“Faster! You need to drive the blade down with your whole body, not just your arms,” yelled Berns as Alden swung his blade. Already his shoulders began to ache, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. He swung the blade again, twisting his torso slightly, trying to incorporate his entire body into the swing, whatever that meant. “No! Ahh, just stop for a moment.”

Ever since their quest together Berns had taken to teaching Alden how to fight with a sword. But he had become impatient at the lack of progress, despite the short amount of time, and each session was ending sooner than the last. Alden would stay after, regardless, and swing the blade a while longer, hoping to build skill, and if not at least develop his muscles a bit.

Through strenuous training your Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to strength.

It was the third time the pop-up had appeared before Alden. The first day his muscles had ached like nothing before, but he had continued on, regardless. Right or wrong, if his Health didn’t decrease, he reasoned, he wasn’t actually being hurt. Still, he wished his Stats would grow faster than they had.

Berns approached him, neck bulging with anger, and pushed him aside. Berns had arrived that day in a foul mood and had only grown fouler still as the practice went on. He took Alden’s sword and held it in a death grip, hastily taking position with the sword raised.

“Watch,” he said. He moved his body in a single quick motion, the blade flashing downward in a powerful stroke. The results were clear enough. Silently appreciating the force Berns could unleash, Alden felt a sense of hopeless uncertainty. Seeing was believing, yet it was not enough. He could not mimic one’s movements with a glance alone.

But he tried again regardless, first with a test stroke to get a feel for the movement, then again with more force. Berns merely shook his head.

“I’m not trying to put a damper on your spirits, kid, but I don’t think you’ll ever be a swordsman. Not under me, at least. I don’t know if you just don’t have talent for the sword or if I don’t know how to teach, but if we keep going like this you’re not going to make it anywhere.”

Breathing heavily, Alden leaned on the hilt of his sword. The words stung him, despite their truth. He was in a new world with new powers and yet learning even the basics of swordplay seemed beyond him. Giving up wouldn’t be so bad. He had the makings of a great mage, could still gain power that way. But a part of him just wouldn’t let go. Magic he would learn, yes, but he would learn the sword too, no matter what it took.

They were interrupted by Eda, along with a handful of men who followed her into the courtyard.

“Sorry to interrupt, but your time is up, Berns. This is Peren, one of Baroness Sylvana’s knights. He’ll be holding recruit tryouts. You two are free to join the tryouts, of course, or else stay and watch, but Peren will need access to the courtyard’s space.”

“Sure, I’ll watch,” Berns said. They moved to the side as men and a handful of women filtered in, lining the courtyard walls. The one Eda had introduced as Peren, a blond man with a thin mustache and a sour face, entered the center and gave the crowd a cold gaze.

“What are these tryouts for?” Alden asked.

“They’re for hiring soldiers for Baroness Sylvana. It’s decent pay and simple work, when there isn’t a war going on. And, if you’re looking to be a knight, soldiering’s the best way to get there, unless you’re a skilled adventurer.”

Alden watched as Peren introduced himself to the crowd and explained the process. He would spar with anyone wishing to become a soldier, letting them use either sword or spear, and would judge them based on that. Those that passed would go on to the next stage, to be held at another time. Then, with a lazy wave of his hand, he called forth the first person.

Match after match Peren danced around the blades and spears of those trying out. His own sword, a thin rapier, soared through the air like an eagle seeking prey, dislodging swords and spears alike from the hands of his foes, or else lightly touching their necks or hearts.

“Next,” he called out after dispatching yet another person. Those who had gathered had started confident, but now only stood meekly. When none approached Peren turned to Alden and Berns. “Would either of you like to try your hand? Being a soldier pays quite well, even by the standards of adventurers.”

“I’m all set, thanks,” Berns said.

Tentatively, Alden stepped forward. “I’d like to try,” he said.

Berns placed a hefty hand on Alden’s chest, stopping him. “You sure about this.”

Alden nodded. “I am.”

The match was over in an instant, the shortest match so far. In a single quick stroke, Peren had disarmed him, his gleaming blade pressed harshly against Alden’s throat. Not for the first time that day did Peren’s face twist into a disgusted scowl, but before it had been for the others. Now it was for Alden, and somehow it stung more than Berns’s words had.

“What a waste of time,” Peren said. “The day is done. Leave, now, or stay, I do not care. None of you are my concern any longer.”

But as Peren was making to leave Alden stood before him, guts twisting with anxiety. His mind screamed for him to move, yet he stood firm as best he could. He had a chance, if small, and he would take it.

“I have other skills,” Alden said. “Magic, mostly. Healing magic and fire magic.”

Peren regarded him with cold, narrow eyes. He did not believe him, Alden saw, and so he pushed out his hand and conjured a simple ball of fire. The flames danced in Alden’s palm, and Peren’s expression eased. He exchanged glances with Berns, who stood to the side of them both, then looked back to Alden.

“Soldiers need to be able to fight with sword and spear,” he said. “All of them.”

“I can learn.”

“Fine, then. With me.”

Peren led him out to the front of the Guild, where a series of well-made carriages sat empty. They boarded one and Peren yelled for the driver, who rushed aboard and quickly got them moving down the stone road. They went in the direction opposite the gate, to where Berns said the Baroness’s manor was, passing through the city into a gated road beset by willow trees on either side, their branches hanging low and obscuring everything above.

Baroness Sylvana’s manor was as Alden expected. Larger than the Arvolt Guild, the manor was set back from the entrance behind a lavish courtyard fixed with gardens and shrubbery on either side. At the center of the courtyard was a fountain of marble, clear water spraying high into the air out of a white dragon’s mouth.

Servants walked about the grounds performing chores: gardeners attended the bushery; maids walked with tools or baskets; and most prominent of all were the soldiers, who patrolled the grounds in groups of three.

Dismounting from the carriage, Peren led Alden behind the manor to yet another courtyard, this one easily twice the size of the one in front. At its center was an open space cut into four sections: one of plain grass, one of dirt, one of sand, and one littered with rocks. Sparring arenas, Alden guessed. On the left was a great pavilion with rows upon rows of weapons, from swords to spears to bows, as well as racks of simple iron armor.

Impressed, a sense of longing started to develop in Alden. This was what he wanted. To learn, to fight, to grow.

Peren walked under the pavilion and walked about the rows of weapons, picking up a sword here and there, testing their weight. Eventually he found one he deemed acceptable, tossing the blade to Alden.

Heavy, Alden nearly dropped the weapon as he caught it. The sword was more than double the weight of the one he had used with Berns, the weight of the blade awkward in his grip, as if it was fighting against him. Gripping tightly, Alden put strength into his arms and held the sword still.

“No,” Peren said. With a light hand Peren guided Alden’s arms and legs into a different position. “Now show me your swing,” Peren said.

Alden swung the sword, trying his best to put all his strength behind it. The blade moved in a quick arc, faster than it had been with Berns. Even still, it was far slower than Peren’s rapier had been.

“Again,” Peren said sternly. “And slower this time.”

With each swing Peren corrected Alden’s posture piece by piece. By the end Alden was swinging his sword with speed and force he had never achieved before. They repeated the process with a slash attack, then a thrust, and each time Peren forced him to practice the movement over and over again.

Alden knelt and caught his breath. Hot sweat dripped from every pore, and every muscle in his body seemed to ache and bulge, ready to burst. Peren stood coldly, studying him with callous eyes. He readied his rapier and motioned Alden to stand.

“We’ll spar now. Remember the attacks and incorporate them while we move. I’ll defend while you attack. We can worry about countering and blocking another day.”

Peren moved slowly about the ring, guiding Alden this way and that. Near every strike Alden unleashed met air, the rare few that clashed against Peren’s rapier sending painful vibrations through the metal and into his arms. The knight was like a pillar of iron when he blocked, yet when he moved he became a soaring hawk, untouchable.

Frustrated, Alden moved in close, speeding up his attacks, hoping to overwhelm the knight. But it was futile. Peren sidestepped or blocked every blow, just as before, and as Alden attacked with a downward slash he realized too late he had overstepped, Peren’s boot flashing out underneath his feet.

He was sent crashing down into the dirt where he lay still, the breath knocked painfully from his chest. Clawing at the dirt, Alden wanted to scream. Every step forward came with another back, it felt.

Skill Up

Learned Swordsmanship Rank F

Reward: 50xp

The blue screen hovered before him as if to answer his prayers. He dismissed the screen and stood. He brandished his sword, waiting, instilled with newfound confidence. When Peren gave the signal he attacked once more and the results were immediate. No longer stiff, he moved fluidly around the arena, his attacks swift, precise. For a moment he thought he saw Peren smile, but the next it was gone and the knight danced around every strike with increased speed.

Alden kept his cool as he observed his opponent’s movements. Peren would dodge or block any blow Alden sent his way, and despite the advancement in Swordsmanship the blade was heavy in his hands, slow.

He would need to predict the knight’s movements, or else set a trap. Lashing out with his blade, he observed every movement Peren made. Then Alden let out a quick slash. Peren dodged, the sword passing him by, and Alden diverted its path back towards him in an upwards slash. Peren backstepped, the point of Alden’s sword narrowly missing his face.

“Good,” Peren said. “We can leave it there for today.”

Through strenuous training your Strength has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Strength.

Through strenuous training your Agility has grown.

Reward: 1 bonus point to Agility.

Alden grinned as he dismissed the boxes. He sat hard on the ground, exhausted, and for the first time noticed the sun was close to setting. How long had they trained? He did not think they had been at it so long.

Peren offered him a skin of water and he drank, the water cool and refreshing against his parched tongue. His clothes were drenched in sweat, the fabric clinging to his body, and with a sniff Alden detected a faint sour scent. He needed a bath, the sooner the better.

“Are you still interested in becoming a soldier?” Peren asked. Alden looked at him, confused. Why else would he have come, he thought.

Instead, he said “Of course. I’d like to be a knight someday, and Berns said becoming a soldier was the easiest way.”

Peren regarded him coolly and took a long sip from his flask. “It is, if you can distinguish yourself. And the magic helps. Everyone is in need of healers, even nobles. But it’s a long process. Have you killed before?”

Alden shook his head. “Well, no people, at least. I helped Berns and his team kill a Myrmecoleon, but they did most of the work.”

“I’ve heard the story. Myrmecoleon’s are no simple beasts. It takes bravery to fight them, especially at your level. Or foolishness, but sometimes they go hand in hand.” Peren offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. “Frankly speaking, the only reason I’m even talking to you now is because of that and your healing magic.”

Peren stared harshly into Alden’s eyes, but Alden could not meet his gaze. He turned away, feeling inadequate.

“From what I’ve seen today I will formally extend an invitation to become a soldier under Baroness Sylvana’s employ. If you accept, you will be given quarters at the manor’s barracks on the west side and a senior soldier will be assigned to you to help guide you. Payments are received weekly and are in the amount of one silver two copper per day. You may use the funds as you please, but arms and armor will be provided by the Baroness and their use is mandatory. Soldiers are required to be uniform. You will have two days off every eight days, which you may use freely. Do you have any questions?”

“No, not at the moment. Other than about meals and a bath, I guess.”

Peren nodded, then motioned to the short building beside the manor. A stout thing, it appeared hardy and utilitarian, more a miniature fortress than a building. “That is the soldier’s barracks. That is where you will sleep, bathe, and eat your meals, along with the other soldiers and the on-duty knights. Come, I’ll show you around.”

The interior of the barracks was much like the outside: clean, stiff, functional. The beds were neatly made, with sheets and blankets folded perfectly at the foot of each bed. Concerningly, the bath was a public one, open to all soldiers at all times, and consisted of a large bath not unlike the one’s Alden had seen in manga. Using a bucket of lukewarm water and a thin bar of floral scented soap, Alden washed away much of the sweat that plagued him, silently wishing for shampoo and conditioner. Over the past week his hair had become greasy to the touch, and he wondered if that was how all the people in this world lived. He had learned to make do with plain soap, which seemed to help, but it was times like these that living in a world of fantasy did not seem so fantastical.

Afterwards, they went to the mess hall. Cold and undecorated, the mess hall was as utilitarian as the rest of the barracks; small and open, there were a dozen tables that could sit six apiece, the kitchen no more than a vestige on the side where a pot of iron sat above a low fire. Other soldiers sat and chatted amongst themselves as they ate. A meal of cheese, hard bread, and a white odorless gruel, Alden dismayed once more at the lack of common luxuries he so dearly missed.

They sat together and ate in silence for a time, until they were approached by a woman sporting blonde hair tied neatly behind her head.

“This a newbie?” she asked as she sat beside them.

Peren did not look pleased to see her, and replied with a stiff but professional tone. “He is. Alden, this is Frenna Greymont, one of my fellow knights.”

“Nice to meet you, Alden” she said.

“Nice to meet you as well,” he replied. His eyes met hers for only a moment before they focused on the bowl of white gruel in front of him.

“A bit meek, isn’t he?” she asked, turning to Peren.

Peren poured himself a cup of water and sipped at it. “He can use healing and fire magic, and took to the sword quick enough. He’ll do, and if he doesn’t I trust you can remedy that?”

Frenna flashed a cruel grin. “I can.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Alden looked between the two of them as he chewed at a chunk of cheese and hard bread, and wondered as to how harsh the path he had chosen would soon become.