--- Roric

Before the departure, one of the men led Roric to four other boys. The recruits all looked older than him, and were giving him inquisitive glances. The child would have liked to introduce himself, but before he could a bald man appeared.

"Grab that. What are you waiting for?" he snarled. "Come on. Move, move!"

He had an imposing physique. His long, gray moustaches trembled nervously as he spoke. The rings of his chainmail made a lot of noise as he walked around, blurting out orders. Roric obeyed, lifting an oversized backpack and putting it on his shoulders, then he lined up with the others. The strict man gave him one last glare and left.

"Better do what he says, kid," whispered one of the boys, short haired and with a hint of beard. "You don't want to anger old Ugrin, trust me on that."

Roric groaned and joined the march without a word.

***

The company began travelling East, leaving Guhrien and its granaries behind.

During those first few hours, the kid quickly discovered that marching at the pace of real soldiers was way more demanding than his comfortable trip on Tolwin's wagon. He sighed, hoping to find a chance to see the kind priest soon.

The other recruits didn't show much interest in him for the time being, probably because they were kept under watch by that man, Ugrin, who seemed to be their superior. All four were tougher than Roric and he was barely able to move at their speed, so he focused on saving his stamina, forcing his eyes down. After some time, the captain walked ahead and he was finally free to give a longer glance at his companions, despite being able to see only their backs.

While they all belonged to the same group, strangely, two of them kept advancing in silence. The other two, since the moment when Ugrin left, had started talking nonstop about seemingly nonsensical things. Their bantering continued for the entirety of that short trip until the mercenaries reached a clearing in the wilds where they set up camp for the night.

One of the recruits, the one who looked the youngest excluding the newcomer, brought him dinner. When he turned around to thank him, however, Roric couldn't help but notice that the shape of his eyes was weird and deformed. They were way thinner than his own, yet it was clear that the boy had no difficulty spotting the scrutiny he received. He looked bothered by it and quickly moved on with his tasks. As he focused on the others, Roric noticed that another recruit was giving him a rather unfriendly eye.

What's his problem? I've been here only for a few hours and-

A hand patted his right shoulder.

"Don't mind him, kid," said a voice. "Meran isn't exactly a people person."

Roric turned around, finding himself face to face with those two who were constantly arguing on the road. They invited him to sit beside them near the fire and he gladly accepted, because the evenings were getting colder.

"So, as I was saying," inquired the one who had called for him. "Me and Frauli here were making bets on when Meran would start growling at you. Needless to say, I'm the winner. Well, sorry. It's just the way he is."

"You shouldn't listen to this idiot," stepped in the other one, reluctantly taking out a couple of bronze coins. "Why are you always dragging me into these stupid bets?"

And just like that, Roric met Frauli and Demios. They were both fifteen, raised in an orphanage somewhere in the countryside of the Republic, to the East, and taken in by the commander a year and a half before because their caretakers couldn't afford to keep them under their roof anymore.

"You guys are republicans? I have only heard about your kingdom once or twice," said the kid.

"Yes, we are," confirmed Demios. "Actually, it's not a kingdom. There's no king in a republic."

"It's not that different from the Duchy, however," explained Frauli. "Lots of woods, fields and not much more."

Frauli was tall, blond and already full bearded. He spoke with a thundering, confident voice that made him appear older than he was. From what Roric could understand in the following minutes, his fully developed body and good looks made him more attractive for girls. And his friend was clearly envious of that.

"Don't start this again, Demios. Should I feel guilty that I'm taller than you?"

"Had the Makers blessed me with your build, I'd been settled down at this point. It's clear that you don't have the brains to take advantage of it."

The two kept arguing for some time on if there were or weren't Barbarians in the blond boy's bloodline, then the situation went back to normal. Clearly, what Demios lacked in his looks was well compensated by his mind. At least a head shorter than Frauli and a bit less stout, he possessed a lively, intelligent gaze, or so Roric thought. His eyes were overly inquisitive, constantly on the hunt for details. Still, for the moment, the fact that he didn't have a proper beard seemed to be the major issue between the duo.

As he kept listening to them, the kid discovered that Demios was able to read and write, which confirmed his guess that he was indeed quite smart. Like Hars always used to say, back in Spjaldir, books were for smart people. Not that Frauli was a complete idiot, of course, but he seemed to be constantly on the defending side when the two were arguing.

Yet, despite the unending bantering, those boys were like family to each other.

Family...

Roric's thoughts went back to the past, abruptly. He could almost see an image of him and his parents playing in the garden. The smell of grass and flowers, the gentle caress of the wind. The blazing sun, their voices calling for him. Screaming his name, desperately...

"Roric?" asked Demios, shaking him. "Still with us?"

"Sorry, I was just... Thinking about my parents," he said. "I... I still can't believe that they are gone."

"Oh... What happened to them?"

"Bandits... They attacked my village," answered the kid, with a lump in his throat. "My mother died, saving me from the fire. I found the body of my father after that, and I ran away."

The two shared a look, then Frauli spoke.

"Sorry for your loss. Seeing your parents die must be terrible. We have never met ours. The only thing we know about our families is that we aren't brothers."

"Sad story," admitted the other boy. "We are all orphans, here."

"Even the others?" inquired Roric.

"Meran lost his family a long time ago, that much I know," explained Demios. "And I don't expect him to start telling stories about it, at this point. He doesn't care about the past. Nowadays, he's just an angry kid who hates losing. Don't challenge him."

The child turned around, glancing at the unfriendly recruit. He looked a year or two younger than his new friends, with scruffy hair and a grumpy expression. Staring into space, he was sitting near the weird-eyed boy, but they weren't talking to each other.

"What about that one? Those eyes..."

"His name is Rata," said Frauli. "From goddamn Ekhar."

"You... Don't seem to like him," commented Roric. "Has he done something to you?"

The two boys exchanged another look. Demios cleared his throat and began speaking again.

"Rata is... A stranger. We all know his story. Never heard of Ekhar, I guess?"

Roric shook his head.

"I suspected so. Here in the Duchy there isn't much knowledge about that place, maybe just near the capital. Well, for starters you must know that there is a kingdom, North of the Republic, and its name is Ekhar. It's a land of hills and meadows that has remained almost uninhabited for millennia. Until a thousand years ago or so, when those people came."

He knows many things.

"And they all have thin eyes? Where did they come from?"

"No one really knows. Probably from the Steppes or even further than them. They are very proud and devote themselves to war above everything else. Rata's father is a chieftain of one of those clans. He has seven older brothers, if I recall correctly."

"So he still has a family? Why is he here?"

"In Ekhar, a man's worth is defined by how much strength and glory he provides to his clan," stepped in Frauli. "They are monsters. From the moment they can stand, those people train their children to kill in the name of their chief. And those who are deemed not worthy are simply..."

"Discarded," continued Demios. "Rata was kicked out from his home because he was too weak. His exile will go on until he comes back and shows that he has become a great warrior. From what I know, he has crossed the border alone and couldn't even enter towns before the commander stumbled into him and decided to take him in."

"And what does it have to do with him?" asked Roric, pointing at the blond recruit.

"I don't hate Rata specifically. More like his people in general," grumbled Frauli.

"Rata is not to blame," went on the other boy. "The men of Ekhar have always been stubborn and lusting for battle. Since the day they appeared, they have dragged the surrounding lands into countless wars. They are ferocious and merciless. They kill everyone who opposes them and only take prisoners if their chiefs need slaves. Frauli is... One of the many who lost their parents this way."

"I was too little to remember it. Still, those dogs have ruined my life."

The child felt some chills running up his spine. The blond recruit might have not remembered the death of his family, but they must have been slaughtered in a similar way as his own. And everyday, in the Free Kingdoms, many others had to share that terrible fate.

Bad things happen all around, all the time. I had never thought about it, but it's true.

"Anyway, I'm a bit drowsy," said Demios. "We have a long way ahead of us, or so I've heard."

"Get some sleep, kid," concluded Frauli. "Mark my words, tomorrow evening you'll feel so tired that you'll want to be dead."

***

Needless to say, the two boys were right. Very right.

During the following days, Roric had to try his hardest just not to fall behind. He treasured the few stops the commander was willing to grant, looking for any free chance to catch his breath. On more than one occasion the kid kept barely the pace, but thanks to the encouragement of his new friends he kept moving forward. In the evening he was almost unable to stand, and yet the captain came, bluntly instructing him to help with the dinner. So, Roric had to walk his aching feet all around the camp handing out bowls of cabbage soup. When he was finished, the only thing he sought was a nosedive into a blanket, but even then he couldn't sleep like a log like he was expecting.

Nightmares. Brutal and relentless, as always. Roaring flames, people screaming, puddles of blood everywhere the eye could see. All those sensations mingled so much inside Roric's head that when he finally woke up he was even more tired than before. He felt helpless, and terribly alone. Yet, he wasn't willing to give up.

That life went on for an entire week. The company kept going East, crossing the river Lintrus and venturing inside the Republic's territory. Just like the child had been told, forests in that land were much more common. Roads would often wound in between the pine trees, bringing out a variety of noises that couldn't possibly be heard in the Guhrien countryside. Birds and other animals looked at the mercenaries from the distance as they passed, quickly retreating when they got too close.

Finally, eleven days after its departure from the city of granaries, the company made its stop and set up a long term camp on a small hill near Telgham, a castle town where the commander had found some interesting contracts. It was an old and outdated fortress, built in ancient times and surrounded by a remarkable village. Roric learned from Demios that in the past it had served a military purpose, but after centuries of peace it was gradually turning into a regular settlement.

The kid really wanted to see Tolwin again but it seemed like the priest was occupied with other tasks. Not that the recruits were exempt from work, anyway. There were plenty of things to do at the encampment, and they also had combat training scheduled for the very next day. For that reason Roric and the others were ordered to clear a circular space from the grass and get that place ready for sparring.

They worked in teams to rid it of weeds and trace the ring's bounds with small rocks. Meran, who obviously didn't like that idea, picked an entire side all for himself and forbid anyone else from stepping inside until he was done. On the other hand Rata remained silent for the entire time, but at least helped Frauli and Demios without any complaint when they asked him to bring in the training weapons from the wagon. Roric, meanwhile, used the small experience in gardening he had to rip plants from the ground. When the job was done, the two older boys invited him to join them for dinner, but after eating the child was too tired to stay awake. Knowing that he had to be in his best shape for the next morning, he decided to go to bed early.

When he woke up, he only had a handful of minutes to get ready and join the others near the ring, where Ugrin was waiting for them. The man stood against the rising sun, a longsword drawn and rested on his right shoulder, his expression already impatient.

"Rise and shine, kids. Slept well?" he asked in a tone of fake concern, breathing air in his lungs and raising the volume. "Because I'm about to crush your lazy heads, if you don't hurry! What are you waiting for? Move! Move!"

The recruits rushed there and formed a line. Roric wasn't used to people yelling at him and uneasily followed his companions, hoping that it would suffice to avoid the wrath of their superior. Ugrin gave them some stern glares, marching left and right in an unnerving way. He ultimately stopped right in front of the newcomer, pinning his sword in the ground.

"You, fresh meat," he said, studying his figure from different angles. "Your age?"

"I'm... I'm ten," answered Roric with a shaky voice.

Stay calm. Don't mess it up and everything will be alright.

"Then give me an ear for a moment, brat. I didn't introduce myself properly yet. My name is Ugrin. For you, captain Ugrin. And I'm here to make you into a soldier. Are we clear?"

Timidly, the child replied, "Yes... Captain."

"Good," Ugrin grumbled. "I won't be softer on you just because you are small, keep that in mind. There's no place in this company for the ducklings who can't keep up with their mom, and... What are you laughing at, jackass?"

He turned towards Meran, who went pale and quickly pulled himself together. The captain seemed to know very well how to make good use of his scary presence.

"A thirteen year old so talented in combat, yet gifted with such stupidity. What a waste, Meran," he commented. "So, now that our jester of choice has delighted us with his daily show, let's see what this kid can do. Grab one of those."

Roric took one of the wooden swords that the instructor had pointed him to. It was unexpectedly heavy considering that it was a fake weapon, and the child struggled not to look troubled as he carried it back near the ring. Then Ugrin told him to step inside and wait.

"Meran. Since you look so full of energy today, I trust you'll be eager to give the new one a try."

Damn, I hoped I was going against Frauli or Demios. Even Rata would have been fine. Why him?

The unpleasant boy, after listening to such request, gave Roric a threatening look and smiled, grabbing a weapon of his own.

"Sure, captain," he answered. "Don't worry, brat. I'll try to play nice, this time."

The child nervously watched as his more experienced opponent stood in front of him, sword in hand. He attempted to copy his stance at the best of his abilities, in an effort to at least giving him a small challenge.

I never fought anyone before. How hard is it going to be?

"Come on, start!" yelled Ugrin, clapping his hands.

Like a guard dog who was just waiting for his master's signal, Meran dashed forward and swung his weapon horizontally. Roric tried to parry the blow, but his own blade seemed to move many times slower. The hit landed on his left hip, chopping his breath off and making him bow in pain.

Ouch! That hurts!

He was still recovering from the impact but the instructor came closer, impatiently.

"We don't have all day! Get back on your feet! Attack, dammit!"

"He's just a soft brat, captain," commented the other boy. "Planning on bringing the pain sometime today, girlie?"

The child charged at his opponent and began striking from random angles, but Meran dodged and intercepted every single swing without breaking a sweat or losing his annoying smirk. The exercise was exhausting. Roric's arms already burned from fatigue after a dozen tries and his strength was decreasing by the second. Suddenly, the older recruit counterattacked and hit his sword on purpose. The kid felt the shock running through his entire body, from his fingers to his toes, and helplessly watched the weapon flying away from his grip. Panting, he fell on his knees, eyes to the ground.

I have lost. But he is so much stronger than me...

"Enough for the time being," said Ugrin. "Get back in the line, you are in the way here. We'll work on the basics later. Frauli, you are next."

Roric stood up and stumbled back to the others. The blond boy patted his shoulder as he passed by and took his place inside the ring.

"Not bad for your first time, kid," whispered Demios, crossing his arms. "A word of advice? Try to get used to the strain at first. There is no use in fighting back when you can't even swing your sword for more than a minute."

The child sighed and quietly nodded, as the next match started.

We have a long way to go.