With a roar, Preseld’s blade crashed into Fentess’s shield. The giant grunted as he brought his sword around to slice at the man, but Preseld saw his attack and parried it in one swift motion, before going in for the final strike, hitting his wrist with the pommel of his sword, disarming him.

  Just as Fentess’s sword clattered along the ground, Theol approached and lunged for Preseld’s head, just barely missing as Preseld stumbled back. Only just keeping his balance, he held up his shield as Theol went for the second strike, the metal meeting the wood and chipping off a handful of splinters. With a strong forearm, Preseld pushed forward and sent the young soldier flying.

  As Theol landed on the ground, scowling, a flash of blue cloth and blonde hair passed before Preseld’s vision, and he readied himself into a fighting stance. Callic spun around him, quick and lithe like a skilled dancer, and landed a light strike on his side. In retaliation, Preseld gritted his teeth and spun in a whirlwind of steel and shield, stopping Callic dead in his tracks and causing him to stumble, giving Preseld ample time to knock the blade from his hands.

  Next came Relress, grinning like a maniac as he assaulted Preseld with blow after blow, each one just barely pushed aside by his sword. Their steels collided in the air, locked against one another, as they dug their boots into the ground.

  ‘You’re better than I thought you’d be, Telks,’ Relress told him through a grimace.

  Preseld replied with only a grunt, before his sword managed to overpower Relress’s, the weapon falling from his hand.

  Baskat emerged from behind, moving in a flurry of feints and jabs and slashes Preseld could not comprehend. Every time he dodged or ducked or parried out of the way, it felt like pure luck. The corporal pushed him further back, his face stoic and determined as he did so, until he had him backed into the corner of the designated sparring arena. In one final push, Preseld could not hold much longer, and his feet fell from beneath him.

  He fell back, and a jolt of shock ran through him when he did not hit the ground but, instead, fell into another soldier’s arms.

  Turning, he saw that Relress had caught him, and was grinning down on him, sweat and dirt on his dissheveled face.

  ‘That was incredible,’ Relress said as he brought Preseld to his feet, the rest of the squadron gathering around.

  ‘Thank you, but I was still no match for our corporal.’

  Baskat had already sheathed his blade, and was now scratching at the rash on his neck. ‘Don’t try and flatter me, lad. I’ve had enough undue respect in my time. You, on the other hand, deserve it. You might be the best new recruit I’ve ever had the pleasure of sparring with.’

  Fentess cleared his throat.

  ‘Up there with Fentess, then,’ Baskat said with a chuckle.

  ‘How long have you all been in this squadron together?’ Preseld asked.

  ‘Depends on what you mean by “this squadron”,’ the corporal muttered.

  ‘Baskat and Fentess have been in the army for a few years now,’ Relress explained, ‘especially Baskat, the old bastard. The rest of us have only been here a few weeks. The king’s men came to each of our hometowns talking about the war, and we were the ones who volunteered. Before you, Theol was the newest one.’

  ‘And I was just as eager then as I am now,’ Theol remarked. ‘Two days until my first taste of real battle.’

  ‘Two days until we set sail,’ Callic reminded, ‘we’ll be on the sea for a few nights at least.’

  ‘Three nights’ sail, from what I overheard,’ said Baskat. ‘You shouldn’t get excited for battle. Never ends well.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you’re bored of it,’ accused Theol, ‘and you hate fun anyway.’

  ‘The game of life and death isn’t fun, boy. Stop listening to whoever told you that it is.’

  ‘Fun aside,’ Preseld began, ‘the valour and glory of combat, fighting for king and for country, is what makes war truly gratifying.’

  ‘What’s the king’s name?’ Baskat asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The king. Since you’re such a big fan of his, tell me his name.’

  ‘His name is the king. I fail to see what you’re referring to.’

  Baskat groaned, gritted his teeth, and glanced around him. ‘Alright, lads, you lot have fun training. My rash is killing me, my legs aren’t what they used to be, indigestion’s acting up, and I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I’m off to my tent to have a rest. Wake me up if we’re being attacked, or if it’s time to eat.’

  The four of them stood in silence as they watched the corporal walk away, shuffling impatiently in their shields and scabbards.

  ‘Is he allowed to do that?’ Theol asked.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  ‘Probably not,’ Callic answered, ‘but we don’t have the authority to stop him.’

  ‘Oh, Telks,’ Relress began, turning to Preseld, ‘it’s Vercolt. The king’s name is Vercolt.’

  ‘I had no idea he had another name,’ said Preseld.

  ‘Nor did I, ‘til I got here.’

  ‘Why did Baskat seem so,’ Preseld searched for the words, ‘opposed to war? Especially as a man who has made it his career.’

  ‘Couldn’t tell you. My guess is he just likes to be a cynical twat.’

  ‘Perhaps he will be remembered as Baskat the Contrary,’ Callic remarked, causing no one but himself to laugh.

  Fentess folded his arms, shifting slightly.

  ‘Trooper Fentess,’ Preseld said to the large man, ‘do you know?’

  ‘Good luck getting a word out of him,’ said Relress.

  Fentess continued not to speak.

  ‘Why do you not speak, my friend?’ asked Preseld.

  There was a pause.

  ‘I don’t know why,’ Relress began, ‘but for a second I genuinely thought he was going to say something.’

  ‘Enough about this,’ Theol groaned, ‘can we just get back to the fighting? Telks hasn’t done armour training yet.’

  ‘Armour training?’ Preseld echoed.

  ‘You think we got to war protected only by a couple of layers of cloth?’ asked Relress. ‘No, my friend, these uniforms are simply for show. We have armour, which we wear into battle. Helmets and chestplates and greaves and gauntlets and all the rest.’

  ‘Like knights?’

  ‘You think they’d be willing to spend that much money on all of us? No, just some pieces here and there where they think our enemies are mostly likely to strike. Which, in turn, makes them more likely to aim anywhere else. A fun little dichotomy, when you think about it.’

  ‘I don’t recall the soldiers in my father’s stories wearing any armour.’

  ‘Maybe they weren’t that day, you never know.’

  ‘Can we actually do the armour training and not just talk about it?’ asked Theol.

  ‘We’d need someone of a superior rank to grant us permission,’ replied Callic, ‘as they don’t want the armour getting stolen or, ironically, damaged.’

  Theol was practically shaking with anger at this point. ‘Why do we have to do our training ourselves? Why can’t we have actual, organised training drills?’

  ‘We do, they’re just organised by our corporals,’ Callic began, ‘and ours, currently, is asleep.’

  The squadron spent the rest of the day running around, asking any superior soldier or officer they came across for permission to use the armour, and when that failed they spent much of their time contemplating whether they should wake Baskat, and only did get around to waking him when it was time for another serving of perpetual stew. Eventually, they got their armour, and the sky dimmed overhead until it was pitch black, punctured by stars.

  Several fires crackled around the camp, and their squadron sat loosely around one of them alongside another couple of squadrons, though each mostly kept to their. Preseld watched as Baskat stared into the flames, unblinking, unmoving. Callic and Theol bickered while Relress chimed in with occasional snide comments, and Fentess watched and engaged with the conversation through facial expressions, but stayed mute.

  After a few minutes of hearing them argue about historical battles Preseld had never heard of, he shuffled up towards Baskat and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to shudder.

  ‘What do you want, lad?’ the corporal asked.

  ‘I just wanted to apologise for not knowing the king’s name.’

  Baskat sputtered into laughter. ‘You’re a funny one, you. No, I know what you want to ask, and…you know what? Maybe I’m in the wrong. Maybe war is fun. Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Corporal, I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘It’s fine, Telks. It’s really fine. Just ignore me. I’m an old man and I’m going a bit insane. I need to be retiring soon. Don’t listen to me, it won’t get you anywhere. Hold your sword aloft and charge forth, for king and for country, or whatever it is that’ll get you to fight.’

  Preseld grinned. ‘For our noble king and his fearsome country.’

  After some time, the soldiers retired to their tents, and Preseld unfurled his bedroll and shuffled beneath his blanket besides Relress, who was doing the same. There was far from ample room in there, but they managed to just about avoid touching each other nonetheless.

  ‘Telks,’ Relress began.

  ‘Yes?’ Preseld replied.

  ‘You were great during training today. I look forward to seeing you in action.’

  ‘The same to you. No man of war is complete without his brothers in arms.’

  ‘I love the way you talk. You sound a good score or two years older than you really are.’

  ‘It is simply how I was raised.’

  ‘I like that about you. I’m a few years older myself, but you’re already better-spoken and better-fought than I could ever dream of being.’

  There was a lull as Preseld processed the compliment. He searched for a way to graciously accept it while not allowing Relress to put himself down any further, but could find one before Relress spoke again.

  ‘You said you had a wife?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, and a daughter.’

  ‘It takes a lot of guts to leave all of that behind. Did she find you with another woman? Was your daughter cursed by a witch? What made you want to leave?’

  ‘Nothing of the sort. I still love my family, and dream of returning to them one day, but we all must leave something behind for the king. Any man that can fight to protect his nation, should fight to protect his nation, regardless of who or what he must abandon.’

  ‘You seem convinced about this.’

  ‘Are you not? You left a life behind too.’

  ‘Not much of one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s getting late,’ Relress said after a pause, ‘Major Ortollic might start knocking on the tents if we’re too loud. Have a good night, Trooper Telks.’

  ‘You too, Trooper Relress.’

  Without a word more spoken, the two were asleep.