Niall paused for a moment then straightened up. An ember of pride flickered beneath his self-flagellation. “Two things. Sir. Firstly, I did not throw the first punch, or even the tenth. Secondly, I was given an order and I followed it. Sir.”

“Good,” said the Lieutenant. “Well, that’s dealt with then. Sergeant.”

“Now. Hold on a minute,” said Killip. “You haven’t done anything.”

The Lieutenant turned back to him. “I’ve done everything I’m going to. You two had a fight before you were my responsibility. I’ve already wasted more than enough of my time on this.”

Killip started to turn red in the face. “But that soldier ordered us to.”

“Do you have any concept of how pathetic you sound, recruit? I have had words with Sergeant Strang, however you were the idiot to listen to him. He had no power over you at that point. Now, however, he could beat you to a pulp and it would be perfectly legal. Welcome to the army.”

“We will see what the Duke has to say about that.” said Killip.

“Ah yes, the Duke had a message for you. It was in two parts. Firstly, he wanted you to know he has decided to cancel all of the outfits that your mother has been making for him and his family for next month’s spring ball.”

Killip turned pale. “He can’t do that. The material alone for those outfits cost more than ten gold. There is no way we’ll be able to recover that at this stage. It will destroy all of our profits for the year.”

The Lieutenant continued as if Killip had not spoken “Secondly, if you contact him again about anything at all during your Militia training, he will revoke your family’s charter to trade in Hallen. His secretary has written to your mother to inform her of both of these things.”

Killip spluttered and then turned away.

“I did not dismiss you, recruit.” The Lieutenant did not shout but her voice whip-cracked through the room.

Killip turned back. “What?”

“You have just arrived so I will allow you some leeway on not knowing you need to wait to be dismissed before you leave. However, you have already been told you address a superior as ‘Sir’. There is no excuse for that. Sergeant, after lights out tonight Recruit Transven will be running laps of the camp for an hour. Please ensure he maintains an appropriate pace.”

“Yes, Sir.” said the Sergeant.

The Lieutenant turned back to Killip. “Do you understand, recruit?”

Killip glared at her for a moment and then nodded his head.

“Sergeant,” said the Lieutenant. “Recruit Transven will be running laps for two hours this evening.” She turned back to Killip, “When I ask a question, recruit, I expect an answer. So, I ask you again, recruit, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent.” The Lieutenant turned back to the rest of the group. “In which case, the Scryers are waiting.”

Niall felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked around to see Killip’s furious eyes burning as he stared at him. Niall tried to meet his eyes and then looked away immediately. He had never seen rage like that before. None of this was his fault, but if Killip could not take his frustration out on the officers, he may well take it out on him. He shook his head and put it out of his mind. He had just had a fight with the man, they were never going to be best friends. The best he could do was just to keep out of Killip’s way.

The Sergeants and Corporals yelled at the recruits until they were in some kind of order and then they were marched across the camp. As they went, Niall managed to sneak a look at some of his fellow enlistees. They were around two hundred in number and split evenly between men and women. However, they varied widely. Just like the population of Hallen, the majority of the recruits were human, but there was a decent smattering of other races mixed in as well. The recruits ranged from those like Killip, who were decked in fine quality clothing and boasted trimmed nails, to those more like Huff and himself. They were in clean and serviceable clothes, but clearly in outfits designed for a long day of manual labour. Clothes that matched the callouses on their hands. Whether it was conscious or not, Niall could see the two groups had already started to cluster together.

As Niall was mulling this over, the group approached another building. This was smaller than some of the others and the recruits were lined up outside before being ushered in one at a time. When it was his turn, Niall entered the building and was pointed to an office. Inside the room was a woman in an army uniform who directed him into a seat.

“Hello. I am Lance Corporal Strevens.” She glanced down at a piece of paper in front of her. “And you are Niall Vendra. I will be scrying you today. Have you ever been scried before?”

Niall shook his head.

“I’m not surprised, not much call for it out on the frontier. Well, it’s straightforward. I will just a take a reading of your attributes and skills. That will allow your training team to ensure their training plan is appropriate. We will also carry out a reading at the end of your time here to allow us to see where you have got to so your local defence plan can appropriately incorporate your skills. Any questions?”

The Lance Corporal smiled at Niall as he shook his head again. “In which case let’s get on with it.”

She leaned forward and put her hands on either side of Niall’s forehead.

“Niall?” Pobble’s voice sounded in Niall’s head.

“What is it Pobble? A bit preoccupied here.”

“Why is Niall so rude when Pobble is trying to do him a favour? Does Niall want to let this person into our head?”

“Do I have a choice? And it’s not our head, it’s my head.” Niall could see a small frown appearing on the face of the soldier opposite.

“Compared to L’Mor, keeping someone like this out of our head is trivial. There is no one within miles of this base who has any hope of even scratching Pobble’s blocks. But does Niall want me to let them in?”

The Lance Corporal moved her hands away from Niall’s face. The frown had turned into a puzzled look. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” With another puzzled look she left the room.

Niall watched her go. “I’m not sure that’s a good sign.”

“Niall should not fret about that; she has just gone to get her superior officer.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a good thing. Why would I not let her in?”

“Pobble forgets how limited Niall is.” Niall could almost hear Pobble rolling their eyes as they spoke. “It is a significant thing to allow anyone into your thoughts, even in the limited way these Scryers approach it, and they are some of the more advanced human psychics.”

“But you’re permanently in my thoughts.”

“That is because Pobble is Niall’s superior in every conceivable way.”

“Well, I’m going to stick with Devon’s advice and keep my head down. If mind magic is as rare in humans as you suggest then it will draw attention. Maybe we should hide the Telepathy and Steelmind skills?”

“That is the first sensible thing Niall has said in Pobble’s presence. Those Skills are hidden and they can Scry the rest of Niall’s meagre skills and attributes then. Niall is probably right: there is nothing in his testimony anyone would wish to hide, unless it was from embarrassment.”

Before Niall could retort, the door of the room opened again and the Lance Corporal returned accompanied by an older woman, who started to talk before she had even fully entered the room.

“Stay seated, recruit.” She walked over and put her hands to Niall’s temples. Niall felt something brush inside his head and Pobble creating some kind of small opening.

“What’s the issue, Lance Corporal? Low-ish but acceptable attributes. A few ordinary classes, a smattering of common skills. The only interesting point here is his Brawler skill, but even that isn’t particularly uncommon amongst the frontier folk. Not a lot to do but fight during those long winter nights, eh recruit?” Niall gave her a weak smile. “No need for me here. Carry on, Lance Corporal.” With that the woman swept out.

The Lance Corporal gave Niall a suspicious look and put her hands back on either side of his head. “I can see it now. What were you doing before?”

“Sorry.” Niall reprised his weak smile. “Don’t know what you mean.”

The Lance Corporal shook her head. “Never mind, there is no way someone like you would have a shield.”

She scribbled a few things down on a piece of paper, stamped it, and then waved Niall out.

“A bit of warning would be nice next time,” Niall thought to Pobble

“What do you mean? I gave you plenty of time.” Pobble said.

Niall gave him a mental sniff as he joined the other recruits.

From the Scryers, the recruits were sent to get a meal in the mess hall and then escorted to the Quartermaster. Niall had no frame of reference, but the uniforms and equipment he was issued with seemed to be of a decent quality, even if he did not know exactly what all of it was for.

From there, it was to the armourer. The head armourer and his assistants seemed able to size the recruits up at a glance, handing each one a suit of leather armour. The main piece was a hardened breastplate with attached pauldrons that protected the chest and shoulders. In addition, there were vambraces and gauntlets for the arms, and reinforced boots for their feet and calves. All of this was topped with a fitted leather helmet with pieces that covered Niall’s ears and nose. Once each recruit had a suit of armour, the Sergeant or a Corporal led them into a room where he demonstrated how to put on and take off the armour. The recruits were then required to do the same with the eagle eyes of the instructors calling out any mistakes or tardiness.

Niall had been assigned Sergeant Strang. Given everything that had happened earlier Niall just kept his mouth shut rather than provoke the man again.

“Apparently I owe you an apology, recruit,” Strang said as he adjusted the straps on Niall’s armour.

“What? Sir.” Niall was not sure he had heard right.

“Apparently, I overstepped the mark earlier. So, sorry. I’m not going to say it again. Don’t think I’m going to go any easier on you though. Apologies mean nothing if you’re dead.”

As Niall walked over to that armoury for the final session of the day he had a spring in his step. An apology from the grizzled Sergeant was the last thing he had expected. So long as there were some flashes of humanity here he was going to be able to survive the idiots like Killip.

At the armoury, the weapons master issued each of them with a long spear with a cross guard, a sheathed short sword on a sword belt, and a large rectangular shield. Under instruction from Corporal Tate, Niall strapped his sword on around his armour and managed to hold his spear and shield without stabbing himself or others.

Niall looked down at his armoured body and the weapons that he was holding. He had only had it all on for a few minutes and it was already hot, heavy and uncomfortable. Nonetheless he had a trickle of excitement as it reminded him of why he was here. The weight of the spear in his hand and the sword around his waist reminded him this was all in preparation to fight. The brawl just a few hours earlier had blown away any romantic ideas he might have held about fighting. It was painful and unpleasant, and it unlocked feelings and emotions within him he did not like. Nonetheless, once he got through this, he should be much better able to meet the challenges of this world.

He started to move as the instructors began shouting at them again. The recruits were taken to a barracks. Each recruit was assigned a bed with storage underneath and a rack for his armour and weapons. They were given a few minutes to stow their new gear and then were ushered out of the barracks to line up in the yard outside.

The Lieutenant was waiting. She watched the recruits as they assembled until they stood there in silence. She looked over them her eyes pausing on Niall and Killip then started to speak.

“Welcome to militia training Gentlemen and Ladies. Let me make a few things clear from the start. Although you’re at an army camp, you’re not soldiers. You’re militia recruits. It’s not possible to be any lower in the Gwilliant armed forces. In reality you are more liability than benefit. I will train you for three months, then I will take you out into the field for another three months to separate the wheat from the chaff. That is nothing compared to a real soldier. Those of you that survive will go back to whatever rathole you came from with the skills and experience to have a chance to protect those holes from Bulvine raids.

“We will train you to use a spear, shield and short sword. The short sword is likely to be a waste of time. It requires skill and effort to become competent with it. By the time a Bulvine is close enough for you to use a sword, it’s likely to be too late. Therefore, your best hope of salvation lies in three things. Firstly, in your spear. If you learn nothing else here learn to keep the sharp end between you and the enemy. Secondly, trust in those around you. Without your comrades protecting your flanks, you will die. Thirdly, and most importantly, learn to do what you are told. If you follow my orders, you have a chance of keeping both yourself and the person next to you alive. If you do not, then you will die.

“Get a good night’s sleep, you’re going to need it.”

Sergeant Strang and the Corporals ushered them back into the barracks and eventually the rooms fell silent. Niall had never slept in a room with so many other people before and the noises kept him awake. He still had not fallen asleep when Killip came back in from his run. The recruit made no attempt to keep the noise down as he got himself ready for bed, and ignored the muttered complaints from the others.

Eventually, there was silence and Niall tried to fall asleep again. Just as he was about to drop off, he heard Killip’s voice whisper in his ear. “Don’t think I’m going to forget you, peasant. Watch your back.” Then the voice was gone. Wide awake now, it took a lot more time before Niall finally managed to fall asleep.