Blessed Ones: Part One

“Ha!” came the shout as the sword thrust forward. With a clang, it was deflected. The defender conserved the motion of his last movement and arced his two-handed blade around and down in a powerful, crushing slash. The other fighter did not need to rely on his shield to avoid the blow; he danced and spun in a circle to the outside, building momentum with his longsword until he finished the spiral, striking his opponent in the ribs with a shout. “Yah!”

The tall and well-muscled boy grunted with pain and released a hand from his great sword to place on his side. He was no more than bruised; the sword that struck him was intentionally dulled, as was his own.

“Damn,” said the loser. “You’re good.”

“No,” said the average-sized boy, who looked small against his friend. “I’m just good at beating you.” Both chuckled humorously. After sheathing his practice sword, he offered his hand. “Good fight, Gregory.”

The other boy shook it. “You too, Dieter.”

Together, they lounged against a wooden fence and surveyed the beaten battleground. This was Martial School, and there was no place either would rather be. Here, boys and girls of all teenage years and below drilled with swords, spears, bows, and other miscellaneous weapons on the hard-packed earth.

“I heard rumors that the Blaydon armies are going to attack around here next,” said Gregory.

“Really?” questioned Dieter. “That’s a very specific rumor.”

“Well, that’s what the Royal Intelligence suspects and they’ve been giving out orders to towns up north a bit to redouble their training. Rumors always fly faster than official messages down here. I figure it’s only a matter of time before we get the same order; I’m guessing within three days.”

“So that’s why you’ve been trying to get Katherine to practice,” said Dieter, removing all tone from his voice as to show he implied absolutely nothing by it.

Gregory nodded silently.

Interrupting them came a girl, slim but tall. She held an iron quarterstaff in her hands. “Heather!” Dieter said, standing up straighter with mild surprise.

She looked quizzically at him for a moment. “I came to drill. I’ve bested all of my friends and now they’re frustrated.”

“Well, there’s still me,” said Dieter, already drawing his sword and inspecting the straps on his round, convex shield. Looking back at Gregory as he walked away from the fence, he said, “See if you can find Katherine again. I don’t want my sister going into battle unprepared.”

He quickened his pace and met Heather at a spot closer the middle of the enclosed field. “Right,” said Dieter, “you have a staff, which means you have the advantage of length over my sword. You also can strike with both ends if I get in close.”

“Yeah, I know all that,” Heather said as she took her fighting stance, pointing the tip of the staff at Dieter like a pike. “I did beat the rest of my friends, you know.”

“My mistake,” said Dieter, and then he launched into attack. He lunged and stabbed forward-- an easy parry, especially against a staff. He merely wanted to test how she would react. She raised the tip of her weapon and flicked the attack away. She then stabbed with the blunt tip at the opening she created, which was easily stopped by Dieter’s shield. Now it was his turn to push her weapon aside using the shield. He moved forward and the girl jumped back, disengaging to regain control of her weapon and her reach.

The two combatants slowly circled one another, each one’s eyes focused on the other’s, on their weapon, and on the position of their body in general. Heather swung the tip of her staff in a slash at Dieter’s right side. He could not use his shield here; he was forced to parry the blow with his sword and redirect it over his head. Now the staff was crossed in front of her body. Dieter took that opportunity and raced toward her. His sword slid against her staff as he held the weapons in place as he advanced. Once he closed the distance between them, Heather used all of the strength and leverage in her chest and hips to push the staff against the resistance of his blade. It arced back over Dieter’s head to the position it held before.

She continued that motion and swung the back end of the staff up and at his head. Dieter ducked; the iron butt made contact with only his hair. The sword and both ends of the staff were now placed all on the same side of their bodies. Neither could attack with their weapons, but Dieter still had one trick left to use. He swung his shield and the narrow lip clanged and crashed against Heather’s temple.

She stumbled back and held one hand on her dazed head. The spar was over. Without any words, Dieter sheathed his blunt sword and pulled her arm over his shoulder. In this helpful position, he supported the concussed Heather as he walked her to a bench to sit down.

“You still did well,” he said in a voice that tried and failed to be consoling. “That was a clever feat of motion you did with the back end; it was very fluid. With a counter like that, you could stun anyone.”

“Anyone but you,” she sighed.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he placed his arm around her shoulders. “You just need more practice. That’s all it took for me.”

“No, you’re clever. You can see combat and motion in a different way.”

“I can do that because of my practice. You almost can too. Remember that butt strike? How much did you have to think about that move when you did it?”

“Not very much,” she admitted. “The movement just felt right.”

“See?” Dieter enthused, “You’re turning out like me already. More practice will seal it. Combat should require little thought; the body must be the one to learn.”

Dieter inspected the gash on her forehead, wiping the blood away with his short sleeve. “That will be gone by tomorrow. The Bless will heal it.”

Heather nodded but said nothing. “Just take a break for an hour; I’ll help you practice then,” he said. “But no more sparring for today, okay?”

 

The Bless; the beautiful, terrible Bless. It was the sole reason that Martial School was filled with children and not adults. On the surface, it is every parent’s dream: children will survive and heal from all but the most fatal wounds. Even deep stabs and lost limbs are not dangerous.

The Bless has changed war forever. Long ago, both the kingdoms of Lacier and Blaydon simultaneously decided that all adults are not fit for combat; it should be only the youth, made invincible by the Bless, that fight the wars for their kings. With this decision, the nature of war changed. Soldiers could no longer be killed, but a different tragedy had arisen.

 

“Father, did you hear the rumors?” Dieter asked across the dining table.

The man looked up. “No. What rumors?”

Dieter now had the attention of everyone present: his father, and his sisters Eva and Katherine. “Royal Intelligence thinks Blaydon will attack us here in the south next.”

“Well, it’s certainly been a while,” he responded. “Do you remember what it was like?”

“Of course I do, it was only five years ago. I was thirteen; I fought. So did Eva, with her bow.”

“Well, that was the only weapon I could use without being in danger,” she said almost defensively.

“I guess I don’t blame you. But you’re much braver now; you’re learning to shoot moving targets at much closer range. You’re a valuable supporter of any battle formation.” She smiled at this praise. “Katherine, you too should learn to fight. You’ll be expected to if we are ever attacked, and your best chance of staying healthy if it happens is to train. You won’t be able to stay out of combat forever.”

She frowned and refused to look at Dieter. “Please, Katherine,” he said. “Go to Martial School with us, just for one week.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced. Dieter felt guilty for demanding such a stress from her, but undoubtedly it would be for the best.

 

          Martial School was located on the edge of the town; one border of the battlefield was actually the stone and timber outer wall. Here, near the wall, was one of the few level areas large enough to place the building and its corresponding training grounds. The rest of the town stood above the school on a wide, round, and even hill. On the top of that hill stood the Fortress: a combination of courthouse, town administration center, and prison. It stood like a true castle with its intermittent layers of wood, stone, and brick. The grand four-story building could be seen from absolutely anywhere in the town. It was there that Eva took position during the last siege to fire arrows at a range one would expect to be too long for a shortbow.

          Katherine remained close by Dieter’s side as she entered Martial School for the first time in her life. The building itself was composed of straight, almost crude boards; there was nothing stylish or impractical. The inside was little more than a small administration area and storage for innumerable weapons. It included blunted ones for training and razor-sharp ones for battle.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dieter said, “and I think you should use this weapon.” As he finished his sentence, he lifted from a standing rack a slightly-curved, sword-like blade mounted on a long pole. “It’s called a naginata, and it will help to hide your smaller size.” He surrendered it to her uncertain hands. “Hold it like this,” he said, and took a stance where he held the invisible polearm in his hands with its imaginary tip pointed directly at a potential enemy. Katherine examined his pose and copied him. “Or like this,” he said as he raised his back hand higher to angle the weapon down at an enemy’s shins. She looked at him again with little understanding, but moved as he did.

“Hello there, Dieter,” called Gregory as he cheerfully emerged from the front door behind the two of them. “And Katherine,” he added.

“Gregory,” Dieter spoke, possibly interrupting an unspoken thought of his. “Perhaps you could teach Katherine how to use her weapon.”

“Somehow, I knew you were going to ask me that.” From a rack, the muscled boy removed a sword which was exactly like the ones Dieter would practice with. Its hilt disappeared within the grip of his wide, tough fingers as he drew it from its sheath.

“Only because I knew you wouldn’t mind,” Dieter replied with a grin. He patted the two of them on the back, ushering them towards the back door to the training field. “Katherine, study hard. Gregory, keep my sister safe,” he called after them. The titan eighteen-year-old boy and the small-statured twelve-year-old girl turned back to wave at him.

“Dieter!” came an exclamation from close behind. He turned around just in time to be crushed within a friendly bear hug. “Michael!” Dieter returned. “It’s been a while. Where have you been spending your days?”

“At the Fortress; I’ve been studying tactics. I’ll need that more than skill in combat if I’m going to lead the army.”

Michael was no taller than Dieter, but he was built strong and heavy like Gregory was. His father was Commander-in-Chief of the town, and as the current Battlefield Captain, his son hoped to follow in his footsteps.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to organize mobilization drills. Combat means nothing if we can’t get to the right places.

“A very good plan. We’re far behind in that area.” Dieter would have said more, but was interrupted by the entrance of Heather and Eva.

“Hello,” the two boys said simultaneously to the two girls.

“Hello,” they returned.

“Dieter,” Eva began, “hitting targets isn’t a challenge for me anymore. What do you think I should learn next?”

“She can hit a running target at thirty meters now,” Heather enthused, “Lethally too, and she’s fast to draw and aim.”

Dieter thought in silence for several seconds. “How about dodging?” Eva stared at him with confusion. “With practice, you can be able to dodge a thrown missile, or even a sword slash, or maybe even an arrow.”

“Really?” she asked. Her eyes were bright and excited. Dieter had never seen his sister so enthusiastic about anything regarding Martial School before.

“Sure,” Michael jumped in. “Just cause you’re an archer doesn’t mean you can’t protect yourself. Heather, could you teach her?”

“I suppose,” she sighed, but Dieter could tell the suggestion of displeasure was only an act.

‘Why would she pretend?’ Dieter wondered. ‘Was there something between the two of them?’

The two girls gathered their preferred weapons and exited towards the training ground.

“Maybe we should learn a new skill for combat too,” said Michael, deliberately distracting Dieter from Heather’s reaction.

Dieter resigned himself to the mystery. He would ask for an explanation later in private. “Sure,” he said. “What would you like to learn?”

“How about…” he paused, “unarmed fighting.”

“I don’t know any student who’s an expert on that.”

“Then we’ll just have to ask one of the masters.” He walked over to one of the attendants at a desk. “Hello, can you or somebody else teach us about unarmed fighting?”

The man opened his mouth but was interrupted by the middle-aged man seated in the desk next to him. “I can. I used to be a soldier. I’m glad somebody’s interested in this obscure skill.” He rose from his seat. The muscles of his torso were thickly built; he likely resembled Michael when he was younger. His brown eyes reflected a personality that was kind but serious-- that of an excellent teacher.

“I remember you! You’re Abel!” exclaimed Dieter. “You were my first swordsmanship teacher.”

The man chuckled. “Yes I was, and look at you now! You’re the most renowned soldier in town. I heard you can even beat Gregory and Michael.”

“Barely,” Michael added.

“Well, no matter,” Abel said as he rubbed his shaved head. “When you think you know everything, there’s always more that can be learned. Who knows? You, Michael, might be able to best him in this area.”

Michael grinned. Undoubtedly his superior strength and weight would be a useful tool over Dieter or any other opponent, excepting Gregory. ‘I’ll just have to make up for that disadvantage with extra cleverness,’ Dieter thought.

The older man held the lead as the trio entered the training field, the two young soldiers flanked behind him on either side. They occupied a space near the edge. The area that was the center of the square field reserved itself for group fights.

“Right,” Abel began. “You can put down those for now,” he said, indicating the sword and spear that Dieter and Michael had been instructed to bring. “To start, we’ll focus on an unarmed opponent. Now, face off!”

The two boys stepped away from their trainer and took fighting stances out of reach of each other’s striking ranges. Both held their fists near their respective faces as to protect from a punch while maintaining the opportunity to throw one as well.

“Most likely, you’ll be fighting an armored opponent, so punching and other strikes will be almost futile,” Abel explained in his loud, commanding voice. “You must rely on wrestling and the like. A basic move is to get in close, turn away from your enemy, bend forward, and pull them over your exposed hip to throw them to the ground. Ready, go!”

Dieter and Michael launched together and grasped the other around the back of the neck. Michael hesitated, remaining in the almost-static grapple while he contemplated how to fulfill Abel’s technique. Dieter sized that opportunity and stepped his right foot forward between his friend’s legs. From there, all was fluent in his mind. Turning, bending, and pulling all in one single motion, he used the strength in his torso rather than his arms to swing his partner over the back of his hips and crash him to the packed ground.

The impact of his back against the solid dirt ejected the breath from Michael’s lungs, and he lay coughing as he slowly regained control of the air.

“Impressive, Dieter!” Abel exclaimed. “You performed it perfectly on the first attempt!”

Dieter extended his open hand toward his prone friend. He took it and was pulled upright onto his feet. “Again,” Michael said, “but my turn.”

“Fine. It looks like you need the practice more than I do.”

The training continued for several hours. Abel needed only to describe a technique for Dieter to perform it. Once that was done, it was easy for the youth to teach it to Michael; without the Bless, Abel could not physically perform it himself.

Because of this system, Dieter was thrown down against the painful ground many more times than Michael. By the time both boys decided to retire for the day, not only were they sore and bruised, but each was confident he could subdue an enemy in combat, even if the other was armed and he was not.

Michael left for home but Dieter crossed the wide field in search of Eva and Katherine. It was the latter he found first, completely absorbed in a duel with Gregory. Never before had Dieter witnessed such calm ferocity in her eyes as she stepped, stabbed, and slashed in mildly sloppy techniques. The wicked speed of the graceful naginata’s blade was equal to that of the opposing sword held in a master’s hands. The only thing to slow her down was the hesitations between movements. With pride and approval at his little sister, Dieter left her undisturbed in her training.

Next he spied Eva and Heather. The taller, senior Heather made aggressive moves and attacks with her iron staff. As fast and untouchable as the wind, Eva continued to dance around, under, and away from the darts and slashes of the weapon. Her long blonde hair remained one step behind the position of her head, causing it to sway and blow in unnatural directions and patterns. Eventually she leapt far out of mêlée range and made a motion with her hands to represent drawing and firing an arrow. If this were an actual combat encounter, Heather would be effectively incapacitated by the shot; Eva could find and exploit any gap or weakness in her enemy’s armor.

“Dieter!” his sister called, “I think I’m starting to get it! Tomorrow I think I’m going to start dodging arrows.”

He grinned widely at her in praise. Heather interrupted, “Our battle yesterday gave me a thought. I want to try again.”

“Alright,” Dieter complied, in spite of his sore condition. He drew the sword he retained from the previous exercise. He was without a shield, but that did not worry him. He was confident he could best Heather without it. Besides, with the new tricks he held up his sleeves, a shield had more opportunity to impair his techniques.

Eva backed away, transfixed by the impending battle between her brother and her trusted friend. Even though Dieter stood well out of range, Heather began swinging the staff in circles and arcs, choosing to hold it at the middle rather than favoring one end like a spear. It changed from one hand to the other or to both as it travelled across every inch of her body in unexpected patterns. Suddenly Dieter understood; she was using the constant movement as a shield. She was fully taking advantage of both ends of the staff to attack as well as defend. Now he wished he had possession of a shield. With his single sword, Dieter held a sore disadvantage, even considering his proficiency and expertise.

With little warning, Heather leapt into the attack. One of the usual spins from the staff seamlessly extended into a powerful downward strike. Dieter barely noticed it in time to lean out of the way. Now that he was inside of her guard, he thrusted at her ribs. Incredibly, it was deflected. It had required only a slight change of motion for Heather to spin the other end of the staff between her body and Dieter’s sword. He had never been truly inside of her guard at all. Both fighters simultaneously leapt backward out of the engagement. Dieter had feared a strike from the first end of the staff just as Heather had feared a clever unarmed attack.

‘Perhaps a clever unarmed attack is what I need to win,’ he thought. The two teenaged warriors engaged and disengaged multiple times, but could never create an opening in the opponent’s defense long enough to exploit it.

Once again, they found themselves at a distance. Dieter charged forward toward Heather. It was a feint and likely she knew it, but she nevertheless had to defend. It was only a question of how she would.

As he approached with his sword held above his head, Heather’s muscles pulled taut. She was preparing a counterattack-- one that would be faster than Dieter’s strike in order to hit him first. ‘Horizontal, from left,’ his mind said faster than spoken words ever could. As the iron staff started its movement, Dieter started his.

Rather than block the attack, he ducked and curled into a ball, rolling under the swing of the blunt weapon. The maneuver surprised the girl, but not any longer than it took Dieter to regain his balance. He still squatted on the ground as the other end of the staff swung like a pendulum about to contact his skull. A quick raise with the sword provided a hard block against the attack. In order to provide the proper support for the defense in his unusual, weakened position, his free hand lay on the flat of the blade near the tip. The staff had contacted a point balanced between his two hands.

Inspired by the repelling momentum from the hard block, the upper end of Heather’s staff crashed toward Dieter in a similar manner as the bottom end did. Rising to a stronger, standing position, he kept his hands as before to stop this attack as he did with the previous. The counter momentum would probably provoke Heather to strike with the bottom once again, but now Dieter was prepared for it.

The metal clanged and the staff bounced off the sword. Her supposed attack would come too quickly for Dieter to wait and observe it; he had to start his counter before her attack. He stepped left, farther to her outside, spinning almost in a pirouette as he did. Yes, her attack was just as he guessed, but he was well out of its way. With his spin, he maneuvered completely behind her and swooped his free arm under her chin. His sword moved from the other side and stopped to lay against the exposed soft flesh of her throat.

The boy and girl stood in their victorious and defeated positions in silence. With his chest tight against her back, a feeling of intimate friendship filled Dieter’s mind… Or was it something more?

Eva and her cheerful clapping interrupted his moment of pleasant thought. “That was amazing!” she cried.

“You were amazing,” Dieter followed, releasing her and backing into a more social distance. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a harder fight.”

“It’s still not enough,” she said.

“Hey,” he comforted. “It was very close. And think: you barely started using this style; think of how much farther you can progress with it. Maybe,” he chuckled, “maybe you will eventually be better than me. You can be the best; you just have to work at it.”

Her tired frown changed little, but Dieter trusted that he had given her some measure of hope. “Come on.” He put his friendly arm around her shoulders. “We’ve spend the whole afternoon here. Let Eva and I walk you home.”

“What about Katherine?” Eva asked.

Dieter looked over to where she continued to drill with Gregory. The two were some of the last soldiers to remain training on the field. Gregory now held a spear, which he was proficient enough with to give Katherine basic practice combating one. As Dieter watched, Gregory made a stab which was deflected by the shaft of Katherine’s naginata. She then pushed the weapon aside and slashed at his upper arm, the blunted metal head making contact against the heavily muscled skin. From his distance, it was impossible to see, but Dieter guessed that Gregory’s arms and shins were well covered with bruises from such attacks.

“She’ll be fine,” Dieter answered. “Gregory will take her home.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Heather asked, “that Gregory likes Katherine so?”

Continuing to watch the pair from a distance, Dieter spent some silence to think, although he already knew the answer. “He doesn’t like her; he’s more like another big brother to her. I think he just likes her purity. Most kids her age are off getting into trouble, but not Katherine. I think she just gives him hope-- hope that a future exists, and that it has the possibility to be bright.”

Dieter turned around to see both Eva and Heather watching him with wide eyes that held new depth. “Didn’t know I could think so philosophically, did you?” he grinned. “Come on.” He dismissed their expressions. “Let’s go home.”

 

“Michael,” Dieter spoke. The boy looked up from his desk. The study was dim except for the area about the desk which was lit by a pair of oil lamps. It was late in the evening. The sun had set but a small glow of its light remained unvanquished on the horizon.

“Hello, friend,” Michael said. “I wasn’t expecting you. I hoped to heal my bruises from you in peace,” he joked. “As you can see, I’m preparing for tomorrow’s drills, but if you’re here, perhaps you can help me.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Dieter answered. “But I came here for a different reason.”

“Oh, what is that?” Michael asked. If Dieter wasn’t looking for it, he might have missed the sliver of well-hidden worry in his voice.

“Heather,” he said. “Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”

Michael sighed. “I figured you’d realize it sometime, but I didn’t think it would be so soon. I hoped the increased pressure for training would distract you.” Dieter’s face remained the icon of seriousness. His friend would not avoid answering. Michael realized that too. “I like her-- I mean like her. I told her that, and she said she’s not entirely unempathetic as well. We’ve been keeping it quiet and acting like it hadn’t happened yet because of the battle that may just take place. If, in all likelihood, it does, a relationship between us could be complicated and overwhelming. The town needs me as a commander and she’s a good soldier as well. We need to set the image for our troops and keep their morale high; a distracted and stressed commander is not what we need.” He took another deep sigh, this one of obvious relief. “There, now you know. Are you upset at all?”

For the first time, Dieter broke his gaze from Michael and concentrated in thought. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“I know she’s your friend more than she is mine, so I can understand if you like her as well. And if that’s the case, then I’m sorry.”

Dieter nodded absently in acceptance. “I don’t know if I do or not. Part of me thinks that we’re too good of friends to ever fall in love, but recently I have felt… other ways. I don’t know if that means I like her or not.”

“I can’t decide that for you,” Michael said solemnly. I’m sorry if I ever end up hurting you with this, but I can’t change my decision now.”

“I understand,” Dieter said with a sense of finality. “So,” he said with a different, brighter tone, “tell me about your battle plans.”

Michael waved his friend over to the desk. “All of the orders will be decided and given from the Fortress, but it is my responsibility as Battlefield Captain to organize the army into units. Dieter examined the list of names written into separate columns on the page. It was divided into three “Frontline” groups and three “Support” groups. The Frontline groups consisted mostly of soldiers proficient with mêlée weapons with a few ranged fighters to support them. The Support groups were just the opposite: heavy with archers, crossbows and javelins protected by close-range fighters.

“I don’t know as much about the other soldiers as you, but I can see you made some good choices. You and Gregory fight well together and will do well to hold down the first Frontline group, which will be used the most often, right?” It wasn’t much of a question, but Michael nodded anyway. “Eva has proven that she can fight at close range with a bow. She will fit in well just behind the wall of fighters, but I wonder about Heather,” he added, to Michael’s quizzical expression. “She has a new fighting style-- maybe you haven’t seen it-- but it uses a lot of space and is dangerous in a Frontline group. And maybe you should think about if you should keep her close to you or not, considering…” He let the sentence trail off. It was obvious what he meant.

“I have thought hard about it,” Michael answered. “I do want her close by; I think I would worry more if I couldn’t see her than if I could. Would she be fine with her technique if she remained on an edge?”

“Probably,” Dieter said, still doubtful of the decision. It was unlikely that he would be able to change Michael’s mind now.

“I placed you in Frontline Two,” Michael continued, “I thought that we have enough good fighters in Frontline One, but an excellent fighter in a different group would be useful too.” Dieter nodded. It was a wise choice. “That means you get to act as a lieutenant,” Michael grinned at him.

“What? No. Make someone else the lieutenant. I’m good at fighting, not leading.” This was not a responsibility he was prepared to accept.

“Come on,” Michael encouraged. “Leading is easy. The troops look up to you already, even the ones that know only your name and reputation. They will follow you, and more importantly, you will give them hope. They won’t want to let someone like you down.”

“But I don’t know anything about tactics,” he complained.

“Maybe not, but you know about strategy. You can see logic during a battle and use it. That’s more than most can do. Let the strategy guide you.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “I’ll be your lieutenant.”

“Good. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. And I know you won’t in battle either.”

 

When Dieter exited his house in the morning, Michael was waiting just outside the door. “Hello, Lieutenant,” he greeted. “I’m helping to rouse every soldier from their bed for the drill today.” The sloping streets were populated with young fighters on their casual walk to Martial School.

“Well, you’re just late. All three of us are already up and ready.” As he said this, Eva and Katherine appeared behind him. Like Dieter, they were dressed, fed, and wearing shoes. “Go on girls,” he prompted. “Meet me at the school. I’ll help Michael make sure no one is skipping the drills.”

With no more words, they went their separate ways.

 

Michael and Dieter were the last to arrive at Martial School with the few stragglers and their excuses of varying degrees of believability. Those who had arrived on time loitered in front of or inside the inadequately-sized building.

“Alright,” Michael called. “Everyone, don your armor. You all need to get used to the encumbrance.” The army slowly and noisily gathered their gear and spread into a loose mob completely surrounding the school to equip it.

The kind of armor each soldier wore was chosen by his or herself. Various combinations of plates, chainmail, scales, and leather could be seen. The older and more experienced the fighter, the more unique the armor was. The younger soldiers who had not expanded and personalized their combat style usually wore basic chain or studded leather shirts, while ones like Michael, Dieter, and Gregory, who well understood their own strengths and weaknesses and where extra mobility was needed, possessed more customized sets.

Michael was one of the best examples of this. With the way that he swung his heavy battleaxe, his shoulders and sides were often exposed. To protect that vulnerability, extra-wide pauldrons covered his shoulders and the steel scale armor that shielded his chest extended back farther on the sides than it did on most suits.

Dieter, too, wore a very specific suit of armor. A leather shirt was largely covered with chainmail, but in place of a solid breastplate, a sheet of overlapping scales sat on his chest. This gave protection superior to the chain, but also allowed unrestricted movement of the torso which Dieter employed often. Confident that he could avoid most injury, the greaves on his shins and gauntlets on his wrist were composed of a thinner, lighter layer of steel. His face was quite exposed by the thimble-shaped helmet, but that was a sacrifice to allow a greater field of view. Aside from his armor, Dieter carried his usual longsword and round shield.

Even though the two friends were the last to enter the building and retrieve their gear, they were among the first to finish equipping it. The experienced soldiers such as themselves then assisted the lesser in preparing themselves. It was near an hour before the army of youth stood at attention in the great practice ground.

Dieter was unable to tell exactly where Michael drew the sheet of paper from on his person, but nevertheless it was in his hand. “All soldiers will be organized into six groups,” he announced. “Pay attention to your group name and your group leader’s name; I do not want to have to repeat myself. Group F1, led by me, will consist of: Gregory, Heather, Patrick, Kyle, Will, Eva…” He continued until all thirty names in the formation were presented. He moved on to F2: Dieters party. Most of the soldiers called were merely acquaintances of his-- people Dieter had only seen battle when he chose to participate in group mêlées, or at a distance while taking a recess from training. Still, for a reason he could find no logical explanation for, he felt he could count on them.

The leaders of the other four groups were not especially skilled fighters, but those who had spent time to study leadership, tactics, and strategy.

After all groups were assembled, Michael began, “The drill starts immediately. F1 and S1 to the East Gate, F2 and S2 to the North Gate, F3 to the West gate, and S3 to the Fortress, Go!”

Dieter saw only startled and confused faces. “Let’s go! Group F2, follow me; don’t lag behind!” he ordered. All in his company snapped to attention and followed him in his jog. Although he could not see the soldiers behind him, the cacophonous noise of jostling weapons and armor gave him much confidence and comfort.

Only after reaching the gate did the lieutenant glance back at his party. The soldiers slowed and stopped as he did, but remained in a disorganized mass. “Form a line facing the gate, archers in back,” he ordered. “If you’re not experienced, form a secondary line just behind the main one. It will keep our enemies from slipping past.” They shuffled into positions as directed. “Now we wait here until further orders. If any enemies came through that gate, we would immediately engage them, understood?” He was returned with statements of “Yes, sir,” “Yes, Lieutenant,” and various affirmative grunts.

After more than a minute of standing at attention with weapons poised and directed at the still, silent gate of wood and iron, a young boy about eight years old sprinted straight through the formation from behind and stood panting before Dieter. “Orders from the Fortress,” he struggled to say through his exhaustion. “Bring your troops to the East Gate as soon as possible.”

“Thank you. We will at once. Run back to the Fortress,” he said to the young boy. To the rest, he called “We’re moving back to the East gate, double time!”

He led the sprinting group down the same streets as they took to arrive at the North Gate. A few minutes later, the winded party took up positions at the end of Michael’s battle line. The two Frontline groups now composed into one seamless formation. Dieter felt a glow of pride at how his troops took up the formation without being told. They merely needed to see him initiate the action and they would follow.

For over an hour, the six groups navigated the streets of the circular town, often without the help and leadership of their lieutenants. It was all too likely that any of them, even Dieter, could be incapacitated during battle and the company would be without an established leader.

Exhausted from the constant movement, the entire army was relieved when the order came to end the drill. Gathered once again at Martial School, Michael congratulated everyone on a job well done. “It couldn’t have gone better,” he said. “We kept our cool and paid close attention to others. I believe we are prepared for a crisis.”

As he said this, the North Gate, the one closest to the school and the only one in sight, opened to permit a lone horseman to enter. Every single soldier turned his or her head to track the rider as he made a beeline for the group. He tugged the horse to a halt and dismounted. The grown man was dressed in the green and white colors of a Lacier Royal Servant; he could be none other than an official messenger from Laceria, the capitol city.

The messenger marched through the mob of armored soldiers until he stood before Michael. Michael made a gesture toward Dieter to beckon him by his side. He did so.

“Do you have a message?” Michael asked stiffly.

“I do,” the man answered in the same tone.

“Speak it aloud, for everyone to hear.”

The messenger did not immediately respond with words, but drew and unfolded a sealed letter from within his patterned tunic. In a loud, practiced voice, he read, “All able-bodied youth from this town of Yamilet must organize and prepare for battle. The aggressing armies of Blaydon are advancing and a siege of this town is expected. You are not permitted to surrender.” He lowered the document. “The message concludes,” he said, and offered the folded paper to Michael, who calmly took it.

“Your orders will be carried out. You are dismissed.”

“You do not have the authority to dismiss me, sir,” the man said with a small grimace, “but immediately I will take leave.” As quickly has he had arrived, the green-and-white messenger mounted his waiting horse and galloped away.

The crowd of armored teens and children stood and stared in silence at Michael and his friend beside him. They awaited a response-- an address.

The Battlefield Captain took a step forward. “We knew this day would come, that’s why we have been preparing. With the hard work you all have put in, I feel little fear of how this situation could end. This town was besieged years ago. Many of you do not remember it well, but I do. I fought in that battle; I tasted that fear. But we prevailed. We drove Blaydon away from our beautiful town. And it is my firm belief that we are no less prepared now then we were then. Even so, there is still more to learn, and we must always be alert and ready for action. Don’t let your minds grow soft with confidence. Be vigilant, and stay strong. Only then can we protect our home!” With that last sentence, he raised his battleaxe high above his head.

A tremendous, cheering shout erupted from the hundreds of young soldiers assembled. Fists and weapons followed Michael’s in their assault of the empty sky. Dieter was impressed by their confidence, and by Michael’s ability to instill it in them.

War was coming, and they were not afraid.

Reviews

[CHRIS ANDES]

..an interesting story
=]

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good opening chapter. I like the storyline and the characters. I like the challenge and friendship being create in the chapter. I hope to read more of the interesting story. A excellent opening chapter.
Coyote

[Caramel]

Please right more as soon as possible, I'm really enjoying this xx