7 years later…..
Ervinos Mukuru sized up his foe before charging in. His opponent was older by around 5 years, giving him a longer reach and stronger burst. Ervin was not afraid of this, his technique was superior, and he would make that the decisive factor in this battle.
“The Mukuru family stands at the helm of our forces, there’s no way Lord Ervinos will lose!” came a cry from one of the soldiers in the circle around the duel.
“The great Eyonge family also have noble blood flowing through their veins. Master Markos is sure to have the win today” was a response from the crowd.
Ervin drowned out all the cheers and focused solely on Markos Eyonge. The young Mukuru was comfortably dominant in fights against children his age, but this was an opponent Ervin had to be wary of.
Markus was the first to move, pouncing forward and swinging his sword in a wide arc. Ervin blocked with the broadside, of his sword, but felt a jolt through his arms - ‘such strength!’. The boy stumbled and left an opening for the Eyonge, who followed with a piercing jab aimed straight at Ervin's core.
Ervin did not dare attempt to block again, he used the momentum from his stumbling to roll completely out of the way.
This time, the Mukuru charged forward and stayed low to force Markos to bend to his level. As he approached, Markos once again swung his sword in a wide arc, this time heading towards Ervin’s lowered face.
“Don’t blink” the young boy thought to himself, his timing needed to be perfect. As the sword entered his range, he parried it downwards, using its momentum to drop the attacking sword even lower.
At the same time, he hopped up into the air, allowing the sword to pass beneath him. As he came down he stamped down hard on Markus’s sword, forcing his opponent to his knees lest he lose his weapon.
Before he knew what was happening, the Eyonge had a sword to his neck. “Good fight” came a chirp from above, it was his loss.
The crowd erupted in excitement over the fancy tricks of the Mukuru heir. “The Mukuru blood is more noble after all” came a cheer from one corner, “The future of the Ikona army is secure!” was the praise from another.
Ervinos Mukuru raised his sword to accept the praise, but his eyes rested solely on his father, Alexander Mukuru.
Alex let out a deep sigh and shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. “Fine, boy. You can be a part of the assault squad next time.”
Ervinos let out a childish yelp of joy. Participating in bandit raids as an archer or rearguard was far too boring for the young boy, and now that he had cleared his father's test, he would get to experience the real thing.
The crowd gradually dispersed as the group went back into formation. The Ikonan armed forces were on a routine escort mission, transporting goods from Paligxulu to the northern city of Sufundiso. The infantrymen marched on the outside of the convoy, while groups of peasants held ropes and dragged the wheeled carts forward. Ervinos walked alongside his father, at the head of the group.
“Good job, son.” congratulated Alexander, “But you should have seen the look on your face when you received Markos’s first strike. Priceless!”. Famed for both his laziness and his sharp tongue, Alexander never held back against his own son.
“Hey I made up for it okaaay” complained Ervin, always vulnerable to his father's teasing. He pouted and turned away to face the fields as a sign of protest. The fields themselves, with their lush green meadows and patches of gold crops, were Ervin's favourite part of this journey.
“You must have forgotten, but I still remember the first time you made this trip.” started his father, “When I showed you how the mills crush grain into weight you thought it was a kind of magic” he laughed.
“I had never seen a Mill before, can you blame me.” retorted the young boy, “But what surprises me more now is what you claim about the Diafthoreat Empire not using mills at all. Why would they ignore such a useful machine?”
“They just have peasants grind the grains using earth magic.” snorted Alexander, “The ban on magic affects more than just the army. While we are stuck using iron tools and hoping that the rain gods are kind, the Diaf uses earth magic to till the soil and water magic to move water through channels when needed. We’ve had issues with our farms because of that” continued his father, “Every year the Diaf fields get more productive, while we lag behind or even get worse over time.”
Ervin cursed the Diaf once more, it seemed like all the problems Ikona faced were because of them.
“Whose job is it to maintain the farms?” asked Ervin angrily, glaring at the peasants working the fields far away, “If they’ve started getting lazy then maybe if we punish some of them the rest will fall in line?”
“Well, technically it’s the manor lord's job.” laughed Alexander, “But if you try to arrest them then the nobles in Thalassanqaba will start revolting. Look around you, Ervinos, none of the people working those fields own the lands that they farm. The manor lord pays them only as much as he wants, often enough to keep themselves fed and clothed, but not much more.”
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“Well,Well that much is to be expected. Manor lords are often nobles, right? The peasants should be happy they’re getting anything at all.”
Alex Mukuru began laughing heartily, as he so often would. “What do you think the difference is between us nobles and peasants, Ervin.”
“I remember my tutor, Didaskalos Usathana, taught me that the difference lies in our blood. The nobles are born from the heroes and excellent citizens of Ikonan history, which makes them grow up to be stronger and of finer moral character.”
“That is what they say.” conceded Alexander, “Perhaps they are right. It is true that I have seen more excellent nobles than peasants.”
“Isn’t that why we arrange ourselves this way when marching?” pushed Ervin, “The Hatha have only noble warriors to ensure their ranks are filled with the best soldiers. We also march with peasants and nobles in separate units, isn’t that by your order.”
“I had little to do with that, boy.” muttered Ervin's father, “It’s been like this all my life, but apparently back in the time of Hagnon Mukuru the Hatha did not consider one's birth, and marching formations were determined purely based on years of experience. Since then at some point the ruling noble classes in Thalassanqaba decided it was best if we separated the two in the military, no general was consulted for this decision.”
Ervin noticed a hint of displeasure in his father's voice. It was to be expected, after all, the nobility of Thalassanqaba was strong and liked reaching their hands into every corner of Ikonan society. As a family of generals, it was natural that they should dislike the group that imposed the most restrictions and rules on how they were allowed to operate.
But the young boy felt that this was not the worst decision the senate of nobles had taken. “It was a good decision” he confirmed, “The reason why we used to separate based on years of experience was to filter the good from the bad, but then why not directly get to the heart of the matter and separate based on the most important character of a person - the quality of their blood.”
“Perhaps they are right” mumbled Alexander once more, as he walked off with some purpose in his eyes.
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A few hours later, the procession stopped to make camp for the night. Ervin had been enjoying the walk with a few friends from Paligxulu but was called aside by his father.
“Ervin, I have someone to introduce to you”, proclaimed Alexander, rather quietly for a change. “This is Alcides, he is a strong and battle-hardened warrior. He commands a squadron of his own that rivals any Hatha unit we have.”
“It is my honour to meet you, young Lord Mukuru”, greeted Alcides, as he dropped to his knees and kept his head low. “Your father gives me unjust praise, my unit cannot compare to the Hatha.”
Ervin sized up the man next to his father, despite his well-defined build and rough hands he seemed to be nothing special. “The Mukuru sees you rise, Alcides.” recited Ervin, responding with the proper formal greeting.
“Don’t be fooled by his modesty, Ervin” cautioned his father, “Alcides here has an informal title within his squadron - Magektonos.”
For the first time, Ervin looked upon the soldier with some interest. “Mage Killer? Sir, have you seen magic? Please do tell me about your encounter. How does one defeat a mage when you yourself are not one.”
“You kill them before they have a chance to cast magic” replied the Magektonos, dryly and without hesitation. “One of the bandits my squad encountered in the swamplands had fortified himself and was using fire magic to burn our people down as they attempted to breach. I simply used the chaos to enter through a window, defeat his companions without him noticing, and then rush him before he had a chance to burn me too.”
Ervin understood what Alexander meant by Alcides’s modesty, mage bandits were as rare as they were dangerous. This was no minor feat. “Your family will be proud of you, sir Alcides, I imagine you will be made a Hatha soon…”, congratulated Ervinos, “I would know you if you were from the families of Paligxulu, so do you come from the nobles of Sufundiso or Thalassanqaba?”
A look of concern came over Alexander Mukuru’s face, as Alicdes lowered his head even further as if in apology, “I am the only son of the Umpetha family, we are farmers and labourers from around Thalassanqaba. I am happy to remain in service of Ikona where I am.”
Ervin took a step back, he had been misled. “Ah, I see. In that case, I hope you enjoyed your moment of brilliance. Please do continue to serve Ikona with all your heart.”
“That’s enough, Ervin.” stepped in Alexander, “Alcides is the single most capable warrior in Ikona.”
“My apologies, father.” bowed the young boy, before raising his voice in defiance, “But I do not think it appropriate to shower too much praise over one who has not proven themselves in front of the right audience. How do we know his squadron did not exaggerate his achievements?”
The discussion had begun to gather attention, no one dared say a word due to the Mukurus' involvement, but whispers were starting to circulate.
“If someone in the army walks around with an unofficial title, they should be at least ready to prove their worth.” declared Ervin, maintaining just enough respect in his tone when addressing his father. “Father, should we not make Alcides spar against a Hatha with this esteemed gathering of soldiers as an audience.”
Alexander was taken aback in confusion, he had never seen his son so rebellious. The child knew fully well that Hatha and peasant squadrons did not spar against each other, what was he plotting?
“But that would disrespect our customs. So perhaps a more appropriate spar would be a test of the bloodline itself. Alcides, do you have a son?”
“Ervinos Mukuru!” shouted his father, his eyebrows flaring up in rage. He had never seen this side of his son, and he did not like it. “Stop this right now, I order you.”
“Yes, general. At once,” replied Ervin with a worried look on his face, his father only ever used his full name when he was in trouble. But Ervin knew he had done no wrong, he had no idea why his father introduced him to Alcides. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked away.
As the young boy left, he heard his father give an additional command - “Come to my tent an hour after supper.” The command had a coldness to it that his father rarely showed, Ervin took a deep breath and prepared himself for a proper scolding.
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As night fell and the group was making merry around campfires, Ervin walked into Alexander's tent. It was unlike any other tent in the group, large enough to fit 20 men or conduct an entire strategy meeting inside. The young boy went in sheepishly, ready to face his maker.
When Ervin walked in, he was greeted by 3 others. One was his father, who wore an impatient and stern face as expected, the others were the ever-stoic Alcides and a young boy around the same age as Ervin. The young Mukuru’s eyes widened when he noticed the likeness between Alcides and the boy, it seemed his father was in agreement with him all along but just wanted to spare Alcides the shame of having his son defeated badly in public. The Umpetha boy had a sullen expression on his face, essentially confirming he knew what was coming.
“It is as you expect, boy,” said Alexander with the roughest voice he could manage, “You will spar with wooden weapons and make sure to stop before any major injury if we stop the fight, or if either of you surrender.”
Ervin could not contain the smile on his face, but it soon disappeared when he heard Alicdes talking to his father.
“Alex, are you sure about this?” asked the Magektonos, holding onto his son dearly.
“Absolutely, Alcides. The result of this spar will be known only to the people in this tent, so you may tell your son to fight with that in mind.”
Ervin was infuriated to see Alcides Umpetha refer to his father not by his title, not by his family name, but by a nickname that only his dear friends called him by. Worse yet, his father seemed to be used to this sort of address. Were the two of them … friends?
It made no sense, but it did not matter. The young Mukuru picked up a wooden sword of his favoured weight and size, tightening his grip with passion in his heart.
Alcides turned to his son and whispered into his ears, whatever the warrior said seemed to raise his spirits immensely. The young Umpetha’s frown was replaced by a cocky smile. He strolled over to the weapon rack, picked up two small wooden daggers, and then walked into position for the spar.