Hornbeck was putting him through his paces. The older man swung with controlled power, his spear constantly flitting in and out of Florian’s defenses. He felt outclasses, his senses or reflexes failing to respond in time. A wooden spear tip slammed into Florian’s midsection, forcing all the air Florian had in his lungs to rush out all at once.

“Good!” Hornbeck beamed at him, slapping him on the back even as Florian struggled to regain his breath. “You’re improving, son. Before long, you’ll be able to hold your own with the best.”

Florian sincerely doubted that, but the praise buoyed his spirits nonetheless. Anna gave him a thumbs-up from the opposite end of the training field, able to defend herself from her sparring partner with a single hand and only a part of her attention. The sight tickled Florian, and he chuckled at the sight.

“Maybe not with her,” Hornbeck modified his statement, seeing what Florian was laughing at. “But I imagine that you’ll be able to use more magic if you don’t need to throw everything you have into a blunt swing. A spear is much more versatile than a mace, and because it’s so long, it opens a world of possibilities when you’re fighting. It would have helped you a couple nights ago, that’s for sure.”

Florian hadn’t been able to sleep properly the previous night, his headache lasting well into the night until it finally abated earlier that morning. So, for the first time in a while, he joined the Warriors in their morning training. Hornbeck had taken him aside when he’d arrived, forcing him to leave his favored wooden mace on the rack and pick up one of the more in-demand spears. From what the commander had told him, Florian had managed to slay the massive Hellwolf – what Hornbeck called a boss monster – before he fell unconscious. It had been Hornbeck himself that fought across the wall to make it to Florian and defend him until someone could drag him away to safety.

“Now prepare yourself,” the older man said, dropping into the basic guard stance he had shown Florian earlier that morning. Grimacing, Florian followed Hornbeck’s example and mentally readied himself to receive even more bruises.

Wood struck wood, the clack of the training weapons resounding through the training area. Hornbeck tried to find an opening, but Florian kept his spear angled at his opponent, barely managing to parry each attack. Grinning, the commander used his longer reach to his advantage, forcing Florian to choose between dancing away or committing to an attack. He’d been on the retreat all morning; Florian chose to attack.

When he next parried a stab, Florian pushed off the ground and propelled himself within the commander’s guard. He’s mine, Florian thought, thrusting his spear out. And then the commander rotated his spear, the butt of the weapon hitting Florian in the chin. He stumbled backwards, stars invading his vision. Hornbeck finished the fight, thrusting his own spear at Florian’s throat, stopping just shy of actually hitting him. All in all, the spar had lasted perhaps half a minute.

“That was well done, Florian.” The commander stepped back, replacing his spear on the weapons rack. “I’ll probably be calling on you to fight the boss monsters from now on, since you’re of a different caliber when you use your magic. Whatever you did the other day was impressive; it usually takes five of us to box the beast in and take it down.”

“Do they come every night?” Florian asked, following Hornbeck’s example and putting his weapon down.

“Usually. Some nights we get none at all, and others we get two or even three. It’s those latter nights that claim so many lives. Recently, it’s been two or three a night. I’m sure you saw how many were injured,” Hornbeck explained, vacating the practice field and motioning for Florian to follow him. “I’m just hoping that the wizard is teaching Jones’ people well. If they could do half of what you can, Florian, we wouldn’t need to worry anymore.”

“They’re slow learners, Commander. On the days I’m with them, it seems like they barely progress at all. A few of them can meditate for five minutes at a time, and the strongest among the students can hold their focus for ten,” Florian reported. “I’m not sure what it is, but their growth varies greatly.”

Hornbeck ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. “How long can you meditate for? Is that how you measure your ability?”

Florian shrugged. “Theo never taught me how to measure relative strength, but that’s what I’ve been going off of. For reference, these days I can meditate for a little more than an hour.” His growth had been explosive recently, the mana contained within the Hellwolf meat slowly adding on to his own efforts. This morning, when his headache had finally receded, he had decided to test his recent gains, as they were always greatest after moments of great exertion. He had managed an hour and five minutes.

Nodding, Hornbeck said, “Then it’ll take a few more weeks or months. That’s fine; we’ve held our own until now, and we’ll just continue to do so.” The commander stopped walking, watching over his soldiers training against each other. They moved with deadly efficiency, even those that had recently taken wounds. Florian spotted a woman with part of her right ear missing, her every strike containing a part of the fury she no doubt felt. Her sparring partner defended himself, his own spear moving as a snake. It was an even match, and these Warriors traded attacks for minutes. Absorbed in their fight, Florian watched as the woman parried an attack and performed a maneuver similar to Florian’s, leaping forward with much more grace than he had mustered. Then the fight was over, her opponent unable to turn the fight to his favor as Hornbeck had.

Maybe the commander was right, and the Warriors could hold out a while more. But it was a losing fight, and Florian could see that. If a dozen people of Leeds’ just over a hundred Warriors were constantly in the medical tent, casualties would inevitably turn to deaths, and that was discounting those wounded too badly to continue fighting. Already, the day shift had fallen to thirty people, the night shift summoning more and more to hold the walls. They needed reinforcements, and Florian knew that it was up to him – and Theo – to deliver them.

“I’ll try to get them ready for you as soon as I can,” Florian said with iron in his voice.

Hornbeck placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you will, son. Take the rest of the day easy; tonight will be difficult.”

Florian nodded, leaving the practice grounds and his fellow Warriors to continue their sparring. Unwilling to wear his armor during the hot day, Florian wore a simple shirt and pants that, while soaked in sweat, were comfortable enough to wear while he tried to find a comfortable place to relax. He wondered briefly if he could find a book somewhere; it had been a long time since he’d had the chance to read, and relaxation was what he needed most.

Instead, his musings were interrupted by a couple of familiar voices. “Mr. Florian!” he heard, two pint-sized munchkins running up to him. Jake and Ellie hugged him tight as they intercepted him. Florian ruffled their hair, one hand atop each of their heads. Jake was nearly in tears as he hung onto Florian for dear life. “Mr. Florian, I hate this place! Can we go home?”

Shocked, Florian responded, “Why do you hate it here?”

Jake’s little hands gripped him tightly. “We can’t play anymore!”

Florian laughed, and suddenly he knew what he had to do that afternoon.