A Real World

It was a quiet, moonless night under the dusky sky within the heavy trees. Winter had just sank its claws into the earth, and showed no signs of letting go its grip any time soon. Large trees groaned under the weight of snow, yearning for warm sunlit days gone by. Here and there, the rustle of small animals could be heard, frantically scurrying around looking for sustenance in the barren wasteland that was once their home of abundance and luxury. Farther up the ridge, warm cook fires and hearty laughter stood in stark contrast to the chill of winter. 

 

In many ways, Fulmino had never really belonged amongst his fellow humans. Whether it was children his own age or adults, neither group made an effort to understand him.

Tomorrow was another day, of course. Most people said this mantra as an encouragement to the endless possibilities the proceeding day might bring. To Fulmino, it was a curse and a burden that weighed heavily upon him. After all, tomorrow brought another day of endless ways that things could go wrong.

Perhaps he would comb one hair in an offensive direction, and be mercilessly tormented by his peers for his “indiscretion”. No matter what he did, there was always a fault or weakness his fellow peers would be happy to point out to him, when they spoke to him at all.

Adults were no better. Secretly Fulmino believed that adults were all out of touch with reality in one form or fashion; who in their right mind could sit and dither about absolutely nothing for so long as was considered prudent to do so?

To make matter worse, they often times handed out “golden bits of wisdom” that often turned out to be poorly useful. More than once, taking the advice of adults had gotten him further distanced from his peer group, such as the infamous string of tattling incidents that earned him scornful looks from his masters and mistresses and blows from his fellow students.

“Just tell an adult” was what they always said; what the adults actually meant was don’t cause problems we will have to fix. Supposedly, such immature behavior stopped when his peers “grew up”, but he had yet to see evidence of this. The taunts were still just as sharp as ever, the only difference was that most were too busy with their snobby friends to seriously maintain a constant barrage like was once possible in earlier years.

 

To make matters worse, tomorrow was the day that his class was separated into different areas of study.

It had been tradition for so long as records were kept that students in their seventeenth winter of life would be tested to determine where they would be put for future study.

The majority of students would test negatively for magic and be sent to a different city to begin work in the trades. While everyone knew this to be the case, it still was very upsetting to those students that tested negatively.

A positive magical test instantly transported the student and his family to a higher social strata where they enjoyed a life of luxury compared to those relegated to the trades.

Granted, there were some in the trades successful enough to match the prestige relegated to the bottom strata of positives, but no further. To be without magic was to be normal, yet it meant so much more as well. Tradesmen without magic were seen as second class citizens at best by the elite; worker bees in a hive if you will. The whole thing mildly disgusted Fulmino, especially considering how low his chances of being born with magic were in the first place.

 

While most schools avoided the discussion of magical bloodlines and social hierarchies for obvious reasons, Fulmino did remember the one time it had come up in class. During a study of the early magical families, a significant question occurred to him.

What was the difference between the current class structure and that of the early magic lords? When he asked the master, the response was less than inspiring. Looking down his nose at him, the master replied “Surely young man, you are not implying that there is any correlation between a few powerful families who killed any magical competition they faced and our current system of equal opportunity to all that allows any person born with magic to have elevated social status”? The class laughed at Fulmino’s rapidly reddening face. One of the more vocal tormentors, Pontius, told the master “You will have to forgive Minnow here; he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shout”. With a severe tone that his face contradicted, the master admonished Pontius and continued on with the lesson.

 

Laying there in the dark, Fulmino scowled into the blackness and ignored the cold through the heat of his anger.

How dare they mock him! It had been a legitimate question!

He knew the real truth of the matter though; that those lords in power financing the schools and academies did not want such discussions to take place.

Better that the sheep not get too restless before facing the slaughter. Workers in the trades had always been restless towards the magical community, forcing reforms at times. Such was the reason that all children attended school equally before being tested, to better improve chances of magical ability manifesting. Fulmino snorted. What rot! Everyone knew magic was in the blood, yet few brought up the obvious conclusion; no matter what schooling was accomplished, knowledge did not equal hereditary magic.

 

Rolling over on his cot, Fulmino noticed the first rays of sun breaking the horizon over the winter shrouded woods.

Great; not only did he have a huge day beginning, it would start with no sleep. Rolling off his cot with a huge yawn, Fulmino approached the basin of water to shave and wash his face. He closely scrutinized his own face while watching the razor scrape across his skin.

It was what he considered a better than average face, with deep set brown eyes and angular features. Eyeing his hair, he carefully examined the one attribute that was both a source of personal pride and endless torment for him.

Reaching down his back, thick and strait, it was as black as night and glossy. Often times, Fulmino would wash his hair in a crystal clear stream that took his breath away with the cold. It was times like those that he felt most at peace, when there were none to laugh or torment him.

It was later that the torment would begin, once he reached school. The boys would be the most obvious, with their belligerent stares and comments. “What, does he think he’s a girl?” “If you won’t cut your hair, I can cut it for you!”. He was used to it from the boys, and if it wasn’t his hair it would be something else that they took offense with.

It was the girls and adults disapproval that truly annoyed him. The girls were often offended by a boy with such beautiful hair, and went out of their way to whisper and point when he came by, or studiously ignore him like he wasn’t there.

The masters and mistresses both frowned on the first day when they saw his hair, and often times used it as an excuse to justify their inaction at his torment. “That boy is obviously asking for attention by wearing his hair like that, and if he gets bullied because of it that’s no one’s fault but his own” was the typical response he had heard between two masters while waiting to speak to one of them.

 

As frustrating as their behavior was, he knew that it was to be expected. Typically it was girls that had long hair, and the few men who did so were either essentially feminine or from a family where any and all eccentric behavior was overlooked.

As the son of a miner, Fulmino did not fit two of the three accepted explanations, and the third was not accurate. Fulmino let out a long sigh as he headed to breakfast. All of his thoughts faded away as he approached the familiar breakfast table and saw his mother and younger brother sitting there.

His father was gone, probably taking an early morning shift so as not to miss the big event later this afternoon. Though the hope was slim, Fulmino knew all parents held unrealistic hopes that their children would be selected as magically positive. He could see his father now, whistling as he swung the pickaxe…

“Good Morning Fulmino! I made your favorite breakfast this morning for your big day”!

“Thanks Mother”

Fulmino and his brother exchanged nods. Only two years younger, Sol possessed many of the same tendencies as Fulmino, though he was somehow able to cultivate a few friends whereas Fulmino always had none to speak of.

Over the years, the two had come to a mutual understanding that involved little talking and as a result no fighting, but they were no longer very close. Sol resented having a loser big brother, whereas Fulmino resented having his former minion of many adventures turn on him shortly after Sol’s thirteenth birthday. Honestly, neither of them had any problem with the arrangement, and both parents enjoyed the sibling harmony, even if such peace came at the price of little spoken communication between the two.

As Fulmino began eating breakfast his mother launched into what she thought was a motivational speech, that often times had the opposite effect on Fulmino.

 

“Son, I want you to know that even if you fail the magic test, there are still options available to you. Obviously, we want you to pass the test. But, should you fail there is nothing wrong with becoming a miner like your father. Just make sure that you do your best”.

 

Fulmino had to make an effort not to roll his eyes. YES, he had been PLANNING to not do his best so that he could have lower prospects the rest of his life.

Breakfast passed all too quickly, even with the monotone of his mother throughout the entire event. As much as he loved his mother, there would be some obvious benefits to working a trade, namely that you could leave and never have to see your family again, he thought with a grin.

His grin faded as he thought of the pitfalls of the trades. Many laborers barely saw their fiftieth winter. Along with backbreaking work was the equally heavy taxes that went towards the military and magical academies.

All too many laborers went to an early grave from drink and stimulants, when they could spare the money. Fulmino shook his head and chuckled ruefully. Maybe he couldn’t blame them for that once it finally set in to most of them that there was nothing else, just the same low pay position that paid for the privileged to become more so.

 

Shaking off dark thoughts, Fulmino finished breakfast and began his walk to the school. As he got closer to the school, carriages passed him and occasionally came close to running him over at times.

Fulmino shook his head; as if he needed another reason to remember his low chances today. The elite often times rented carriages for their children on testing day, to remind all the tradesman’s children just who was going to be chosen for what today.

In a way, it was all too realistic. The blue blooded magic user’s children would zoom by everyone else on their way to fame and glory, while most of the tradesman’s children would be left behind, slowly walking down a dirt road that led to nowhere the rest of their lives.

As Fulmino neared the school, he noted the other walking students all chatting amiably. A half grin forced its way onto his reluctant face. Even people who rarely talked at all were talking with others as if they had been good friends all year; it was all a façade, and a way to relieve the tension. Typically, Fulmino would join the mindless chatter to pass the time, but why bother? It would never amount to anything in the first place, and he was not going to help some of these people relieve tension when they had been either a tormentor or giving him the cold shoulder for years.

 

As the students funneled into the monastery like building that had been a second home to them for years, Fulmino looked over the place as usual.

Brick and limestone made up the sturdy walls, and gave the whole school a rather dismal feel. Many classroom periods had been spent counting the cracks on the walls in the windowless cell the school proclaimed a classroom.

While passing the Library, Fulmino paused and smiled, looking over what had been his sanctuary over the years. While good at sports, the other children had gone out of their way to ostracize him even while playing pegs or stickball.

At pegs he watched the leaders whisper instructions to their best throwers, pointing obviously in his direction, while in stickball he did not commit the time towards becoming skilled and thus was poorly equipped for playing boys that had obsessed over the game for years.

Fulmino shook his head, clearing away the poor memories of days long gone. Once again viewing the Library, he remembered the first time he had slunk in, nursing bruises from pegs and looking for a place to hide. Surprisingly, here was a seemingly abandoned room with many places to hide and a wealth of knowledge to be discovered.

Originally, Fulmino had thought it too good to be true, but eventually realized that very few had the inclination to enter the place because they were obsessed with their  endeavors of sports, gossip, or whatever it was kids at that age did.

A seemingly strange statement, until one realized that Fulmino was never included in these group activities that so many derived fulfillment from. Instead, Fulmino escaped into the world of paper and ink, forgetting his troubles for hours on end at times.

As the years went by, Fulmino was able to spend less of his time in the abandoned Library because of increased academic classes, but never forgot his secret sanctuary.

The only bitterness Fulmino felt in it all was the isolation that always plagued him throughout his life. At times over the years, he had considered cutting off his hair and becoming obsessed with stickball in order to fit the mold and make everyone happy. Chances are, doing those things would eventually make him a few “friends” and stop at least most of the cold shoulder he was used to receiving. In the end though, he always rejected these ideas of weakness.

If people couldn’t accept him for who he was, then he had no interest in them. His parents warned him that he was going to die alone and unhappy, that he was being stubborn to a fault, but he always tuned them out.

After all, what had going along with things ever gotten them? His father worked a job that was going to kill him before ten more winters passed, and his mother often dreamed of being a magical healer but would never have the opportunity because she tested negatively.

 

Fulmino paused in his thoughts, amused as he realized he was suffering from the same malady as his classmates. Instead of talking with those around him, his mind was working in overdrive in order to accommodate a self conversation to drive off tension.

Typical. Shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and disgust, Fulmino continued past the Library and into the main common room large enough to accommodate all of the students.

Nicknamed the grotto, the large room did indeed resemble a cave of sorts, with the masters and mistresses well representing ominous bats in their billowing cloaks of office.

Already, the noise was deafening as boys laughed and punched each other while girls giggled and talked in awed tones of their plans once they achieved their positive reading.

Fat chance, Fulmino smirked. Only the richly attired individuals in the front were guaranteed anything in this circus, and they made sure no one forgot it. Somehow, they managed to convey outward politeness with absolute contempt at the same time when addressed by the working class students.

Looking over his elite peers, Fulmino allowed disgust to frame his face clearly. There was one boy in particular that Fulmino hated, though they had never met before.

Flavius Draconis, an upper tiered elite whose father was a renowned professor at the magic academy, was in many ways a mirror of Fulmino. Fairly good looking with long hair and a charismatic attitude, there was no one Flavius could not charm.

Masters fell over themselves saying what an honor it was to have him in their class, and mistresses giggled like school girls when he complimented them. Flavius was the object of nearly every girl’s affection, both noble and common alike. He was always the center of favored glances and whispered words, though he remained aloof unless addressed by them specifically.

Perhaps most galling to Fulmino was the boys attitude towards him, since they gave him no end of grief about his own long hair. To the boys, Flavius was a god among insects, and he would often hold court with his cronies buzzing around him, currying for his favor.

These same boys who had targeted him mercilessly over the years for his differences fawned over the same traits in Flavius. Though Fulmino knew nothing about the boy, he hated him passionately just the same for his ability to be himself and be admired for it.

 

All eyes turned to the front as the Headmaster began one of his long winded speeches about the importance of the day and the great privilege it was for all to have the opportunity to test for magic.

Fulmino did not bother restraining his eye roll this time. Some opportunity. In one of his many ventures to the Library years ago, Fulmino had chanced across a book not covered with dust for a change. 

It had a gold binding and was the largest book he had found to date. Opening it, Fulmino discovered a comprehensive record of past classes, updated to the previous years’ graduation.

In Silver were written the names of the Elite positive candidates, whereas plain black suited the few names of common birth. Most interesting though was the distinction of silver names in the tested negative category.

Apparently, such misfits were rare and considered a great embarrassment to the noble families they hailed from. Fulmino snorted. He guessed they would just have to settle for living lavishly the rest of their lives and doing nothing in exchange for staying out of the public eye. Real hardship that.

 

Finally, Fulmino tuned back in as the testing had actually begun after many minutes of shuffling feet. All candidates were required to stand for the duration of the ceremony, which had lasted over two hours some years.

Every year began with the nobles, as was their “right” apparently. Of course, the truth was that noble families considered their children’s affirmation to be the only real substance to the ceremony, so they demanded it happen first and foremost of course.

A young noble was being examined by the watchers now as everyone watching held their breath. It was a positive test. The hall erupted in cheering as the girl stepped off the platform with a satisfied smirk. The watchers whispered amongst themselves as the next noble in line headed their way.

The watchers were a unique priesthood dedicated to the furtherance of magic, and conducted all the testing for schools. Fulmino had never been impressed with the watchers, despite their high prestige.

Fulmino had not entered the monastery to see what they did all day, but he would wager it involved copious amounts of wine, food and women. Such behavior would explain their enormous girth and bleary eyes. He was sure that under the hood they looked the same as always, but were careful enough to not show it their one day of actual work per year.

The nobles continued to pass the tests one by one until they reached a boy who looked decidedly more nervous than any of the nobles had yet.

He had barely reached the three watchers before they thundered in unison, “Negative!”

 

The boy’s family looked on with faces devoid of emotion, as if they were watching someone they didn’t know up on the stage. Fulmino shuddered.

For once in his life, he might actually feel sorry for a noble. The crowd was filled with low murmurs until the last of the nobles started testing positive again, and the incident was forgotten.

Last to go was Flavius. He was the only noble to receive a standing ovation before and after receiving his positive status and joining his peers. Fulmino found Flavius increasingly revolting the more he saw him.

Go figure.

The nobles and their families left the hall as the commoners ceremony began.

As with everything else, the nobles were first to finish and received the best position when all was said and done.As front row seats were vacated, the ceremony continued on with little enthusiasm.

No claps were made as more students were tested negatively; the mood of the room was dismal.

Hope, which mere hours ago had seemed so tangible to the chattering students, now disappeared in the face of grim reality. Many students were now sweating as they watched the hung heads of the already disqualified, many of the girls crying softly as their dreams went up in flames.

Fulmino could not help but watch the whole scene with pity, even after all the cruelty and indifference he had suffered at their hands through the years.

What was it they had expected? That THEY would be special? That even though the odds were completely against them, it would all be exactly as they dreamed.

He snorted softly. Reality for them would no longer involve countless hours playing stickball, gossiping or whatever it was that they had done all these years. They would not be gaining nobility and prestige for themselves and their families. Big surprise.

 

There was suddenly a roar of clapping and cheers that made Fulmino jump.

So, it looked like one of the lucky few had been chosen. Good for him. The boy in question was at least someone who had never specifically bothered Fulmino, so he wished him the best.

The boy quickly skirted past the long line of rejected applicants as fast as he could without running. Fulmino almost laughed; the degree of pure hatred in the faces of those who had already seen their dreams die was comical to him.

As the students continued to present themselves to the watchers, even the few positives selected were cheered less and less as the negatively tested group of sullen students grew.

Fulmino realized with a start that it was his turn, and headed towards the watchers. Though he did have some nervousness, he knew how this would turn out. Walking up to the watchers, he pasted a sarcastic grin on his face which they did not appreciate, so accustomed were they to the trembling awe usually directed their way. Seeing in their face that his fate was as he thought, he was already headed to the negative group when they pronounced the word simultaneously

“Negative”

Fulmino didn’t even turn around.

For once, the group of peers did not sneer at him; they were too intent crying or looking at the ground with a shocked look on their faces.

Fulmino shuffled with his shocked peers as they were led out of the building and told to come in the morning for further testing, and they were assigned to their new trade.

Slowly, everyone began their journey home with dead eyes and cold faces stung by the harsh reality of their circumstances.

Everyone except for Fulmino that is.

While not happy that he would probably die in the mines at fifty as his father would, Fulmino took it in stride.

One thing that life had taught him in hard lessons over the years was that if you expected nothing, then it would come as no great surprise when life then gave you nothing.

 

Reaching home took over an hour as it always did. As Fulmino entered the door, he braced himself for the expectant faces on the other side of the door.

They looked encouraged that he did not burst in the door with his head dragging the ground or weeping as so many others were doing across the street. They should know better by now not to judge him on what others did or said, because he was nothing like them.

He slowly shook his head in the negative as a sad smile graced his mouth. His father scowled fiercely while his mother left the room and locked herself in her bedroom, crying.

Sol muttered something uncomplimentary and left the room, leaving just Fulmino and his father. His father took the opportunity to start in on him.

“What are you smiling for boy? You think this is funny or something?”

“No Father, I just pride myself in being different from everyone else”.

While Fulmino loved his father, the drink brought out a nasty streak in him. “Oh, think you’re real big don’t you? Well, if you try that high and mighty attitude in the trades they might just decide to kill you instead of rough you up some. First thing I’m gonna do is shave your head. There is no way that a son of mine is going to continue looking like a girl any longer!”

From experience, Fulmino knew that to provoke his father when he was in such a mood was unwise. “Whatever you say father."

“That’s right whatever I say! Who do you think pays for everything around here, your good for nothing self? Working myself into the grave just so my son can be useless!"

He spat on the ground and stormed out.

Though hardened over the years, it still hurt Fulmino whenever his father considered him useless. It was difficult for Fulmino not to point out to his father that it was not like he had ever done anything amazing with his own life.

 

Fulmino never understood people. If they weren’t ignoring you, they sought ways to wound others to feel better about their own lot in life.

The most annoying thing to Fulmino was that his family acted like it was his own fault that he had tested negative; that it was his fault he was different from everyone.

That was the bottom line, fault.

The finger had to be pointed at him, not at those responsible.

Whose fault were his torments at school? The ones who had decided to torment him. Whose fault was it he tested negative? The parents who had combined themselves to make him.

Fulmino sighed as he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes for sleep.

The only good thing about a sleepless night was that he always slept deep the next. He certainly hoped that was the case, because the longer he lay in the dark, the longer his doubts had to creep up on him.

Was it his fault he never fit in? Was it his fault he tested negatively? Was it his fault that…

The list continued on in his mind until the blackness took him.

 

 

Fulmino awoke the next morning and embraced his washing and dressing routine as usual.

Going down to breakfast, his mother did not look him in the face as she and Sol continued with breakfast. Fulmino ignored them both and ate his oatmeal with little real hunger, then began his long walk to school.

Once again, a long procession of peers walked slowly towards the school in the center of town. The differences to the previous day were very obvious though.

Instead of smiling, excited faces, Fulmino saw a mirror of what his own face had been for years as he approached school.

No talk, little hope for the day, just wanting to get things over with.

It was the best walk to school Fulmino had ever experienced.

 

Also absent were the carriages from the previous day, as were their occupants.

Those selected for the magic school would be celebrating for days to come, then would begin their own testing process at their leisure.

The newly chosen nobles would be celebrating the most, and Fulmino surprised himself by not begrudging them their newly found happiness. Maybe he was just still giddy over the day that everyone else got to feel what he had been feeling every morning for over ten years now.

Fulmino chuckled quietly to himself as he entered the courtyard where most of the testing would take place.

First, the genders were separated.

He did not know what went on with the other group, nor did they have any knowledge of what went on in the boys group. All everyone knew was that within a week a few would be sent to skilled trades, while the majority of boys would be sent to labor trades.

Many of the girls would be married and raise a family instead of become an artisan, because so few were chosen out of either group for skilled work and women were not chosen for labor trades.

 

Masters walked among the boys with representatives from the guilds, making comments and suggestions. Fulmino was eyed with interest by some of the representatives, but they were quickly steered away by the masters.

Obviously, the masters would be fine with him being part of the servant guild. For those not chosen by any of the guilds or if a guilds member was ejected for some reason, they were always snatched up by the servant’s guild.

Slavery had been outlawed long ago for a variety of reasons, but there was little difference between that and the servants guild. Servants were given pitiful wages and were thus also not allowed to marry or raise a family while part of the guild unless they became part of the hierarchy within the guild.

It was rightly considered the lowest rung of society, and no one in their right mind would join up willingly. Even though the other guilds had bad life expectancy, they allowed for a man to marry, raise a family, and live in relative comfort compared to working in the servant guild.

Fulmino shuddered. No, the servant guild would be worse than death, and did not bear thinking about.

As the number of boys around him steadily dwindled Fulmino became increasingly nervous.

Finally, Fulmino spotted Marcus, one of the mine representatives, and let out a sigh of relief. Marcus was a friend of the family, and would not let Fulmino go to the Servant guild.

As if hearing his thoughts, Marcus began to head his way with sure, solid steps. Fulmino sighed. At least the mine would be better than working for next to noth-

 

“You, boy! Come with me” barked a large man with bulging muscles and a hefty scowl.

 

Judging by the man’s appearance, Fulmino assumed him to be from military school. If it was true, then it was certainly surprising.

The military academy was below the magic academy in terms of prestige, but was a much higher position than what could be expected from the mines. While in separate cities, the two academies often held war games to practice for battles where they would be fighting together.

Being a soldier certainly did not make you a noble, but it made you a cut above the rest of the skilled trades and labor guilds, especially if you became an officer. Marcus raised his eyebrows and continued looking at the boys, giving Fulmino a proud nod.

Fulmino joined two other tall boys that were standing beside the scowling man, and gave them nods. They returned them without prejudice, showing themselves to obviously be from somewhere far away. Interesting. As the masters finished up and the last of the boys were rounded up, it appeared there would be none for the servants guild today. Everyone below the age of twenty in the courtyard breathed a sigh of relief, Fulmino included. The large man turned to Fulmino and gruffly said, “Listen to me grub. You have ten minutes to grab gear and say your goodbyes once we reach your house, and no longer. If you keep me waiting one second, I will leave you to take your chances with the servant guild. Am I clear?”

Fulmino managed a nod.

Muscles, as Fulmino decided to call him, narrowed his eyes and said quietly “If we were back in camp, you would have just earned a hefty cuff and extra duty for that nod. When in the academy, you will say yes sir or no sir to every question a superior asks you. Am I clear?”

“Yes sir”, Fulmino replied with little enthusiasm.

Muscles actually smiled “I can see you’re going to have a lot of fun in your first month, grub. Let’s get moving.”

 

As Fulmino approached his home, he entered the door and saw his family sitting at dinner. His father was the first to talk. “I spoke to Marcus just now and he said some nonsense about you being selected by the mili-“

For the first time, Fulmino’s father noticed Muscles looming outside the doorway.

His eyes widened as he looked between Fulmino and muscles. Fulmino’s mother had adopted a disinterested expression, and Sol was the only one who looked pleased about it.

He could hear it now, “That’s right, my brother was taken for military school” would echo through the school corridors for months as Sol attempted to repair his badly damaged prestige.Well, at least someone would get something out of the whole deal.

Looking at his mother’s blank expression, he knew that her lack of interest was because Fulmino’s elevated status did not affect the family like entrance to the magic academy would. Certainly it was something to be proud of, but you couldn’t eat pride off of a golden platter in a gilded mansion.

As it turned out, it only took Fulmino a few minutes to grab what he wanted. As Fulmino left his room, his gaze wandered to his most valuable and prized possession tucked safely away in his knapsack.

It was a dagger that he had received less than a year before for his seventeenth birthday. It had been a strange thing, since his parents usually gave him a nice yet modest present every year during his special day. Sol of course gave him nothing, as Fulmino likewise reciprocated on Sol’s birthday.

Since the Seventeenth birthday signaled the end of childhood, it was typical for parents to get something special for their child as the last gift from parent to child.

Beginning with the 18th year, birthdays were no longer celebrated with gifts but rather were occasions to meet and spend time together.To offer a gift after the 18th birthday was considered a high insult, as it suggested the person in question to be child like in their competency.

Magic families often gave their children a thoroughbred mount, or perhaps land for them to start their own house on for the 17th. Most everyone else settled for a practical gift and did their best to make the day memorable.

A dagger would certainly not be an unusual gift for such an occasion, as it could be used as a tool in a variety of trades and for self protection in a pinch. What startled Fulmino was the beauty of the dagger, and the obvious cost. When Fulmino asked his parents how much it had cost, his mother had said it was a family heirloom and refused to say anything else about it.

Fulmino wondered about that, for he knew both his father and mother to be descended from a long line of tradesmen. Briefly taking the dagger out, Fulmino admired it again in the light coming through a window. The hilt was made of a smooth, white bone that was gentle to the hand yet unyielding as stone and contained beautifully carved animals so lifelike it was astounding. The blade was roughly a foot long, and made of a metal that Fulmino had never seen or heard of before. White as the wood that made up the hilt, the blade was etched with dark sigils and runes that seemed to drink in the light hungrily, making the blade shine bright even in full sunlight.

Fulmino had once tested the blade on everything he could get his hands on, from twine to wood, even stone. Nothing had made a difference; even the stone was sliced through with little difficulty. Even after all of the tests, the blade remained sharp as ever and required no maintenance. Though Fulmino knew little about metal, he knew that such a thing was unnatural.

Since receiving the blade, Fulmino kept it on his person or nearby always, as though he was afraid it would magically disappear if ever out of his sight. No, Fulmino thought as he slid the blade home in its sheath, he would never find a better knife than this. Whether it was magical or not though, he often wondered why his parents had not sold the dagger years ago. They could have lived comfortably for the rest of their lives on the sale; his father would not have to face an early grave like so many. But, like so many questions, Fulmino had never worked up the courage to ask.

Also, though he was somewhat ashamed of it, he had thought that maybe they would suddenly agree with him and decide to sell the dagger. The money would not help at this point, Fulmino reasoned with himself. His father’s fate had been sealed since the first day he had walked into the mine and started breathing in everything that sent miners to a hacking grave before their fiftieth winter.

 

Muscles’ bellow shook Fulmino from his inner thoughts.

“You got two minutes to get out here grub!”

Putting aside his inner thoughts, Fulmino approached the table and prepared to bid his family farewell. Sol displayed an unusual amount of emotion by giving Fulmino a hug and wishing him the best.

Fulmino’s father gruffly announced that he had “done them proud” and shook hands with him. Fulmino’s mother gave him a hug that seemed to make his ribs creak and tearfully announced that she would miss him greatly. Fulmino doubted it sincerely, but it was kind of her to make the gesture anyways.

Waving goodbye over his shoulder, Fulmino received the distinct feeling that it would be a long time before he saw his family again. While this sentiment would doubtless bother him later, it held little sorrow for him at the time. With a deep breath, Fulmino approached the scowling man he knew as Muscles.

“Let’s go grub, you can waste time when you’re dead."

As endearing as the name grub was, it was sincerely beginning to fray on Fulmino’s nerves. No matter, he did not want to make a scene in front of his family as the last thing they would remember of him.

Instead, Fulmino answered in a flippant manner “Been waiting on you Muscles."

“Muscles” frowned as he sorted that out for a second. Finally, his face turned slightly purple as he realized that he had actually been addressed in a disrespectful fashion. Whirling around, Muscles began to trek down the road at a brutal pace that all the boys were expected to follow. Fulmino received reproachful stares from the two other boys over the next few hours of hard pace.

Fulmino winced inwardly as he realized that he would have to watch his tongue more carefully from now on. If stories were to be believed, he had gotten off easily with Muscles compared to what could have happened. Horror stories of floggings and in some rare cases hangings for minor offenses were whispered about generally, and made Fulmino wary. Yes, he would have to watch his step carefully in dealing with his superiors from now on.

 

Finally, near dusk Muscles announced that they would make camp for the night in a wooded knoll not far from Fulmino’s town. Fulmino was roughly ordered to collect firewood, while the other two boys sorted supplies and pitched the tent. Muscles began to sharpen his sword, meaningfully staring at Fulmino the whole time. Fulmino took the hint and jogged while collecting firewood.

This task, no doubt meant to be demeaning, was something Fulmino enjoyed. Any time spent without other people was usually good, especially with the surrounding woods for company. Fulmino never felt lonely or afraid in the woods, rather he felt like he was at home after a long journey. Ruefully, Fulmino realized his days of sitting and listening to the birds and summer crickets were behind him now. Picking up the final piece of wood, Fulmino started back to the camp, shivering at the chill in the air. It was a good thing that he had collected so much wood, the night would be cold and freezing to death was not unheard of in these parts. As Fulmino approached the fire, Muscles grunted in surprise at the amount of wood he had brought.

“You must be a lot stronger than you look boy."

Fulmino sighed in relief. Though “boy” was not a huge upgrade from “grub” it was something he was able to tolerate much better. As dried food was passed around and everyone ate, Muscles began to speak.

“Boy, what is your name?”

“Fulmino, sir”.

“Very well boy, I understand that was your name in your previous life. Now that you have begun a new life, you will receive a new name. Until such time as you do, you will be called various words such as boy, grub, or imbecile depending on the circumstances. At all times, you will address me simply as Sir unless I say otherwise. Am I clear?

Though Fulmino didn’t care for this sequence of events, he took it in stride.

“Yes sir”.

Muscles nodded. “That will do boy."

Fulmino assumed that he was finished, but Muscles was only beginning. “Your two comrades also have no names as of yet, so until you receive new names you may use your old names amongst yourselves. Just remember though, once you receive your new names you will be punished severely for using the old ones. More importantly, I want to inform you of what will happen in the next few months. Many commanders will leave their troops in the dark about such things, but I have always believed in letting those under my command know what they are to expect. As a result, I have less patience for mistakes since you have all the information you need."

Fulmino was surprised to be almost treated as an equal by Muscles. Always, the professors, parents and other adults had made plans he was expected to follow without informing him of what was expected. Despite himself, Muscles was starting to command some respect in Fulmino’s eyes. Fulmino focused his attention on Muscles as he continued.

“Tomorrow we will begin our journey to the military academy. This will take the better part of six months, and be glad for that. If you were beginning academy training tomorrow, you would likely be dead in a week. During these six months, you will keep up with my marching pace at all times. Giving up, sitting down or stopping will result in severe punishment. Most of the day will be spent marching. After dinner, we will begin rudimentary weapons training and unarmed sparring. I expect sufficient effort in these drills, or else there will be a harsher pace the next day until I see improvement. By the time we reach the academy, you will be lean, mean dogs on my leash. I expect you to be ahead of your fellow academs, because it will make my recruiting efforts look all the better.”

Fulmino stifled laughter. At least Muscles made no bones as to his motives, which was much preferable to the answers expected in polite society. Now Fulmino heard something he did not like at all.

“Boy, you will have your hair cut tonight. We recruit men, not women to fight. Show up at the academy like that and you might well be taken to be either a prostitute or a fancy boy, and you would not like what followed.”

Fulmino was shocked that he actually did not feel looming despair at the prospect of losing his hair which he had always been so attached to. Somehow, he felt that the loss would only be temporary, though he could not explain how he knew this. Fulmino managed a nod at Muscles.

Muscles seemed surprised, yet pleased at Fulmino’s ready acquiesce to his request. Fulmino decided he would do the deed himself, and asked for Muscles permission. Muscles shrugged and agreed, only stating the hair must be short, yet not close to the scalp. Only soldiers were allowed the close cut that so identified them from all but monks.

Taking his blade from the sheath, Fulmino took a deep breath and gripped his hair. Silken and heavy, it had weighed him down at times, yet had also been a companion of sorts through many a lonely night. Though the feeling persisted that its absence would not last forever, Fulmino still had an ache in his chest as he sheared of almost all his hair. His hair had represented symbols of himself for so long that it felt strange to be without it. His pain came not so much from the losing the hair he was so fond of, but from finally being forced to be someone other than himself to appease others. Once he was finished, Fulmino reverently laid his hair out on the forest floor, hoping that the birds would use it for their nests. As Fulmino returned to the fire, he felt that things were profoundly different in a way he could not describe. The days ahead would certainly change him, whether for the worse or the better he was not sure.

“Well, now that all that is settled I suggest you boys get some sleep. Training begins tomorrow and you will grow to curse me in the next few weeks, though I suggest you do so in silence.”

 

With the conclusion of his speech, Muscles departed for the tent, leaving the boys to spread their bedrolls by the fire. Now that the looming figure of Muscles had departed, Fulmino allowed himself to examine the two boys he was to spend the next six months with. Both were tall, of a height with Fulmino, which was unusual. The first boy was red haired with freckles, whereas the second had brown hair that was cut fairly short. Freckles introduced himself as Aldon, whereas the second boy introduced himself as Leonidus.

Fulmino could usually tell a good bit about people from first meeting them, which was amusing considering how little time he actually spent around others. Aldon proved to be a chatterbox, and painted himself as being a very popular individual in his town and was loath to leave his “subjects”. Fulmino suspected reality to be very different from the colorful mosaic that Aldon painted, but kept his opinions to himself.

Leonidus spoke little of himself, and did not seem the type that sought out much company. Fulmino was glad to have a kindred spirit amongst the boys. Though Fulmino had rarely found a like minded individual before, he hoped that he could create a similar relationship to what he had enjoyed with Sol for years before their disagreements. Only time would tell though, and forcing anything at this early stage was both unwise and against Fulmino’s nature. After a gruff command from Muscles to “shut up and sleep”, they all snuggled in their bedrolls and dreamed of their future.

 

A boot resting none too gently on his stomach was Fulmino’s wake up call. As Fulmino opened his eyes, he could make out Muscles teeth in the darkness, bared in a shark smile as he leaned his weight forward onto the offending boot.

“Morning grub! As of right now, you would be dead if I was an enemy. Since the dead don’t need food, just forget about eating today.”

Aldon was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh, whereas Leonidus watched the entire scene with a gravity that was belied by the smile in his eyes. Fulmino would normally be angry at the boys, but he sensed that this was different than the hateful taunting and laughter he had received at school. Instead, these boys seemed to ruefully be thinking on what they looked like when the exact same situation occurred to them some months previously.

Grumbling to himself, Fulmino quickly gathered up his possessions and readied himself for the days’ march. Fulmino cursed his growling stomach as Muscles wolfed down his plain breakfast of oats and flashed the same shark smile at Fulmino again. Fulmino pointedly turned his back on Muscles and began stretching for the days’ coming exertions.

Just as he had finished his first bend, he heard a slight noise behind him and quickly found his face eating dirt with a pain in his backside. Whirling to his feet, Fulmino saw Muscles calmly walking back to his place beside the fire to finish breakfast. Aldon was doubled over laughing on the ground, whereas Leonidus looked over with some concern at Fulmino. Fulmino hardly cared about what the other boys were doing, so great was his fury at Muscles. Shaking from head to toe, Fulmino shouted “What was that for!”

Surprisingly, there was no mocking smile on Muscles face this time. “Never turn your back on your enemy boy. Not for any reason, unless you want to end up dead.”

Muttering darkly under his breath, Fulmino resumed his stretching while facing Muscles squarely. As breakfast was finished, the sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, warming the boys considerably. Muscles adopted his usual sardonic grin.

“Well boys, it’s time to get moving now that the sun is here. Everyone remember this morning’s lesson: Don’t turn your back on the enemy or get it in your head that you’re a fancy boy out on the job, as this one here seemed to think.”

Fulmino’s face heated beet red as the comment sunk in regarding the way he had positioned his body. Even Leonidus laughed this time, though in a much quieter manner than Aldon let loose with. Fulmino wished that the earth would just swallow him now. Could he look like any more of an idiot right now?

As obvious as Fulmino’s mortification was, Muscles surprisingly let it go at that and started the boys to marching. As hours rolled by mercilessly, Fulmino’s mind began to wonder at Muscles. Though he taunted Fulmino more skillfully than his previous tormentors from school at times, he always seemed to realize how far to go. Also, he seemed to take lessons very seriously, especially those that would keep the boys alive. If he was a merciless tormentor like the other children Fulmino had known, why was he so concerned about keeping them alive? Perhaps it was because he wanted them to make him look good. Yes, that must be it. After all, the longer they stayed alive and the more they accomplished, the better it reflected on the one who chose them for service.

As these thoughts whirled in Fulmino’s head, he realized that the sun had steadily set towards the horizon, signaling the end of the marching day. As his brain began to take stock of his body, Fulmino nearly groaned aloud from the variety of aches and pains that chorused at him incessantly, now that he was paying attention. Muscles gave the boys instructions on where to store their gear, and then signaled them to join him in a small clearing.

“Aldon and Leonidus, pair up and go through the usual. It will be some time before I can train all three of you as a group, and in the meantime I expect you to perfect your current techniques.”

“Yes sir!” The two boys thundered in unison. Immediately, the two boys picked up wooden practice weapons and began to slowly execute moves on each other.

Fulmino watched the two boys performing their moves before realizing that Muscles was staring at him. Muscles grunted as Fulmino turned his attention towards him.

“About time boy; you won’t learn by sitting around watching others, it is your own body that you must train. In order to train you, we will spar every day for a few weeks and see how you do. If you have no skill with one weapon, we will try another until your skill is found. Your potential will determine how training will commence. Most likely, you will end up learning weapon forms with Aldon and Leonidus, but we will see. Pick up the spear boy, and prepare to defend yourself!”

As Fulmino hefted the “spear” that was a long piece of wood with a blunted tip, Muscles included his final instructions.

“The weapons, as you may have notice, are blunt tipped and made of wood. This is so you don’t hack off your own arm in training. Depending on how far your weapon training progresses, you may eventually reach unsharpened blades, but don’t count on it. As far as our training is concerned, expect to be beaten and bruised on a regular basis. I will avoid breaking any bones, and you should remember that this is training. With me, fight like your life depends on it. When training with similarly unskilled grubs like Aldon and Leonidus, show restraint so as to not kill each other. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir!” Fulmino loudly responded.

Muscles nodded as if pleased, then whacked Fulmino on the shin soundly with his mock spear. Gasping in pain, Fulmino, gripped his spear like a bat and swung it at Muscles’ head. Muscles ducked and stabbed Fulmino in the stomach with the blunted tip, causing Fulmino’s breath to whoosh out in a loud huff. Casually, Muscles approached Fulmino and swept his legs with the spear, leaving Fulmino gasping on the ground like a landed fish. Fulmino’s eyes bulged as Muscles drove the spear right down at his head. At the last second, the spear stopped an inch from Fulmino’s right eye. Muscles grinned.

“Normally I would do something dramatic, like drive the spear a foot in the earth beside your head, but your dumb self would probably move your head in that direction just in time to crack your skull like an egg and deprive me of one of my prize dogs. Nevertheless, let’s try again."

Hours went by with the setting sun in the background as Fulmino was beaten black and blue as Muscles had promised. Muscles was actually very helpful while pulping Fulmino, showing him how to properly hold the spear and revealing low tier moves and combos that allowed for a few seconds respite before Fulmino kissed the ground again.

Finally, covered in sweat, Fulmino picked himself up from the ground to see Muscles’ outstretched palm signaling the end of training. Fulmino allowed himself to sink back to the ground, enviously noticing how little exertion showed on Muscles. Muscles made no comment and briskly walked towards camp, presumably to begin dinner.

Aldon and Leonidus followed close behind, looking tired but not as utterly spent as Fulmino felt. Fulmino allowed himself a minute of respite on the ground before forcing his beaten body to walk towards camp. After dinner, Fulmino was pleasantly surprised to see Leonidus walking towards him. Muscles was as usual seeing to his gear, while Aldon had turned in early. Laughter must be much more exhausting work than it appeared.

“Hey”

“Hey, what is it?" Fulmino politely inquired.

“Just wanted to let you know that things will get better, just to give it time. I know the commander can be cutting with his jokes sometimes, but that’s just the way it is starting out. Most guys get it starting out until there is someone new to turn their attention on. If it makes you feel better, I was playing dunce regularly before we picked you up.”

Fulmino laughed quietly, realizing that Leonidus had a lot in common with him, as he had first suspected.

“Thanks Leonidus, I really appreciate you letting me know.”

“You’re welcome. Just let me know if you need any help, I know how it is to be the odd man out. Here’s some free advice from someone who learned the hard way: don’t go out of your way to stand out here. In a village, you can get away with it, but out here it can get you killed. If nobody likes you, either a shield won’t be covering you when the time comes, or nobody will notice you when you get wounded on the battlefield and need help”.

Fulmino shivered as a chill ran through him. He realized that Leonidus was right; he could imagine what the other school children would have done for him if he needed help: absolutely nothing. He would need to change his attitude in the military if he wanted to survive. Morbidly, Fulmino realized he was dead either way; even if he survived the military, Fulmino would be dead and he would have a new name and identity that the military approved of.

Apparently his face was transparent, because Leonidus let out a laugh that shook his whole body.

Still laughing, Leonidus gasped out “Your face, just looked so downtrodden, like I had just kicked a puppy." Another fit of laughter took him.

Fulmino found himself grinning in response. It was nice that someone was genuinely amused by him instead of laughing at his expense all the time.

Abruptly sobering, Leonidus clasped Fulmino’s forearm.

In a serious voice, Leonidus said quietly “I like you Fulmino. You remind me of myself some years ago, of someone I wish that I still was in many ways. Don’t change too much, because then you’ll end up like me, a dead man walking before your twentieth birthday.”

Grinning, Leonidus gave him a nod and headed to his bedroll. Fulmino settled down to sleep and realized that the conversation had been ended with a nod. He and Leonidus would have no trouble getting along.

 

Once again, the morning came far too soon for Fulmino’s liking. He wearily realized that instead of a boot pounding his stomach, it was a hand on the shoulder that had shook him awake. He heard Leonidus say in the darkness, “Rise up brother, lest you go without food again today”.

Grateful for the wakeup call, Fulmino thanked Leonidus and the two began to shamble over to the firepit in order to begin breakfast. Camp rules dictated that the first up began breakfast and received the best portion, outside of that given to the commander of course. Leonidus wordlessly showed Fulmino how to make and season the oats that served as morning breakfast for soldiers in the field everywhere. Aldon was still snoring as Muscles emerged from the woods, sweat coating his chest and arms from some sort of morning exertion. Muscles raised his eyebrows at Fulmino helping make breakfast, but made no comment as he began to pack up the camp supplies.

After Aldon joined the group, breakfast was observed in silence and the marching day began. Several hours into the march the boys passed a band of refugees that commanded attention. Hollow eyed from loss and shock, women and children shambled down the road aimlessly and in pitiful state. Muscles watched them like a hawk the entire time, one hand on his sword until they had passed out of sight. Noticing the boys’ questioning stares, Muscles explained.

“None of you boys have ever been in war and seen what it does to people. It reduces them to base animal instinct with no restraint. You just saw a pitiful group of mothers and orphans passing by the road and it made you feel sorry for them. I saw a group of people that have been pushed to the edge and would kill their own to feed themselves or their children."

Surprisingly, it was Leonidus who answered. “Surely you can’t think that group of women and children would attack anyone?”

Muscles snorted. “Boy, I’ve seen women butcher traveling merchants who refused them aid in order to feed themselves and their starving brats. After taking the goods, they stripped the bodies too. The world is a hard place, and the sooner you realize that anyone in the right circumstance would slit your throat for a crust of bread the better.”

Muscles slammed his sword back in the scabbard and resumed marching, his face like a thundercloud. As the boys struggled to keep up they exchanged glances; obviously the refugees had opened an old wound with Muscles that he did not want to discuss.

As if to agree with that sentiment, Muscles set a pace that had the boy’s gasping and huffing before another hour had passed. As if suddenly remembering he was not alone, Muscles resumed normal marching pace after that. In silence, the day was spent on the march at usual pace. After stopping for the day, Muscles went through the weapons routine with Fulmino, beating him intensely as if he was an enemy in need of death by bludgeoning. After an hour of being beaten with the spear, Fulmino found himself on his back yet again. Looking up, Fulmino saw muscles frowning and shaking his head.

“You have no aptitude with the spear boy. You could train to be a pikeman, but I will test you with the other weapons first to see if you display some aptitude with another before relegating you to monotony with the spear.”

Muscles walked over to the weapons bundle where all of the various weapons were laid out on the ground. He paused and looked closely at each weapon, as if hearing a language only he could understand. Nodding to himself, he picked up a wooden sword and tossed it to Fulmino. Catching it out of the air, Fulmino grinned and remembered playing swordfight with Sol many years ago. Though he doubted such experience would serve him much here, it was still a good memory of the past.

Swishing his own wooden sword like a switch, Muscles lunged and thrust quickly at Fulmino. Fulmino dodged to the side and swung a blow that met Muscles’ sword with a loud crack. Standing toe to toe with Muscles felt good, even if only for a second. Fulmino managed to block the second blow but the third slid past his guard and punished his aching ribs. Seething with pain, Fulmino swung with two hands right for muscles head. Ducking with a shark smile, Muscles booted Fulmino in the stomach so hard he hit the ground with his wind knocked out. Struggling for air, he curled up in a ball.

“Never lose your temper grub. Punish somebody by spilling their guts on the ground, not by offering your own the same treatment.”

The sparring session continued for another hour, until it was too dark to see. Nodding as if pleased, Muscles turned on his heel and stalked back to camp to eat dinner. Though this time Fulmino ended the session on his feet, part of him wished that he was on the ground; anything to relieve his aching body. Stumbling back to camp, Fulmino wolfed down dinner before collapsing onto his bed roll. The morning, when it came, was way too soon for Fulmino’s taste. Leonidus chuckled as he shook Fulmino again.

“Don’t fear brother, this too shall pass. In a few months, you will think nothing of this crazy regiment we now call life. For now though, just focus on rolling out of bed.”

Cursing the chuckling Leonidus, Fulmino sloughed out of bed while his body screamed protest at him. As they began breakfast, the two boys talked of their hometowns and previous life. Leonidus had a strikingly similar story to tell as Fulmino.

“I grew up in a small town, so everyone was always in each other’s business. For someone like me, it could be hell at times because people are always either bothering you or talking about you.

Luckily, everyone was poor for the most part so we didn’t have to worry about the whole working class versus noble class that happened in your area. I kept to myself for the most part so people thought I was strange. Often times, I thought of joining them to dispel my solitude, but didn’t want to accept all the petty bickering and gossiping that comes along with being part of the group.

Also, I saw people like myself become something they were not to gain acceptance, and most of the time it didn’t make them any more accepted. They were just the pet monkey of the group; fun to keep around to perform tricks and such every now and then, but easy to dump if they ever become a hassle. Yeah, Leaving for the military has worked out pretty well for me so far. At least I get left alone when I want to be by myself, and people are too busy training or dying to waste time dithering about what so and so did last month.”

Fulmino digested what Leonidus had to say and thought of how they were alike. Both of them, for different reasons, had rejected their peers and become outcasts. Then and there, Fulmino decided to stick with Leonidus through thick and thin. Anyone who could do what they did and remain strong was worth associating with. After eating breakfast, the boys began the long march that would last the rest of the day.

 

Days turned into weeks as Fulmino slowly began to get used to the routine. Every morning began with the rising sun and time with Leonidus. Some mornings they didn’t feel like talking, and that was just fine. Other days, they would wax long about funny stories or remembered activities. Sometimes, these conversations included Aldon, though he had a tendency to blather the whole time and make Leonidus and Fulmino listen to him for hours on end. After a few of these charming sessions, Leonidus and Fulmino mainly talked between themselves.

Often times especially during marching, there was a mutually enjoyed silence between the two that needed no explanation. After nearly a month of training with Muscles, Fulmino had grown more used to the sword. After deciding that the sword was suited for Fulmino, Muscles assigned him a weighted practice sword to build endurance. It took Fulmino weeks to get used to the extra weight, and in just a month’s time his arms were beginning to become corded with lean muscle that roped out when he sparred with Muscles. Fulmino was beaten badly every day, but somehow he was able to look past the obvious to what was truly important. Obviously, the beatings hurt like hell and he seemed to be making little progress against Muscles’ blindingly fast moves. Alternatively though, Fulmino realized how carefully Muscles hit him with the sword, always using pinpoint accuracy and power to bruise but not tear muscle or break bone.

 Fulmino also realized grimly that one day in the not too distant future, it would be real.

Mentally Fulmino could already picture the battlefield as it would be. Screams would rend the air from dead and dying soldiers. Bloodthirsty Barbarians would come for him, frothing for his blood. Fulmino had no delusions about his chances. Just like with the testing, everyone was sure that they were the exception; everyone around them might die, but they alone would be untouched after every battle.

Fulmino ducked a slash and promptly received a thrust into the stomach, causing him to collapse. Mentally, he imagined his organs strewing out as he took his last breath. Fulmino closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Just one mistake and he would be carrion food; oh how fragile human life was in the end!

Muscles grunted sourly “I could teach you like this until we both have grey hairs, and you would be no better. You have the speed, and your power is getting slightly better, but you will lose every fight like this. Do you know why, grub?”

Fulmino thought for a minute. Then he replied simply “You beat me because you are much more experienced, have superior muscle mass, and are much faster.”

Muscles smiled his shark smile. “Right on all counts save one, boy. The reason you lost is not because you are athletically inferior, or because you have no experience. The reason you lost and will continue to lose every fight is because you don’t want to win. Your entire strategy is awkward defense interspersed with an occasional attack to shake up predictability. That won’t work; a skilled opponent will see instantly if you don’t have the will to win, and will slaughter you for it.”

The words shook Fulmino deep, as he considered their complete truth that had escaped him for so many years. He had lost so many times in his life; he had stopped trying to win. He had always accepted the mantra that there are always more losers than winners, and someone has to lose in the end. Fulmino swallowed as he realized the implications here. “Losing” to your opponent here was not an option. While there would always be one loser, Fulmino had to be sure that it was not him if he wanted to continue living.

Surprisingly, Muscles abandoned his typical closemouthed routine and continued speaking, eyes fixed far into the distance.

“I have seen more men die than you have likely seen alive in your entire life boy. Most of them had one thing in common; they didn’t believe it was their day to die. They were wrong. You could be the best spear or blade in the kingdom, and die because you trip, or because a hornet lands in your eye. That being said, some dung brain who has no concept of weapons will die with his opponent’s sword in their gut every time. I won’t die an old man, with my family holding my hand. I plan to die with my enemies, hacked to pieces like a bug that just won’t die.”

Fulmino shivered at the intensity of Muscles’ voice. This was a man who had seen the mouth of Hell and calmly acknowledged that he would be swallowed himself one day, without a doubt.

Muscles focused again and fixed Fulmino with a piercing glare. “I know not why I feel so maudlin today boy, but I will tell you one last thing. I have seen dogs come and go in this affair, but there is something about you that is different. That is why I am training you personally; you will not die from negligence on my watch. I will kill you myself before I let you disgrace my battle training. If fate decides to take you in battle, then so be it. Until then, I am going to push you harder until you can defend yourself”.

Fulmino muttered “Or until I beat you.”

Muscles laughed heartily. Straightening up, he calmly replied “A weapons master of my skill has not been seen in many years, and the sword is my strongest area of expertise. To truly master the sword, it takes decades of intense training. As an acknowledged prodigy, it took me a single decade. If you ever master the sword, it will likely take the remainder of your years.”

Fulmino’s eyes widened. A full decade, as a prodigy. Muscles was right, he would be lucky if he ever mastered the sword, given his usual ability at such endeavors. No, he thought with a hardened determination, the day would come when Muscles would call him master, after his defeat by Fulmino’s sword. To think anything other would be to accept defeat from Muscles’ challenge.

Seeing the glint in Fulmino’s eye, Muscles assumed the stance of the sword, slowly saluting Fulmino as a worthy opponent. Fulmino repeated the gesture, only to be surprised by a lightning shot to the groin that caused him to double over and vomit.

Muscles looked at Fulmino dispassionately as he writhed on the ground. “Never trust your enemy boy. No matter what they say. That is the most important lesson.”

 

The next day, Fulmino was in a terrible mood all morning. Leonidas allowed him to sulk for most of the morning before confronting him about it.

“So what happened yesterday?”

“Muscles was a complete Sheister, that’s what!”

Leonidas chuckled at the rarely used vulgar language.

“And this is surprising because?”

Fulmino looked down and muttered “We kind of connected for a little bit, and I thought he was different, like maybe he actually cared."

Leonidas face dropped into shadow. “Do not assume for a second that anyone gives a damn about you! If you do, it’s a great way to get your expectations of people in general destroyed forever.”

Fulmino winced in sympathy. Obviously, someone had burned Leonidas badly at some point in his life.

Taking a deep breath, Leonidas resumed his usual neutral expression and ruffled Fulmino’s short hair.

“Sometimes I forget that you know so little about people; it makes me nostalgic for who I used to be. Don’t become like me Fulmino, learn from my mistakes."

Fulmino snorted in response.

“So does this mean I should not trust you as well?” Fulmino said jokingly.

Smiling sadly, Leonidas said as he walked ahead “It’s me that you should trust least of all”.

 

Muscles and Fulmino slowly circled one another, both “blades” in the guard position. With a grunt, Fulmino swung a feint followed by a quick jab to the stomach. He might as well have tried poking the wind or sunlight for all the good it did. Muscles smoothly stepped to the side while bringing his own sword around for a solid smack into Fulminos’ ribs. Unperturbed, Fulmino fell back into guard and weathered a few blows from Muscles before being knocked to the ground by a blurring swipe to the leg that hooked him off balance and allowed Muscles to bull him backwards. Fulmino sprang to his feet without comment and continued on with the sparring. After finishing hours later, both were covered in sweat but were breathing normally. Wordlessly, Fulmino followed Muscles back to camp to turn in for the night, giving a nod to Leonidus as he and Aldon emerged from their form work. Aldon gave him a strange look as he passed him, though Fulmino guessed what it was about. Less than a week previously, Aldon had brought up an interesting question at dinner.

“Sir, why are you still working with Fulmino? Isn’t it about time that we all started going over forms together as a group?”

Fulmino was curious about this himself, since he had been sparring with Muscles now for four months with little skill improvement he could see. True, he was in much better condition now and could take some blows without falling down every time he was struck. Still though, he would have expected to be able to hold his own better now, not be defeated every three to four moves. With such an obvious skill deficit, Fulmino had always assumed that they would either try another weapon or start working forms at some point. Every day remained the same however, and Muscles gave no indication that things would be changing anytime soon.

Muscles slowly lowered his bowl and calmly replied,

“Grub, I don’t mind answering your question. Just be aware that your masters at the military academy will not take kindly to being questioned about their motives, and would likely punish your temerity severely.”

Aldon swallowed and paled a bit. Apparently tales of military punishment spread far and wide; likely embellished at every turn.

Muscles continued. “For reasons of my own, I have decided that Fulmino is worth my time and effort. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to beat on a meat bag than teach you lot how to go through forms.”

Aldon looked like he was about to interrupt until Leonidus shot him a look of wrath that shut him up. It was always a long marching day after Muscles got interrupted in the middle of speaking.

Muscles noted the exchange with some amusement while continuing to speak, “You are right that I am spending most of my attention on fancy boy here. I can’t have you two idiots show up with only a few forms while most have mastered dozens. Once a week, we will take the evening and practice new forms. While we are doing that, fancy boy here can do strength exercises.”

Muscles flashed a shark smile in Fulminos’ direction. Fulmino had a sinking feeling that these strength exercises were going to make one day a week living hell.

 

Shaking himself back to the present, Fulmino realized that tomorrow would be his first introduction to the strength exercises. Joy. As if he needed another reason to pass out snoring at night for a few measly hours before starting another day. Just as he settled into his bedroll, he felt a familiar hand shake him. Turning around, Fulmino looked to see what Leonidus wanted. There had been a certain unavoidable awkwardness since their last conversation which Fulmino longed to put behind them. Hopefully, this would be something new entirely.

“What’s up Leonidus?”

“Come with me, we should talk."

Fulmino followed Leonidus to the edge of the clearing, curious as to what this was about. Leonidus stared out at the stars for a few minutes before speaking.

“Be careful with “Muscles” as you so affectionately name him. I don’t know why he has singled you out, but it can’t be for any good reason."

Though part of Fulmino wanted to think that Leonidus was just jealous, he knew that he was speaking the truth. Muscles was the kind of person who only invested time and effort into something that would reap a nice benefit of some sort in the end. The question was, what did he want from Fulmino?

“What do you think he wants Leonidus?”

Leonidus looked at Fulmino squarely “I have no idea, and that’s the problem. I might believe that he was interested in you for your looks, but he is not the type. Men who prey on boys for that sort of thing don’t make jokes about fancy boys. Other than that obvious motive, it is hard to think what else he could gain from you.”

Fulmino felt his mouth go dry at the thought. He had not even considered that, and the thought of it made his blood run cold. Yes, he would definitely be more careful from now on.

Fulmino gave a wan smile “I see what you mean about becoming cynical, it seems that I did lead a sheltered life compared to you. How do you know of all this when you were raised in a small town?”

Leonidus immediately closed up and his face became very dark. “Do not ask how I know these things. Suffice to say, little towns are not free from darkness, and be glad you have not had to learn these lessons the hard way."

Fulmino was immediately sorry for causing his friend pain.

Fulmino bowed his head to Leonidus, as a commoner would to a magic user, and said “Please forgive me for my stupidity kind sir.”

A glint of amusement dispelled the darkness from Leonidus’ face. Painting on a haughty face, Leonidus replied “Yes, yes, you’re honored to meet me and all that. Just kiss my feet and be done with it you festering swine."

Both laughed heartily and pounded each other on the back, all serious talk forgotten. As they returned to their bedrolls and sleep overtook them, Fulmino stayed awake for hours, wondering what darkness existed in a small mountain town.

The next day proceeded exactly as usual. An early breakfast of oats was followed by a long hike through the wilderness. According to Muscles, they were taking a shortcut and avoiding bandits that often waylaid travelers on the main road. Muscles was concerned about the group of refugees that they came across some time ago.

“Wasn’t plague that caused them to get so feral. It was either a raiding army or a huge group of bandits, neither of which you grubs would last a minute against.”

Fulmino suspected that this was also another endurance builder, since the rocky terrain caused much more fatigue than the flat roads. As per usual, Muscles called for a halt a few hours before sunset to train before dinner. Muscles looked to be in a good mood, which was never a positive sign for anyone else. Taking Fulmino to the side, Muscles showed him how to do special pushups first.

“Imagine there is a blade held out a foot above the ground. First you slide under the blade, then slide back out.”

The process was much more difficult than Fulmino would have believed, causing his muscles to burn with fatigue at the unexpected strain. Muscles shook his head and snorted as Fulmino struggled to finish ten, then moved on.

“Next, you will slowly pull yourself up this tree branch and then back down again, alternating your grip so your hands face away and towards you.”

Already tired from the pushups, Fulminos’ arms screamed protest as his arms and back were engaged to complete the maneuver. Locking his jaw, Fulmino completed ten without complaint. Wordlessly, Muscles moved on.

“Finally, you will lean against this tree and sit with your back touching and your ass level with your knees. Hold the position until you cannot any longer.”

Fulmino relaxed as he assumed the position, relieved that his arms got a break. After a minute however, Fulminos’ already tired legs began to rebel, causing his legs to shake with the unexpected strain. As sweat coursed down his face, Fulmino was forced to stop.

Muscles shook his head woefully.

“That was pathetic boy! I have decided that you will join me every morning as I complete my exercises until you can show some muscle. For now though, keep doing the same thing we just did until I am finished teaching the other grubs forms.”

 

Fulmino closed his eyes in weary protest. Already his body was tired from the days marching, yet he still had just as much work ahead of him it seemed. Fulmino bitterly resented being singled out by Muscles for this hellish training.

“By the way boy, if I come back and find you slacking, everyone marches double tomorrow and the day after. Have fun!”

Muscles chuckled to himself as he walked off to teach the other boys forms.

Fulmino spat towards his retreating form, though not before he was well out of sight. Fulmino gritted his teeth as he began the regiment again, his body groaning protest the whole while.

To keep his mind off of the physical torment, Fulmino mulled over Muscles’ behavior in his head. It didn’t make sense that he was being singled out by Muscles; both the other boys were likely more capable and had been with him longer. Fulmino knew that Aldon was beginning to resent the “special attention” he was receiving while he and Leonidus were left to practice their forms. Fulmino snorted. He would be more than happy to trade places with Aldon, but Muscles would never allow it. They would probably get double marching pace for a week just for suggesting it.

Muscles popped in his ugly mug once to check on Fulmino; luckily he had just started an exercise and was not taking a breather, as he had been forced to do multiple times in order to avoid collapsing. Muscles said nothing and marched back to the other boys with a scowl. Fulmino would have laughed if he wasn’t so tired.After what felt like an eternity Fulmino collapsed and could not rise again. Lying there, Fulmino angrily focused on catching his breath and fighting off the blackness threatening to consume him. Cursing under his breath, Fulmino limped back to the camp to get sleep.

Fulmino lucked out as he saw that the other boys were returning with Muscles as well; worse timing would probably have led to some unthinkable punishment from Muscles. Aldon looked at Fulmino with some surprise at his haggard condition, while Leonidus shot him a sympathetic look. Well, at least somebody cared. Everyone was bone tired except for Muscles, who seemed to never get tired. Or hungry. Now that he thought of it, Fulmino wondered if Muscles was actually human. Fulmino passed out on his bedroll, not looking forward to an earlier start in the morning.

It was still dark when Fulmino was shaken awake. Surprisingly, the huge paw was not cruelly pummeling him into wakefulness but instead merely shaking him awake with, dare he say it, patience. Yawning heavily, Fulmino limped out of his sleeping sack and followed Muscles to the clearing they had practiced the other night.

Muscles began stretching, and Fulmino followed suit. While in the middle of his backbend, Muscles said “This is the only way you will get better boy. While big muscles can be a hindrance in sword fighting, you need some strength to be able to challenge a serious swordsman. This training will make you a much better sword fighter because it will give your blows the authority they need. In a battle between two opponents of the same skill and speed, it is strength that is the deciding factor. Always assume that the enemy has at least your same skill and speed, if not better.”

Fulmino nodded to himself, then answered “I assumed skill and speed would be the most important attributes, since it doesn’t matter how hard you skewer someone in the end."

Muscles’ eyes narrowed “And if you lose your sword and are wrestling for life with your opponent for his sword, will skill and speed matter then? You are right though, strength is less helpful with swords than it is with most weapons, since sword fighting can often be a dance. Keep in mind though, if you have equal endurance and your blows are heavier, your opponent will tire and leave you an opening for skill and speed to triumph.”

Fulmino wondered why it was that Muscles could be so helpful with questions like this yet such a jerk most of the time. Fulmino mused that he could just prefer weapons to people. No matter; he would use Muscles to grow stronger and watch him like a hawk the whole time.

Muscles smiled his shark smile. “I almost forgot, I have something for you. Put these on.”

Fulmino warily examined what appeared to be heavy wraps filled with metal. Muscles rolled his eyes and began strapping these on to Fulminos legs and arms. Muscles looked on in satisfaction as Fulmino sagged under the weight of the wraps.

Muscles explained “This is a form of training that allows you to build your speed and strength while learning sword techniques. The extra weight on your arms will give more weight and power to your blows along with an ace up your sleeve. I wish I had found this technique years ago and used it myself, but I only recently discovered it while visiting a monastery on assignment. The monk in question no longer had any use for the wraps, so I permanently borrowed them.”

Fulmino was angry, but also curious. “How does this provide me with an ace up my sleeve?”

Muscles regarded him seriously, “That monk was no match for me in terms of skill. While fighting, he realized this soon after we began and removed the weights from his body. The only reason he lost was because I had far superior skill; his speed and strength were slightly greater than my own once he removed the weights. Keep in mind though, you can’t take the weights off for every battle because you don’t have the time, and you want to be able to save that for when you really need it. Thus, an ace for when you are desperately in need of one."

Fulmino nodded slowly to himself. It made sense that such training would naturally increase his strength and endurance while building muscle that could explode when carrying normal weight. An ace in the hole indeed. While Fulmino could objectively appreciate the benefits of this new training, his quivering muscles cringed in fear at the new hell that awaited them. Fulmino remained lost in thought until a heavy canvas cloth slammed into his stomach, causing his breath to whoosh out quickly. Glaring at Muscles, Fulmino wondered what the canvas was for.

“Here are your new clothes boy. These will hide your weights and further condition you, though it will take time for you to get used to the heat. I will allow you to drink extra water until such time as you have adjusted to the extra weight and strain.”

Fulmino looked at the “clothes” with little enthusiasm. They were generally shapeless and made of a sturdy yet encumbering material that would make moving around all the more difficult. He shrugged into them and continued with the stretches, though certainly at a much slower pace than before.

 

“Oh, I forgot to mention. That’s a pretty little knife you have with you. I think it suits me better than it suits you; hand it over.”

Fulmino felt shock run through his whole body. His knife was like an old friend; it was both a useful tool and a source of identity to him. It was the only reminder of his family and old life that he had left.

“But sir, that’s my..

Muscles loomed in front of him, larger than life and looking more menacing than usual.

“I’ll not ask again boy.” was all Muscles said.

Fulmino took the knife and threw it against a far tree in frustration. Muscles casually sent him flying with a cuff and said “You need to practice knife throwing boy. Ask Leonidus to show you; it’s an impractical skill for battle but can be handy in a tight pinch.”

Muscles picked up the sheathed dagger and tossed it with his other equipment without another glance. Fulmino shook with rage; it wasn’t enough that he had taken his hair and forced him to daily torture, no. He had to take the last thing of value to Fulmino just for spite and because it looked nice. Fulmino had never hated anyone more in that moment, not even that snob Flavius. He longed to give Muscles back every beating that Fulmino had endured until he begged for mercy.

Muscles eyed Fulmino with approval. “I like the murder in your eyes kid; you’ll need it for what is to come”.

With that perplexing statement, Muscles continued his stretches as if nothing had transpired. Fulmino shook his head in barely contained rage and ran through the stretches, anger firing him on to hold the poses longer than he could have otherwise. He could barely complete the exercises he did the other day at all, what with all the extra weight he now carried.

Whenever he looked at Muscles and saw the casual contempt, it fueled him to do one more repetition of the exercise. Pain as he had never felt engulfed him, causing his muscles to burn like fire and shake as if he had the plague. The weights now felt like millstones on his arms and legs, making every single exercise feel like he was doing ten for every one he completed. An eternity later, Muscles turned his back and walked towards camp. Right, breakfast. More like a last supper if anything.

The hot mash tasted like life itself, which depressed Fulmino more than he would have expected. To get to the point where gruel was amazing would be considered by anyone to be a low point in one’s life. Fulmino relayed the day’s events to Leonidus as the boys were marching that afternoon. To Fulminos surprise, Leonidus seemed enthusiastic about teaching him “the way of the knife” as he called it.

“There is nothing like it Fulmino. To throw accurately is to become one with your target; the hardest part is the rotation. You must be able to instantly gauge how many rotations will occur based on the distance and whether you want to kill or immobilize your target. The most important part is practice, like everything. Once you can throw without thinking and hit point first every time, you are halfway there.”

Fulmino grinned as Leonidus became more animated than he had ever seen him. It was fun to see Leonidus engrossed in something he was so passionate about; a huge improvement from the dark Leonidus that was the bearer of old wounds. Leonidus was so impassioned that he asked Muscles if they could have time every day to practice. Muscles continued walking but finally grunted his approval; Muscles went through forms with Aldon while Leonidus was allowed to train Fulmino in the “way of the knife” for an hour every day.

 

The first attempt at knife throwing was a disaster for Fulmino. He barely hit the incredibly close target, and he never hit point first at all. Leonidus was the picture of patience though, and constantly fussed over Fulminos stance and form. Leonidus finally gave in to Fulminos pestering and threw a few knives at the end of practice. He was good. In fact, good didn’t close to cover it. From a respectable distance, Leonidus hit both “eyes” of the crudely drawn human figure on the tree, and sunk the rest firmly in vitals. What astounded Fulmino more than the accuracy was the nonchalance which he went about it. Each throw was almost lazy, yet the knives sunk deep in the hardened wood. Leonidus laughed when he saw Fulminos dropped jaw.

“Don’t sweat it Fulmino, by the time we’re finished you will be better than me.”

Fulmino sincerely doubted it, but headed off to join the impatient Muscles to begin sparring. While the knife throwing was about the same, it was much harder to use the sword with his new weights on his arms and legs. Every time he lifted his sword, it was like he had been swinging it for hours already. Every time he tried to dodge, it was like he was moving through mud.

Needless to say, Fulmino received a much worse beating than usual. As a result, Muscles was soon cheered by Fulminos obvious misery and continued to point out flaws in his fighting, in his usual annoyingly helpful way. Before the sun went down, Fulmino fell and could not get up. His body was beaten so badly he could already see new bruises forming, and his quivering muscles refused to respond to his commands anymore. Fulmino waited for the blows and shouts to occur. Instead, Fulmino was floored when Muscles picked him up and carried him over one shoulder like a sack of grain.

“You’re pathetic boy, that I should have to carry you like a tot. It will be worse tomorrow, so don’t get used to this.”

Muscles checked to see if the boy was listening, but realized he had just lost consciousness. Muscles smiled to himself. The boy was strong, and stubborn. Few could have made it this far without giving up. The boy was truly something special, but there was no reason for him to know that. Pride goeth before the fall, and the boy had nothing to be proud of, not yet. In time though… Muscles chuckled to himself. There was no reason to jump the gun; if Fulmino was what he believed him to be, there was no reason to rush things. If the boy was to survive what was to come though, he would have to be capable, and hard, as hard as they come. Those two things Muscles could provide, though the rest was up to the boy. Muscles unsheathed the dagger and watched the fading light play off the flawless blade. Special indeed.

 

Fulmino awoke to a boot on his chest. Groaning in agony, Fulmino feebly tried to push the boot off, causing the pressure to increase. Unfamiliar voices murmured to each other, causing Fulmino to wake in an instant. An unfamiliar face sneered at him as he tried to rise from his defenseless position. The boot slammed him back to the ground, blowing out all his air and leaving him wheezing. Fulmino was defenseless; he was already sore from the previous day’s beating and could barely move, much less defend himself. Muscles was nowhere to be seen, but Leonidus and Aldon were tied up beside the campfire. Apparently they had been caught by surprise too, as there were no sign of any wounds on either. Aldon looked scared, whereas Leonidus had the haunted, empty look of those with no hope left. The man with his boot on Fulmino looked to be in charge, as he was the most finely dressed and barked orders to the rest.

“Have you found the big man yet?”

“Not yet One, though Five swears he saw him take off to the North.”

The man snorted. “Damn coward, guess I can’t blame him for saving his own skin though. These boys should fetch a nice price in the market, so no great loss”.

Fulmino felt petrified. To be sold into slavery in a foreign country was worse than death, since slaves often had the misfortune of plying trades where death was preferable.

The Pleasure houses in the East took young men and women and sucked them dry. The expected lifespan was only a few years, and they were hard ones. The plantations were little better; you were worked to death literally, since slaves were easy to replace and it was cheaper to replace them than actually maintain the workforce.

Suddenly, Fulmino heard a noise in the bushes; apparently everyone else did too. The leader drew his sword and whispered “So, not a coward but an idiot instead. No one takes our prizes away from us, and he would be more trouble than he is worth to take him alive. Chop him to pieces lads; the one who brings me his head gets a gold piece.”

Suddenly a spear sprouted from the leaders chest and passed through his body clean, so great was the force behind it. Bloody foam crusted his lips as “One” sank to the ground, much to the dismay of his underlings. Finally free from the oppressive boot, Fulmino lay still, feigning total weakness. He must choose his moment carefully, as he would only get one chance at this. Luckily, the slavers paid no attention to Fulmino, but instead watched the bushes with a manic intensity. 

 Suddenly a spear sprouted from the leaders chest and passed through his body clean, so great was the force behind it. Bloody foam crusted his lips as “One” sank to the ground, much to the dismay of his underlings. Finally free from the oppressive boot, Fulmino lay still, feigning total weakness. He must choose his moment carefully, as he would only get one chance at this.

Luckily, the slavers paid no attention to Fulmino, but instead watched the bushes with a manic intensity. With a great crash and a roar, Muscles barreled out of the clearing on the other side of the camp, completely taking the slavers by surprise. The boys watched in awe as the slavers were methodically dismantled until all were dead or dying on the ground. Drenched in the blood of his foes, Muscles turned to the boys with a feral light in his eyes that quickly calmed to his usual sardonic expression. In his mind, Fulmino replayed the brief battle in his head; it had all happened so fast! Two of the slavers were cut down before they could even fight back, the rest died nearly as quickly under a blistering volley of blows from Muscles.

Running to the bushes, Aldon was violently sick as the adrenaline of the situation subsided and he was faced with the staring eyes of dead men. Fulmino was numb, yet surprised himself by remaining detached from any grief for the dead men. At least part of it was because of what they planned to do with the boys, what they had done to so many others. In Fulmino's mind, no death was too horrific for such "men". Looking over at Leonidus, Fulmino was surprised to see hatred carved on his face, rather than sickness or apathy.

Muscles noticed the expression on Leonidus' face and commented on it."Not the first time you've seen a dead man, is it boy?" Muscles asked with a surprisingly quiet tone. Leonidus said nothing, but slowly shook his head, his grimacing mask of hate still firmly in place. Muscles did not comment on his lack of response, but instead stood beside the fire and addressed the boys.

"Usually, old soldiers have this talk with green soldiers after their first battle. Today, although you didn't spill any blood and I’m not an old soldier, I'll give you the same talk I received that day many years ago."Muscles got a far off look in his eyes as if recalling a scene from long ago. "War is not pretty. There is no glory to be had from it, and nobody is going to remember you from the next guy when you're gone. There is only one rule in this game called war; survive. To survive, you will take what's in your hand or on your hip and kill the man in front of you time and again, even though he is exactly the same as you in the end. If you make it through this war, never forget the men who died so you could make it here, both on your side and on theirs. Also, your fly's unzipped and it looks like a dead earthworm fell out".

All the boy's laughed, they couldn't help it. After seeing so much death, realizing how mortal they all were, anything to relieve the tension was welcomed. Muscles put on a mock serious face and then proceeded to tell the seediest jokes any of them had ever heard, causing Fulmino and Leonidus to chuckle and Aldon to writhe on the ground with mirth. After finishing up the joke about the monk and the bishop, Muscles growled for them to shut up and go to sleep.

Needless to say, everyone slept with their backs to the dead bodies, which Muscles had piled up some distance to the side. Before going to sleep, Fulmino wondered again at how capricious Muscles was. One minute he was nailing Fulmino in the nads for no good reason, the next he was taking care that his troops were okay. Once again, Fulmino chalked it up to Fulmino liking weapons more than people; it made him a good commander but a terrible human being.

The next day was surprisingly uneventful. Marching went as usual, though Muscles surprised the boys by announcing they would be at the academy in the next week. After stopping for the day, Fulmino followed Leonidus to a suitable tree for knife throwing practice.

To Fulmino's surprise, he was actually getting slightly better at throwing; he could strike point first most of the time. Leonidus was delighted with his progress, though he claimed that it was all thanks to superb teaching. Despite the fact that he was kidding, Fulmino actually agreed with him; Leonidus was a very patient teacher and was liberal with praise, at least compared to Muscles. Under his tutelage, Fulmino felt like he was near a breakthrough with the knives.

At times, he knew exactly how the throw would go, and he would hit point first in the target. At other times, it felt like he was holding a knife in his hand and throwing at a tree; he usually missed badly when he saw it like that. After a helpful and blessedly brief pep talk from Leonidus about working on his mechanics and accounting for the wind on long throws, Fulmino trotted over to meet Muscles for the daily sparring.

As if his body knew what was to come, he was suddenly aware again of the weights on his body, sapping his stamina and slowing him down. His body had grudgingly come to terms with the new reality, but was still adjusting to the extra weight. Knife throwing was not much different, especially since he had started throwing around the same time he acquired the weights. Cracking his neck, Fulmino limbered up and grabbed his weighted practice sword, swishing it through the air in warmup for their spar. Muscles looked to be in a chipper mood; no doubt he was enjoying thinking of beating on his meat bag some more today. Locking his jaw, Fulmino took a two handed stance and waited for Muscles to engage.

Muscles raised an eyebrow; the two handed stance was good for increased power, but limited your ability to quick movement. Typically it was a stance taken against either an inferior opponent or a much stronger one. The swords crossed and Fulmino began his attack; he pressed Muscles while not leaving himself open to blatant counterattack. While obviously surprised at the superior attack, Muscles quickly recovered and put Fulmino on the defensive. A swipe to the ribs followed by a stomach thrust put Fulmino on the ground, panting slightly. Quickly recovering, Fulmino rose to his feet smoothly and resumed fighting with one hand, his arm shaking from the effort of both holding up his weighted arm and withstanding Muscles' heavy blows. By the time sparring was finished Fulmino had a new collection of bruises including a black eye where Muscles had mistimed his blow, a rare occurrence.

Expecting to head back to camp, Fulmino was surprised when he realized Muscles was not following. After staring into space for a full minute, Muscles spoke."Boy, I will give you this chance only once. When we return back to the Academy, I would like you to be my sole apprentice. It will be hard, and you will be ostracized by your fellow students because of it. Do you want the position or not?"Fulmino was floored. According to military gossip, only the most promising students were given an opportunity to become an apprentice. Usually the offer was extended at least a year or two after the recruits arrived; it was unheard of to already be an apprentice upon arriving. Leonidus' warning rang in the back of Fulminos mind. Why was Muscles so interested in him? He obviously had little appreciable talent for the sword, and nothing else that would readily pique Muscles' interest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.10.2014

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
To you, for taking the time to read this. Any feedback is appreciated, and would help me get the motivation to finish the book, lol.