Chương 19: First Forms and Fumbles

First dawn was arriving faster than Caleb expected. He stood in front of the stables watching Corinne bounce between her feet in the pre-dawn darkness. Her breath misted in the early air as she shifted back and forth, radiating inexhaustible energy.

"Come on! We'll be late!" She grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward.

"Captain Hatch makes latecomers run extra laps. Trust me, you don't want that on your first day." They traveled through sleeping streets, their footsteps slapping off cobblestones still damp with morning dew. Other figures emerged from the shadows: teenagers converging on the same destination. Some walked in groups, laughing and shoving each other. Some trudged alone, shoulders hunched against more than just the chill.

"Ugh," Corinne muttered, her ever-present smile faltering. She gestured with her chin toward a trio of boys swaggering from a side street. The tallest carried himself with an arrogant ease, his forest-green skin standing out compared to the humans in nearby groups.

"Look who's here." She lowered her voice, moving a step closer.

"I heard he's been out here before dawn some mornings, training on the very ground where Vireth supposedly fell. Just because his father was "one of the Mistblood" he thinks being a pure-blooded Mycari makes him special." She snorted, then gave Caleb a worried glance.

"Just… stay away from him today. Please Thal?" Narbok. Caleb clenched his jaw. The potion's hangover had saved him from a beating, but the memory of the bully's confused frustration was cause for concern. His escape was an act of humiliation for the green elf, and Caleb doubted it would go unanswered. She peered past the Mycari to a thick-set girl with braided hair.

"And don't get partnered with Mala, the girl I mentioned last night. She smells like she wrestles bog trolls for fun, and she hits just as hard as them." She waved at a pair of girls who called out greetings, then her voice quieted.

"Oh, and that's Leo Tanner." Caleb followed her eyes to a boy walking apart from the others. Sandy brown hair fell into anxious blue eyes above a fair, soft face. His training leathers fit poorly, as if borrowed from someone else. While other trainees chatted and grouped up, Leo stood alone, arms wrapped around himself.

"His dad's a sergeant in the Delving Corps," Corinne whispered.

"Everyone expects him to be this great warrior, but..." She shrugged.

"He hates it here."

"Poor guy," Caleb replied. I get how he feels. I don't want to be here either. The garrison emerged around a corner ahead, a sprawling, multi-story stone building surrounded by high walls. Through the open gates, Caleb glimpsed a packed dirt training yard marked with circles and lines. Weapon racks lined one wall. Straw dummies waited in neat rows on another.

"Welcome to your new home away from home," Corinne said with mock grandeur.

"Try not to hurl during the warm-ups." They joined the gathering crowd in the yard. Caleb counted over one hundred and fifty teenagers in the sea of young faces filling the space. They ranged from older youths whose bearing showed the assurance of experience to a surprising number of kids who looked barely fifteen. He had a hard time believing they were all of the Mandate's required age. The sheer number of them forced a recalibration in his mind. One hundred and fifty kids, mostly in a single age bracket.

His perception of Deadfall was upended; the settlement was a frontier city, yet far larger than he imagined that meant. With so many bodies crammed onto the field, the yard's invisible borders were even more pronounced. Narbok and his clique of Mycari owned the space near the weapon racks. The elves formed a knot of green skin and black leather, laughter biting and exclusive. In the center of the yard, a different group of humans, dwarves, and fair-skinned elves held themselves apart.

These were the children of merchants and officials, their training gear clean and their movements confident. They ignored the Mycari and everyone else. The remaining trainees, the common-born and the outcasts, filled the gaps in between. Leo Tanner was one of them, alone by the far wall, his world contained in the scuffed toes of his boots.

"FORMATION!" A voice boomed like a cannon. Captain Arion Hatch strode into the yard and the atmosphere instantly changed. Conversations died. Bodies scrambled into position and snapped to attention. Even Narbok's swagger diminished. Hatch was a military recruitment poster brought to life. Dark hair, silvered at the temples and cropped to military precision, framed a tanned, clean-shaven face. His lean frame was a collection of taut lines, every muscle held at readiness.

Brown eyes swept over the assembled teenagers like a man cataloging assets.

"New meat today." The captain's search paused on Caleb.

"You're the Caldorn boy." Caleb nodded.

"Late bloomer. No prior training. Employed at the Hearthsong." Hatch made each fact sound like an accusation.

"You'll start at the back. Earn your place forward."

"Yes, Captain."

"Warm-up! Five laps, then calisthenics. Anyone who falls behind does it again. Move!" The group exploded into motion. Caleb found himself pulled along in a river of runners circling the yard. Thal had spent sixteen years avoiding physical exertion. While Caleb's recent weeks in the kitchen had helped strengthen his body, in the end it made little difference. By the second lap his lungs burned. By the third, his legs felt like wet noodles. Stolen story; please report.

Corinne lapped him, tossing an encouraging smile over her shoulder. Most of the others passed him too, conditioned by weeks or months of this routine. Only Leo Tanner struggled more, his face already red and wheezing with every breath. The calisthenics were worse. Push-ups, squats, mountain climbers: a routine that tortured his unconditioned body. Sweat stung his eyes and his arms shook. Around him, other trainees moved with varying degrees of ease. Except Leo.

The boy collapsed during the push-ups, prompting a bark from Hatch.

"Tanner! If you spent less time in the kitchen and more time on the training field you might not embarrass your father's name!" Leo went from red to white. He forced himself back into the push-up, elbows quaking. Ouch. That's just cruel, man. Can't you see the kid is trying? But as Hatch turned away from the floundering boy, Caleb caught something else. For a fraction of a second, the Captain's ramrod posture seemed to sag. The hard line of his jaw softened.

The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the usual mask of the unyielding commander. But Caleb had seen it. The briefest crack in the armor. Caleb finished second to last, with Leo trailing behind him. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through. Every muscle burned, but Hatch was already moving on.

"Today we review The Legion's First Form, the foundation of Legion spear work. You will practice until your body knows these forms like the back of your hand." He selected a wooden spear from the rack, a simple shaft of dark wood with a blunted metal head.

"Watch and learn. It might help you survive." He seemed to direct that last part at Caleb specifically. Hatch demonstrated the first position: feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly bent, with weight distributed evenly and the spear held diagonally across his body.

"This is [Iron Root Stance]. Your foundation. Without roots, you are nothing but leaves in the wind. Each of you, go grab a training spear and return to your place," Hatch ordered. The group surged toward the racks. Caleb followed them, glancing briefly at Leo who looked as if he was about to collapse. Selecting a spear with smooth, unblemished wood, Caleb stepped back into the formation. The other trainees shuffled into position, their efforts ranging from calm confidence to clumsy apprehension.

He ignored them, focusing inward.

"Take position!" Caleb's [Perfect Memory] had captured every detail. The angle of Hatch's feet. His hands' exact placement on the shaft, and the way his core engaged to create stability. [Savant of the Body] translated that knowledge into his actions, adjusting his posture automatically. Ding. [New Skill Gained: Iron Root Stance (F) - Practiced] The notification startled him. He'd expected to need some more training and repetition.

The combination of his Impartments and a proper example from the captain seemed to have bypassed that requirement entirely. Hatch shifted to the second form: a thrust that started from the hips, traveled through the core, and fired through the arms. The spear shot forward like a striking cobra." [Breaching Thrust]. Strength comes from the ground up. Your arms will be the guide, but they are only part of the power." Again, Caleb's body responded before his conscious mind finished processing. His feet planted.

His hips rotated. The borrowed spear extended in a straight line. Ding. [New Skill Gained: Breaching Thrust (F) - Practiced] Caleb reset his stance. The form already felt ingrained, a product of his strange new talents. He watched the Captain, who flowed from the thrust into the next defensive posture without pause." [Turning the Point]. Redirect their attack and use their force against them." Hatch demonstrated the deflection, angling the spear to guide an imaginary attack away from his center line.

Caleb mimicked it neatly. Ding. [New Skill Gained: Turning the Point (F) - Practiced] Three skills in less than a minute. His interface kept stacking notifications. And people were watching. Beside him, Corinne let out a barely audible gasp.

"Thal," she whispered, her eyes wide as she watched him reset.

"That's... how? How'd you make it look that easy? It took me weeks for the spear to feel that natural and you've only been at it for five minutes. Not fair!" He chuckled to himself, but recognized her words for the warning they were. If the friendly innkeeper's daughter noticed, who else had? Fearing the worst, Caleb glanced at the Captain and found him staring back intensely. Crumb. Cassia warned me about this… He was drawing attention. And getting conscripted wasn't in his plans.

For the next three forms, Caleb deliberately fumbled. He let his stance drift slightly wide and his balance waver off-center. His sweep lacked full extension. The block wasn't properly high enough. He was still better than most beginners, but now well below the standard his Impartments allowed. [New Skill Gained: Linebreaker Sweep (F) - Novice] [New Skill Gained: Phalanx Guard (F) - Novice] [New Skill Gained: Decisive Strike (F) - Novice] Hatch's regard lingered a moment longer, then moved on. Caleb exhaled slowly.

Crisis averted… for now.

"Partner drills!" Hatch barked.

"Three-step sparring. Attack, defend, counter. Half speed. Switch every set. Move!" The yard broke into a scramble as trainees paired off. Corinne started toward him, already smiling.

"H-hey." Caleb spun around to find Leo Tanner standing before him, training spear clutched in white-knuckled fingers. Sweat still poured down his face from the warm-up. His eyes darted between Caleb and the ground.

"You're new, right? I'm Leo. I was just wondering... d-do you maybe want to partner up? If you don't have anyone else, I mean. If not, it's ok..." Corinne walked into view to catch Caleb's eye, giving a tiny nod toward Leo and a thumbs up, which apparently meant the same thing on Veraxus as it did on Earth.

"Sure." Caleb hefted his wooden spear.

"I'm Thal." Relief flooded Leo.

"Great! I mean, that's good. We can... we can start slow, if that's okay? I'm not very... well, I mess up the techniques. A lot." They found a clear spot and faced each other. Leo's stance was a disaster: feet too close, grip too far, weight not lowered enough. When he attempted a thrust it came out as more of a gentle poke.

"S-sorry," Leo stammered.

"I'll try harder." Caleb responded with an equally clumsy parry, letting the shaft clatter against his. They went through the motions like actors who'd forgotten their lines. The three-step sequence was slightly off-beat, subtly off-target with each exchange. It was splendid. To any observer, they looked exactly like what they were supposed to be: two inexperienced boys stumbling through basic drills. Caleb made sure to miss his blocks occasionally, letting Leo's weak thrusts tap his shoulder or ribs.

Each one was a bit painful, but it was worth it to sell the performance. The price of looking weak. He suppressed another wince, disliking that the sting was a necessary part of the charade. A proper set of training leathers was now a top priority for his budget.

"Better!" Hatch called across the yard.

"Tanner, extend through the thrust! Caldorn, wider stance!" They adjusted and continued. Around them, other pairs practiced with varying skill. Narbok and his partner exchanged blows that were clearly meant to land, their training spears striking with enough force to leave bruises. Corinne and the smelly Mala maintained their own circuit nearby. The yard filled with the clack of wood on wood and the grunts of exertion.

"Switch partners!" Before they could move, a shadow fell across them.