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Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 26
🕑 Added 2024-05-29 03:43:29 +0000 UTCChapter 26
The class with Sergeant Yasir left Lys thinking about what she wanted to do for a long time. It was the same for the rest of the recruits.
Most of them hadn’t thought about it before. She wondered how her skill with the bow would play out if she ever got a chance to show it off. Was she destined to be a foot archer?
As the days passed, Lys found herself immersed in a grueling routine of physical training. The sergeants pushed them to their limits, demanding more with each passing day.
Running became an every other day marathon, testing their endurance and resolve. Lys’s legs burned with each step, but she refused to give in to the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her on those days. Thankfully, she seemed to recover fast. The extra portions of food, her father’s breathing exercises and meditation, and the good night's sleeps seemed to balance out with all the effort.
When they weren’t running, the sergeants found increasingly heavy objects for them to carry. Logs, stones, and even each other became their burdens as they navigated the training grounds. Lys’s muscles ached, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain, determined to prove her worth.
As the week progressed, the recruits were tasked with assisting in the cleanup of Silverpines’ ruins. The once-thriving town remained in shambles, a stark reminder of the devastation wrought by the Irongian raiders.
Lys worked alongside her fellow recruits, clearing rubble and debris under the watchful eye of Sergeant Swift.
The sergeant’s presence was a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon them. He barked orders and ensured that they followed the plan. Which seemed to be to clear the rubble into piles of things that could be salvaged, things to burn, and things that would end up buried.
Lys could feel his gaze on them, scrutinizing their work. After a few days, the scrutiny seemed to lessen as they got used to wielding the pickaxes and shovels.
Despite the challenges, Lys found a sense of purpose in the work.
Each stone moved and each piece of rubble cleared felt like a step towards rebuilding, towards creating something new from the ashes of the past. She poured her energy into the tasks at hand, channeling her frustrations and uncertainties into the physical labor.
That worked fairly well, and she really preferred it over running marathons.
The sun beat down upon them and sweat dripped from her brow when Sergeant Swift called them to a finish for lunch.
“Ten minutes to eat today, recruits!” Sergeant Swift’s voice boomed across the mess hall. “After that, we’re heading to the training ground for your first weapons practice.”
A surge of excitement rippled through the recruits as they hurried to the mess tent. The prospect of finally getting their hands on weapons had everyone buzzing with anticipation.
Orin leaned over to Garrett, his eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait to show off my staff skills. I’ve been practicing every chance I get.”
Garrett grunted, his focus unwavering. “I’m hoping to get my hands on a sword. Paps always had one over the mantle. He had plenty of stories to tell about his fighting days.”
Lys remained quiet, her thoughts racing as she shoveled food into her mouth. She knew her strength lay with the bow. Would she even get a chance to demonstrate that?
The recruits finished their meals in record time and then they lined up outside the mess hall, their postures straight and their faces eager. Another group of recruits stormed past them, their chatter filling the air as they claimed their own spots in the mess hall.
Swift led the way to a part of the camp they had rarely visited before—the training grounds. It was mostly a field, with various targets, dummies, and obstacles scattered throughout.
Sergeant Finn stood at the center, his arms crossed and his expression stern.
“Listen up, recruits!” Finn’s voice commanded their attention. “Today, you’ll be getting your first taste of what it means to wield a weapon. Each of you will have the opportunity to try your hand at different types, but remember—this is not a game. These are tools of war, and you must treat them with respect.”
Lys’s heart pounded in her chest as she listened to Finn’s words. She spotted the weapon wagon. There were dozens of bows already strung leaning against the side, right beside the spears. This was it—the moment she had been waiting for. She glanced around at her fellow recruits, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness.
“Which you have no idea how to do. That is why we will be using weighted wooden weapons for practice today,” he added.
Finn’s words hit the recruits like a slap in the face. Lys’s excitement deflated as quickly as it had risen.
“Practice weapons?” Orin muttered under his breath. “I thought we were going to get the real deal.”
Garrett shook his head. “They don’t trust us yet. We’re just a bunch of green recruits.”
Finn glared at the murmur that had arisen. “You think you’re ready to handle real weapons? You’re not even competent enough to hold a practice sword without hurting yourselves or each other!”
The recruits shifted uncomfortably, their eyes downcast as Finn’s words sank in.
“If I catch any of you so much as touching an actual weapon before we determine you’re ready, I’ll make you sorry you ever joined this company!” Finn’s face was red with anger, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the group.
Lys swallowed hard, her hands clenching at her sides. She knew Finn was right, but it didn’t make the disappointment any easier to bear.
Swift stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. “Today, we’ll be going over the basics—sword and shield, spear and shield, and bow and arrow.”
At the mention of bows, Lys’s heart skipped a beat. The prospect of finally getting her hands on a bow was enough to reignite her excitement.
“Each of you will try all three weapons,” Swift continued. “We’ll be assessing your natural abilities and aptitudes, which will be forwarded to Dragonblanc for your formal training.”
The recruits murmured amongst themselves, their earlier disappointment giving way to a renewed sense of purpose.
“Line up!” Finn barked, his voice cutting through the chatter. “We’ll start with the sword and shield. Grab a practice set and find a partner.”
Lys grabbed her weapon along with the other recruits. The weight of the practice sword surprised her—the wood must have had some kind of metal inside, she realized, as she hefted both the sword and the shield.
“You two, pair up!” Swift yelled, pointing at Lys and Orin.
Lys nodded, and they moved together, a good choice since they were about the same size. As they prepared to face off, a commotion drew their attention.
Garrett and Davian had already started sparring, their wooden swords clashing. The sergeants descended upon them, their voices booming.
“Did we tell you to start?” Finn demanded, his face inches from Garrett’s.
“Do you think you know what we want you to do?” Swift added, glaring at Davian.
The two recruits stood frozen, their eyes wide with fear. The rest of the group remained utterly silent and still.
The two sergeants conferred for a moment, then Swift turned back to the two. “Latrine duty rotation is canceled for the rest of the week. Instead, you two will be shoveling them. Every. Day.”
Davian and Garrett stood ramrod straight and let out a loud, “Yessir!”
That seemed to be enough, because then Finn and Swift squared off in the center of the training grounds. “Pay attention, all of you!” Finn called out.
They showed a series of stances, their movements precise and deliberate. “This is your basic stance,” Swift explained, his feet shoulder-width apart and his shield held high.
They moved through several standard blocks and attacks, repeating each one slowly for the recruits to observe. “These are the fundamental moves of the basic training kata,” Finn said, his voice stern.
Swift demonstrated a high stab, thrusting his wooden sword forward while keeping his shield raised. “This is how you execute a high stab. Notice the angle of my sword and how my shield stays up to protect me.”
Next, Finn showed a low stab, dropping to one knee and stabbing forward. “For the low stab, bend your knees and focus on keeping your shield in front of you to block any counterattacks.”
Finally, Swift illustrated a side stab, pivoting his body and thrusting the sword to his left. “In a side stab, your shield must remain up to guard your head and upper body while your sword strikes to the side. Maintain your stance and balance.”
After a few repetitions, they added movement to the affair, the attacker approaching while the defender moved backwards. After one set of attacks, they switched roles and went the other way.
“Footwork is as important as keeping your shield up! You need to be able to advance and retreat while still using your weapons!” Finn shouted while blocking Swift’s attacks.
They both stopped at the same spot they started. Swift turned to the recruits. “Now, practice with your partner. Take turns attacking and defending, using the moves we just showed you.”
Lys faced Orin, her grip tightening on the hilt of her wooden sword. She could feel the eyes of the sergeants on them.
“Ready?” Orin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lys nodded, raising her shield and taking a deep breath. It was heavy.
They began to spar, their wooden swords clashing against each other’s shields. Lys focused on her footwork, trying to remember the specific stabs the sergeants had demonstrated. It was harder than it looked, and she stumbled more than once.
The sergeants moved between the duos, correcting the recruits. Swift came to her and grabbed her shield arm. “Raise it higher, recruit!” he yelled, pushing her arm up.
Lys grunted, straining to keep the heavy shield in the proper position. Her arm burned with the effort, but she gritted her teeth and held it steady.
She executed a high stab, aiming for Orin’s shield, then went for a side stab, focusing on Swift’s instructions.
After another thirty minutes, the sergeants collected the swords and replaced them with spears. The group was split into two lines of ten.
“Listen up!” Swift barked. “In battle, you’ll often fight and move in formation as a group. Covering the man to your left with your shield is paramount. Understand?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” the recruits chorused.
The two lines were dressed and supervised by the sergeants as they marched around the training grounds. Lys quickly realized that walking in a group with shields up was far harder than it seemed. People kept stepping on each other’s feet, and at one point, she was nearly knocked over by the recruit behind her.
“Trekhill!” Swift shouted, singling her out. “Hold your shield properly, or you’ll be the death of your comrades!”
Lys adjusted her grip, her face burning with embarrassment. She focused on keeping her shield steady and in line with the others, determined not to draw any more attention to herself.
It wasn’t easy. Her arm burned and began to shake. Her form suffered as a result and she got yelled at again.
By the time they finished the drill, everyone—not just her, was exhausted. Her arms felt like rubber, and she couldn’t imagine lifting her shield again if her life depended on it.
Which she imagined was the point. Her life, and others would depend on it. She flexed her fingers and winced. Log hauling hadn’t really prepared them for this.
“Take five, recruits,” Swift announced. “We’ll be doing range practice next.”
The group dispersed, some collapsing onto the ground while others stretched their aching muscles. Lys found a spot to sit, massaging her sore arm.
“That was bad,” Orin said, plopping down beside her. “I thought my arms were going to fall off.”
Lys nodded, too tired to speak. She glanced around at the other recruits, noticing the weariness etched on their faces. Even Garrett, who had seemed so confident earlier, looked drained.
As they rested, Lys’s mind wandered to the upcoming range practice. She had been looking forward to it, eager to show off her skills with a bow. But now, with her arms feeling like lead, she wondered if she would even be able to draw the string.
Lys quickly decided to take full advantage of their brief break by focusing on her father’s breathing exercises.
She closed her eyes, tuning out the chatter and complaints of the other recruits around her. With each deep breath, she felt the familiar warmth building in her core, growing faster and more intense than ever before.
As she continued the meditation, a strange sensation washed over her. The weight in her limbs seemed to ease measurably, and a sense of lightheadedness hit her. It was a good thing she was sitting, or she might have stumbled.
“Hey, Trekhill, you alright?” Orin asked, his voice laced with concern.
Lys nodded, not fully understanding what had just happened. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
As she opened her eyes, she caught sight of Sergeant Yasir staring at her intently from across the training grounds.
He had been with another group of recruits, but his focus was solely on her. Had he seen her meditating? Lys wasn’t sure why he was staring, but before she could dwell on it, Swift and Finn returned.
“On your feet, recruits!” Swift shouted, his voice cutting through the chatter.
The recruits scrambled to stand, their brief respite already a distant memory. Finn marched them over to the archery range, where a row of targets stood at varying distances.
“Each of you will be given a bow and twelve practice arrows,” Finn explained as he and Swift began distributing the equipment.
Lys’s heart leaped with excitement as a bow was pressed into her hands, but her enthusiasm quickly turned to dismay when she felt its weight.
The bow was heavy and thick, a true war bow, with a much higher draw weight than she was used to. Plus, her arms were already used from the shield work! She would have to use every ounce of her strength just to draw the string back, let alone aim and shoot accurately.
Her heart sank. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and now she was going to struggle!
Comments
Jonathan Wint
TY!
JHD
Go go show them your skill with the bow!
