--- Roric

Two weeks passed since Roric's first training session. The child endured cuts, bruises and cramps all day long, only to be assailed by his recurring nightmares about Spjaldir whenever he fell asleep. Needless to say, he didn't feel any improvement in his situation.

Because the commander was busy leading large parts of his forces around the region, there were never more than thirty people at the camp at the same time and most of them were just rookie soldiers. Autumn had started and the mercenaries would have worked their hardest before the cold months, when moving in large groups became a logistic mess.

During that period Roric had the chance to cross blades with all his recruit buddies, with disappointing results. His most unforgiving opponent was always Meran, who clearly focused on hurting him as much as he could, but the kid had also learned to fear the others as well, Rata in particular. The son of Ekhar, like everyone in the company used to call him, was a fast and nimble fighter who hid his superb technique under a relatively ordinary appearance. Despite having him around for the majority of the day Roric didn't see him get mad once, and his calm and collected attitude made him difficult to read. Even when he faced Frauli or Demios, both more skilled than him, the boy would lose without blinking an eye, step back in line and wait for his turn like it was nothing.

For their part the two republican recruits had taken a liking in Roric, offering to teach him certain basic exercises they knew. Their constant squabbling and the growing fatigue, however, prevented the child from making any noticeable progress. Ugrin too played his part, by pointing out how useless and weak he was with great care. The instructor's most common quote, after every training match Roric lost, was that he wasn't even trying to win. The only times the strict man was willing to stop tormenting him was when he turned on Meran, probably the single person in those lands who made him lose his temper faster than the newcomer. That boy was incredible: he even seemed to annoy Rata at times.

***

"Again," ordered Ugrin with his arms crossed, tapping nervously on his left bicep.

It was a mid-October afternoon and Roric was about to face Rata for the third time in a row. With measured movements the son of Ekhar slowly circled around the kid, forcing him to follow in order to keep him in sight.

"Stop playing with him, thin-eyes!" yelled Meran, who was lazily lying in the grass. "Hit that brat and make him eat dust."

As always, right when the angry instructor turned to bring the boy back into line, Rata used that minimal distraction to his advantage, jumping forward with unforeseen speed and whirling his blade to confuse Roric. At that point, the younger recruit had seen a similar maneuver so many times that he already knew how it would end.

He will attack me from an unexpected direction. He's been doing it since we first faced each other. There must be a way to predict which way the swing will come from...

On that day, strangely, there was something weird in the movements of his opponent. As Rata closed the distance, in fact, the kid managed to catch a glimpse of the weapon and keep track of its trajectory. It all happened in an instant, but he clearly saw the wooden sword slowing down to the point that he could almost...

Parry it! I have improved, after all!

No, that couldn't be. The other boy was probably just tired. He was human as well, and Ugrin's ruthless training had to be taking its toll even on a tough guy like him. Anyway, Roric moved to intercept just like Frauli and Demios had taught him. When he was sure that the attack was finally coming, he twisted his blade to parry. Yet, he was still too slow.

The training weapon smashed against his wrist, and he felt it exploding with pain. The child screamed, dropping his sword and using the other hand to grab the wound, from which came a stream of blood.

"What happened there?" thundered the captain, getting closer. "I said no injuries, you idiot! Or do you want him to die here before he can prove to be even remotely useful?"

Ugh. Thanks, I guess...

"Not my fault," replied Rata with his trademark composure. "I went for his thigh. He tried a parry. I couldn't slow down."

That was humiliating. He acted like he knew from the start that Roric couldn't possibly protect himself from that attack. There was something fishy, however, in the boy's words. He claimed to be aiming for his leg, but the kid was pretty sure that the blade would have crushed against his ribs if he hadn't moved in time. What if Rata had been actually caught by surprise by his sudden reaction and preferred to lie rather than admit that? Still, even with that being the case, why was his swing so damn slow? Why even give Roric that slim chance?

A burst of pain brought him back to the present.

"This wound is severe," commented Ugrin, examining his right hand. "Go and Look for Tolwin. He'll patch you up. Come on, slackers! We already lost too much time because of this!"

That was all Roric had to hear. While he returned to the camp, gritting his teeth because of the injury, he couldn't help but feel happy that the session had ended prematurely.

***

--- Tolwin

After the healing procedure was complete, the priest removed his hands from Roric's wrist.

He felt relieved, since the kid's fracture had repaired itself perfectly, but younger people were more sensitive to spiritual magic and thus it was bound to be more effective. Moreover, his little friend also seemed to possess a good degree of attunement with his energy in particular, maybe a result of the intensive rituals Tolwin had performed on his burned back months before.

I wonder if he would have any potential as a priest... No, he would have already shown the signs at that age.

"I'm done," announced the man. "Don't put excessive strain on that hand and tomorrow it will be just like new."

"Thanks, mister," said Roric, still checking his wrist in vague disbelief. "I still feel something weird. Like a tingling."

The priest nodded, putting his instruments away.

"My powers speed up the regeneration of your body well beyond the limits imposed by nature. Your wound may be gone, but you still need to compensate for the energy loss. In any case, most of the fatigue will fade in a couple of hours. Don't be alarmed."

Apparently satisfied with the answer Roric stood up, studying the stuff that cluttered the tent. Tolwin's pavilion was smaller than Lowan's but also littered with the many things that he needed to carry around. For a kid, that must have been an interesting place. From his chair, the man tenderly observed him.

Many weeks have passed since I found him. I wonder how his training is going.

He felt some guilt for abandoning him in Ugrin's rough hands, because the instructor's brutal methods were widely known and he didn't seem to care for the dramatic past of his young recruits. Not when they were present, at the very least.

"How are you faring, Roric?" inquired the priest. "We haven't seen each other at all after that day in Guhrien. I've asked the commander about you but the only thing he said was that you were learning to fight."

The child seemed a bit startled by the sudden question, but he still replied, "The captain says I'm not putting enough work into it, but I just... Can't get what he means. What's the point of training with the others when they can mop the floor with me whenever they want?"

He made a brief pause, clenching his fists in frustration.

"I can't do it, no matter how I try. Sometimes I think I should have just stayed in Guhrien, instead of running back to the commander."

"Don't let some minor setbacks discourage you, young one," laughed Tolwin. "Trust me, in time things will change, and they are bound to change for the better. What about your companions? Any problems with them?"

"Frauli and Demios are good guys, and... Even Rata won't hit me that hard when he sees I'm too tired," said Roric with a shy smile, but his mood quickly darkened. "It's Meran who I can't stand. It feels like hurting others is his only pleasure."

The old priest sighed. Since the day that boy from the shores of the Guhrien lake had joined, around a year before, he had been a wild card. He probably had his reasons, given his issues at home, but even after taking them into account his behavior was still getting overboard with the time.

Not that I could change it. It's Ugrin's role to scold the recruits if they don't behave, not mine. Yet, there might be a way to cheer up Roric...

"He is... Kind of a mad dog, yeah," he agreed. "In my opinion, you should just try to ignore him and focus on your own improvement. Life is already too short, so let's not waste it punching fools in the face."

The kid gave him a bitter smirk.

"I'm the one who's being hit, here..." he said. "I'll try, but I also hope that Meran will stop on his own. There must be some good inside him, after all."

What a kind soul.

The world was so full of anger and resentment that sometimes Tolwin forgot about those people who were unable to think bad of others just because. Being a child Roric had a lot to learn, but he was surely blessed with good morals. Maybe witnessing the slaughter of his village had given him a deeper understanding of what good and evil were. Being a healer, however, the man had the responsibility to be sure that he was alright.

"Is that day still giving you nightmares?"

The child froze, looking at him with uncertainty.

"I'm fine," he just grumbled. "You don't need to worry about me."

Despite being frustrated from his training and not completely used to his new mercenary life, Roric wasn't willing to admit that he needed help. It was perfectly justifiable, from Tolwin's point of view, but the way he stubbornly carried that weight around with him was astonishing. The priest had kept an eye on him several times, at the camp, and his expression wasn't something you would commonly see in ten-year-old. Instead of the light-hearted eyes of a kid, sometimes he looked like an adult who had already seen too much. Like he was bearing something terrible.

After all, Roric had given up the chance of living safely in an orphanage to pursue a dream beyond his current power and maybe even his comprehension. How could Tolwin not respect someone like that, after what he himself had done in the past? Still, without his intervention, the poor child was bound to fall apart at some point.

"What are these?" suddenly asked Roric, bringing the old priest back to reality.

He was pointing his finger towards a purse that contained certain shiny flowers, jumbled on a table between piles of books about the medical arts.

"Those are Stemias," answered Tolwin. "Rare plants that grow deep into some forests of this land. They are a vital part of a concoction that stops many infections."

"My mom used to grow flowers all the time," commented the child, absently. "Do you really need them, with your abilities and all?"

Tapping on the table, the priest explained, "As I told you, yes. Let's say someone gets hurt, I mean pretty badly, and I'm not around. In that case I bet he would find them pretty useful, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. That was obvious, sorry."

"No worries, just-"

Tolwin stopped talking.

What if... It might be the right way to help him!

It was so simple. Roric just needed something to keep his mind occupied, while he accepted the sad fate of his family.

"Tolwin?"

"Tell me," the old man asked. "Would you be interested in learning something about healing? I have always worked alone, but sometimes having an assistant would ease my burden. You seem patient and dependable enough."

The child's jaw dropped. "Me? I... Your assistant? I'd love to but... I don't think I can. The captain says I'm the weakest and I have to train ten times more than the others and-"

"Leave Ugrin to me. I'll talk with him and arrange things" the priest reassured him "He is not an unreasonable person, believe me. So, your answer?"

Roric looked at him in clear doubt, but in the end he nodded.

"Happy to hear it," concluded the man, clapping his hands. "I'm sure we'll work well together. Standby and keep training. I'll call for you when everything is ready."

With a bright smile, the child hummed and ran back outside.

Man... I believe it will be good for the kid. In any case, that's a better way for him to spend his time than being constantly beaten by the other recruits.

Tolwin couldn't tell Roric, but Ugrin had his reasons to be such a harsh trainer. Under his mask of cynical strictness, in fact, he loved his pupils so much that he couldn't stand the thought of them going into a battle without being ready. The priest had served many years alongside him and understood the need for such tough ways, still everyone had a limit. Especially little kids.

Roric isn't going to learn anything if all he lives for is being thrashed around.

Obviously, Ugrin would raise an eyebrow in front of Tolwin's request, but he was confident in his own ability of finding an agreement with the instructor.

"I'll stop by him tomorrow," the man decided. "Knowing him, having the weakest recruit taken away from his care for a couple of hours a day will delight him."

And so, from that day, Roric started coming to the old man whenever he was done with his combat training, to be instructed in the basics of medicine and help with minor chores.

After some time, finally, Tolwin saw the kid with a real smile on his face.