The night passed quickly, with Ezra trying to absorb everything that Georg taught him. Every time he thought he’d gotten something, Georg would correct him down to the minute detail, and despite his excitement at being praised, it wasn’t long before Ezra decided that he didn’t like this treatment all that much any more.
He’s good, Jormun said as Ezra sat cross-legged in his cot. He’s a career soldier, and he’s got all the basics down pat. Listen to what he says, and you’ll do well as a soldier.
“I don’t want to just be a good soldier,” Ezra grumbled as he tried to touch on the aura within the earth under his cot. “I want to be a Knight.”
Yeah, I know. You never shut up about it. But, instead of just whining again and again, you need to build your fundamentals. Sure, Georg’s not a duelist. But he’ll get you using a weapon right, and that’s where you need to start. That’s why you’re here.
There wasn’t anything to argue with there, especially since Jormun was always right and Ezra knew he was right about this specifically. Instead, there was another question he wanted to ask. “Why do you say he’s not a duelist?”
He doesn’t carry himself like one, especially during a fight, Jormun grunted. I always preferred teaching soldiers to duelists, because soldiers don’t forget what a weapon’s for.
“Fighting?” Ezra asked, struggling to feel anything from the ground under the cot. Hoping for more, he turned and placed his bare feet on the cold ground.
Killing, Jormun corrected, his tone hard. If you end up becoming a Knight, you’re not going to be someone who wanders around and duels people for sport. I won’t teach you a single fucking thing if that’s what you’re planning on doing. Weapons are for killing. It’s not a pretty thing, but it’s the truth. A Knight’s job is to kill things, if they’re monsters, demons, enemy soldiers, or something else, it doesn’t matter. You pick up a blade, it’s for spilling blood, don’t forget it. You can be righteous, spilling blood only when you need to and of those who are evil, but the blade’s a fucking weapon, whether it’s a part of a spear, a sword, an axe, or whatever.
That was a sobering thought. Ezra thought of the glory, of the ability to protect his friends, but he hadn’t really considered that defending people like that meant that he wasn’t hitting Tomas with a stick in an alley.
Even with that in mind, Ezra recentered himself and tried to better understand the earth under his feet. Maybe that would be something he used to defend others. To be a stone they couldn’t break. Then, he could use that same stone to break them. Because he was going to be a Knight, even though that meant that he’d have to kill things. After all, there were plenty of things that deserved killing in the world, like the Dragonkin and goblinoids following its lead that he was going to fight against now. He’d even heard of giants coming from the north into the Principality. Sure the nagas would take care of them, but there were plenty of enemies that’d need a Knight to help with.
“I will protect them,” he muttered to himself, convinced it would help him to connect with the earth under his feet.
No such luck.
***
The days blurred together as the recruits and their squad fell into a more determined schedule. In the first workout of the day, they all did the conditioning that they had the first two days. Leah fell behind there, still, though Petr brought her extra food at lunch to help her on her recovery. Ezra could feel himself get stronger by the day, his aura reinforcing the exercises he did. He recovered faster than he had any right to, he knew. He was constantly sore, yes, but being able to draw on aura keep that soreness to a discomfort instead of pain.
After breakfast, they broke into training as a squad. When he could spare a glance, Ezra saw that the rest of the soldiers and recruits were practicing the same things, but maybe a step or two easier than the “elite” recruits had to. The rank and file drilled how to hold their shields at the right angle and how to walk with it at that angle, taking deliberate steps all by themselves. Under Georg’s command, Ezra, Leah, Boyd, and Cord had to do the same, but walk in lockstep with each other while also stabbing their “spears” over the top of the shields as they went.
That second hour was miserable. Collective punishment meant that Ezra was constantly doing squats because Boyd took too long of a step, or Cord hesitated, or he’d overcommitted with one of his attacks. He felt bad for himself until he messed up and forced Leah to do exercises as well. At that point, he couldn’t really be mad at the brothers’ errors when there was only one person who was punished when she’d never messed up herself.
Even so, Leah didn’t complain as sweat poured down her face. Despite having the most exercising of all of the recruits, she never complained except to groan at the end of the day in the bunkroom.
Lunch was always a blessing, with the longer rest period attached to it. After the first days, the new recruits didn’t nap, but instead stretched and did gentle exercises to try to prepare themselves for the next parts of the day. The third block was more practicing in formations, though the four “elite” recruits were with the rest of the recruits for this. The morning’s practicing paid dividends here, as Ezra found himself already knowing how to work with others as this block demanded. Even so, he was left waiting in uncomfortable positions as the others in his “squad” failed to execute the moves that they were supposed to.
Almost more uncomfortable than having to keep his left arm up supporting the shield while his right pretended to strike above it was when they weren’t practicing. Only four recruits had been taken into Georg’s “elite” squad, and all of them from the slums. Those first days had been so full of panic that Ezra hadn’t even realized it, but there were about fifty recruits among the soldiers. The few conversations he overheard during mealtimes mentioned that the Count had to field 100 soldiers in the campaign, per the Duke’s orders. He’d kept a standing military of fifty, so he’d been forced to double those numbers, and about half of the recruits came from the inner city, the other half from the slums.
Why were no inner city brats selected, besides their soft stomachs and supposedly superior sneers? Ezra was sure he didn’t know, but fuck’em. Regardless, the inner city kids hated him, Boyd, Cord, and Leah because they’d taken spots that the inner city kids thought they deserved. Then, the slum recruits ignored him for a similar reason, thinking that he’d gotten his position through luck.
They’re right, at least a little, Jormun said one night. It was luck that I appeared to you, but you’ve got the skill and talent to shut down all the complaining. Just deal with this for now, and you’ll be fine.
So, the third block was one spent listening to others get corrected and insulted and then getting insulted himself by snide comments made just barely where he could overhear them. At least dinner came after, and all four took the opportunity to sit together.
“I’m gonna break his nose,” Boyd said, levelling his spoon at a particularly well-dressed recruit. The boy was blonde, with his hair styled with wax, even as he served as a soldier.
“No,” Cord commanded. “You’ll just get yourself in trouble.”
“Nah, he’s gotten himself into trouble. Kept hitting me with his staff, and if he does it again, I’m breaking his nose.”
Cord sucked his teeth at that and nodded slowly. “If he’s doing that much, then you better hit him good. Just once though.”
“Oh, my specialty,” Boyd laughed at his older brother before looking at Leah and Ezra. “How about the rest of you? What’re they doing to you?”
“Nobody’s hitting me,” Ezra offered. “I think they’ve seen that I’m getting combat training with Georg and’re at least smart enough not to start it with me just yet.”
“Lucky bastard,” Boyd groused. “And you, Leah?”
“There’s a couple,” she offered with a shrug.
“Hitting you?” Boyd asked, stiffening. “I don’t need a reason to bust ‘em if they’re hitting you.”
“Pushing me when we’re running,” she said. “When we’re all together in the mornings.”
“Cord, you’re with me on this,” Boyd said, though Cord looked angrier than the more fiery brother. “I’m gonna—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Leah said, leaning forward. “I got here by myself, not with you.”
Boyd looked down at here, saw the determination in her face, and calmed down.
“You shoulda said something. Let me know when you get them back, then, okay? I wanna be able to watch some prissy inner city kid get a bloody lip.”
“Sure,” Leah replied, leaning back over her soup. At her reminder, the three men set to tucking into their food as well, and they finished before long.
“Can you believe how much we get to eat?” Boyd asked as they stood up together from the table as a unit. “We got maybe half this before enlisting.”
Leah just nodded in agreement, and Ezra mirrored her. In truth, he could have eaten more, now that he thought about it. However, he’d been so concerned with not owing the Madam that he’d eaten less than he should have. If he’d just asked, he could have eaten more. Instead, he’d focused on saving money, and for what? Just to have in a corner?
Money’s only worth something if you spend it, kid, Jormun spoke, somehow picking up on Ezra’s thoughts and speaking where he couldn’t reply. If you’ve got mountains of gold, it won’t do jack shit for you.
After dinner, the specialized, individual training took place, and Ezra had his difficult training with Georg. The others probably saw him doing alright against the Lieutenant, but in reality, he just spent hours getting knocked around and being miserable before going to bed. Every day, Ezra could feel himself getting better, but each time he could better control his footwork, make his lunges sharper, or bind up with Georg, the more experienced soldier would display the difference in skill and kick Ezra down.
“You’re good, kid,” Georg said on the sixth day while Ezra tried to recover his breath. “You’re a prodigy when it comes to the aura stuff, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders too.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I’m trying to keep up, but there’s not much I can do against you.”
“I fuckin hope not,” Georg scoffed. “I’ve been doing this for as long as you’ve been alive. I’d better be better than you. Just keep practicing this way. Now, onto the live edge.”
Ezra stood and walked towards the line of straw-filled dummies, the other three recruits joining him as he went. They all took the spears in hand, a familiar weight at this point. The weapons were longer than the quarterstaves, about two meters long from the butts to the top of their heads. Unlike some spears, these had a long, double sided head, so they could cut as well as stab, and at night, the recruits were drilled on how to make sure the attacks they made cut through flesh and killed monsters.
“We’re on an extermination quest,” Petr commanded. Georg had been called to some other meeting, as he frequently was at the end of the day. “You’re a liability if you aren’t killing the things you’re attacking. Go for the throat, the chest, and the belly. Blind them. Make sure they won’t turn around and tear yours or your brother in arms’ bellies out in turn.”
The spears thunked into the “flesh” of the dummies, and the small squad practiced until the last light of sunset had faded.
“Get some rest,” Amy said as Petr collected the spears and took them back to the quartermaster. “Tomorrow’ll change things, and you need to be rested.”
When pestered, Amy offered nothing, so the four retreated to their bunkhouse, where, despite talking amongst themselves, they couldn’t come up with anything that might be changing. They got their rest, and the morning came all the same, but when the sergeants began shouting at the assembled soldiers and recruits while explaining just what those changes would be, Ezra, Boyd, Cord, and Leah all allowed fierce smiles to cross their faces.