Part 15

The early morning watch was always the coldest and no matter how many layers she wore she never could get warm enough. 

Greza stood on the top of the fortress’s outer wall and walked up and down its length.  She had a matchlock cradled in her arms and the helmet was starting to feel heavy. 

The winter wind found every opening in her clothing and sliced at her.  Only her eyes were uncovered and she wished she had some way to cover those. 

And she had volunteered for this.  It was some kind of holiday for the Ekonians and a few other countries nearby.  She had never heard of this holiday but it apparently revolved around much eating and drinking. 

If there was one thing she didn’t like, it was being around drunk people.  She valued intelligence and wine and ale only served to make people into idiots. 

She looked out over the bleak landscape as the cold moon rose above the frozen marshes.  There were no fires allowed up on the walls because it would prevent the guards from seeing in the dark. 

“Who goes there?”  A friendly voice said. 

She looked over to see a large man walking towards her. 

“Ox?”

She was relieved it was only him.  Unlike most alpha dogs after being beaten, Ox actually befriended her.  That had been unexpected.

“I got tricked into volunteering.  How’d they get you?”  Ox asked.

“I don’t drink.”

He laughed. 

“No, I guess I’ve never seen you drink.”

He came over and looked out over the marshes beside her. 

“Not what you thought mercenary life would be when you signed up, right?”

“I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Still, never heard you complain.”

She shrugged. 

“You don’t come from a comfortable life, do you?” He asked.

She didn’t answer. 

“You can tell the ones that know what actual suffering is.  This,” he waved a hand around, “isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

“It’s cold.” 

“Very cold.  But things will be different once the campaigning season starts.  Then things will be so much better and so much worse.”

“How?”

“Better because we’ll be doing things and getting more money.  Worse because some of us will die and there will be hardships.  I’m not looking forward to the long marches.” 

“How long have you been in the Company?”

“Three years, four months and six days.”

“Long time.”

“Gladiator, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I’m from the empire and my mother worked on an estate.  I heard things about gladiators.”

She didn’t want to hear what horrible things he’d heard.  They’d only bring up memories she wished to keep buried. 

He just grunted and leaned on the battlements. 

“Once campaign season comes, you may look back on these cold nights with fondness.  At least we’re safe here,” he said. 

They didn’t talk much for the rest of their three hours, but it was nice to walk with someone. 

When she got back to her bunk she kicked her boots off and fell right asleep.  She had the morning off and wasn’t going to worry about breakfast.  She wanted sleep more. 

She was awakened by people singing in the male barracks area.  It was some drunken song devoid of meaning or beauty.  They all seemed to think it was funny though. 

Since sleep wasn’t going to happen anymore, she took out her scriptures and began reading.  Word had spread that she was a follower of the path of light and people mocked her behind her back.  “Zealot” was the most popular name for her. 

Then she sat up when she saw what this particular chapter was about. 

The Promised Victor.

The prophets said that he would be born amid fiery devastation that would kill his family yet he would be spared. That had happened.  It spoke how he would rise up and lead the people (which people?) to victory against a terrible threat from the west. 

The ancient prophets were never specific. 

But then she had to remember what had happened.  The child had been found and was being brought to the Imperial capitol when they were ambushed by men wearing red and black.  The child was taken and a week later his severed finger was sent as proof of his death. 

But the prophecy had to be fulfilled.  Was there another child somewhere that fit the criteria of the prophecy?  A second plan in case the first plan went wrong? 

Seemed logical. 

After lunch it was back to work.  Luckily the Lieutenant wasn’t around.  It was just Sgt. Deran.  He liked to keep his classes informal and they just gathered in the barracks.

Greza took a seat in the back like she usually did. 

“Alright soldiers, let’s begin,” Sgt. Deran said.  “What’s the most important piece of equipment you have to take care of on a long march.”

“Matchlock,” someone said. 

“No,” Sgt. Deran said.

“Sword in case of ambush,” another soldier said. 

“No.” 

“Map?”

“No.”

“Boots and socks,” Greza said.

Some of the soldiers laughed. 

“Stop laughing,” Deran said.  “She’s right.  Your socks.  Blisters, rot foot and rashes can all make a soldier a casualty just as easily as a gun.  Now, next question: how do we win wars?”

That was a broad question, but one she knew the answer to.  If she answered this one, they might resent her so she kept her mouth closed this time. 

“Bravery.”

“Skill.”

“Tactics.”

All of the answers were wrong. 

“Logistics,” Deran said. 

She knew this from reading.  Every great general knew that an army couldn’t march on an empty stomach or fight without equipment.  Beans, blades and blankets.

“The art of war is getting enough people with enough weapons and enough food to the right place at the right time,” Deran said. 

“Wait, what about fighting, weapons and soldiers?”  One of the men asked.

“Important, but they’re just a part of the equation.  Sure, better soldiers may win a battle, but it takes logistics to win a war.” 

They spent the rest of the two hour class using cups, shoes and knives to represent military units on a battlefield and went over all the strategies the Company used. 

“It’s important for the common soldier to understand your place in the battle.  It cuts down on confusion and confusion is lethal.”

She could think of several examples where misunderstood orders cost an army the battle. 

Everything he went over she had read about, but it was interesting to see someone with experience talk about them.  It made the battles make more sense.  Yes, she had read many books but experience was a very different thing and she paid attention. 

She wanted to learn everything she could about the art of war.  She wanted to know everything from how the supply wagons were organized to how the men formed up on the field. 

She wanted to become the best soldier she could be. 

Part 14

As winter came in they spent less and less time outdoors.  In this Northern country, the winters got painfully harsh.  No wonder no one did any campaigning in the cold season.     

The Company spent most of the time exercising in their own barracks, weapons drills in the courtyard, cleaning and doing a whole lot of nothing in the evenings.  Sometimes they were allowed to take a cart into the town that was five miles away and most of her platoon would blow their money in the tavern there. 

“Come on, Greza.  It’s not much but the ale’s not bad,” one of the males said as he put his boots on. 

There was a whole group, nearly half her platoon was going into town.  They had all just gotten paid.  She had never had so much money in her life.  She had never had any money for that matter.  Greza had counted and recounted the coins several times to make sure. 

“No thank you,” Greza said. 

“Are you one of those knee-bending temple types?”  One of the other males asked.

“My religion doesn’t allow me to drink,” she said.

“What worthless religion is that?”  He asked.  He had a clean shaven face and everyone said he liked his reflection more than anyone else.

“The Path of Light.”

“The Path of…wait, is that the church that was a fake?  Their chosen child was killed, right?  It’s been proven to be false.”

“It’s not false.  You simply have to have faith.”

This drew some laughter from the party that was getting ready to leave.

“Forget that hog swill and come with us.  You might actually have a good time.”

“No thank you.” 

Aside from not drinking, she also didn’t want to blow her newly earned money.  She was going to save every coin she could.  For what, she didn’t know, but one day she might leave the Company and she’d need money to live off of.  Maybe she’d buy a quiet farm somewhere.

Eventually the group left and the barracks were quiet again.  There were a few others there.  They were talking, playing cards and writing letters.  

Then one of the females, Burana, walked up and sat down on the bunk across from her.  She had flaming red hair and a face covered in freckles. 

“You believe in the Divine Light?”  Burana asked.

“I do.”

“Why?”

That wasn’t an easy question.  At first she had believed it because Erinad did.  But that hadn’t lasted long.  Soon she had started to see the hand of the gods in her own life.  The more she prayed the more she felt it. 

“I feel them,” Greza said.

“But, what about the Lost Victor?”

“A child was killed.  That isn’t the end of the prophecy.  The gods will fulfill their promise.  They always do.” 

“I follow Stanarius.”

Greza knew a little of Stanarius.  He was a god from the south.  Very ancient.  Ever since the Victor was lost, the religion of Stanarius grew.  They believed that the purpose of this life was to suffer and through suffering they grew closer to their god.  No wonder she didn’t go off to the tavern with the others. 

“Did you join the Company to suffer?”

“That is part of it.  I also needed to,” Burana said, but didn’t elaborate. 

“I needed to as well.”  She didn’t elaborate either. 

“The fortress has a library.  I’ve seen a copy of the Path of Light there.”

A copy of the ancient scriptures?

“Where?”

“Third floor.  East wing.”

She stood up and was about to leave, but she remembered her manners.

“Thank you,” Greza said. 

Burana nodded. 

Greza hurried through the halls and up the stairs.  She passed by other soldiers and was mostly ignored.  She got a few looks.  A half Ork wasn’t a common sight.  She was the only one she knew about. 

She wondered if they thought she was attractive.  It was certain that some of them did or given enough ale they would, but she never knew how she fell with most males.  The nobles that watched her fight would often make lurid remarks, but again she didn’t know if it was whatever beauty she possessed or her lethality they desired. 

It couldn’t be her hair.  Her thick, black hair hung about her face.  She hadn’t bothered to do anything with it today.  If she was training then she’d tie it back or one of the other females would offer to braid it, but other than that she mostly ignored it. 

Eventually she found the library.  It didn’t had more books than Erinad’s room.  Instead of being stacked in piles, the books were on shelves.  Dozens of shelves.  Each shelf was labeled.  History, philosophy, science, war, biographies, instructional, stories and religion. 

She quickly found the copy of “The Path of Light.”  It was the dustiest book on that shelf.  Opening it up she found that it was in good shape with clear lettering.  Like most books, it was in Imperial.  Printing started in the Empire so Imperial had become the language of books. 

With the precious book clutched to her chest, she hurried back to her barracks.  The female quarters were empty so she had plenty of solitude to read. 

She lay on her bunk and opened the book to the first page.  She’d never read the book cover to cover.  Erinad had always jumped around and taught by topic.  But finally she had the scriptures to read and she’d get to know this book like she knew herself. 

As she read she was amazed at the depth, complexity and (surprisingly) the overwhelming melancholy of the writing.  She had never thought of the scriptures as sad.  It seemed that the writers were in mourning for the sins of the world and the suffering that went on. 

It was late at night before she finally grew too tired to continue.  She marked her place with a weapon cleaning cloth and closed her eyes.  It was a half day tomorrow so she’d be able to sleep in. 

In the morning the bunks were covered in soldiers that were mostly still dressed.  They must have returned late at night and been too exhausted to do much more than collapse in bed. 

She took her book to the cafeteria and read as she ate. 

“The savage can read?  Or is she looking at the pictures?”  A familiar voice said. 

She looked up to see Hyrin flanked by three other men.  They all had that arrogant “Alpha” look to them, but they were followers, not leaders.

She ignored them and went back to her book. 

“Maybe she’s just trying to look smart?”  One of followers said.

“It aint working,” Hyrin said.  “I saw you got moved to the infantry front lines.  Perfect place for a mindless brute.”

If they were trying to anger her, they’d have to do much worse.  Their childish taunting was nothing compared to the vicious and biting insults of her Dark Elf masters.  They had had an instinct for finding her weakness and sticking the knife there.  These men were clumsy amateurs.  

Then her book was snatched out of her hands. 

“What’s the savage reading?”  Hyrin looked at the book and frowned.  “Path of Light?  Don’t tell me you actually believe this dung.”

“Give it back,” she said.

He just laughed. 

If she fought him, she’d win but she’d be thrown in jail, lashed and possibly kicked out. 

Instead she calmly stood up, then leapt across the table catching them by surprise.  She grabbed the book out of his hand and brought herself to stand face to face with him.  She could smell the fear on him. 

“Do you really want to fight me?”  She asked. 

He stood there, staring at her with wide eyes, fear clouding his thoughts.  Then he gulped and spoke.

“Let’s go, friends.  Leave the savage to her picture book.” 

They left and she went back to her meal.  She ignored the people that were now looking at her.  Maybe they thought she was a violent brute as well.  She didn’t care.  All her life she had been stared at and scorned.  This was nothing new. 

Part 13

 

Greza stood in formation in full uniform with two white stripes on her shoulder: the highest promotion of any other recruit.  They were graduating from recruit to soldier.  This was the day she would finally become a full member of the Chimera Company. 

This was her new home and she was proud to be a part of it.  As she looked around her she saw the beaming faces of her fellow recruits.

It was almost winter and the entire company had been pulled back to the fort as the campaigning season ended.  The Duke had returned from securing next years contracts, the contracts she’d help fulfill. 

She looked over at Nika who gave her a wink. 

Duke Verin watched from a balcony three stories up on the keep.  He had his companions and officers with him. 

It was strange but she really felt no connection to her fellow recruits.  She liked them and cared about them, but she felt no desire to be friends with them.  She had been alone all her life and was fine with being alone.  None of them could equal Erinad.  And unless they were assigned to her same unit she wouldn’t be fighting with them. 

She couldn’t talk to them about history, philosophy or religion.  All they cared about was drinking, gambling and doing nothing of any worth.  She wasn’t one of them. 

Sgt. Drakan read off a speech followed by a few other sergeants and officers.  She didn’t pay attention.  They meant well but nothing they could say could equal the beauty or poetry of the great orators or poets. 

She hated thinking about these speeches as “quaint,” but she couldn’t help it.  She wasn’t impressed. Ironic since she had a reputation for being a dumb brute. 

Then they came to the part that interested her: the unit assignments.

One by one they read off a name and a unit.  The new solider would then walk over to their new commanding officer.  None of them would be assigned to cavalry.  That was reserved for people who had proven themselves as infantry first. 

She stood there and waited for her name.  Greza hoped to be sent to a scout platoon.  She would rather be on her own, allowed to do things her own way instead of stuck in a formation, unable to break out or make a difference.

Yuro was assigned to an artillery battery and Nika went to a medic unit. 

Then she heard her name. 

“Greza of Roristan.  First Infantry Company, third platoon.”

Infantry?  She’d just be a front line fighter?  That seemed a criminal waste. 

She maintained her discipline and moved quickly to where she was directed.  A scowling woman in a decorated uniform waited her with a platoon behind him.   She lined up in the new formation and tried to figure out what asinine thought process led her here.  

Once the ceremony ended everyone clapped and then the different units broke up to continue with whatever they were doing. 

The female lieutenant led them inside the keep and into one of the many barracks. 

“Alright, listen up everyone.” The Lt.  said.  We have a new soldier.  I don’t want to see our standards slip to make up for her incompetence.  Maintain discipline and don’t disappoint me.” 

Then she turned and left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind her everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Good, she’s gone.  Now we can welcome you properly,” one of the soldiers said.  He was an Elf male with a shaved head (most males kept their hair very short,) and a long scar down his cheek and neck. 

“Don’t pay too much attention to lieutenant Tezana.  She’s got a red moon every day of the month,” a female human said. 

“What’s your name?”  Someone asked.

“Greza.”

“Welcome to Third Platoon.”

She then was barraged by all the usual questions which she answered with patience. 

“You’re that recruit everyone says is a good fighter.  They say you beat Sgt. Drakan like he was a child.”

“Yes,” Greza said.

Then a man with dark skin and short beard sat down at the table next to her. 

“You really that tough?”  The man asked.

Greza shrugged. 

“Let’s see,” he said.

He put his elbow on the table with his hand open in the air.  What was that supposed to mean?

“If you’re really that tough then you’ll have no problem with me,” the man said.

“Come on Terak, she’s half your size,” someone called out.

“Leave her alone,” someone else said.

“No, if she can beat Sgt. Drakan, then she can beat me.  Arm wrestle me, girl.”

Ah, that’s what he wanted.  She had seen this before. 

She put her elbow on the table and took his hand. 

Some people laughed.  Others cheered and others gasped in surprise.  Apparently this was the alpha dog of the pack. 

She didn’t know if she could beat him, but if she put up enough of a fight she could gain some respect. 

Someone placed their hand over both of their hands and then released, signaling that the match had began. 

Instantly they both began pushing.  The man was strong, she had to give him that.  He even started to push her arm back.  Then she adjusted once she realized that she wouldn’t have to worry about not hurting him and pushed back. 

There were gasps when their hands went vertical again.  She was holding her own.  She didn’t know if she had the strength to push him back but she could definitely maintain.  It would be a risky move to push back.  Perhaps it was worth it. 

No, this man’s strength was an unknown.  She’d maintain and play it safe.  Hopefully she would outlast him. 

“I can’t believe she’s lasting this long,” someone said from behind her. 

“She’s as strong as Ox!” 

The man, apparently named “Ox” was starting to turn red.  He was clearly putting everything he had into this.  That meant he had no reserves and from what she’d seen of Humans, it meant he wouldn’t last much longer. 

A full minute went by before she slowly began pushing him back. 

“Impossible!”  Someone said.

Ox tried one last time to push back and managed to go vertical again but it didn’t last long.  After that his strength gave out and she slammed his hand against the table. 

The room exploded in cheering and shouts.  Hands patted her on the shoulders and back. 

She had taken out the pack leader and began to think that perhaps that was a good thing.  There was no desire to be Alpha herself, but the respect would be useful. 

Then a Human male with sergeant stripes on his armor came in.  Everyone quieted down but not to silence.  His eyes found her. 

“You’re Greza, huh?  Welcome to Third Platoon,” he said with a smile. 

There was a chorus of agreements. 

“Greza, you’re going to be assigned as a targeteer.  You’re in my squad.”

A targeteer, the most dangerous job in the army.  She would be at the very front of the battle.  They only saw her ability to kill and nothing else. 

Perhaps it was her own fault.  She didn’t let her education show.  Years of hiding it had made her too good at appearing to be a cipher.  

“Yes, sergeant,” she said while trying to hide her disappointment. 

Part 12

After three weeks of weapons training, tactics and strategy, they were ready for their first mock battle.  Greza stood in the front line next to her fellow recruits.  Across the marshy field was an equal sized force made up of Chimera soldiers.  Everyone wore chain mail armor and helmets. 

She was a targeteer.  In her hands were a large, rectangular shield that could supposedly stop bullets and a pistol in her hand.  Four more pistols were on a bandolier across her chest.  None of them were loaded with ball, just powder to make a ‘bang’ sound. 

Judges were along with each army to decide who lived and who died.  Sgt. Drakan was their leader and she was in charge of a squad of five other recruits.  Yuro was the only one she really knew in her squad of targeteers. 

They all had their shields and pistols ready.  A wooden sword was on her hip but if it came down to hand to hand, she doubted that she’d need it. 

The gunners were behind them with their matchlocks resting on the tops of their axes and the pikemen were on the flanks, ready to move in if there was trouble. 

“Well, look at that,” Drakan said in almost a whisper. 

She looked to where he was looking and saw Duke Verin and his two companions riding up to the field. 

“They come to see how amazing we are,” Hyrin said from somewhere behind her. 

Again he was flanked by the bull and raven.  None of them spoke a word, they just watched from their saddles. 

She turned back to the unit of veterans in front of her.  They had been told to go easy on them, but she wondered how easy it was really going to be.  She knew all too well the difference between a fighter who was trained or untrained. 

Greza tightened the grip on her shield and looked over the “enemy.” Chances were that these were men and women she’d be fighting along side once she joined the company.  She had impress them.

Unfortunately raw fighting ability wouldn’t do it.  She had to show them that she could work in a unit and follow orders. 

The metal helmet with the padding was hot even in the cold air of the approaching winter and the chain mail weighed her down. Sgt. Drakan said that once a person got used to it they wouldn’t notice they were wearing it.  That day couldn’t come soon enough.  She was used to fighting in significantly less. 

Then the whistle blew and the battle started.  She listened for the horn calls of their orders. 

A single long note from a horn sounded telling them to advance at walking pace.  The tall grass was damp from the morning dew and the bottom of her jacket, near the tops of her boots was getting soaked. 

Focus, Greza. 

Two short blasts from the horn told them to stop.  When they stopped she waved her squad to take a knee and plant their shields to form a wall to protect the gunners.

Behind her the gunners opened fire.  The light charges in their matchlocks didn’t have the sudden, sharp violence a real gunshot had. 

The veteran squad fired a second later and judges began running back and forth tying red cloth to “casualties.”  Orders were being shouted and guns were firing.  She aimed her pistol and fired. 

One of her squad went down with a red cloth tied around their arm creating a gap in the gunners shield wall. 

“Close the hole!” Greza called out. 

They probably didn’t hear her over all the noise, but they saw her hand gestures and moved in closer. 

Then the veteran squad charged with their targeteers in front and axes in back.

“Hold position!” She shouted out. 

Their pikemen moved up and counter charged. 

Suddenly everything was chaos.  The enemy were right on top of them and she had a man with a padded axe banging away at her shield.  The shield was huge and awkward and she couldn’t get a hit on him with her pistol. 

So, she dropped the pistol and shield rammed the man, knocking him up and off his feet. 

Without pausing she kicked another enemy soldier to her side and hurried back to into relative position.

One of the recruit axemen was tangled up with an enemy targeteer and she kicked the enemy in the back of the knee which brought him to the ground. 

Then an axe blade caught her shield and pulled hard, almost yanking the shield out of her hands.  She yanked back and pulled the man right up to her.  That was right where she wanted an enemy. 

She grabbed the man by his chainmail with her free hand and pushed him back into the men behind him.  He fell off balance and collided with his men. 

When she looked around next she was surrounded by enemy.  They had pushed her men back and she was alone. 

She could either make a very hasty retreat and hope to make it or fight.  She made a quick glance behind her and saw an axeman ready to take a swing.  She wasn’t getting out without a fight. 

There was nothing else to think about. 

Greza threw her shield at the axeman and charged.  He sidestepped the shield and was ready for her charge.  He swung with a wide overhead swing.  This man wasn’t holding back.  Even with the padding, that blow would cause serious pain if it connected. 

But she didn’t let the blow connect.  She dodged to the side just enough to avoid it and came in to tackle him in the waist.  He had thrown himself off balance with his vicious swing and left himself wide open.  Wrapping both arms around him she heaved with her legs and lifted him off the ground.  Then she slammed him into the ground on his back. 

He lay there stunned while she snatched the axe out of his hand and turned to face the enemy. 

There were three matchlocks pointed at her.  An officer stood behind them.  She recognized him as one of the officers she helped train. 

“You’re too dangerous to let loose,” the officer said. 

The three guns fired and she felt a judge tie a red cloth around her arm. 

She sighed and dropped the axe.  The veterans were looking at her but she couldn’t tell what they saw.  Had she disappointed them or did they not care?

When she looked for her unit she saw they were all lying on the ground with red cloth on their arms. 

They had been beaten that quickly?  How embarrassing. 

The veterans withdrew and left the recruits to themselves.  The veterans were laughing and patting themselves on the back as they walked back to the fortress. 

“How’d you do?”  Nika asked as she sat down next to her.

She shrugged. 

“Not good, huh?”  Nika asked.

“I guess not.” 

Then Duke Verin got down from his horse and approached their group.  They all stood and saluted with fists to their chests.  He waved them all and motioned for them to take their seats again. 

He stood there with his hands resting on his pistol belt.  He was very relaxed and held himself with a subtle confidence that she admired.  This man knew he could kill most people he met.  But he also looked like someone who wouldn’t want to. 

“You just got your first taste of what a battle is like,” Duke Verin said.  “Let me assure you that the real thing is much worse.  Instead of wet grass you’ll be slipping on your friends’ blood.  Those men went easy on you today.  Its different when the man in front of you is trying his hardest to kill you.

“You never had a chance to win this battle.  I want you to know what you’re up against.  I also wanted to show you what you can become.  In a week’s time you will graduate from recruit to a soldier in my army.  If you wish to succeed then you must learn discipline and integrity.  I don’t care what you’ve heard.  We are not brigands and cut-throats.  We are professional soldiers.  That said, we will also destroy whatever enemy we face. We do not hold back until the fighting is done.”

She listened to every word he said.  His voice was like a calm music ready to burst into a powerful explosion of sound.  Behind each word was a book full of meaning.  He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She knew at that moment that this was a man worthy of her respect.  She would gladly serve him in any way possible. 

When he finished speaking, Duke Verin gave them a relaxed salute and mounted back up on his horse.  Wordlessly they rode back to the fortress. 

Sgt. Drakan stood up in front of them. 

“That was our Duke. Listen to him and you can’t go wrong.  Now, let’s go over today’s action.”

She barely listened to the report of their performance.  The Duke’s words still sang through her mind and she was lost in thought until she heard her name. 

“Greza?”

“Here!”

There was some laughing. 

“Good work today.  You kept the formation as long as you could and then fought like a manticore until you were overwhelmed.  Let that be a lesson to all of you.  No one, no matter how tough, can survive on their own.  That is why you must all keep together or the whole thing falls apart.” 

But his words faded away as the sound of the Duke’s voice filled her memory once again. 

Part 11

Part 11

Greza stood at attention with the rest of the recruits as Lieutenant Daren walked up and down their ranks.  He was a tall, thin man with blond hair.  He walked with precise movements and he said very little. 

Their silence was more frightening than Sgt. Drakan’s shouting. 

“Recruits, today you will begin your basic marksmanship training,” the Lt. said.   “Over the next three weeks we will test and score you on every weapon in our inventory.  How you perform will determine where we put you once you join our ranks.  If you score high with the hand to hand weapons, you will be made a targeteer.  If you excel in physical training and survival you will be a scout.  If you’re a good marksman, you will be one of our gunners.” 

They were split into groups and her group would be training with the matchlock for the next few days.

She knew how to kill up close but she had never killed at a distance.  It seemed that if she could end the fight before getting close then that seemed a better way of doing it.

The instructor, a veteran soldier, showed them how to load and fire.  The matchlock was a large, heavy thing and at first it felt awkward but as she learned how to hold it and use it properly it became almost natural. 

As Greza began loading her matchlock she heard shouting coming from the gatehouse.  Everyone stopped and turned to see what was going on. 

The portcullis opened and a column of horsemen came riding in.  They were fully armored with visored helmets, banners and dragoon matchlocks in scabbards. There were a few people on foot including the largest man she had ever seen.  He was as tall as a man on a horse and wore some kind of frightening horned helmet.

Then her eyes fell on one rider in particular.  He was wearing a fur coat over his black armor and his helmet hung from his saddle.  He was a young man but with ancient eyes.  He had stubble on his face and head and not special adornments, banners or anything else to mark him as separate, but she knew at a glance that this was Duke Verin. 

As Duke Verin glanced around the courtyard she saw a small measure of pleasure but mostly she saw sadness.  This was a troubled man.  Like her, he knew what it was like to take a life.  To become such a famous warrior at a young age he must have started early. 

One thing the history books never mentioned was where he came from.  He showed up on the records eight years ago at the head of a small mercenary band and in two years time had built a large and successful company.  Before that his life was an complete unknown. 

They rode into the middle of the courtyard and dismounted.  Men came out and took their horses.  His companions walked up to him.  The enormous man with the horns walked up and took off his helmet.  When he did she saw that it wasn’t the helmet that had horns, but the man. 

It was a minotaur.  She had only ever read about them.  Now that she had a chance she took a closer look and saw that he had hooves and a head that only superficially resembled a bull’s.  He was covered in hair and had sharp teeth in his short snout. 

The other person that approached Duke Verin was a small woman with shiny black hair that hung to her waist and.  She was pale with dark eyes that were constantly on the move.  She slumped as she walked and kept rubbing her slender hands together.  She had a loose robe over her armor and billowed out on either side of her like wings. 

Duke Verin’s companions stood on either side of him and for a moment Greza stood immobile.  The moment froze and Greza knew there was meaning behind this.  The others were watching because it was their duke, returned home at last, but Greza saw something else entirely. 

She saw a hero with a bull and a raven at his side. 

It was an image of what the Promised Victor was supposed to be.  Perhaps she was having a vision of what might have been. 

But then the moment passed and the duke turned and entered the keep with his companions. 

“That was Duke Verin, everyone.  I’ve never fought under a better man,” the veteran trainer said. 

Greza turned toward him.

“Why?”  She asked.

“He brings us victory.”

“That all?”

The veteran shook his shaved head. 

“If that were all, he’d get my respect.  Duke Verin gets my life and honor.”

Greza was about to ask why but the veteran began barking out more orders to load their guns. 

They continued on with the day of matchlock training.  She managed to focus, but in breaks in training she’d look up at the keep and wonder why she saw him as the Lost Victor.  A minotaur wasn’t a bull and the small woman with black hair and black eyes wasn’t a raven.  Besides, the Victor was dead: murdered by cultists.

But her mind wouldn’t leave the thought behind and she went to bed thinking about it. 

The next day they brought them outside the walls to a range where hay target dummies were lined up.  She was already the quickest loader but she didn’t know how she’d do with actually firing the gun. 

The first rank fired at the dummies and then her rank stepped forward.  She took aim like she had been taught and let out her breath as she squeezed the lever that activated the lock. 

The arm holding the lit wick came down to a small pan covered in gunpowder.  There was a flash and suddenly the gun went off.  The noise hurt her ears and the gun kicked her shoulder.  It had been more than she had expected. 

There was a smoking hole in the shoulder of the dummy. 

“Not bad,” the instructor called out.  “Some of you actually managed to hit your targets.” 

By the end of the day they were hitting their targets almost every time. 

“Good work everyone.  Tomorrow we’ll double the distance to usual combat range and see how you do from there.” 

She enjoyed shooting the matchlock.  She was a little quicker on loading than most but she hadn’t been the best shot from her group.  Still, it was something that she’d want to hone and become proficient at even if she wasn’t assigned as a gunner. 

Greza lay in bed unable to sleep.  Duke Verin kept entering her mind.  It meant something.  A message of some sort. 

She held her Symbol of Light as she drifted off into sleep. 

The next morning they went back to the range for more target practice.  During a break she took the opportunity to speak to the instructor. 

“Sir?” 

“Yes, recruit?”

“Where did Duke Verin come from?”

“From a mother that bedded a man, just like everyone else.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

The veteran soldier looked around and then motioned for her to sit down on the block of hay next to him.  She took her seat beside him. 

“You’d learn sooner or later so I might as well be the one.  Someone else would tell you some pigswill and get it wrong.  Listen to the story and decide if you could follow such a man. I swear that you’ll find none better.”

This didn’t sound like it was going to be a pleasant story.

“Our Duke didn’t start off to a life of privilege.  He was born a parentless slave.”

That couldn’t be right.  The duke, the ruler of this country had been a slave like her?  Slaves couldn’t rule.  They’d always have the stigma against them.

“Verin escaped from his masters, killing a few of them in the process, and joined a mercenary company when he was fourteen.  He didn’t fight at first but he kept his eyes and ears open.  Then during a battle their positions were being overrun.  He grabbed a sword from the blacksmith’s tent and fought to protect the camp.  After that he rose through the ranks like he was a big city scholar going through a county jail.”

He stopped and looked at her.  

“You seem surprised,” he said.

“Confused, maybe.”

“Why? Because you were a slave?”

“How did…”

“You have the same look in your eyes that he has.  I’ve seen other escaped slaves come here.  We’re a haven.  You carry yourself like one.  Even now you won’t look me in the eyes.” 

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows what to look for.”   

Part 10

Greza trained with the officers every day. Though they were learning quickly none of them were a threat to her.  She could rip any of them apart with her bare hands without blinking. 

She knew she was good, but these were professional soldiers. 

Every day she wore her newly carved symbol of Light under her shirt.  It was like having her father with her at all times. 

“They stole it!” Bosha said as she began to frantically search through her footlocker.

“No one stole it, whatever it is,” Vertia said. 

“Well, it aint where I put it.”

“Doesn’t mean they stole it.”

“Someone took it.  It didn’t fly off.”

Today was their one day of rest a week.  They were to clean their clothes, clean their barracks and rest their bodies.  The night before they had done a five mile run.  Many of the recruits weren’t used to such activity and were now complaining of soreness.  She couldn’t help but wonder how the humans became a dominant race. 

She knew of course.  They came to the continent two thousand years ago with steel armor and weapons.  Their pike formations and heavy armor were unstoppable.  If their numbers had been greater they would have conquered the entire continent.  As it was they founded the First Empire. 

Even now a human sat on the throne.

While Nika played cards with one of the other females Greza took her towel and went to the bathroom down the hall.  No other female would be taking a bath at this time. 

She pulled the cord which lowered a tube and water came down.  She filled her bucket and sat on a stool beside it.  As she scrubbed she thought about where her life was now.  It was hard to imagine that she wasn’t a slave anymore.  She still had to obey and do as she was told so she still felt like a slave, but what was different was that she could leave at any time.  Once she graduated and gained more freedom she wouldn’t have the illusion of being a slave anymore and she wondered how she’d accept that. 

Then the bathroom door opened and Nika came in. 

“I thought I’d join you Grez. I…”  Then Nika’s eyes fell on Greza’s back and Greza turned away.  “What happened?”

Greza’s back was covered in scars from numerous beatings and whippings.  Her shoulders and legs were covered in training and battle scars.  The explanations would bring up humiliating memories she did not wish to think about.

She also worried if Verita and the others would think less of her.  Would all her skill at fighting mean nothing if she was just an escaped slave?

Vertia came over took a stool in front of her.  Her large brown eyes looked right at her and Greza kept her gaze on the ground. 

“Grez, speak to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?  But…”

“It’s nothing, I said.  I was a slave.  Slaves get beaten.  There’s nothing to say.”

“I’m sorry.” 

They both fell silent for a while.  Then Nika spoke up again.

“I thought pig farming was bad.” 

Nika stripped down and began washing herself as well. 

“So, tell me, Grez, why believe in a dead religion?”

“It’s not dead.”

“Well, it will be soon.  Only a few fanatics still believe in it.”   

“I’m not a fanatic.”

“Exactly.  So why do you?”

“I was taught and I believed.”

“You need to work on your conversational skills.” 

“I am beginner skill level.”

Nika laughed.

“That you are.” 

“Have you seen Duke Verin?”

She had been here for two weeks and so far she had yet to see the young duke that had made it into the history books already.  He started this mercenary company and had taken over this kingdom.  She was curious to see how the stories matched with the man.

The next day they fell into formation as they always did.  It was cold enough to see their breath and it was raining.  Their rain ponchos weren’t helping very much.

“Good morning recruits.  Lovely weather, isn’t it?  Today we won’t be doing weapons practice.  Today we have an obstacle course to test your strength, endurance and problem solving.”

He led them out of the gate and over to the west side of the fortress.  There she saw a “figure 8” track covered in walls, ropes and other obstacles she’d need to get a closer look at before understanding. 

They marched to the start of the course and listened while Sgt. Drakan go over the rules and telling them all to be safe.  Everywhere they went there were rules and warnings about safety. 

The course was run one person at a time but with only a minute in between so it was possible to be overtaken by the next person.  The order was by whoever the Sergeant saw first so she wasn’t last this time.  It didn’t really matter.  If this course was designed for humans then she’d have no difficulty.  Some of her fellow recruits were worried, but they were humans and Elves. 

When it was her turn she took off running and climbed over the first wall without a problem.  Then she climbed a rope, walked across a beam and down a rope again.  She crawled under barbed posts, up and down a small tower and hopped from one post to another.  All of it was too easy and she passed by two of the others. 

Then she came to a tunnel filled with water and she stopped and stared.  It was a hole in the ground that she had to go in and come out the other side.  But it was filled with water. 

Water meant death.  If she went in there she would die.  Every particle of her brain screamed against going in the water.  Orks couldn’t swim.  They sunk like stones.  She read in a book of science that due to the denser muscle mass of Ork muscle tissue, it meant they weren’t buoyant and were instinctually afraid of water. 

She had never tried to swim before but her instincts were freezing her in place.  Knowing the science wasn’t helping the irrational fear that was causing her hands to shake.  Just the thought of being trapped in that watery tunnel was enough to make her want to run away.

Then Yuro came up behind her.

“What’s wrong, Grez?  Jump in and get moving,”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t swim?”

“No.”

“Don’t need to.  Just pull yourself along the way. It’s easy.”

He climbed in, took a deep breath and went under.  A few seconds later he came out the other side and continued on without pause. 

Then she saw Sgt. Drakan walking towards her.  He was going to ask why she was standing there and force her to go in.  He would be angry with her and wouldn’t trust or respect her.  She had to do it. 

If she didn’t go in she’d let him and her fellow recruits down.  They expected more from her.  She would embarrass them.  Drakan would be ashamed of her. 

It felt as though everyone was looking at her. 

Perhaps some of them would feel fear like this before a battle.  It was a soldier’s duty to move passed such fear.  If she couldn’t beat this then she couldn’t be a soldier. 

That would leave her with nothing. 

Greza climbed in the muddy water.  It came up to her waist. 

Just pull yourself along, she thought over and over again. 

She took a deep breath and plunged down. 

Blind, she groped for the sides of the tunnel and felt the wood beams.  It wasn’t a tight squeeze and she could get good hand holds.  Frantic, by being buried by water, she began to scramble down the tunnel.  Her hands clawed for anything and her feet kicked as fast as she could. 

She felt her air running out and the water crushing down on her.  She saw herself drowning and sinking down into an endless abyss. 

But then her head broke the surface and she gasped for air.  Greza climbed out of the pool and lay on the ground gasping for air.  Her hands and entire body were shaking now. 

Then she felt strong hands lift her up to her feet. 

It was Sgt. Drakan.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said.

“Did what, sergeant?”  She asked with a quivering voice.

“I’ve never seen anyone with Ork blood go into the water.”

“But you ordered us through the course.  I had to.”

For the first time she saw him smile.

“I was coming over to say that you can go around.  I forgot to tell you at the beginning,” he said and then paused to look at her.  “You alright to continue?”

“I will continue,” she said with a voice that didn’t sound ‘alright.’

He patted her on the back and walked away. 

She finished the course though not nearly as fast as she had been.  When she came to the end she walked over to where the other finished recruits were and collapsed on the ground. 

“You alright, Grez?”  Nika asked.

Greza nodded.

“You sure?  You’re shaking.” 

“It’s nothing.”

Nika eyed her and obviously didn’t believe her.