted Elt on the shoulder, “You’ve gotten a lot better, Elt. Someone’s been practicing when they’re off duty, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. A little bit,” Elt nervously chuckled, trying to avoid Merse’s eyes.
Merse put her arm around his shoulder and started to pull him away from the training ground. She waved at the rest of the soldiers, “Really? Mind telling me what you did? Could use some pointers. And you all! Stop slacking off! I want you all doing push-ups, sit-ups, and running laps until I get back! Got it!?”
“S-s-s-Sir, yes, sir!” all the soldiers said in unison, not sure what else to do.
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When Elt and Merse made it to the outer ring, out of sight of the rest of the soldiers and near the north entrance, both let their composure drop. Elt bent over, hands on his knees as he started to pant. Sweat dripped from his brow as his spear clattered to the ground. Merse was little better, steadying herself on a stone wall and needing to hold her halberd in a tight grip to keep it from falling. Her pants weren’t as rapid but her eyes were as wide as his were.
“S-S-So,” Merse’s voice pulled Elt’s attention to her. He stared at her, red hair covering his panic filled eyes. Merse forced a smile onto her face, “Don’t sup-suppose that something...happened to you last night?”
Elt swallowed and slowly nodded.
“And...did it have anything to do with a man appearing in front of you then stabbing you with something?”
Another nod.
Merse shook her head, pounding her fist against the wall, “Great. Well, at least we’re in the same boat here.”
“Then...you saw it too?” Elt straightened up while staring at Merse, heart pounding at the implications of his words.
“If you mean, saw every single move you were going to make before you made it, alongside seeing every single time you would counter my moves? Yes, yes I did,” Merse straightened as well, her own tone becoming more upset by the moment.
Anxiety filled Elt’s core. His mind went back to their spar...and the things that the other soldiers didn’t see. Oh, he noticed the change in his abilities. It was already something that gave him pause. Yesterday he was still trying to keep up with Merse. To follow her instructions and fix his stance in combat. But today? The moment he grabbed his spear...he knew exactly how to use it. Every form, every stance, every maneuver, every attack he could make with it. And not just the obvious ones. Ones that could only be done by those who had trained with the spear their entire lives.
He knew how to do it all.
But, while it was hard to believe, that wasn’t the strangest part. The strangest part was when he and Merse faced off with each other. Because as he stared at her he quickly realized that...they were the same. His mind kept going through all the different attacks he could make, only to then tell him that she would counter or block them. Then tell him how to react to that. Feinting an overhead strike and moving into a leg sweep? Jumped over while Merse swung her halberd at his outstretched leg. So he would have to lift his leg to get it caught in the crook of the halberd, letting him move with the momentum to flip around and strike Merse while in the air. But then she’d block with one of her legs before striking out with a fist which he would catch. Then the two of them would-
It went on like that for a while.
“You doing OK there, Elt?” Merse asked, more of trying to keep the conversation going than anything else. She knew the answer to that already. Because she was thinking the same thing he was. At any other time, she’d be proud of him. Happy that the kid managed to improve so quickly in such a short length of time. After all, it wasn’t like stuff like this didn’t happen. She had heard plenty of tavern tales about people training all day and night, and by the time they wake up they’re masters of combat. Granted, those were usually the prodigies and those with talent. But you never know who that could be until you see them in action.
However, this wasn’t one of those times. She knew...because she could do the same thing Elt did. She hadn’t noticed it when she woke up. Why would she? Whatever happened to her made her better at fighting. Something she was already good at. If she had spared with anyone else, she wouldn’t have noticed a thing. It was by pure chance that she chose to spar with Elt today.
Yet...
“Merse...what are we?”
The question caught her off guard. She blinked before turning her eyes to Elt. The boy was staring at her, his eyes searching for an answer. His free hand was curled into a fist as he continued, “Could you...could you do that stuff before? See my attacks before I made them in such...detail?”
Merse pursed her lips. The thought of lying to the boy crossed her mind. Telling him that she could always do that. She could always see twenty steps ahead of him whenever they spar. Which was so detailed she could literally tell the exact movement his limbs and torso would make to pull off a maneuver. If it was anyone else, she might’ve done that. Keep them ignorant. Happy. Make them think they were just getting better and would be a Hero before they knew it.
But...for Elt...
Merse shook her head, “No. I guess what you were going to do because of obvious reasons. Your form was bad, you were distracted by something, you weren’t strong enough, fast enough, whatever. Stuff like that. But that...what I saw back there...it wasn’t you not being good enough. You were good. The best I’ve ever seen. So in order to fight you I...I had to treat you like that. Which meant-“
“You had to see what I would do farther in advance than normal.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever have to do that when you fought someone that needed you to go all out? Use your powers as a Hero?”
“...No.”
“...We’re not Heroes, are we Merse?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not anymore, I can tell you that. But I don’t know what we are.”
“I can answer that.”
Merse and Elt nearly jumped at the sound, but then calmed down as they recognized the familiar voice. Elt turned to look out the entrance to the barracks. He squinted to see through the morning sun then gasped as a familiar figure walked into view, “M-Mimil?!”
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In the Castle of Lescatie, within the room of Fransica Mistel Lescatie, one of the many daughters of the King and Queen of the nation that bore their family name, the young woman in question opened her eyes. As consciousness returned to her, she prepared herself for a well known sensation.
The pain of her illness. The weakness of her body. The inability to rise from her bed for a few minutes. All of these things and more were known to her. They had been her world for a long time. To the point where the moments spent in this room unable to move without assistance were beginning to override her happy memories. Memories of a time before she was trapped in bed. Memories of her two greatest friends in the world, and how they would have so much fun together.
Those were the best days of her life.
But those days were long gone.
And the only thing that was left was...
“...What?”
Frasnica Mistel Lescatie, for the first time in years, pushed herself up by her elbows. Eyes still blurry she brought her hands up to her face to look at. As she blinked away her sleepiness, her heartbeat faster and faster in her chest. Her mind slowly caught up with what she was seeing...and then she gasped.
“It...it can’t be. Is it...am I-“
She grabbed the satin blankets covering her body and pulled them off. She scooted to the edge of the bed, uncaring of how she was still in her night clothes, and let herself fall off it to the floor beneath her. She prepared for her illness to act up. For her legs to hit the floor and cause her pain. For a jolt that would travel up her spine and cause her to cry out in pain.
But when her legs touched the floor...none of that happened.
She felt...fine.
Her illness...it was gone.