by Tony Johnson
Looking him up and down, the Giant quickly replied, “No,” before turning his back.
He doesn't want to share a bunk with me because doing so is like attaching yourself to someone that will encourage you and help you through Boot Camp, Malorek knew. No one is going to want to be friends with me because I'm so scrawny. They don’t think I’ll make it through.
After being denied four more times, Malorek thought he heard collective laughing behind him as he continued after each failed attempt. Assuming the other boys were making fun of him, he felt his blood boil and his face turn red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
Everyone is already in the process of unpacking and I haven't even found a bed yet. He could feel the stares of the other boys as he walked the aisles looking for an opening.
Finally, he spotted a Human around his height motioning for him to come over.
“I saw you couldn’t find a cot. You can have the bottom bed. I’ll sleep up top.”
Most of the trainees preferred the bottom cot. After spending all day physically straining their bodies to get stronger, the boys were so sore by nighttime that climbing the four rung ladder was just another four steps of pain.
“Thank you,” Malorek said, appreciating the kind gesture, especially knowing his new friend could have taken the bottom bunk since he was there first.
“My name is Malorek. What’s yours?”
“Titus Thatcher.”
“UP! UP! GET UP! LET'S GO!”
The sound of Captain Ostravaski and his warrior aides shouting woke the bunk beds of sleeping teenagers. The sun had not yet risen, but these men were going up and down the aisles, loudly banging swords on metal shields and yelling obnoxiously to wake up the boys who were about to endure their first day of intense physical training.
“YOU'RE NOT MOVING FAST ENOUGH! ANYONE NOT IN THE COURTYARD SIXTY SECONDS FROM NOW WILL BE SENT HOME!”
Out of all two hundred, Malorek's eyes were the first to open and his feet first to hit the floor. He began running before he even knew where he was. Growing up in the orphanage, there had been many times his peaceful sleep had been interrupted by his drunken, yelling foster parents, his father especially. Since he was usually looking for a child to hit and take out his anger on, waking up and running as soon as he heard shouting had been engrained in his mind. He had endured many middle-of-the-night beatings before he learned how to avoid them.
Before running too far, Malorek stopped and turned around. He went back and stood on the lower cot to reach up to the higher one and shake Titus's shoulder.
“I'm up. I'm up,” Titus mumbled as he slithered out of bed. It only took a couple seconds for him to come to his senses and realize it was time to focus on the challenging day ahead.
What the veteran warriors had in store for the trainees was far more than any of the sixteen-year-olds expected. Running, calisthenics, swimming, and team-building exercises awaited them in the morning and afternoon of their first day.
Ten dropped out within the first two hours. Malorek smiled as he noticed one of them was the Giant who had denied him a cot.
“We're weeding out the weak!” Captain Ostravaski yelled enthusiastically as two more left towards the end of a drill that consisted of each trainee carrying another trainee on their shoulders up the many steps of a nearby watchtower. After it was over, the captain gathered the teenagers in a semi-circle around him. Everyone was drenched in sweat and hunched over, breathing heavily with their hands on their knees. Some were even throwing up. “Well done boys! Good work! Let's break for lunch and then we’re going to redo everything we did this morning. After we break for dinner, we’ll do it all again. It’ll be like this for the first two weeks, so get used to it.”
Malorek limped his way down the single file lunch line, sidestepping every couple seconds after the person in front of him moved on to the next item. Holding his plate out, he accepted the various foods put on it by the servers standing on the other side of the table. One of them was an attractive blonde-haired Elven girl who Malorek couldn't help but smile at when she plopped mashed potatoes down on his plate. He didn't even realize how long he was staring at her until the trainee in line behind him nudged him and gruffly said, “Move it. I'm starving.”
After his plate was full, Ostravaski, who was standing at the end of the line inspecting each boy’s plate, held up his hand, harrumphing at Malorek’s small stature. “Go back through and get a second plate,” he pointed to the back of the line. “Until I say otherwise, I want you eating double portions for every meal. Let's see if we can't add some meat to your bones.”
Nodding, Malorek headed back to wait in line again, not complaining since he'd get to see the pretty Elf for a second time.
“They sent you back for double portions too?” the trainee standing in front of Malorek turned around to speak to him.
“Yeah, but I don't mind. There were days growing up where I didn't get to eat anything at all. It's nice there's as much as we want here.”
“Well that's a positive way to look at it,” the small-framed Human suggested. “Can I sit with you?” he asked Malorek as they turned and looked out at the sea of trainees already chowing down on food. “My bunkmate quit earlier this morning.”
“Sure,” Malorek agreed with a wave of his hand, letting him know he didn't mind at all. Titus was kind to me, so I'll pass on the favor and help out this guy. We're all new here. We need to stick together to survive.
“Malo! Over here,” Titus waved his hand vigorously so Malorek could see where he had found a seat.
“Who's your friend?” Titus asked his bunkmate.
“Actually, we haven’t exchanged names,” Malorek was about to say, but the boy interjected and told them who he was.
“Hi, I’m Quintis Quinn.” Then, while both he and Malorek sat to join Titus at the table, Quintis turned to the two and asked, “Are you two brothers?”
“No, we just share the same bunk.”
“You look alike. You just look a little smaller,” he added, nodding to Malorek.
“Not for long,” Malo gestured by grabbing his fork and digging into his first of two heaping plates of food.
“Hey, do you guys have room for another?” A blonde-haired Elf came to their table, politely waiting for an invitation even though it was clear there was more than enough space for him.
“It's all yours,” Titus gestured to the open space on the bench.
“Thanks,” the Elf sat down, setting his giant plate of food on the tabletop with a loud thud.
“What did they make you get more food too?”
“No, I already finished what I had, this is my second helping. Someone took my seat when I went back up so I guess I'm with you guys now. The name is Caesar Canard,” he greeted them all with a smile.
Later that night, after the third set of drills, the trainees all retired to the barracks, where they immediately headed to their bunks to get sleep before the next day which would take just as much of a physical toll on their bodies. Even though he was dead tired, Malorek couldn't fall asleep right away as he laid on the bottom bunk.
“You asleep yet?” he called up to Titus.
“No, what's up?”
“Do you think we'll make it?” Malorek asked earnestly. “It sure is strenuous. Can we do this for another three hundred and sixty-four days?”
“I don't know,” Titus answered. “But I'm going give it my all. I don't know what I'd do if I fail. I’ve spent my entire life around warriors. This is the only life I know and the only life I want. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be than right here in this moment, working to become a leader of men, even if it makes me more sore and tired than I ever expected,” he added, making Malorek laugh.
“I feel the same. This is where I’m meant to be.”
“Just look at it this way, we're one day closer to becoming warriors.”
Malorek smiled as he lay in his bed. I can do this, he
knew deep down. “Goodnight, Titus,” he called up, but no answer came in reply. His encouraging friend was already fast asleep.
In less than a month of Boot Camp, Malorek had become close friends with Titus, Quintis, and Caesar. They ate together, trained together, and even slept in the same area of the barracks. Quintis's and Caesar's bunkmates had both quit so they found an empty bunk next to Malorek and Titus’s. The four were inseparable. Not only did they spend every waking moment together in training, they also hung out with each other on weekend nights (the only hours during the week they would get a break).
“My friend works at this tavern,” Caesar explained to his three friends as he led the way through the doors of a place called The Piping Stack, “He's one of the cooks tonight. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet,” he smiled, seeing a delicious spread of various foods before them.
After paying for their meals upfront with part of their monthly stipend, the boys walked around and loaded up their plates with brisket, meatballs, chicken, and other sources of protein to help replenish and nourish their muscles.
“It's delicious!” Quintis exclaimed upon trying his first couple bites. “You were right about this place, Caesar.”
“And here’s one of the reasons why,” Caesar drew their attention to where a Giant who was a sixteen, the same age as them, had come out of the kitchen and was restocking the buffet with hot and fresh replacements. “Zeke! Zeke! Over here!” Caesar waved his hand and called out to the line cook.
Zeke strode over and stood before their table, casting a nervous glance back to the doors of the kitchen, where he hoped the head chef wouldn’t notice him chatting with his friend.
“Guys, this is Zeke, one of my closest friends,” Caesar introduced the Giant. “He grew up in the same district as me. He’s always been an excellent cook.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Zeke greeted them as he slid into the booth. “How's Boot Camp? Is it as tough as they say it is?”
“Even more so,” Quintis answered.
Caesar agreed, “There have already been times I wanted to quit, but,” he gestured to his three fellow trainees, “these guys would never allow me to do that. We make a good team.”
“I can tell. Between the four of you, there’s barely any food left in the buffet for anyone else,” he nodded to their plates.
“We need our nourishment,” Malorek offered, “and this is by far the best food we've had in the past month.”
“I appreciate it!” Zeke beamed at the compliment.
“So how are things going for you?” Caesar asked.
“It’s okay working here, but my dream is to eventually save up enough gold and get out of this city. Celestial is too loud and busy for me. I’d like to be somewhere quieter. Maybe somewhere like Serendale. I could open a bakery there, be my own boss.”
“Well once you do, be assured you've got four loyal customers willing to make the trip to purchase whatever you bake.”
“Zeke! I need you back here. We’re running low on brisket!” The head chef poked his head out of the kitchen to see where his line cook was.
“Alright, I’ve got to get back to work. You guys enjoy your plates.”
“The first of many,” Caesar raised his mug.
In the middle their meal, Malorek noticed the attractive Elf from the lunch line at the mess hall walk into the tavern with a few of her friends and sit at a nearby table.
I've seen her almost every day for a month and I don't think I've done anything more than smile shyly at her.
He quickly looked away after he snuck a glance in her direction and saw she was staring back in his direction. One of her friends pointed and they all started giggling.
Oh no, she spotted me checking her out!
“What do you keep staring at?” Caesar asked, noticing Malorek was constantly glancing away from their conversation as they ate. Looking over his shoulder to where Malorek's eyes kept darting to, he saw the reason why his friend couldn't focus. “Isn’t one of those girls over there one of the servers in the mess hall? I always thought she was cute too! Do you know her name?”
“No,” Malorek said, trying to hide his smile now that his friends knew he had a crush on the girl.
“Well, go on and find out then!” Caesar encouraged him.
“But, I...I,” Malorek stuttered until Titus, sitting next to him on the inside of the booth, used his foot to push Malorek off the bench.
Now standing, albeit unwillingly, Malorek uncomfortably looked at the only one of his friends who hadn't yet told him to talk to the girl, hoping Quintis would tell the other two to give him a break. Coincidentally, Quintis was also the only one who had a girlfriend out of the four of them, but to Malorek's chagrin, he sided with Caesar and Titus, “How do you plan on fighting monsters someday if you can't strike up the nerve to talk to a girl? Go on already!”
Butterflies flew all around inside Malorek’s stomach as he walked over to her table. His mind raced with questions. What do I say to her? Where do I start? Will she even recognize me? Why was she looking at me when I turned back to look at her? Does that mean she likes me to?
He stopped midway and looked back at his friends, who sat there with big smiles on their faces and all made hand motions, gesturing for him to keep going.
Gulping down the lump in his throat, Malorek arrived at the table and apologized to all the other girls sitting there. “I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner,” he made eye contact with them before turning to the girl who he intended to ask out. “but aren't you one of the servers in the mess hall for us trainees?”
“Yes. I remember you from there,” she blushed.
“My name is Malorek,” he said, trying to focus on coming across as cool and confident despite two of the girls whispering in each others’ ears. “You've served my food for a month and I have yet to know your name.”
“It's Sarah.”
“Well Sarah, I know we barely know each other, but you seem nice and I was wondering if you would like to go out for dinner next weekend and get to know each other more.”
Immediately, based on her body language, Malorek could tell Sarah wasn't interested in him. Her face grew redder than it had been a couple seconds ago and she very sincerely said, “I'm sorry. I don't want to say yes and give you the impression I'm interested when I'm not.”
Taken aback, Malorek felt a surge of anger stir up in his chest at being denied.
“It's just that there's someone else I like,” Sarah admitted, her eyes quickly glancing past Malorek back to the table he’d come from. “It's one of your friends. The Elf. I think his name is Caesar.”
That explains why she was looking over in my direction. I just assumed she was looking at me.
“Do you think you could do me a favor and see if he's interested in me?”
I can't believe she has the nerve to ask me that. She just embarrassed me in front of these girls and I'll have to tell my friends she said ‘no’ to me. Why would I help her?
Instead of saying what he was thinking, Malorek lied. “I’m sorry, Sarah, Caesar is already in a serious relationship.”
He smiled politely and turned around, heading back to his table.
“So, do you have a date?” his friends eagerly asked.
“No,” Malorek said, discouraged. Instead of telling Caesar that Sarah liked him, he said, “She already has a boyfriend.”
“Oh man, sorry Malo,” Titus patted his back.
“Ah, that's okay,” Quintis encouraged him. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea. You'll find the right one soon enough.”
“Sure,” Malorek agreed, acting positively so his friends wouldn't see his disappointment. But inside he was hiding his anger at Sarah for making him feel rejected. It was an anger that festered and grew slowly over time, the same irresolvable anger Malorek had felt with Emilia, Cain, and his foster parents. For Malorek, the only way he could settle that anger was through bloodshed.
Chapte
r 73
A few months later, the four were spending their weekend free time sitting on the beach, sharpening their weapons. They had spent the past several weeks practicing with every style of weapon to see what they felt most comfortable with using and had finally picked what would be the weapon they used over the course of their career. Quintis used a bow; Titus preferred using a two-handed greatsword; and both Caesar and Malorek decided on using double swords, one in each hand.
“We’re halfway to the end of Boot Camp. There’s only ninety-five of us left,” Titus said. “This training is so mentally and physically exhausting. Every time we think we’re getting a grasp on the techniques with our weapon, they take everything up a notch and make it more challenging. The only thing keeping me going is staying focused on the end result, keeping in mind what we're working towards.
“You mean becoming a warrior?” Malorek wanted clarification.
“Yeah, but it's more than that. You need more than just the goal of becoming a warrior to push you through the difficult times of Boot Camp and the rest of Warrior Training. Being taken in and raised by warriors, I've seen the positive effects they can have on people. I want more than to work for this city and protect it. I want to earn the trust and respect of Celestial’s citizens. I want people to come to me when they need help if they are going through a tough time and need someone to talk to. When I'm at the end of my life, I want to look back and know that I made a difference in people’s lives for the better. Being a warrior gives me the best chance to do that.”
“That's awesome,” Quintis said, “I think you'll make a great warrior with that kind of mindset.”
“Thanks. My goal is to work my way up the ranks and become a royal guard eventually.”
“A knight?” Malorek laughed as he stroked a whetstone against his blade, “there are twelve knights and thousands of warriors in provinces all across the kingdom who want that same position. You might want to set the bar lower.”
“Well, that’s my goal. I don't care how crazy it seems. The higher position I can achieve, the more I'll be able to accomplish. Plus, I don't think there is any greater honor than guarding the king, his wife, and his daughter and whatever future royalty may come. What about you guys? I’ve never heard your reasons for wanting to become warriors.”
