A cycle passed and I'd just about picked up what I'd needed to, so I could navigate my next chapter without a constant barrage of abuse. In that time, the other soldiers hadn't spoken to me unless they had no other choice. Sure, they'd try to trip me up or sabotage me at any available opportunity, but of common decency there was none. I was an outsider, and I was made to feel that every second of every day. Until that point, we'd done no martial or magical training, so I hadn't come close to leveling again. But around eight days into the ordeal, Sergeant Brin popped his head out of his office.

"We're moving onto active training for the next four cycles. Warriors, head over to the stores for your training armor and dueling weapons. Martial training is on the North field in one hour. "Corporal Lial, take the Mages to the South field for target practice."

There was a bustle of excitement around the barracks at the news. I even felt it a little myself. Actual training would be a chance to prove myself and win some respect. I didn't care a damn what these arseholes thought of me, but if it made my life more bearable while I was stuck here, then it was worth a shot.

The decision for which side I'd attend was made for me with one simple word. Dueling. I was bottom rung in the Academy Dueling class so I'd be miles behind these bastards.

At least with the mages, even if they were ten times better than me, I had Aetheric Magic which would level the playing field a little.

Over the next ten minutes, the Warriors trailed out of the barracks to get started. The mages, not needing anything other than their mana reserves remained in the barracks.

"HENSHAW!" Brin barked from his office door. "What on Jolata do you think you're doing?"

I looked up slowly from where I sat and waited on my bed. "I'm waiting for the active training to begin, Sergeant."

"Without armor or a sword?"

I shook my head. "My magic is the best weapon I have. It needs training."

"Not a chance," Corporal Lial spat.

"Exactly," Brin agreed, his face set in an angry snarl. "You get your useless ass over to the stores now and up to that field before I lash you the whole way."

I was furious. Not with the order, but with the treatment. "Of course, Sergeant. May I ask why I can't train my magic?"

He looked ready to pop. "Because you are a Squire and you do what you're damn well told. I know what this Cohort needs and it's not a loose cannon wannabe mage standing behind them as they fight."

I seethed. Nine cycles to go. They say you shouldn't wish your life away, so why was I always counting down to something.

I marched to the stores with no idea where to go for the armor. In a stroke of luck, I saw one of the soldiers from the 1st Cohort. Private Relis.

Better still, he nodded at me as we passed.

"Hey," I said, bringing him to a stop. "I'm behind my Cohort, and I don't know where to get training armor and weapons from."

He smiled. "Giving you a rough time?"

I shrugged. "You could say that."

He pointed back down the corridor from where I'd just come. "Third door on your left. Armor is stowed in size order, so go to the far side."

I hardly knew how to respond. So taken aback with a friendly response. I didn't want to ruin the moment, so I settled with a simple, "Thank you," and he went on his way.

The interaction had me reeling more than if he'd been a dick. Was it just my Cohort that were being horrible? Was Garazal annoyed with me for the Shroud of Silence and paying me back?

I couldn't be sure, but I suspected that might be at least partially the case. If it was, then it meant I had no respite.

With Relis's instructions, I found the armor easily and the swords were on the other side of the room. I quickly grabbed what I needed and headed up to the north field.

The other Warriors were all limbering up, laughing and smiling and ribbing each other.

I stood aside, and went through a series of stretches Ressa had taught me. They brought back memories of her, and I replayed our old sparring lessons, with a smile of my own. I hoped those lessons would stand me in good stead here, but a pure Warrior at Level 21 Warrior had reached that level through Toughness and Mental Acuity. Most of them wouldn't even have a Harmony above Level 10. Which meant pound for pound I was weaker.

As none of the men in front of me were even close to Level 21, with the weakest being level 27, I feared I had no chance.

As Sergeant Brin made the field, he barked out orders for everyone to line up around the ring. Once everyone was calm and ready, he pointed to me. "Squire Henshaw, in with Corporal Roan."

I did a double take. Roan was the biggest Warrior in our Cohort. And after Brin, he was the highest leveled at 31.

There was a cheer for the huge man as he strode to the center and waited for me. I stepped in and took my position across from him.

Brin spoke again. "Show this Tinback what it means to be a soldier of House Garazal."

"Wait," I snapped, anger swelling with the ever-increasing bullshit. "What the hell do you mean, show me? I'm a low-leveled squire with a few cycles of sword training. You'd need to at least train me first."

Brin raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you quite finished?"

"Finished what?" I looked around at the men. "Come on then, show me what the finest of House Garazal amounts to. Because all I see is a group of chuckling bullies?"

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Except no one was chuckling anymore. Cold, dead eyes glared at me. Sergeant Brin didn't even bother to respond directly. His only word was, "Begin."

"And so Corporal Roan began."

I barely raised my sword before I had three broken ribs and a split across my skull that went from eye to crown.

Everyone was laughing and cheering again as I was dragged from the ring, rasping for breath and blinded by blood.

"Pathetic," Brin said from above me, and something thumped on my chest. "Waste of a good Healing Rod."

I could have healed myself, but I'd rather waste the bastard's Healing Rod, so I grasped for it and broke the two sides.

Mana swarmed over my body, and while it did its work I wiped blood from my eyes.

Brin still stood close by, watching the next sparring bout. Wanting to create some distance, I pushed myself further back, but started coughing up blood from the exertion.

Something struck my side and when I looked down to see what it was, I found another healing rod lying in the grass. "You need to be fully healed," Brin said. "I want no excuses for your next fight."

This rod completed the job and I got back to my feet and backed off some more to watch from a distance.

I got to see twenty Warriors fight civilized sparring bouts full of respect and sportsmanship until it was my turn again.

"Private Burress, you and Squire Henshaw. Let's see if he can actually manage a block this time."

Burress was one of the three Level 27s in the Cohort. He looked about as eager as I'd ever seen anyone approaching a fight. With good reason too. This wasn't a fight. It was a pinata smash, and by the look in his eyes, he was hoping something good would fall out. Like my brains.

I stood opposite him, sword raised as it should be. I'd keep my mouth shut this time and focus.

"Begin!" Brin shouted.

Like Corporal Roan, he came at me lightning fast. Slashing with a downward strike that put me on the back foot, followed up with a lunge I could only avoid by stepping outside the ring.

"What are you doing, Henshaw!" Brin shouted. "You're supposed to be training your sword work, not your disorderly retreat!"

More laughter. I thought so little of this group now that I wasn't even angry anymore. Their laughter was like hearing ducks quacking at the pond. Annoying but part of the experience.

I reentered the ring and got back into the starting position.

Brin called to begin, and Burress darted toward me. All controlled aggression he opted to lead with a lunge this time.

I managed to parry, sidestep, and evade him. Until he backhanded me with his sword hand, a mix of knuckles and wooden pommel smashed into my cheek.

I was knocked out of the ring and onto my arse.

"Better!" Brin shouted. "You almost looked like you'd held a sword before! Almost. Again!"

There was a trickle of blood on my cheek, but I was otherwise fine. And now I knew that punches wouldn't be penalized. I'd also lasted long enough to get a feel for Burress's movement.

He came again. A slash like the first time.

I stepped back, like the first time.

He followed up with a lunge, like the first time.

I parried the blow wide and predictably he tried to repeat his backhand attack.

I blocked it and sent a crisp left hook to his gut.

Winded, he buckled over slightly, putting his temple at the perfect position for a straight right. A right that included the hilt guard of my sword.

He went over like a felled tree, and I was suddenly lifted from my feet and thrown from the ring.

Brin was standing over me, frothing out an angry rant. "We are soldiers dueling with swords! Not bare-knuckle brawling like street trash, you idiot."

"He hit me with a backhand," I pointed out.

"He used a pommel strike! A sword maneuver."

It was a tenuous argument. As if you couldn't throw a punch in a sword fight. I accepted the berating, but as far as I was concerned, I'd fought fairly and won.

"Again! And no more fists. You attack and defend with the sword only! Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Words, Squire. I want to hear the words!"

"I understand," I replied, trying my hardest not to lose it.

Heading back to the ring, I saw Burress absorbing a healing rod, before coming to stand in front of me.

His expression had moved from disdain to pure hatred, and his attack came with a lot less control.

Slash, lunge.

I managed two blocks against his rapid but predictable onslaught. And then he had me. With unarmed fighting, I could compensate for shortcomings in speed and power, even against someone as strong and as powerful as Burress. But without hand strikes, I had no chance.

After his lunge, he swung low, and his sword cracked into my knee. I swung at his head, but he was already moving and striking again in the opening I left.

He was out for vengeance. The strike caught me in the temple with sickening force and the lights went out.

When I came round, I'd been dragged out of the ring and dumped a few paces away. A new fight had already begun.

Brin noticed me, and paced over. "That was pathetic. You're done for the day, Henshaw. And you can heal the natural way. I'm not wasting another Healing Rod after that showing."

Stupid bastard really must have no idea of what I can do. I thought as I got to my feet, and limped away, blood trickling from my temple.

Once no one was looking, I sat back down and activated my Regenerate skill. Level two wasn't enough to fully heal the wound in one casting, but I had more than enough Mana to cast it twice and couldn't help but smile at the result.

An unexpected double whammy of bonuses. One to the Regenerate skill, which also took my Harmony up a level. And another point to Toughness.

The following day in training, I was soundly thrashed. My increases had made no discernable difference and the soldiers didn't even pretend it was anything other than a beating.

I didn't care. I used their healing rods, and I watched.

I practiced everything that Ressa and our dueling class master had taught me and I watched some more.

Because one thing these fucks hadn't counted on, was that I had history with their kind of bullshit. A long history of living the, 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' sentiment.'

Every afternoon I gave it my all in the ring. Fighting and training with a hunger to improve, I studied their styles, their reactions, their patterns and tells.

My solo efforts at training brought laughter and mocking, but I didn't care, because day by day, cycle by cycle, I was getting stronger.

By the time our four cycles of active training came to an end, I'd leveled again. My Toughness had gone up two points and my Mental Acuity had gone up by one. The results of that increase were visible in the ring.

I still hadn't won, but it was taking them longer and longer to beat me and next time we actively trained, I promised myself I'd beat at least one of them.

Name: Adam Henshaw

Title: Squire of House Garazal

Level: 23

Class: Warrior/Mage

Stats:

Toughness: 27 + 5

Mental Acuity: 20

Harmony: 23 +5

Total: 70

Progress in Class:

Warrior, Level 16: 30/160

Level 10 Boon: +5 in durability based Toughness. Bonus points not reflected in level.

Tradesman, Level 0: 0/10

Mage, Level 14: 80/140

Level 10 Boon: +5 in Aetheric Connection based Harmony. Bonus points not reflected in level.

Mage Skills:

Enchant Item Level: 3

Regenerate (Personal) Level: 3

Spirit Burst (AoE) Level: 3

Spirit Blast (Projectile) Level: 3

Spirit Strike (Melee) Level: 1 (Tier 2)

Spirit Hand (Levitation) Level: 2

Flame Blast (Projectile) Level: 2

Flame Burst (AoE) Level: 1

Water Blast (Projectile): Level: 1

Water Burst (AoE): Level: 1

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