Soft, dark locks gave way to large, expressive eyes. He wore a coat of arms, stitched into the front of his tunic and held in place by golden thread. Gib didn’t recognize the seal but remembered many of the wealthy families in Arden had such symbols so they could easily be identified. This boy must be the son of some rich lord, Gib guessed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other students in the class observing their interaction.
The young lord offered one of his hands and Gib took it, startling when he felt callouses on those long fingers.
“I mean it,” the boy continued in a soft voice. “I’ve never seen one as young as we stand up to my brothers like that.”
Gib stiffened. “Those were your brothers? All of them?”
The boy blinked as if confused before responding, “No. Not all of them—Tell me, where do you hail from? What is your name?”
“Gibben Nemesio of Willowdale.” Gib released the hand hoping to hide how badly he was still shaking. “Pleasure to meet you—”
When Gib deliberately left off in search of a name, the boy smiled. “My name is Didier. Please, call my Diddy.”
“All right, Diddy.” Gib glanced around once more. “Do you have any idea why everyone is staring at us?”
Diddy’s smile was genuine, even charming. “I suspect they’ve never seen such blind bravery.”
“I doubt that. My knees are knocking so bad that I can hardly stand.”
Diddy opened his mouth as if to say more but before he could reply, a horn was blown and everyone around them jumped to attention. Gib followed behind the other boys as they made their way toward the middle of the field where the entire class was gathering.
A man’s voice boomed over them all. “Line up. Face north.”
After some confusion about which way was north, the crowd of sentinel trainees did as was told. Gib realized he couldn’t see even one person that he knew and felt lost. He was surrounded by people taller than himself, so he could barely make out the silhouettes of two grown men standing at the front of the group.
“First years move to the front. Second years in the back, you know how this works. Help out the younger ones!”
In the shuffle of taller versus shorter bodies, Gib decided he was going to have to be in the front line if he was going to be able to see anything at all. The other boys were sluggish and no one wanted to get out of his way, but he refused to settle for a spot where he would be blind to what was going on around him.
“Gibben Nemesio. Come stand in front of me.”
Gib huffed a sigh when he recognized the voice of Nage’s pampered roommate. It could be worse. Standing in front of Tarquin meant not having to look at him. Lack of eye contact would hopefully mean no forced conversation. When a pale hand was offered, Gib took it and allowed himself to be pulled through to the front line.
“Thanks,” he muttered, choosing not to look the highborn in the eye.
An elbow knocked off Gib’s and he turned to see Diddy. Beyond the young lordling was Nage, who nodded with a lopsided grin. Gib breathed a short sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t alone.
Gib noted with some confusion that Tarquin and several other trainees kept casting dubious looks toward Diddy, and the ones standing closest behind the young lord were doing all they could to distance themselves from him without breaking formation. If Didier saw their sideways glances, he paid no attention, but Gib noticed. Diddy seemed nice enough for a highborn. Why was everyone acting so strangely around him?
Before Gib could dedicate any more thought to the matter, two grown men swept forward to stand in front of the class. The hush that fell over the crowd was all the information Gib needed. These men were important. He would have guessed as much on his own based upon their height and dress, with authority emanating from their stature.
The first man was broad-shouldered and imposing. His facial features were hardened, with rough skin and peppered brown hair. He was wearing light armor: a plated doublet over chainmail and protective leather coverings around his arms and legs. One large gloved hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed longsword as though he might draw the sword at any given moment.
The man’s hazel eyes were stern as they passed over each of the gathered trainees. “Welcome to your first day of sentinel training.” His voice carried across the entire field as he addressed the group. “I am Weapons Master Roland Korbin. Some of you know of me already. For those who don’t, you soon will.”
He began to stroll down the line of students. “I have only three rules in my class. First, you show up on time each day in proper attire.” The trainer’s eyes skewered the group. “And by proper attire, I don’t mean golden buttons, ruffled sleeves, and jewel-encrusted embroidery! What you choose to wear outside my arena is none of my business, but here you’ll dress yourselves accordingly. After today’s class, all students will be measured and fitted for simple linen tunics and boots meant for the physical demands of this class.” Several of the highborn boys in the group sighed.
“Second, you’ll give your fellow students the respect they deserve. Let me be clear. There will be no favorites here and most certainly no belittlement of your peers.” Gib stole a glance in Didier’s direction, wishing Roland had been present only moments before when the young boy was being taunted.
“My last rule is that you don’t quit. Every soldier has his strengths—and his weaknesses. You’ll experience failure in my class. I guarantee this. You’ll leave the arena with bruises, broken bones, and crushed spirits. You’ll want to quit. But only when you fail will you learn. You can’t learn if you quit.”
Gib swallowed his dread. He wanted to remain hopeful. Weapons Master Roland’s rules seemed reasonable, but what if the physical training was too much for Gib? Most of the other students in the class were bigger and stronger. What if I can’t keep up?
Roland cleared his throat pointedly and bowed his head in the direction of the second man, who until now had stayed in the background. “Seneschal Koal Adelwijn will now have a word with you before we begin today’s lesson.” All eyes fell upon the other man as Gib’s breath left him in a whoosh of air. Seneschal? The seneschal? The right-hand man of the King himself and second most powerful man in all of Arden? Gib couldn’t help his gaping mouth.
Seneschal Koal was trim and had short raven hair flecked with grey that fell just below his ears. His fair skin was free of worry lines or blemishes. His mouth was set in a firm line, but something about the seneschal’s demeanor suggested he was not there to cause malice or intimidation.
His outfit was as elaborate as Roland’s was practical. He wore a magnificent silver tabard with sapphire-colored lace woven into the seams, and a ceremonial dagger was strung through the belt at his waist. An impressive red cape hung from his left shoulder and continued to cascade down his back. The detailed golden lines and arches stitched into the cape were constructed to resemble the crest of Arden, the phoenix. A light breeze rustled through the fine silk, and for a moment the phoenix seemed alive, fluttering in the wind.
The seneschal gave Roland a nod before taking a step closer to the gathered students. His eyes matched the blue embroidery on his clothing. He smiled, not unhandsomely, and spoke for the first time.
“On behalf of King Rishi Radek, I, Koal Adelwijn, Seneschal of Arden, extend his majesty’s gratitude to the young men and women who have accepted the country’s recent call to arms.” His voice was smooth and articulate—the well-trained voice of a diplomat.
Koal clasped his hands together behind his back. “Furthermore, I applaud your bravery. The life of a sentinel is not for the weak-hearted and courage can be hard to find in the face of adversity. Rest assured Weapons Master Roland will do all he can to best prepare you to protect yourself and defend your country, if the need arises. I expect all of you to uphold the values of our beloved nation and to represent Arden with honor and integrity.” The seneschal’s eyes flitted past Gib and the young boy flinched.
“If you must draw your sword, do
so only in the name of justice,” Koal continued. “Your job is to protect those who can’t defend themselves, not to oppress them. You serve all the people of Arden, not only those who are in power or well liked.” He made eye contact with Roland. “I leave you now in the hands of our finest defense expert. I have full confidence in Weapons Master Roland and if I hear of any impudence directed toward him, such behavior will be dealt with swiftly. Carry on, Master Roland.” With that, the seneschal turned on his heels and marched away without so much as a farewell.
Roland was quick to redirect the trainees’ attention. “All right, today we’re going to learn the basics of sparring, so find a partner and line up in front of the utility shed to retrieve practice swords. Boys with boys, and girls with girls.”
Diddy turned to look at Gib even as he was doing the same. “Do you want to work together?”
Gib smiled with relief. “Yes, please. That would be great.”
As the two boys navigated their way toward the shed, Didier smiled. “So what did you think of Seneschal Koal?”
Gib looked over his shoulder to be certain no one of importance was standing nearby. “The seneschal was intimidating,” he admitted in a hushed voice. “I guess I never envisioned myself standing so close to someone that high in rank. It was like being in the presence of royalty.”
Diddy’s eyes danced playfully but before he could utter a response, Roland’s rough voice cut through the air. “Tarquin Aldino! Do you not have a partner?”
Gib glanced over in time to see Tarquin’s fair cheeks turn pink with color. It was clear he was embarrassed, as he seemed to be the only boy who hadn’t been able to find a sparring partner. Even his roommate Nage Nessuno had been able to find someone. Gib’s lip threatened to twitch.
Tarquin’s face and neck were a fantastical shade of crimson as he replied, “N–no, sir. I believe there are an odd number of us—”
Roland waved his hand in the air. He pointed at someone out of Gib’s view, farther down the line of trainees. “Kezra! Get over here. Looks like I found you a partner after all.”
Tarquin let out an imploring groan, his eyes widening. “But she’s a girl!”
Even before Gib could see her, he was certain he knew who it was. The girl from yesterday with the wild hair and diamond on her forehead stormed over to the highborn boy. Her dark face was contorted into a fearsome frown as she came upon him. Voice low and clear, her words travelled across the field. “All the more fitting for when I kick your whining ass, Aldino.”
Tarquin opened his mouth as if to protest further but Roland stepped in immediately. “Enough. I don’t care who either of your fathers are or whether you like it or not, you’re partnered. If I hear another word on the matter you’ll both be running circuits. Is that clear?”
Gib didn’t watch any more. The line was beginning to move as a couple of training assistants opened the shed and directed students on which tools to take. “Will they help us if we don’t know which one to choose?” he asked Diddy.
His companion nodded. “I believe so. If they’re busy, you want to go for a sword that’s not too long for your arm.” At Gib’s dubious look, Diddy smiled, elaborating further. “You should be able to hold it down by your side without the blade tip touching the ground. Likewise, it shouldn’t rest above your ankle.”
Gib hoped he could remember that in the future. Diddy must have picked up on his tense shoulders or stance because he was jovial and casual in conversation. “I believe Master Roland may have been singling me out a little with his speech about no jewel-encrusted embroidery. I tried to tell Mother I would have no need of such finery, but she insisted I look my best on the first day. I shall revel in showing her my training uniform.”
“I’m excited too,” replied Gib. “I’ll actually have a pair of boots that fit.” He laughed to show that it was acceptable. “Will we have to pay for them somehow?”
“I–I’m really not sure.” Diddy paused as if to think. “I would say not. Surely if you’re training to defend Arden then it would be in the palace’s best interest to provide quality gear. I’ll have to ask Father.”
Their conversation lulled and the quiet instantly sought to undo Gib’s hard-earned peace of mind. “Is your father on the high council?”
Diddy flinched and Gib wondered if he’d said something wrong.
His companion recovered quickly however, flashing a smile. “You could say that.”
Roland’s voice boomed above the line of trainees just then as he bellowed at some poor fool who had knocked over a row of practice helms. Gib leaned a little closer to Diddy so no one else could hear. “Weapons Master Roland sure is different than the rest of the highborns here.”
Diddy snorted. “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” He feigned offense for a moment before laughing. “Besides, the Korbin family isn’t highborn anyway.”
Gib frowned. “What? How is that possible? Roland is a master, after all.”
Diddy’s eyes widened just a little as he put the pieces together. “Oh, I see. Roland Korbin was a farmer once too, just like you. He was drafted or came here on his own, I’m not sure which, and has worked his way through the ranks.”
A creeping sensation began to blossom somewhere in Gib’s gut. “You can do that? You don’t have to be highborn to hold the title of Master?”
“It is unfortunately rare, but yes. Lowborns can ascend the social and political ranks.”
It seemed vaguely familiar now that it was being said. He was sure he remembered his pa going on about this once. They’d been hauling water from the well and his father had been speaking of King Rishi and the changes that were coming to the country. “You can be born poor, Gib, but you don’t have to stay that way anymore. Arden finally has a good king who sees everyone’s value.”
A slow smile crept across Gib’s face. “It was King Rishi’s doing, wasn’t it? My pa always used to tell me stories about the good changes he’d made. King Rishi must be a decent sort. I mean, his laws have made it so that commoners can rise in the ranks and my sister, Liza, was able to become a sentinel. He seems like he must be wise.”
Diddy didn’t respond, but he had a huge grin on his face. Gib couldn’t figure out why. They were next in line to be fitted with the wooden blades that they would bash each other with. No doubt they would leave the field today with bruises the size of small houses and here Diddy was, smiling like a loon.
Gib grudgingly accepted the shortest sword the attendants could find—and it was still just a bit too long—and then the pair of students headed out into the field to await further direction. They didn’t say much as Gib was still preoccupied with the grand idea of living in a fine house one day if he worked hard. Diddy, likewise, was quiet.
Tarquin Aldino’s voice cut through the air. “We could stand next to Gibben.”
Gib shuddered but had nowhere to go. The highborn fool was making his way closer and the girl whom he’d been partnered with, Kezra, followed. Her frown remained constant, and Gib wondered if she knew how to smile at all. He didn’t have long to dwell on the thought because Tarquin stood nearby, glancing awkwardly at Diddy. What was Tarquin’s problem?
Kezra caught up and kneeled to tighten one of her bootlaces. Dark green eyes leveled her partner from behind wild onyx hair. “Are you sure they’re the ones you want to stand next to? I’d rather spar where we’ll draw less attention. This will be entertainment for all here. One of the only three female recruits right next to the pri—”
Roland’s voice washed over them like a wave of thunder. “Soldiers, to the north!” Instantly Diddy, Tarquin, and Kezra turned to face north. Gib scrambled to follow.
“Base stance!”
Gib watched as the others around him spaced their feet and took up their swords in fighting hands. He followed along, wishing he knew what was going on. Should he already know these commands? He’d never run practice drills on the farm before. How was he supposed to keep up when everyone was already so far ahead of him
?
“Good!” Roland was moving through the paired trainees. “Most of you already know basic commands. If you do and you realize your partner does not, help them out! If I catch anyone slighting their partner, they’ll be running circuits. Five or six laps around the field might make you feel a little more generous!” Mutters rippled through the line of trainees.
“Speaking out of turn—another excellent way to earn circuits. If I hear talk about anything other than our drills and how to perform them, then every student in that area will run. The innocent can pay proper thanks to the one who felt the rules applied to everyone but himself!”
Gib locked his jaw. What if he had to sneeze? Was that allowed? He could feel the panic tingle down his spine. As Roland commanded them through basic formations and then had them square off against their partners, the Weapons Master’s voice was the only one to be heard.
They were told to focus on defense and to take turns switching between assaulting and blocking. Gib was grateful that Diddy was a bit more reserved in his swipes and blows. When Gib missed a block, the resulting tap was hard enough to discourage him from being distracted again but not so heavy he feared real damage. Tarquin, on the other hand, winced each time Kezra caught him off guard. The thud of her sword against his arms, legs, and chest could be heard by everyone. Gib hoped he never had to be partnered with her.
Roland was moving through the pairs of students, sometimes giving advice and other times merely observing. Gib watched out of the corner of his eye as the Weapons Master closed in on them. Gib tried not to hold his breath and to keep his focus, but he was so nervous. The trainer’s eyes bore into the back of Gib’s skull, scrutinizing his every move.
A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden Page 6
