Niall came to with a groan. Every breath he took he could feel the blood pounding through his head. He tried to crack open his eyes. He could not see anything from his left eye and his left cheek exploded with pain. He shut both eyes and then tried again with just his right eye.

The soldier was crouched down next to him. “Now THAT is the end of the fight. I’d get a healer to check you over if I were you. You won’t have the skill to heal your cheekbone or eye yourself. I have to say I wasn’t expecting him to do quite so much damage. He’ll be dangerous one day. To be honest I wasn’t expecting you be able to take so much either. They clearly breed you strong on the frontier.”

Killip’s face appeared over him. His elegant clothes were ripped and bruises bloomed across his face. The sneer was back on his face, though. “I’ll make sure the Duke punishes you for this. Both of you. I’ll tell him everything.”

The soldier stood up. “I’m sure you will. My name is Sergeant Strang; you wouldn’t want to get it wrong. I have no doubt the Duke will make his views on the matter very clear. But, for now, you both want to get back in the queue and get registered. Until you do, no army healer is going to sort out your ugly faces. The longer you leave it, the worse it will become.”

Sergeant Strang walked over to the door, unlocked it, then walked back over to his desk and sat down. “Next.”

Killip looked down at Niall lying on the floor and then strutted to the front of the line to complete his registration.

Huff appeared next to Niall and helped him to his feet. “That was quite a beating. You almost had him there a couple of times.”

Niall looked at him through the slit of one eye and spat out some blood. “No. No, I didn’t”

Huff grimaced. “No, you didn’t. I was just trying to make you feel better. On the upside, all of that excitement means that my hangover’s gone.”

“Next.” Huff and Niall looked over at the Sergeant who was looking at them. “Come on. Don’t waste my time.”

Niall shuffled forward in pain.

“Name and nearest town or village.” The Sergeant did not bother to look up again as he spoke.

“Niall Vendra, Raintor”

The man scanned through a list and ticked him off. “Good. Sign this and then you can go to the healers. When you return you can wait on the benches to the left.” He handed Niall a contract.

Niall squinted at it with his one good eye. “Can I ask what this is for?”

“It’s to confirm you’ll pay back the cost of your training and equipment to the Duke within the next five years. If you don’t then your village will be charged double for it in extra taxes.”

“What if I don’t sign it?”

Sergeant Strang looked up. “Then you won’t be able to take part in the militia training. Those who don’t pass the training will be fined for not having the skills to join the militia. The cost of the fine is, again, double the cost of the training. If you can’t pay the fine, you will be imprisoned until you do. The cost of your imprisonment will be added to your fine. Any more questions?”

Niall opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He realised he didn’t really care. He signed the form and then slumped against a wall with his eyes shut as Huff was processed. A few minutes later, Huff came up to him. “OK. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Niall allowed his friend to lead him out of the barracks. He was aware of Huff speaking to some people before leading him off but he was too focussed on not throwing up to pay attention to Huff’s conversations. Now that the adrenaline had gone, all he felt was pain. Each step he shuffled forward was agony. He started to channel his own Spirit to fix some of the wounds but the effort was too much. Stopping his efforts to heal himself, he looked down at the ground and just put one foot in front of the other.

Eventually, he realised they had entered another building. Huff navigated him into a room before easing him flat onto a bed. Lost in his pain, Niall was only vaguely aware of Huff leaving as another person entered the room. Niall flinched as gentle fingers touched his cheek and then relaxed as he felt warmth pass into him. The pain in his cheek gradually eased and then he felt the aches across the rest of his body disappear.

Carefully, he opened his left eye. He could see again. Niall looked up to see a young gnome in a green tunic in front of him. The man had one hand on Niall’s cheek and the other on his arm. The gnome gave him a cheerful grin. “Feeling better?”

Niall nodded.

“Good. Give me a moment and we’ll be done.”

Niall lay still enjoying the feeling of pain disappearing from his body. A few minutes later, the Healer took his hands from Niall. He carefully looked over him and then stood up.

“Alright. We’re done here. You had a broken cheekbone, damaged eyeball, and a cracked rib as well as various cuts and bruises. Nothing major. All fixed now. Keep channelling your own Spirit through your body for the rest of the day to consolidate the healing and then you’ll be good as new.”

Niall sat up and rolled his shoulders, he couldn’t quite believe it, nothing hurt any more. While it had been impressive to be healed by Devon, this was on a whole new level. He looked over at the healer. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

The gnome gave him another grin. “That is quite alright. I would say try not to do it again, but given you’re going to train under Lieutenant Bligh, my advice would be in vain. Right, I need to get on. Stay here until you feel ready to leave.” With a simile and a last nod the healer walked out.

A few moments later the door opened again Huff’s head appeared. “How are you doing, slugger?”

Niall stood up. “Honestly I’ve never felt better.”

Huff stepped fully into the room. “Yup, these guys are the best. The army doesn’t mess around. You ready to head back?”

The two of them walked back to their Building Fourteen. Huff walked straight in but Niall paused for a moment. This had not been what he had expected when he headed to Camp Sedrun, but he would have to make the best of it. He took a deep breath and then walked back into the hall.

The room was busier than before but there was plenty of space on the benches. He took a seat and looked around. Killip sat on one of the benches himself, surrounded by his sycophants. The majority of Killip’s cuts and bruises had gone, but one side of his face was still swollen and his clothes were still tattered. Niall looked at it suspiciously. It seemed implausible Killip would not have been able to get his swelling seen to. In fact, he could likely heal it himself. He was clearly leaving it there on purpose to make Niall look worse.

The positive feeling from the healing faded. Niall felt conflicted as the memories of the fight flooded back. Part of him could not believe he had done that. Violence wasn’t who he was. He had always been brought up to believe you would talk through disagreements. In the absolute worst case, you would call the police or a lawyer. Pounding someone in the face was not even on the list of things he would contemplate. Yet here he was. A thug. His second fight in a matter of months. Hitting a stranger, but not just hitting him, completely losing control of himself.

Another part of him argued he had just acted in self-defence, and that part was strangely proud. What jarred within him the most was the pleasure he had felt when his hand connected with Killip’s face. The stab of joy that ran through him when he saw the blood. It wasn’t even the first time. The joy he felt was the same as when he had landed a single punch on Stefan.

He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. This place was changing him. He knew the militia training would involve learning to fight, but the reality was not something he had thought about. He could not decide if being too afraid to fight was worse than enjoying fighting. People who revelled in violence had disgusted him in his past life. Was he turning into that which he hated?

“How long is Niall going to wallow in self-pity?” Pobble’s voice sounded in Niall’s head.

“Oh, for a while yet.”

“Does Niall not find it boring? Every time something goes wrong, Niall spends SO long telling himself what an awful person he is. This world is what it is. Fighting and violence, particularly near the border, is part of life. Niall can either accept reality or he can continue to flagellate himself. Either way the world will not change.”

“Are you trying to be motivational?”

“Pobble is incredibly inspiring. If Niall was not so dense he would have realised this much sooner. Anyway, Niall is not a thug really.”

“Thanks Pobble. You don’t need to try to make me feel better.”

“Oh, do not misunderstand. Pobble cannot remember the last time there was a display that was both so lacking in skill, and yet so enthusiastic. Did Niall know he had his eyes closed for much of it? Niall has an extraordinarily low natural fighting ability.”

“I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“But Niall is chastising himself for being a thug when it is not true.”

“Thank you.”

“No, Niall is a Brawler.”

Niall sighed “What?”

“Niall should check his Testimony.”

Too tired to argue Niall swiped across. Pobble was right, there it was.

Brawler 1: +1 Strength, +1 Endurance. You have the ability to take a blow and deal out a blow. You have no training, but the underlying chaos in your soul makes up for it. A bit.

He swiped away. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care, but found he had grin on his face from the sheer absurdity of this place.

Lost in his own thoughts he was vaguely aware of Huff coming to sit next to him and the room filling up with people. It was only when he heard a bugle sound from outside and a small disturbance at the front of the room that he looked up.

A woman had walked in at the front of the room. She was around Niall’s age if not slightly older. The Sergeant stood next to her. She said something to him Niall could not hear at which the Sergeant turned to the room.

“On your feet recruits. Face the front.” The other two soldiers walked around the room ungently prodding those taking too long to rise.

Niall forced himself to his feet and faced forward. Despite the healing and his full Spirit, he still felt drained.

Utterly still the woman looked out over them. There was some mumbling and shifting amongst the recruits but something about the woman drew their eyes and within seconds the room was silent. She let the silence draw out for a moment longer before she spoke.

“Welcome to Camp Sedrun recruits. My name is Lieutenant Bligh. This is Sergeant Strang and Corporals Greef and Tate. Under my overall command, we will be responsible for your training for the next three months. We will also be your company officers in the field for your second three months. At the end of this, those of you that are still alive will have the skills and experience you need in order to defend your homes from the Bulvine raiders.

“You are all from the border towns so your training will, by necessity, be more rigorous than in other parts of the Kingdom. I make no apologies. I will do what it takes to keep you alive. Even if it means the weaker amongst you have to die.

“This is not a figure of speech. Each year at least two of each cohort die during their six months here. With what I have planned for you, I expect that number to be higher.”

She paused to allow that thought to sink in before she continued. “Now, before I leave you with Sergeant Strang to meet with the Seers and the Quartermaster, I already have a disciplinary issue to deal with. My disappointment at having to deal with one of these so early is immeasurable. Recruits Transven and Vendra, come forward”

With a smirk on his face Killip stepped up. While Niall had been brooding Killip had managed to change into fresh clothing. Niall felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as, in bloody and torn clothes, he followed him to the front.

Lieutenant Bligh held up a piece of paper. “Recruit Transven, this is the note you sent to the Duke earlier. The Duke speaks very highly of your mother and is sorry he cannot deal with this himself. You will understand the pressures on his time. However, he sent it to me with clear instructions and asked me to deal with this situation. In your own words could you let me know what happened?”

“It’s very simple. This man,” he waved his fingers towards the Sergeant, “was abysmally rude to me and then ordered me to fight a peasant. I want him punished and then kicked out of the army.”

Killip turned towards Niall and touched his swollen cheek with a wince. “And this peasant dared to hit me. I want him flogged to within an inch of his life.”

The Lieutenant nodded, “That sounds awful. I understand exactly where you are coming from. Recruit Vendra, before I make my decision do you have anything to say?”