Jusuf had made me go. He said I should rejoin the keep's training after I whined for the sixty-seventh time- he kept count, which I told him surprised me as I didn’t think he knew numbers that big- about the books Velma was making me read at the tomes.

Really, he didn’t make me, he lured me. Spinning tales of brawn and heroics, mourning how far I’d fallen since our gutsy childhood, and how weak I’d gotten. I went to prove him wrong. Foolishly.

When we arrived we trained with the silvers and I struggled to keep up. I was stuck staring at backs from the start, and made to eat their dirt by the end. I earned myself more than a few names, none good.

I didn't finish the track until most of everyone else had moved on to combat, so I left. But Jusuf found me. He quoted Deante- one of my preferred old thinkers. Whatever the words, they roused something in me, a grin stealing my lips from their frown.

“You actually read the Cataclysms?" I asked him. "I only gave it to you for a lark, thought it might help you learn proper Yoren.”

He had feigned offense, and we'd shared a chuckle. That's all it took to bring me back the next day. Today.

A morning peach painted the sky while I eyed my feet squirming on the rocky grassland.

I was one of the first to arrive. We called it the bowl, a clearing at the centre of Randy, the forest at the edge of the village. Trees surrounded us in a rough oval. No matter which way you looked, the leaves and branches would queue, stacking to block your vision. When I first came here, long ago, the foliage posed intimidating questions about the unknown. But now, amongst peers, they felt the most familiar.

As time passed more people trickled in. A large group of maybe a hundred of us had already formed. All boys from the keep or sons of villagers. Many of the older boys I knew by face, if not then by name. Still, I felt out of place. It had been a while since I’d trained, and yesterday suggested maybe too long.

The boys were all young, fiery and dirty. Stringy muscle could already be seen to shape below their murky skins, some of them were dark and some fair, but all still yet discolored by labor and hard-work. My skin was brown from birth but at its darkest couldn’t match the scars of most the chalk-skinned folk.

Just after the last few stragglers arrived, five burly men followed, each well into their thirties. They had stomachs that looked like they had been full forever, rough cut trousers, and stained tops. Yet two of them had more, their strength showing through their fat. Dense arms and heavy steps cleared their path. They were both past Templars, resigned to a quiet life in the village. Albeit just lesser knights, their presence was still heights above the other three.

The five of them were all just orphan keepers. They were the people me and Lunar grew to despise at the keep. Although I could not recognise one of them, my hate was quickly rekindling with my return to training.

The largest of the Keeper’s stepped ahead of the rest to address the crowd. His voice carried over the youthful chatter with ease.

“Line up you scum, no time to waste! Chop chop, before I get a swipe at yah. Eight and younger, to the left, then nine ta eleven and twelve ta fourteen, all those fifteen an sixteen follow Gruf an Benlor, they’ll give ya’a good working all right. If anyone coughs up blood this time imma knock some more outta ya.”

He stared us all down as we shuffled into place. While Jusuf and I tried to slot into the back of the silvers- kids beteen thier twelth and fourteenth year- the keeper’s voice, Vam, rang again.

“Jusuf, you and Los come ‘ere.”

I hadn’t seen Jusuf until now, though I was confused how I could ever miss him. He was amidst a bundle of other urchins, all looking to be about twelve, looking at him with the kind of reverence due for kings. I noted how those same eyes looked like they knew nothing but disdain just yesterday. The yutes were starting to drift towards the silvers at Vam’s word but many lingered, gripped by Jusuf’s theatrics. I waited them out, each of them were tinder I feared I could light to mock and jeers. But my patience was growing thin, I could not tell if Jusuf hadn’t heard Vam or was ignoring him, I did not want to risk the latter. With a bit of angst, I rushed over.

“What do you think he wants?” I asked Jusuf, pulling him from his one-man show.

I heard grumbling from the crowd he'd made, but Jusuf quitened them. He did not appreciate my concern. “I was just about to describe how I handled Lex last night, one of his goons tried snatching my-”

“Ju,”

He rolled his eyes and cast me one of his mischievous smiles. “To say hi? Reuniting with you, an old friend.”

“...”

“Hahaha, Okay, unlikely. No need for the funny faces either, it’ll be fine.”

Nervousness often squeezed my emotions out, forcing them to leak onto my face, at the same time I’d get too wrangled up being seized by my nerves to watch my appearance, leading to a lot of awkward encounters. I shaked the worry off of my expression, “Ju, we burnt his hair off. He was practically trying to give me and Lunar away for free after that, You’d have been gone too if he didn’t think your biceps were bigger than your brain,”

“They’ve grown a lot, haven’t they? Lunar keeps slipping me meats the butcher’s kid keeps giving 'er, I think I’ll be able to match some of the embers soon.” He winked.

I tried to hold on to my concern but I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, what’s so funny? I could at least take that pretty boy you tutor! What was it… Edwardio?” Jusuf grouched.

“Edric," I said, rolling my eyes, "Vam’s gonna throw a fit if we don’t get to him fast, let’s go,”

“Ah, yeah." he reacted as though he had already forgot, "Let’s.” he turned, giving no haste towards the trip to Vam, yet I followed in tow, trying nudge him forward along the way.

I wasn’t sure if Vam was berating or ordering the kids with him. He was with the youngest of the group, the rusts, but everyone just called them the runts.

Vam couldn't keep up with the older kids. He was approaching forty now, that wasn't old, the few knights of the village were all beyond seventy, the age of retirement for most. But when your bones creaked like his you'd worry.

“Who said ya could join us again, Los?” he growled. His voice deep and tired.

“No-one said I couldn’t," I tried. "I never really left the traini-”

“Don’t run your mouth just ‘cos ya in that wench Velma’s care now boy, Just ‘cos she treats ya a bit ta good don’t mean I’m gonna,” he spat. Vam eyed me heavy, testing for a response. When none came, he continued. “ I Saw your piss poor showing yesterday, my ma old ma could have done better. All ‘dem books gone made ya soft, you’ll train with the bronzes.”

I started for a response, but I knew Vam. He never swayed through words. All he respected was action. I think that’s why he never really tried to get rid of us. Me, Lunar and Jusuf brought movement. Besides, I wasn’t fully sold I could handle the fire I faced yesterday again. At least this allowed me to warm to the heat.

I was too ashamed to look towards Jusuf. He was probably about to get punished for bringing me here too. I creaked my head towards him, readying to see the same tense eyebrows that always showed when he tried to control his disappointment, the ones I had seen plenty from bailing on his ideas that would, without a doubt, get us in trouble. His face was still, his mouth slightly agap as though in shocked, but there was something wrong about his eyes, they didn’t match anything else in his expression, I could not tell what it was, but they felt wrong.

“Jusuf, Benlor liked what he’s been seeing from ya, I don’t get it, but he wants you with the older boys, go ta the golds, don’t let it get to ya head or you'll fall to dirt, like your good friend Los ‘ere,” he afforded himself a small chuckle, likely relishing the sight of my miserable attempts to keep up yesterday. Then he looked back to his group, giving us a wordless dismissal.

A coldness took me. That was probably why Jusuf looked off, he was disappointed. It may have been pity or disgust, but I couldn’t bare to face him further and see.

A large hand clasped my shoulder, then I heard the fullness of Ju’s voice, “Szen amour.”

We made a language when we were nine to speak in secrets around Lunar. I had constructed it, complete with ticks and signals, knocks and cues for if ever we couldn't talk but could hear. when I tried teaching Ju, he had no trouble learning it, but he grew too bored too quick to keep any of it in him. We had to settle on a core few words, sounds and signals, and somehow he made those few sounds take on all meanings needed. It was almost poetic, atleast more so than my speech. I always knew exactly what he wanted to say, or at least I thought I did. The words wern't a consolation but let my spirit liven.

All of the boys had set up as Vam commanded. As the clearing was quite spacious, each group was separated by around fifty goms. Jusuf and I walked down the front making our way. I expected him to still be laughter and smiles, but Jusuf had drawn into himself.

“ You’re gonna get better training, why the silence?”

Ju's face winced, “I just remembered, you really should have listened to my story, L. Lex, the one who tried stealing my food, he's sixteen years.”

“You annoyed one of the golds?”

“I didn’t annoy, I humiliated."

"Let me guess, there was a crowd, you had to prove your manliness or some spores crass like that," I rolled my eyes.

"I have a reputation, I'm deeply respected, and Julia's little brother was watchin-" Ju shaked his head. "It doens't matter why, it was right in front of Lex's goons, they would have tried to jump me if it wasn’t for the keepers watching in the meal room, I’m not worried about him or the shitty ash in his gang, they’re all like eleven anyway, but if he has friends in gold… they could gang up on me.”

I patted him on the back softly, “That's not gonna happen Ju, Benlor and Gruf are there," I said, trying to say something useful to him, I was about to try and slot my own attempt at our language, it’d been a while, I didn’t see Ju as much as I used to so the words where obscure in my mind. Do I use hubrick or return the szen? I had to condense the sentences to words I remembered he was familiar with ofcourse. My mental debate was interrupted when I’d finally processed Jusuf’s words, "Wait, did you say eleven?”

We had just gotten to the bronzes, the second group from the left. There were twenty boys squared together, arms tight by their sides and legs taut. my bamboo limbs raised me at least a span too tall compared to them. Already I saw certain eyebrows twitch at our arrival. Five or so. Only one set seemed belligerent, the rest cautious, Jusuf seemed to have gained respect for more than just his stories and bravado. Or maybe it was fear.

“Haha, oh yeah. Those ashen are all gonna cock with you in bronze now. Oh, don't underestimate them, they've started training their pyre,” said Jusuf, already walking away.

"wait, what?" I tried talking to him as he left but he just walked onwards without looking back, head up and chest out, a complete twist to a moment ago.

I knew words were beyond him now and I didn't want the futile puzzles that came with trying to understand him. He was too focussed on Lex to care about all else. But the last time I saw him like that we ended up having to clean the latrines for a week.

It was odd for the group of bronze to be so organised with no keeper present. But like string unravelling from yarn, the longer he took the less ordered the kids became. I could already hear whispers and chatter surfacing.

Between voices I heard more malice, hushed tones. I’d normally blend in, but here I was an oddity with too many variables for the other kids not be drawn to. I even heard some of yesterday’s profanities, meaning news travelled quick.

The keeper seemed to take forever, when he arrived, he was carrying twenty sacks. He had them stacked high on his shoulders yet still moved with ease. I’d snuck to the back of the squad but still stood out. With one too few bags brought, it seemed he hadn't noticed me though- or he didn’t care.

I didn’t recognise him, but I’d seen him yesterday. I bet Vam convinced one of the men from the bar. Probably to lighten his load. Smaller groups, less effort.

But the kids roused to attention as soon as they saw him. The man looked young and plump, he wouldn’t have looked like a man at all if wasn’t for his thick, inky beard. He had managed to carry twenty sacks alone, as well. Not even Jusuf could have managed that. Considering the keeper’s poor physique, he probably had more pyre than a bumpkin from the village should.

Who was he?

When he spoke, the words seemed to project by themselves, “Ten laps boys. The usual. And the last five of ya go for five more.”

There was a slight grumbling from the group but nothing much. They filed to the bags, each grabbing one from the keeper. They slumped the bags over their shoulders like you would a person, the bags still large to their frame. They all seemed to half under the force, making our height disparity now comical.

When me and Jusuf had trained as bronzes we had Vam. He’d make us carry sacks too, but by twelve they felt like just wearing an extra layer. It was meant to simulate wearing Armor, so when some of us tried for the Templars we’d fair better. The sacks we had today seemed extreme though. Back then there were no Rusts, we’d started carrying our sacks as young as six while training in Bronze. Just dragging the sacks for our laps. From how strained some of the elder boys were these were heavier. By a lot.

Regardless, I’d trained here before. My power and movement having grown to compete with the elder boys of my time before I left with Velma. I could have even handled a silvers while still a bronze. I still felt confident in my strength. It’d only been a few years and the bags couldn’t be much worse. Yesterday was too much too fast that’s why I failed. I could handle this.

As expected, when I went there were none left. All twenty taken. The keeper looked at me with engaged eyes. Like I was a sword that needed cleaning, rather than a person. I didn’t speak out of turn. Vam was beyond help, but bad first impressions lasted.

After a moment he said, “Run it backwards, hands behind your back.” And walked to the rest of the boys, ready to start the run. I was left at a pause.

The instructions were more a punishment than training. Everyone with sacks, getting stronger, and me running backwards? like I wasn’t already out of place.

I didn’t know how to line up for the run. Do I start backwards or forwards? How fast should I go? I tried to reason the faster strength attrition that would result from using foreign muscles but eventually just gave up.

“Even the great sages had to start at the body, if your physique is weak what more your pyre? Don’t fail yourselves,” the keepers voice sounded. With that the kids started running. Forward.

Their pyre? I thought Jusuf was joking when he said they’d trained in it. I looked around and thought about what I’d missed before. The silence when he talked. The implicit understanding. these kids seemed to idolise this man. Even now there was no words shared, just attentive steps and steady breaths.

My feet awkwardly tried to find a rhythm, launching me backwards in turn. It didn’t take long for my calves to heat. Around half a lap in there was a tight warmth inside them.

After two laps around the oval I was still at the back. My breath synching with my step now though. Exhaling on my left, inhaling on my right. I felt a certain flow build up with the rhythm. An intangible strength to my feet.

Three more laps in and I'd almost caught up with the main pack. I’d somehow been gaining speed, lap by lap, while theirs waned.

My legs felt weak but different too. They felt more mine with every step. Physically, they felt unreliable. But there was a power to familiarity, it was subtle but building. I wanted to question it but it all felt natural. Like this was how my body was meant to be.

We’d been running for twenty minutes now and you could tell. Slouched shoulders and descending knees plagued more and more the further to the back of the pack you went. Being faced backwards, I could see it take people one by one. There face resolute but their bodies treacherous. This was more intense than two years ago, with me and Jusuf. Anyone from the main pack here likely would have beat us. I was really starting to appreciate having no weight.

I wonder what changed with the training? I looked to the start and saw the keeper nearby, flat on his back on the grass pointedly admiring the sky. This was his doing? I didn’t know what to make of the man.

Having my hands behind my back made it so balancing was a mental game. An intuitive one, but still another charmer egg boiling. But now even that was being lost to my feet. They’d balance, and push, with more and more autonomy. The more I ran the more they felt whole. It was like when Velma taught us to pen Yoren with our weaker hands, my right hand gained parity with my left. It also felt more attached to me: each stroke, each step, a sewing. More there in a way I didn’t know it wasn’t before.

Clipping of heels and with a thud I found my arse digging into the ground. My fall came with knees to my face and some untraceable kicks. I was too busy protecting my head. I ended up managing a backwards roll leaving me lying flat on the mud. The trip may have been accidental but I knew the kicks were not. There was too much force to them. I’d yet to do anything to any of those boys, why this?

They all seemed too reverent of the keeper to mess around. I looked towards the start again, were the man should have been, but this time found only three boys leading the pack approaching it. Among them was the guy whose black eyes cast me the evil look at line-up. He Was already looking my way. His sharp features losing any innocence held by his youth.

I probably fell due to one of Lex’s goons and I bet he’s one of them too. If it was yesterday, I’d brush it off. But they were younger than me- and smaller. Anger bubbled inside me. I sprung up. After a quick inspection I felt no injuries, although my arse was tender.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

I tried to zone into the rhythm again. But each step felt clumsy. I’d drive my forefoot into the ground too much. Where before my backward steps were like lunges, now they felt precarious and blunt, like they were carried out by hammers. It felt like there was a music before, cheering me to dance, but now I could only find an empty silence.

My pace had slowed to the point where I was racing to not be last. After three more laps the leading trio lapped me. Not without a snide smile from the Lex’s goon, his long hair somehow finding a way to whip me face on the way past. In the moment after my body acted in accord, everything agreeing to the action, all except my sense of reason, which lagged to slow behind.