Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Iryana had spent the rest of that first morning settling into her new room, shown to her by one of the soldiers.
Her room with Vaneshta wasn’t much smaller than the main room in her cottage, but there was no great stove and shelves of supplies, only a small fireplace, a table and chairs, and a washing tub.
The only thing she didn’t have to share was the bed, lumpy with age, and the small chest beneath it.
Instead of finding the estate again for lunch, she’d collapsed onto one of the strange beds and let the exhaustion take her.
She slept through dinner too, but there was a bowl of cold stew on the table when she’d woken up.
Vaneshta had stumbled home well into the night, then proceeded to snore loudly for the rest of it.
Needless to say, despite napping most of the previous day, Iryana woke up sore, tired, and cranky.
A soldier had knocked shortly before sunrise to collect her for morning training with the other initiates. Vaneshta had slept through it.
After trying to pickup the different forms and exercises the soldiers used all morning, Iryana had joined a group for a run along the road just inside the fortress walls.
Her morning runs paid off, and she outpaced and outlasted the others by far—it was a strength she could lean into.
Growing up in a guardian family had not left her wanting for combat training.
Some of their forms seemed different, and she was a little out of practice with sparring, but she would catch up quickly.
She was sweaty and flushed when she made it back to the barracks, Vaneshta waiting to collect her for a tour.
She’d kept her eyes peeled for any signs of the poppy, but she had seen nothing. Saw nothing particularly depraved, nor any violence either. Perhaps it was an open secret, something they didn’t talk about so they could pretend to still be honorable.
The only interesting thing had been when Pyetar stormed through the training yard, soldiers immediately straightening and watching him with nervous eyes as he passed.
His gait was different, more menacing, than when he’d walked through the woods with her.
It was interesting. And it appeared many soldiers, despite being accustomed to fighting monsters, were wary of Pyetar, so she wasn’t the only one he took issue with.
If Pyetar hated everyone, it could hardly matter if he hated her. That was a comforting thought because the idea of having to win him over after everything she’d said was horrifying.
Now, Iryana followed Vaneshta out of the tower that housed the armory, arms full with leather and steel armor, training weapons, and a small sack of her rationed supplies. All things on loan from the brigade while she tried to earn her place. It had been a busy day, and she was already exhausted.
“I didn’t keep you up too much, did I?” Vaneshta asked.
“No, I slept fine,” Iryana lied.
All things considered, Iryana had been lucky with who her roommate was. Vaneshta wasn’t hostile and didn’t seem to hate her presence, unlike most of the others. She was also higher ranked than most soldiers, so as long as Iryana didn’t make an enemy of her, the others might leave her alone.
That would be the hardest part: not pissing off her roommate.
A couple of soldiers nodded respectfully at Vaneshta as they passed, and Iryana realized that was how everyone seemed to interact with her so far.
Respect but not friendliness. People didn’t gather around her to talk like they did Lidishta or some others, but they weren’t wary of her like they were of Pyetar.
“How long have you been with the military—” She had to bite her tongue to not say gang. “Uh, brigade.”
“Since the dakii came. My father is Captain Rokosh Frankol, in charge of supplies and merchant caravans.” Vaneshta’s face grew serious.
“Luckily, I was living close to where the regiment was stationed before they pulled back to this area. Some soldiers were too far to find their families, and some families abandoned their soldiers, not wanting to be isolated out here with the dakii.”
There was a hint of anger to Vanestha’s words, which worried Iryana. She didn’t want it turned on her.
“I was only seven, but I started training to be a soldier immediately,” Vaneshta continued, warm mud-colored eyes flashing fiercely.
That explained it, Iryana realized. Soldiers didn’t normally enlist until nearer adulthood before, and most of the other initiates she’d seen were teens. Things must have been different right after the kingdom’s fall, but starting so young would certainly explain the respect and her high ranking.
Iryana knew that before the kingdom of Istri had fallen, the military had been ordered to take on the dakii at the front lines, while guardian families had guarded the retreat of those that remained. Things had been chaos back then.
“My clan never made contact with the governing family of Klees after it fell,” Iryana shared awkwardly, hoping to find some ground to relate with her roommate. “We had been close to them. They might still be out there somewhere.”
“Perhaps.”
They kept walking, and Iryana found her mind wandering around the unsettling walls and buildings, so close to the memories of her childhood but still so different.
Up close, Iryana could almost imagine the fortress as it had once been.
It was clear that it had been built with forgings; there was nothing else that could explain how well it stood against time.
Only metal-forged carving tools were sharp enough for the elaborate detailing; only earth-forged woodworking tools could craft wooden buildings that wouldn’t rot.
The benefit of earth imbuement. A place like this could have afforded it all easily.
Any tools used that weren’t forgings themselves were no doubt made by metal-forged smiths, imbued with the magic.
While not nearly as strong or durable as actual forgings, they would still be superior in quality to a regular tool.
But the places that had been damaged, likely from the dakii as they drove the initial inhabitants out, were already showing signs of wear.
Iryana assumed almost everyone in the brigade was metal-forged and most imbued-tools had been lost, so the repairs just couldn’t hold up compared to the original forged craftsmanship.
“You held up well this morning. You’re in good shape. We will see how skilled you are with weapons this afternoon,” Vaneshta chatted, her anger from earlier gone.
“I’m best with a bow and falchion, but I can handle a spear and sword well enough.”
Iryana sighed and looked around, noting that the barracks complex was enclosed within its own walls and gates, likely the fallback location for the fort. Whoever had defended the fort previously hadn’t made it that far, based on how good a condition it was in.
The heart of the barracks was what they called the parade ground, the large walled-in yard connecting all the buildings of the complex.
The east and west barracks were large, three-story buildings, where all the recruits and lower-ranked soldiers lived in shared rooms. Opposite the barracks were the towers and a stable.
A few groups of soldiers and recruits of differing experience levels were still running through their exercises in the yard, Captain Antar shouting out corrections and pairing up sparring partners.
Iryana didn’t know how to fit in with people, but once they held a weapon, she knew exactly what to do with them.
“Have the dakii made it inside the fortress since the 18th Brigade took over?”
Vaneshta shrugged. “A few times when I was young, but not in years.”
Iryana could already tell that Vaneshta was interested in befriending her; she was far too friendly.
It made little sense for a soldier, so it made Iryana nervous.
Perhaps it was something as simple as loneliness or boredom, but Iryana needed to be careful.
Even if her motives were good, it would give Vaneshta too much opportunity to see through her.
Distracted by coming up with theories for her friendliness, Iryana almost bumped into Vaneshta when she stopped to watch a group of recruits.
Vaneshta opened and closed her mouth a few times as she watched some of the younger recruits, but she didn’t say anything. Iryana followed her line of sight, seeing one with particularly poor form.
Was Vaneshta not in a position to correct the recruit? Or just too nervous? She couldn’t quite tell.
Some of them looked as young as fourteen, but everyone was dressed similarly in training gear.
It was similar to what her family trained in.
Dark pants tucked into sturdy boots, padded gambesons over an undershirt, and wielding blunted weapons.
They seemed to train with spears like Pyetar’s forging, war hammers, great swords, shields, and bows the most. They would be the primary weapons, what most metal-forged would want to turn their magic into.
But they trained with common sidearms too: hand axes, falchions and other single-handed swords, and knives.
Any weapon that let the dakii get too close was risky.
She noted that the training seemed to focus on only a few forms and techniques, likely what they deemed the best strategies for how they fought the beasts. Guardians trained exhaustive series of forms and sequences, things for any scenario and enemy, as had been the tradition for hundreds of years.
“Depending on what other jobs you’re assigned, you’ll either train in the morning or the afternoon.” Vaneshta stretched out her back. “I will probably train at the same time some days, either way.”
“Who decides what jobs I do?” If they put her anywhere near their drugs, she wasn’t sure she could hide her revulsion.
Iryana pushed the worry down. Whatever it was, she would get through it.