The man had very bronzed skin and a scarred, clean-shaven face. His hand rested on the hilt of a sword, and his clothing were peculiar to say the least – as well as more of the cream-colored leather armor with no sleeves, he wore a bronze helmet, plate metal armor strapped onto his legs and forearms, sandals, and… was that a skirt, perhaps? A kilt, perhaps they would say. Either way – the man’s legs were bare below the knee.
Again, Troy found himself reassessing what he was expecting from his military training.
“Welcome, Troy,” said the man, standing completely still and looking straight into the young man’s eyes. ”I am Andros. Welcome to Sparta Online.”
“Okay… thanks, I guess,” Troy replied. “So, I guess you know this is all a simulation, then?”
“I know everything,” Andros replied. “As such, I can be a guide for you here. The mighty hero you know as General Cook is not here, but I will answer any questions you have, and be available to guide you as you progress through your training.”
Troy chuckled despite himself. “I’m thinking that the guy programmed you to call him a ‘mighty hero’, right?”
“The General is indeed the architect of this space, that is correct.”
“So you’re not the General’s avatar, then?”
The Greek warrior hesitated for a moment. “He and the programmers created this world. Now, you will live in it, as do I.”
“And you are our… what… drill sergeant?”
“I won’t train you and the other recruits myself. You will have a captain in the game – Captain Theseus will be in charge of your squad. I am here to answer your questions, but let me warn you now, Spartan training is tough. Do not ask for or expect favors or kindness, and I won’t be able to solve your problems for you.”
Troy glanced behind him again. “What was that place?”
“That is the Titan’s Rest building. All of our new recruits appear there when they first join. Come with me.”
“Okay.”
Andros turned away to the left, and Troy looked around as he followed. After walking along a narrow passage between two buildings, they emerged into a much larger open area – a vast rectangle lined by further buildings. It was an open sandy space like the square where Troy had first emerged, and he could see a group of four warriors training, all likewise dressed in light-colored armor and sandals. Two were running, and the others were repeatedly throwing spears at a target. Fellow recruits? He quickly dismissed the idea. These were fully-grown men, all hugely muscular and bearded.
“Hey – don’t I get some equipment here, Andros?” Troy asked as they walked on. “Guns and things?”
”There are no guns here,” said Andros. “This world is a simulation of the Greek city state of Sparta. It was a mighty power almost 3000 years ago. The soldier’s main weapons at that time were the spear and the sword.”
“All right, then… When do I get a sword?”
“That is a good question. And not one I can answer just now. You will get equipment when you earn it. To achieve this, you will have to overcome a series of challenges, and improve your skills. There is one thing that you must know in order to help you know your own abilities.”
“And what’s that?”
“You simply need to say the word ‘status’ inside your head. Try it now.”
Feeling a bit silly, Troy muttered the word to himself. And sure enough, another little screen appeared inside his head – a much larger one this time.
Troy moved his head slightly. Andros and the training ground were still easily visible, he could see, and he was able to read everything that it said on the screen as well:
Combat skills: 1
Creativity: 3
Grit: 2
Interpersonal skills: 1
Knowledge: 2
Quick thinking: 2
Survival skills: 1
Valor: 1
Inventory: (none)
Experience points: 5
Hit points: 14
Level: Hoplite (Level 1)
As soon as Troy finished reading the information, the mysterious screen effortlessly disappeared from his mind’s eye.
“It’s gone…”
“You can bring it back any time,” Andros replied. “You will get some notifications in a similar way. Any time there is a training event, or when the software detects that you have increased your skills, a notification should appear.”
“Why don’t all the skills start at level 1?”
Andros smiled. “These are not skills that the game awards to you. They are more like readings of your current attributes. After all, this is a training camp. You already have some knowledge, and a bit of grit, but not a lot. We can’t improve these things through the software – only through further training. That’s the purpose of what we do here.
“And as you improve, your status will show this, and you will gain experience points as a reward. Ideally we want all of those attributes that you just saw to be at twenty or above before you even begin to be ready to operate as a proper warrior. And without achieving that, you won’t continue to level up.”
Troy nodded. It was a lot to take in.
“You start as a level 1 hoplite, like all the recruits. That is the most basic Spartan soldier. But in time, you will advance to higher levels.”
* * *
Looking around again at the nearby running warriors again, Troy saw that two of them had come closer. They looked even more bad-ass close up – tall and powerful, covered with scars, their faces stern, their eyes cold.
“Those are two of our finest Hyparchos – horse warriors,” said Andros, nodding in their direction. “They occasionally use our facilities. You will regularly see Spartan warriors from the city during your time here.”
“Okay.” Troy thought for a moment. “Andros, you said we have to level up? But why?”
“Well,” said Andros, “because the ultimate goal is to become a fully-fledged Spartan warrior. When you reach level 10, that’s when you know.”
“Know what?”
Andros looked at Troy, his big dark eyes narrowing. “Why, that you are ready, of course. The system is never wrong. When you ascend to level 10, you can go on your first full mission with the Spartan army. Until then you are only a trainee hoplite.”
“So I can become like those Hyparchos one day?”
“Perhaps. If you work hard and survive the training.”
“Survive?” A chill ran through Troy’s body, and he found himself glancing down at the brutal-looking sword which was slung at Andros’ belt. What exactly had he gotten into?
“Ah, that reminds me,” continued Andros. “Try thinking the word ‘health’.
Troy did as he was told, and another translucent screen appeared, overlaying his vision. It said:
Current health level: Healthy
Illness: None
Disease: None
Hunger: 1%
Thirst: 3%
Hit points: 13/14
Again, nothing much changed in terms of what he could see, with everything around him still clearly visible.
Andros had begun speaking again. “The hit points indicate the amount of damage you can take. You can call that command any time you like, but the information will also appear automatically if you take damage or fall ill. And if you are seriously wounded or close to starvation, your hit points will drop to zero. At that point, it will be necessary for you to seek healing as a matter of urgency, or collapse unconscious entirely.”
Wounded or close to starvation. The words rang around Troy’s head for a moment. Surly the man was joking?
Or… this was just a game thing. But when he had hit his hand on the wall, it had been really painful.
“I can’t be, like, really badly hurt here, can I?” said Troy. “I mean, this is kind of like a game, I was told. Is there some way that I can stop other people from… I dunno… Sticking a spear into me, or something. Can I do that?”
“We can talk about prote
cting yourself in combat later,” Andros replied. “But know this – you should expect everything here to proceed like it does in the other world. If you are wounded, it will hurt very badly, and you will need to rest afterwards. We have a hospital called the House of Healing.” At this, Andros pointed to a large, wide building that was directly across the rectangular training area.
Skill boost! You have developed your knowledge. +5XP
“In that case, I’m… not sure I am in for this. I have a low pain threshold. Let me out, please!”
“These are some common concerns for recruits to experience,” replied Andros sternly. “But you are not a boy of Technoburbia anymore. You are a young man, a hoplite recruit, and most of all a Spartan! If you fear pain, then you must toughen up, and fast. And your captain will introduce you to the House of Healers in due course.”
“But this could hurt…”
“There is no need to worry about harming the soldiers or trainers, however,” Andros interrupted. Or the other citizens of Sparta. Your fellow recruits are like you, but everyone else is an NPC. They are computer generated, not real human recruits.”
“But, I…”
Andros interrupted again: “What is your name?”
Troy hesitated again, then began to say “Troy.” But before he could fully utter the word, a second mental screen popped up in the same place inside his mind’s eye. It said the following:
Enter your name.
Huh, he thought. I suppose I need an in-game username.
Troy was just about to ask Andros how he could mentally ‘type’ a username when he saw that rather than an open space where he might enter anything he liked, a series of options had appeared below. He began to mentally scroll through them.
The first few names were as follows:
Achilles
Aegeus
Aeneas
Aeschylus
Alexander
Ajax
Intuitively he was able to mentally scroll through the long list of names that followed; he reached the bottom then gradually looked back up, pausing as a group of names beginning with ‘P’ caught his attention: Paris, Parmenio, Philoctetes, Poeas... He quite liked ‘Parmenio’, and was about to say it to Andros when it occurred to him that perhaps that sounded kind of like a type of cheese. Would the others bully him for that? It wasn’t worth the risk.
He then returned to the top, focusing for a moment on ‘Ajax.’
“Hey, what about Ajax? That was a warrior’s name, right? When I was younger, I had a close buddy called ‘A.J.’. So I’ll choose that, I guess.”
“Ajax is indeed a warrior’s name, as are many of the options. Whatever you choose, do it quickly. As a Spartan, your intuitions must become your servant. Choose your name, and I will call you that from now on.”
At this, Troy considered demanding that he be called “Ahm_a_loser” or something along those lines, imagining the Spartan soldiers having to shout it at him every time they needed to say his name. Until Andros added: “You will soon start to think of yourself as your new identity.”
“Hmm… not to be ungrateful, but couldn’t I just stick with ‘Troy’? After this many years, I’m used to it.”
Andros paused. Was the man thinking? Troy was briefly reminded of tech that took time to load.
Then the warrior replied: “Troy is indeed an acceptable option. Recruits can select a name that is not on the list, but only if it derives from one of the ancient Greek place names or legendary figures. And this one does.”
“I can? Cool. Then I will be called Troy, please.” As he said this, the word briefly popped up on the screen in his mind, and it then disappeared.
Name: Troy
“Very well then. Troy. A bold choice, I might add.”
It occurred to Troy that the man didn’t say his name right. It sounded more like ‘troch’ when Andros said it.
“I’d rather you pronounced it T-roy,” Troy responded. “With an ‘oy’, like in boy.”
Andros shrugged, then began to turn away to his left, striding towards a building that was fifty yards away across more of the sandy ground. “When you reach level five you gain the right to modify your name,” he said over his shoulder. “Until then, this is only for your own reference, and because usernames are mandatory. The trainers will call you what they like – and don’t expect it to be polite.”
Troy hurried to keep up – he felt like there was a long list of questions he still needed to ask. “Wait – is that my bedroom that I arrived in?” He asked, pointing backwards towards the door as he caught up and tapped Andros’s shoulder. “And can I get some blankets for the bench?”
Andros looked sideways at his newest recruit, and placed a large tanned arm across Troy’s shoulder as he walked. “You do get a blanket. If you want more than one, you’ll have to find that yourself. You do not get your own room, however. You’ll be sharing a dormitory with the rest of the newest trainees. I will introduce you to them now.”
Releasing the boy, Andros continued to stride across the sandy area.
Level: Hoplite (Level 1)
XP: 0010
Hit points: 13/14
Equipment: (none)
Chapter 5: The Training Ground
Troy looked around as they went. The sun was shining almost directly overhead, and the sky – or the simulation that looked like a sky, he supposed – was perfectly blue with just the merest streaks of white cloud.
This was certainly nothing like the weather back home, and there was no sign of the city smog, either. Was it summer here, perhaps? Might the General even have made it perpetually summer? Did it even rain in a virtual training world, and if so, why?
Soon, they approached a pair of long buildings set in the corner of the large training area. Each one had pillars along the front, and the pair of buildings were set in an approximate L-shape but with around ten yards between their closest edges. There were almost no shadows being cast by either building.
In front of the one to their left, a group of tall, muscular young women were training, and Troy remembered the General’s comment about the training program taking in girls as well as boys. Not all looked as Greek as Andros, either – there were both light- and dark-skinned recruits, and they were wearing various mismatched pieces of armor, as well as the same light body armor as Troy.
The captain training the recruits was a muscular and broad-shouldered woman with very pale skin and red hair tied back and braided. She had singled out one of the hoplites, a wispy girl, shorter than average, with light brown skin and blonde hair. And the captain had begun to shout at her:
“You will never make it as a Spartan with that attitude!”
As the other recruits stared ahead of themselves impassively, their officer strode closer to her target, holding a metal rod threateningly in her right hand. “Do you think this will hurt, you little worm?” she screamed.
To which the recruit answered, “No, Captain Semele!” Her voice sounded confident to Troy, but her eyes were wide and fearful.
“Good! Spartans should not fear pain. But let’s find out!”
With this, the rod whistled through the air and thumped the girl hard across the upper arm. Troy was deeply impressed that the poor hoplite girl managed not to scream in pain, but she certainly winced and flinched in a way that was clear to see.
The trainer took a step closer. “Not good enough,” she hissed. “You wouldn’t show so much pain and fear if you weren’t so weak, girl. Drop to the ground, and do twenty push-ups.”
The hoplite rubbed her arm for a moment, but soon she had crouched down to comply without command. Troy felt deeply sorry for her – but as she began her push-ups, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the muscularity of her slender arms. She wasn’t exactly unattractive, either…
“Hurry up,” called Andros sternly.
Troy realized that he had stopped walking as he had watched the scene unfold. He now turned away as the training continued, and began to run to keep
up with the long strides of the warrior-guide.
“Now I can see the advantage of this light clothing – it’s hot here,” he said as they hurried on.
“Indeed.”
Andros stopped in front of the adjacent building at the corner, putting one sandaled foot on one of the pair of long stone steps that led up into the structure. Above these were a set of six pillars which dominated the front of the building, and Troy could see a doorway beyond, right in the center. He looked up at the stonework above the pillars, and saw that the building had the words “Elysian Fields” etched into the ornate stonework above its entrance, and wondered what it meant.
Pausing again, he glanced back at the female recruits, and saw that they were now marching away. As he looked on, the young woman who had been hit by the captain got up and hurried after her comrades.
He looked back around, and stepped up beside Andros.
“Welcome to the barracks,” said the guide, shading his eyes as he looked around at Troy. “Training begins in ten minutes, so if you have anything you need to do in order to get yourself ready, be quick about it.”
* * *
Troy walked into the Elysium Fields dormitory. The room he entered was a large, square chamber with six beds, all of which were quite low to the ground. Some already had young men sitting on them, each dressed in the same manner that he was, and there were a further pair of recruits standing in the middle of the space. They all stopped talking and looked at him as he walked slowly in. He paused, mentally counting. Six boys, six beds.
“I guess I’m in the next room,” he said. There was silence in response, and he strode through the doorway, feeling embarrassed.
Nemesis (Sparta Online Book 1) Page 3
