Glade 113 Age of steel, Zaichaer
Myles woke up before dawn on his first day at boot camp, his stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He’d been filled with spite and liquor when he’d signed up, Now without those to fuel him he just felt anxious. He dressed quickly in his plain gray tunic and trousers, knowing that he would soon be issued his armor and weapons.
As he stepped outside, the cool morning air sent a shiver down his spine. The barracks were located in the heart of mountains northeast of Zaichaer, surrounded by jagged peaks that towered over the training grounds below. Myles could feel the weight of the mountains bearing down on him, reminding him of the enormous responsibility he had taken on for the entire wagon ride to the proving grounds of the Ziachaeri Military. There was little chatter amongst the recruits, while some seemed resolved others also seemed to be having second and third thoughts.
He joined the other recruits outside the barracks, standing at attention as the captain of the training company addressed them.
"Welcome to boot camp," the captain said in a stern voice. "For the next six months, you will be pushed to your limits. You will learn to fight, to survive, and to work as a team. And when you graduate, you will be the best defenders the Zaichaeri have ever seen. That or you will die trying, hah, don’t worry, we only lose one recruit every few years, just don’t be them.”
With that, the captain assigned the recruits to their respective squads and sent them off to begin their training. Myles was assigned to Squad Three, led by a grizzled veteran named Sergeant Thorne. Thorne was a towering figure, with broad shoulders and a bushy beard that almost obscured his face. He looked Myles up and down, a scowl on his face.
"Follow me, recruit," Thorne growled, leading Myles to the armory. The armory was a massive chamber filled with racks of weapons and armor. Myles gaped in awe as Thorne handed him a suit of chainmail and a wooden sword.
"Get dressed," Thorne said. "We have a long day ahead of us."
Myles struggled into his armor, feeling the weight of the metal pressing against his skin. He picked up the sword, surprised at how heavy it was, the wooden blade had been banded with lead he realized. Thorne led him out of the armory and into the training grounds.
The training grounds were a sprawling expanse of dirt and grass, with targets and obstacles scattered throughout. Other squads were already hard at work, running drills and sparring with each other trading blows and parries in rapid succession. Myles felt a pang of envy as he watched them, wishing he could already be as skilled as they were.
"First lesson, recruit," Thorne said, pulling Myles out of his reverie. "Never let your guard down."
With that, Thorne lunged at Myles, his wooden sword whistling through the air. Myles barely had time to react, but managed to block the blow with his off arm earning him a wicked bruise near instantly. Thorne attacked again and again, and Myles struggled to keep up. Sweat poured down his face, and his arms ached from the effort of holding up his sword, for what felt like five minutes but had had likely only been a single minute Thorne pressed Myles back with a series of wicked strikes that Myles struggled to fend off. As the morning wore on, Myles found himself growing more and more tired. But he refused to give up. He knew that he had to prove himself if he wanted to succeed in the defense force. And so he fought on, even as his muscles screamed for rest.
By the time the sun began reach the zenith of its arc, Myles was exhausted. His chainmail felt like it weighed a ton, and his arms felt like they were about to fall off. But he also felt a sense of pride. He had survived his first day of boot camp without vomiting or crying something not all the recruits he’d observed could claim, and he knew that he had taken the first step towards becoming a true defender of the Zaichaeri and one step away from his father’s plans for him.
As they walked through the winding paths of the mountain boot camp, Thorne led Myles and the other three recruits that had been assigned to squad three towards their bunkhouse. The crisp mountain air and the sound of birds singing was a stark contrast to the rigorous training they had undergone all day.
"Alright, we're here," Thorne said, gesturing towards the small wooden building in front of them. "This is your new home for the next few months. You'll all be sharing a room, so I suggest you get to know each other."
Myles glanced over at the other three recruits, feeling a bit nervous about introducing himself. But he knew that they would be training and fighting alongside each other, so it was important to establish a bond.
"My name is Myles," he said, stepping forward. "I come from a small village in the south. I've always dreamed of joining the Zaichaeri defense force and fighting for our kingdom.” He said, lying through his teeth, He was from the Zaichaer itself and relatively highborn at that, something he’d come to grow somewhat ashamed of.
The other recruits nodded in greeting, and one of them spoke up next. "I'm Althea," she said with a small smile. "I'm from the capital city, and I've been training for this my entire life. I'm ready to prove myself." Myles didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t know who he was if she learned his last name.
The third recruit was a tall, muscular man with a shaved head. "Name's Kael," he said gruffly. "I grew up in the northern mountains, so I'm used to tough terrain. Can't wait to get started." There was something off about this man, He looked like he’d hit puberty twice with the amount of hair growing out of him.
The last recruit was a quiet, bookish-looking man who seemed to be studying the camp's surroundings with great interest. "My name is Eli," he said softly. "I come from a family of scholars, but I wanted to do something more. I hope to learn a lot here."
With introductions out of the way, Thorne led them inside the bunkhouse. The room was small but cozy, with four beds lined up against the wall and a small table in the center. There was a single window that looked out onto the surrounding mountains.
"Make yourselves at home," Thorne said, nodding towards the beds. "You'll be spending a lot of time in here when you're not training, so get comfortable." With that Thorne left the beaten and bruised recruits to the silence of the mountain.
As night fell, Myles and his three new squadmates sat in their bunkhouse, feeling exhausted from their first day of training. The room was sparse, with four small beds lined up against the walls and a few lockers for their personal belongings. The only source of light came from a dim lamp on a small table in the center of the room. Although there were no rules against it there was little conversation that first night, the soon to be soldiers too tired to muster the idea of camaraderie with how exhausted they all were.
Myles could hear the soft snores of his comrades as they fell asleep one by one. He, however, found it difficult to get comfortable in his new bed. He missed the warmth and comfort of his own home, and the sounds of the city outside his window that he had grown so accustomed to. Here in this mountainous boot camp, everything was different. The air was colder, the bed was harder, and the silence was eerier.
He tried to relax and let his mind wander, but it was impossible. He felt a sense of unease, knowing that his life had taken a drastic turn. He was no longer just a citizen, but a soldier, with duties and responsibilities that he was not yet fully equipped to handle. The thought was daunting, but there was a reward in knowing that he was directly disobeying his father in a way that his father was helpless to do anything about.
Myles couldn't help but wonder what his father was doing at that very moment. Were they thinking about him? Were they proud of him? Had he read the letter Myles had left him in his study, he wondered if he’d kept or burned it? He wished he could see the look on his face when he’d realized Myles had found a way to avoid his plans for him without smearing the family reputation. If the price of all that was some discomfort in the mountains he could learn to tolerate it.
As he lay there, Myles realized that he was not alone in his discomfort. He could hear one of his squadmates tossing and turning in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Another was quietly sobbing, he wondered if the crying came from Althea or Eli, he couldn’t imagine Kael to be the source. Too tired to find out Myles succumbed to the exhaustion of the day.
Myles woke up before dawn on his first day at boot camp, his stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He’d been filled with spite and liquor when he’d signed up, Now without those to fuel him he just felt anxious. He dressed quickly in his plain gray tunic and trousers, knowing that he would soon be issued his armor and weapons.
As he stepped outside, the cool morning air sent a shiver down his spine. The barracks were located in the heart of mountains northeast of Zaichaer, surrounded by jagged peaks that towered over the training grounds below. Myles could feel the weight of the mountains bearing down on him, reminding him of the enormous responsibility he had taken on for the entire wagon ride to the proving grounds of the Ziachaeri Military. There was little chatter amongst the recruits, while some seemed resolved others also seemed to be having second and third thoughts.
He joined the other recruits outside the barracks, standing at attention as the captain of the training company addressed them.
"Welcome to boot camp," the captain said in a stern voice. "For the next six months, you will be pushed to your limits. You will learn to fight, to survive, and to work as a team. And when you graduate, you will be the best defenders the Zaichaeri have ever seen. That or you will die trying, hah, don’t worry, we only lose one recruit every few years, just don’t be them.”
With that, the captain assigned the recruits to their respective squads and sent them off to begin their training. Myles was assigned to Squad Three, led by a grizzled veteran named Sergeant Thorne. Thorne was a towering figure, with broad shoulders and a bushy beard that almost obscured his face. He looked Myles up and down, a scowl on his face.
"Follow me, recruit," Thorne growled, leading Myles to the armory. The armory was a massive chamber filled with racks of weapons and armor. Myles gaped in awe as Thorne handed him a suit of chainmail and a wooden sword.
"Get dressed," Thorne said. "We have a long day ahead of us."
Myles struggled into his armor, feeling the weight of the metal pressing against his skin. He picked up the sword, surprised at how heavy it was, the wooden blade had been banded with lead he realized. Thorne led him out of the armory and into the training grounds.
The training grounds were a sprawling expanse of dirt and grass, with targets and obstacles scattered throughout. Other squads were already hard at work, running drills and sparring with each other trading blows and parries in rapid succession. Myles felt a pang of envy as he watched them, wishing he could already be as skilled as they were.
"First lesson, recruit," Thorne said, pulling Myles out of his reverie. "Never let your guard down."
With that, Thorne lunged at Myles, his wooden sword whistling through the air. Myles barely had time to react, but managed to block the blow with his off arm earning him a wicked bruise near instantly. Thorne attacked again and again, and Myles struggled to keep up. Sweat poured down his face, and his arms ached from the effort of holding up his sword, for what felt like five minutes but had had likely only been a single minute Thorne pressed Myles back with a series of wicked strikes that Myles struggled to fend off. As the morning wore on, Myles found himself growing more and more tired. But he refused to give up. He knew that he had to prove himself if he wanted to succeed in the defense force. And so he fought on, even as his muscles screamed for rest.
By the time the sun began reach the zenith of its arc, Myles was exhausted. His chainmail felt like it weighed a ton, and his arms felt like they were about to fall off. But he also felt a sense of pride. He had survived his first day of boot camp without vomiting or crying something not all the recruits he’d observed could claim, and he knew that he had taken the first step towards becoming a true defender of the Zaichaeri and one step away from his father’s plans for him.
As they walked through the winding paths of the mountain boot camp, Thorne led Myles and the other three recruits that had been assigned to squad three towards their bunkhouse. The crisp mountain air and the sound of birds singing was a stark contrast to the rigorous training they had undergone all day.
"Alright, we're here," Thorne said, gesturing towards the small wooden building in front of them. "This is your new home for the next few months. You'll all be sharing a room, so I suggest you get to know each other."
Myles glanced over at the other three recruits, feeling a bit nervous about introducing himself. But he knew that they would be training and fighting alongside each other, so it was important to establish a bond.
"My name is Myles," he said, stepping forward. "I come from a small village in the south. I've always dreamed of joining the Zaichaeri defense force and fighting for our kingdom.” He said, lying through his teeth, He was from the Zaichaer itself and relatively highborn at that, something he’d come to grow somewhat ashamed of.
The other recruits nodded in greeting, and one of them spoke up next. "I'm Althea," she said with a small smile. "I'm from the capital city, and I've been training for this my entire life. I'm ready to prove myself." Myles didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t know who he was if she learned his last name.
The third recruit was a tall, muscular man with a shaved head. "Name's Kael," he said gruffly. "I grew up in the northern mountains, so I'm used to tough terrain. Can't wait to get started." There was something off about this man, He looked like he’d hit puberty twice with the amount of hair growing out of him.
The last recruit was a quiet, bookish-looking man who seemed to be studying the camp's surroundings with great interest. "My name is Eli," he said softly. "I come from a family of scholars, but I wanted to do something more. I hope to learn a lot here."
With introductions out of the way, Thorne led them inside the bunkhouse. The room was small but cozy, with four beds lined up against the wall and a small table in the center. There was a single window that looked out onto the surrounding mountains.
"Make yourselves at home," Thorne said, nodding towards the beds. "You'll be spending a lot of time in here when you're not training, so get comfortable." With that Thorne left the beaten and bruised recruits to the silence of the mountain.
As night fell, Myles and his three new squadmates sat in their bunkhouse, feeling exhausted from their first day of training. The room was sparse, with four small beds lined up against the walls and a few lockers for their personal belongings. The only source of light came from a dim lamp on a small table in the center of the room. Although there were no rules against it there was little conversation that first night, the soon to be soldiers too tired to muster the idea of camaraderie with how exhausted they all were.
Myles could hear the soft snores of his comrades as they fell asleep one by one. He, however, found it difficult to get comfortable in his new bed. He missed the warmth and comfort of his own home, and the sounds of the city outside his window that he had grown so accustomed to. Here in this mountainous boot camp, everything was different. The air was colder, the bed was harder, and the silence was eerier.
He tried to relax and let his mind wander, but it was impossible. He felt a sense of unease, knowing that his life had taken a drastic turn. He was no longer just a citizen, but a soldier, with duties and responsibilities that he was not yet fully equipped to handle. The thought was daunting, but there was a reward in knowing that he was directly disobeying his father in a way that his father was helpless to do anything about.
Myles couldn't help but wonder what his father was doing at that very moment. Were they thinking about him? Were they proud of him? Had he read the letter Myles had left him in his study, he wondered if he’d kept or burned it? He wished he could see the look on his face when he’d realized Myles had found a way to avoid his plans for him without smearing the family reputation. If the price of all that was some discomfort in the mountains he could learn to tolerate it.
As he lay there, Myles realized that he was not alone in his discomfort. He could hear one of his squadmates tossing and turning in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Another was quietly sobbing, he wondered if the crying came from Althea or Eli, he couldn’t imagine Kael to be the source. Too tired to find out Myles succumbed to the exhaustion of the day.
