8

Vaerhold Academy, Aethoria

Warmaster Haedric, Human man of one and forty, walked the infantry line with the limp he did not compensate for and looked over the one hundred and ninety candidates assembled in the Vaerhold yard.

“The practical assessment for infantry has three stages. Physical, combat fundamentals and formation drill. Physical you have done all your lives already. Combat fundamentals you will do in pairs. Formation drill you will do as a unit.” He walked through the line. “Formation drill is the one that matters most, and the one most of you will underestimate. A cavalry rider who breaks formation loses a race; an infantry soldier who breaks formation loses the men beside him. You are here to learn importance of formation, brotherhood, judgment and when to abandon all three above, began.”

Crown Prince Kohl Gromorg of Witherland, an Orc man ran four circuits, though the assessment required only three, but he had four to give and did not believe in withholding what he could offer.

Bram ran three and did not die, which he considered a reasonable outcome, given that he had nearly died at the written examination the day before and dying twice in two days seemed excessive.

He crossed the finish line, stood by the wall and looked at Kohl, who had finished three seconds after him and was standing there without panting like him.

“How?” Bram asked between breaths.

“How what?” Kohl replied.

“How are you not breathing?”

“I am breathing.”

“You are not breathing the way I am breathing.”

“I am Orc.”

“It is visible,” Bram rolled his eyes.

“I spent my life climbing mount Sial,” he looked at him. “That is your answer, come now for combat.”

The combat fundamentals were conducted in pairs drawn by lot.

Bram drew a candidate from the Aenthis continent, the satyr man was faster than Bram had prepared for; the practice blade found Bram’s shoulder in the first exchange. When Bram took charge, he landed two clean hit, complete opposite of what Bram had expected.

Kohl’s combat pairing was a human candidate. He was good, but he was also predictable in all the usual ways. Kohl read him in the first exchange and let him land two hits. In the second, Kohl struck him three times in four seconds.

Human man stepped back and looked at him. Kohl smiled victoriously and returned to his starting position.

“How do I do assessments as clean as you do?” Bram asked while resting.

“Picture your motivation standing beside you," said Kohl.

The formation drill was conducted soon after with all candidates together, which was the first time the full infantry cohort had operated as a unit.

Bram found his place in the second rank, imagined Kohl on his left and did not break formation once.

Solmaere Academy, Aethoria

The cavalry assessment began in the yard, where the stables were carved directly into the cliff-face and the horses moved through the morning cold with extra energy.

“The cavalry practical has three stages,” Ridemaster Saendry, Verdani woman of thirty walked the line of cavalry candidates. “Physical, horsemanship, and combat fundamentals. Provision horses are assigned by lot. Begin.”

Rhovyn drew the bay gelding, swung into the saddle and took it once around the yard’s perimeter. The pole work, the transitions and the flying change at the end, he completed the combination cleanly.

Erynae knew exactly where she meant to land and made it plain to the horse. There was no room in her seat for failure, the mare's stride opened into the turn, hooves stroked the packed earth in even rhythm. She sat deep and asked for the change exactly where the stride wanted to break on its own.

For one heartbeat the mare was airborne, all four legs off the ground, the old lead was already gone, the new one had not yet landed and then the new lead struck the ground first, the canter rolled on as if it had never been anything else.

Daevosky forgot where his attention was, the dust caught the morning light off a turning hoof, and his eyes found her before his mind decided to. He stayed there, tracking the line of the mare's shoulder through the rest of the turn, the steadiness of her hands, the way she let the horse come down to a walk and stretch its neck like nothing at all had happened.

Erynae swung down from the saddle and led the mare back toward the waiting area on foot, and it was only then, watching her walk, that he took in the rest of her, the fitted cavalry coat cut close through the shoulders and belted at the waist, dark leather reinforced at the forearms where reins wore through fabric, tall boots dusted pale with the yard's dry earth.

Daevosky bit down on his lip trying to hold back a smile that came anyway, his attention on her was interrupted after a while only by Saendry's call for combat pairing.

The combat pairings were drawn by lot and Rhovyn drew Daevosky Vialthor, which he had more or less expected after seeing him excel in every stage of the examinations. He had noted Daevosky in the registration yard the previous morning, the way he moved through spaces as though they had been designed with him in mind.

“A minor holding?” Daevosky smiled at him.

"Ashenvale," said Rhovyn. "It answers to Paendrage."

“A long road.”

“Three days.”

“I meant in general,” Daevosky said pleasantly. “From the subject kingdom to Aethoria, that is a long road for a man’s ambitions to travel," his smile did not alter, he had said something plain enough and denied having said it with his face.

Rhovyn left his insult where he had dropped and did not bend down to pick it, though his stare had said something and the air caught the tension hanging in it.

“Whenever ready,” said Haedric from the rail.

Daevosky moved first. His opening was textbook-correct; it came to Rhovyn’s left side, where the footwork was weakest, and the practice blade struck his ribs with a crack the yard heard.

The second exchange lasted longer. Rhovyn found Daevosky’s rhythm, his right shoulder dropped half a beat before a power strike, and Rhovyn began to work inside it. He landed one hit to Daevosky’s left side and took two more to his own.

Daevosky did not react to the hit. There was a genuine absence of reaction, as though to show pain were to surrender information one had no need to give away. He landed one more and took one in the third exchange.

When Ottaen called the end, Daevosky stepped back and looked at Rhovyn. The smile returned, though it was slightly altered. This time it was genuine, and Rhovyn caught it.

“You adapted,” Daevosky said. “I like fast learners.”

“I wish you had said it in front of my father,” he shrugged with a grin. “Your shoulder drops before a power strike, betrays your next move.”

“Good to know,” Daevosky said pleasantly and turned.

Erynae, who had been making her way toward Rhovyn, did not have time to stop and collided with him.

His hand moved and caught her by the wrist and pulled her back from the impact, steadying her with a firm grip as she stumbled a half-step toward him, and then for one treacherous heartbeat, Daevosky forgot the training yard, forgot Rhovyn, forgot the sting gathering beneath his ribs and the weight of every watching eye.

Gods, she was a sight, Daevosky thought and could do little but let his gaze linger upon her, even as he knew he ought to look away.