When they got home, Omia went out and played with her friends, but didn’t mention where she’d been in the morning. She wasn’t sure how much they would ask about it, and she felt like she might accidentally say something she didn’t want to. Instead, she treated it like a normal day, and tried thinking about what she could say to her dad in order to get a conversation with Torei. She’d have to think about it.
* * *
A week later, she realized it would still be too suspicious to ask Torei himself, and went another route instead.
She told her parents that she was still thinking about whether she wanted to be a guard or not in order to justify asking questions about the forest. One of the first questions she asked was about Torei.
“Dad, why did Torei stare at the dead rabbits after you’d killed them?”
“Wait until after breakfast,” he responded when Omia’s mother choked on her food.
After they’d all finished eating, he sat down next to her on the bench in front of their fireplace to answer.
“Well honey, Torei has something called a Glimpse of Undeath. I won’t say I understand it fully, but there are people called Mages that can tap into different forces of the world by… I don’t really know, to be honest. I know they’re incredibly rare, and I’ve heard that every Mage has been blessed differently. When someone isn’t quite a mage, but can still use a certain force of the world, it’s said that they have a “Glimpse” of that particular thing.
“For example, a Fire Mage can manipulate however they please, throwing it around using only their mind. Someone with a Glimpse of Fire, though, might be able to slightly guide fire, but never quite command it.
“Usually, Glimpses and Mages have some characteristic that shows what they are. For Torei, his hair is white. When he was young, his hair was actually light brown. There are a few people in the guard with Glimpses of Undeath, specifically because we spend much time in the forest. Torei says he still remembers when it happened, though we can’t exactly recreate it.
“By his account, he was on a normal patrol with two others, when an old undead attacked them, despite being rather close to the edge of Wiltwood. Torei said it was a hard fought battle, and his two comrades died in the process, but they were able to put the beast down. Torei himself even said he was teetering on death by the end of the fight, but he was able to stumble out of the forest and collapse onto Death Eater fields.
“The fields healed him and removed whatever horrible energy the undead had infused into him, but it still left its mark. Now, he claims he has the ability to sense and manipulate undeath energies. It mostly works on the stronger ones, which has saved us from ambushes more times than I can count, but he uses the small undead as practice. When we kill an undead, he tries to study the energy they give off, to make himself more familiar with it. I think he’s trying to turn himself into an Undeath Mage, but don’t tell him I know that. He believes it's silly to try for something so rare, but hey, there are legends around Mages and the like, who wouldn’t want to be one?” Her father said, looking off into the distance with a smile on his face. Omia thought it wasn’t only Torei that wanted to be a mage.
Internally, Omia was a bit disappointed. Torei wouldn’t know much more about Wiltwood than her father would, nor about the energy. True, he might’ve figured something out from all the studying of it, but Torei wasn’t likely to have memories of someone else. Not any more likely than her father, she supposed.
Omia was starting to figure out that she was unique in some way. There were people she knew, other kids, that never stopped talking. If they had memories of someone else, Omia would bet her knife they wouldn’t stop talking about it, but she’d never heard anything of the sort, nor had anyone asked about that kind of thing. No, it must be only Omia who had something like this going on.
Unless there were others, just not in her town, because Omia was pretty sure she now knew what she was.
‘Am I an Undeath Mage?” she asked herself silently. ‘But I don't have any special features like Torei or some of the other people with white hair I’ve seen. I couldn’t manipulate that undead fog stuff either. I was definitely telling it to leave me alone, but it didn’t. What if I just have a really strong Glimpse? But still… My hair is blonde, not white. Wait, what about the few people I’ve seen with green hair? Is that a Glimpse? Or just normal hair, like mine and moms? It seems a bit too rare to be normal.’
“Is green hair a Glimpse too?” Omia asked.
Her father nodded. “Yes. There are two common-ish Glimpses in our area. Undeath, which is white hair, can be earned in Wiltwood Forest. Green hair is the other one, and it is the Life Glimpse, which can be earned in Death Eater Fields. There are a lot more Glimpses and Mage types than those two, but you have to be in a certain environment to earn them.
“Does that answer all your questions?” She nodded at him, and he asked “Do you have any more?”
She shook her head.
“Do you still want to become a guard?” he asked, trying to seem patient. She could tell that he really wanted an answer though. Her parents had given her a week without asking, but they were getting more stressed with every day she didn’t decide.
“I still don’t know… Why do I have to decide soon? When did you join the guard?”
“Well… I didn’t start the training until I was twelve, then I joined around fourteen, which is around when I married your mother as well…” he said, looking off into the distance and smiling for a moment.The idea of getting married at fourteen disgusted Omia, but she stayed silent.
Omia’s mother cleared her throat behind them, and her dad shook himself from the memories, continuing on. “I want you to decide sooner though, so I can start preparing you for the official training. It’s harsh, and, I hate to say it, but you might not meet the physical requirements if you don't start training soon. Boys grow muscles faster than girls, but that doesn’t mean you can’t join, just that it’ll certainly take a lot more effort.”
She nodded, and knew it was time to decide whether to stay in the town, or become a guard. She really didn’t want to go back into the Wiltwood, but she felt it. The allure. It was an itch in her mind that didn’t go away, something that insisted there was comfort, peace, and most importantly answers, deep within the forest. She likened it to a smell from the kitchen when her mom was cooking that made her even hungrier for the meal to come… but in this case, the “meal” was hidden in the heart of Wiltwood, and her “hunger” couldn’t be satiated by anything else.
If she didn’t go, she would feel that gnawing hunger inside her for the rest of her life. If she did go, she was placing herself in terrible danger.
Ultimately, she knew her curiosity was too great. Eventually, the desire would become too much, and she would lose herself to that trance-like state. If that happened, would it not be better that she knew how to defend herself? That she was a guard by the time she left to find the source of that calling, and had her own armor to fight undead with?
“I… Want to be a guard” she said with all the surety she felt, which was close to none.
Omia’s mother sighed, but her father looked at her understandingly. “I thought so. Still, that doesn’t mean this is going to be easy. You won’t be able to play with your friends as much, and I’ll have to be harsh on you when I’m training you. More than that… you might have to suffer under a brutal tutor, one that isn’t me, because I simply do not have enough time to give you the proper structure you need.
“I want you to remember though. If, at any point, you want to stop, please say something. I will never be disappointed in you because you don’t want to risk your life in a dangerous forest, and it’s never too late to stay in the town. You could either be a stay at home mom like your mother, or even work somewhere within the walls themselves, like in a bakery. Everything else is a good choice too. The guards have long days and harsh jobs, with the only good thing being the pay. Which, admittedly, is good.”
Omia nodded, but after considering the other options, she felt a bit more sure about joining the guard. She wasn’t all that interested in staying at home to be a wife or working in a shop, because both of those sounded boring.
She realized that she wanted to be a guard either way, she was only put off from the job because she was afraid of being lured into Wiltwood. If she wasn’t a guard, she wouldn’t want to stay in the town at all.
The outside world fascinated her too much. She had to do something with that, perhaps joining one of the caravans that came through town occasionally. Her father let slip about other towns in the world, and she realized that this was probably where the caravans came from. What if she joined one? What if she went far away from the Wiltwood, and was able to see all the sights she could ever imagine?
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That called to her more than anything within the town. Out of the two though, becoming a guard was more accessible to her, and a lot easier.
She smiled, thinking about the future and all the things she might find in life. Everything she’d seen of the outside was beautiful and interesting. There were so many things to do, and it felt like she didn’t have nearly enough time to do them all. If she had to start somewhere though, it would obviously be training with her father.
“When do we start?” she asked.
“Now’s as good a time as any.”
* * *
The first thing they did was to figure out how she would train. Once a week, on his off day, he would train her in how to use blades and shields. She said she wanted to use a knife alone, but he shot that down immediately. She would learn how to use longswords as her main weapon, so that she could keep the undead at a distance when killing them. Her knife would be a backup weapon, used only in emergencies.
They couldn’t begin blade training yet though, as her father needed to order some custom equipment for her to wield. She was way too small for any of the normal training swords.
Finally, she found that she wouldn’t be training in the walls. The town guard had an out-of-town training facility a small distance away. It was here that she would work on her muscles and, when it was time, her father would teach her how to wield weapons.
Her father wanted her to train here, even when he wasn’t around, for multiple reasons. First of all, the Death Eater fields helped to recover stamina faster than normal after workouts. This would let her train more, and faster. Second, if she did have an accident or hurt herself somehow, the fields would heal her back easily. And lastly, the training grounds were under constant use. Apprentice guards were being trained year-round, so she would be under the watchful eye of someone at all times.
Her dad wanted her to watch the apprentice guards and copy their exercises without interrupting them. He said that he knew the veteran guardsman working as teachers there and could get her a spot watching the classes so they wouldn’t kick her out, but she couldn’t make herself a nuisance.
After telling her the general plan, he took her to actually see the training grounds. Rather than turning right to approach the Wiltwood after leaving the gate, they took the path down the road, straight ahead of the town. It took them around twenty minutes of walking down the gently sloping hill atop which Darien was situated before she felt the ground level out, and began to rise again. Ten more minutes, and they crested the top of something she hadn’t even known was a hill, as the waving grass made everything look flat from a distance.
At the top of this new peak, a camp came into view. The road forked, one way going off to the left and into an area with tents, small buildings, and people, the other went off to the right, continuing into the horizon.
“That’s where new guards are trained. More than that though, anything to do with the Death Eater fields happens here. The guards stay in the tents during exercises where they have to stay the night, while Alchemists and other workers stay in the small buildings day and night.”
“Why would anyone stay here aside from the guards? Do other people exercise a lot?”
Her father laughed. “Not quite. Death Eater grass has other uses than just working out. The juices inside it can be concentrated down into a special drink to heal someone quite quickly, which is what the Alchemists use it for. The special drinks that Alchemists make are called potions, and healing potions are not the only drink they use it for, just the most popular.”
“Why don’t they use the grass closer to town?” she asked. It seemed like a big hassle to come all this way for grass when there was plenty near Darien.
“Ahh, there are some laws against harming any of the grass too close to Wiltwood in order to make sure that the fields are strong enough to absorb the particularly powerful undead that may happen along. That's why anything that may drain its resources happens out here, a lot further away from the treeline.”
She nodded, looking back at the odd camp thing. It looked almost overgrown from a distance, with lots of grass in between the houses and narrow walkways. She might be wrong though.
* * *
When they were closer, she saw that she was correct. There was grass between every building, and she had no idea how anyone got anywhere.
“Why do they let it grow inside the camp? Isn’t that annoying?”
“It’s a little annoying, yes, but worth it. By intertwining our everyday lives in the grass, there is a much higher chance of earning Glimpses. There is around one Life Glimpse per five years of guard graduates, then twice that in Undeath Glimpses every five years working as on-duty guards.
* * *
Omia’s dad introduced her to the two on-duty trainers. Retired guards would sometimes opt for helping train the next generation, staying with the cadets in their full two years of until their eventual graduation.
Unfortunately, both veteran guards were not nearly as supportive as her father, to the point of being openly hostile.
“She’s not gonna make it, Loid.” Francis said, the more outspoken one. Omia could tell that the other agreed with Francis, but wasn’t willing to fight over it. Francis was.
Her father adopted a harsh look, but said nothing aggressive. “I understand the chances are slim, but this is her decision. You know she’s been hanging around the gate and following me around. I can’t just tell her no and think she will give up.”
“You can tell her no,” the grizzled man said. “You don’t want to tell her no. If she stays here, she’s just wasting her time on something that’ll never work out. If she doesn’t give up now, she will later. She saw a few undead rabbits and thinks that’s all the forest has to offer? Not a chance. Women don’t belong in the Wiltwood, they lock up. Freeze. I’ve seen it before. She isn’t the first girl to want to join the guard, and they end up being stationed permanently in the walls because it disgusts them seeing the undead. If they’re going to get an honorary position as guards, they might as well not get one at all.”
Her father shook his head. “I know you’re speaking from experience, but I’m not going to make her give up on her dream on your say-so, just because you think you know what’s best. You haven’t seen a single thing about her. Not that twinkle of fascination in her eyes when she saw undead, nor the way she grips her knife everywhere she goes. You’re generalizing to something I don't think applies to Omia.”
Francis doubled down. “Every parent thinks their kid is special, but she’s not. I’ll watch your brat for a while, I’ll even make her participate in the exercises, but I’m telling you she isn’t cut out for it. She’ll never be as strong or stern as the other cadets, and she’ll just waste her life in the guard. How old is she?”
Her father was steaming by this point, but still he didn’t say anything that might irritate Francis. “Nine.”
“Perfect. I’ll cut you a deal. It’s spring, the cadets have just started this year's training. I’ll give her three years maximum to prove she’s worth training. If she isn’t, I’m pulling some strings to make sure she never joins the guard. At twelve, she’ll still have two years to apprentice somewhere else. If she isn’t up to my standard by the end of that, she’s done, do you hear me?”
Her father nodded solemnly “Yes, sir.”
“Good. She'll follow my class this year, do some of the exercises, and try to get in shape. If she’s still here by next year, I’ll involve her in a few of the mental endurance exercises, and if she can still pass those, I’ll fully take her under my wing in the third year to get her up to the average apprentice standard. Then, two more years as a guard apprentice, and she’s in.”
Her father breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you sir, I promise she’ll impress you.”
Francis shook his head at that but said nothing. “Leave her here for today so she knows exactly when to get up and when we’re going home. I don't want to see her outside the walls if it's not with the cadets, so she had better keep up on our jog to the training grounds every day she wants to work on herself.”
Her father nodded “Alright.” Then, pulling her aside a bit, and behind one of the buildings, he kneeled down in the grass to get on her level.
Omia was on the verge of tears. She hadn’t said anything during their conversation, but she was still listening. Francis was harsh on her in a way that her parents never were, and she had no idea how to react to that kind of criticism. The only reason she didn’t burst into tears, was because she felt like it would be proving him right.
“I know sweety,” her father said, pulling her into a hug “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything directly to him. Francis is an old hand, and he has a lot of friends in the guard. His hair is white, but he’s never gotten a Glimpse of Undeath before. That just happens when someone lives a long time, which is rare in the guard. If you want any chance of getting in the guard though, this is your best shot. You won't be able to train fast enough in the walls, it's too dangerous outside the walls without me by your side, and I don’t have the time to stay with you all the time.”
Holding her at an arm's length, he looked into her eyes. “This is the best chance I can give you. If you want to be a guard, this is the only shot you’ll have, do you hear me?”
She nodded at him, glad she didn’t have to talk for fear of her voice cracking
“Francis is gonna say some rude things to you, but that's because he cares. He wants to push you to your limit, he wants to try and break you down, because Wiltwood will be twice as harsh. He doesn’t want you to die. Think of this as your very first trial. Can you stay strong under Francis?”
At first she thought it was rhetorical, but he kept looking at her. He wanted an answer.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and nodded at him.
“Good. And remember, if you can’t, then that's okay. Just say the word, and there are other things you can do.”
She nodded at him again. This was still what she wanted.
If she was going to face off with undead in the Wiltwood, she had to be able to face Francis first.
She would prove he was wrong.