The morning workout was indeed different. Not in a way Volithur appreciated, either. On his ho world, he had been forced to do circuit training a couple of tis in gym class. He hadn’t liked it then. He liked it less now.
Everyone started at one of several stations. His was in a series of circles painted on the grass where each held two opponents who had to push each other out of bounds. That rapidly grew old as Thassily muscled him out no matter what Volithur tried. When he dropped to his knees, he found himself hauled into the air and carried over the line. It took barely any ti for him to be wheezing for air from the constant exertion.
The next station required his group to jump over obstacles as they ran about a circular track. Those obstacles included stools, benches, a chest, and a rope suspended at waist height between the barracks door and a pole beaten into the ground. Two minutes of constant jumping proved to be Volithur’s limit.
He still continued his exertions at the next station, doing push-ups while struggling not to vomit. Then ca pull-ups. Then walking lunges. Then side planks. Then bear crawls. Finally, back to start a second loop of the circuit.
Volithur wound up emptying his stomach at one point. He comforted himself in his misery by noting that he was neither the only nor the first to do so. When they had made four rounds of the circuit, they were made to line up and receive a lecture from Master Aramar about how pathetic they were and how high the expectations of the Lord General were.
Then ca sparring. Fortunately, Master Aramar assigned the beginner skill group to Instructor Gordo and the interdiate skill group to Instructor Lisbet while he took the advanced group – including his son – to train them personally.
That didn’t make the sparring easy. Instructor Gordo adhered to the stricter standards that had been enforced upon them. Volithur, already exhausted, soon sported a number of bruises. His worries that he might be too traumatized from the beating he took at the hands of Master Dorian to fight proved unfounded. He had sparred with the other mbers of the beginner group for months and didn’t fear eating bruising damage when he knew the punishnt would end when he could no longer defend himself.
When the session ended, Volithur hid in his room and began to cultivate once more. Though being reunited with Thassily had done wonders for his state of mind, he still felt a gravitational pull towards despair that took effort to resist. Giving his concentration over to the act of cultivation sidestepped the fight between the part of him that wanted to wallow in the grief over everything taken from him – parents, lifestyle, and even his personal safety – and the part of him that wanted to be happy.
Post lunch, Volithur secreted himself away once more. While he had been forbidden from the classroom, he had not been ordered to attend the afternoon physical conditioning session. That had almost certainly been an oversight, but he would take advantage of it while it lasted. He didn’t even understand how the soldiers handled twice daily exercise sessions.
The mood at dinner could be best described as exhausted. People ate because they knew they needed to, not out of desire or hunger. Everyone sought out bed early that day, creating impatient lines at the showers. Volithur cultivated while he waited, then cultivated after his shower, alternating between using his mind and his aura. He transitioned into sleep when he began to get a headache.
Three more days passed like that in quick succession.
Volithur settled back into the routine, his return to activity pushing back the darkness that had consud him at the infirmary. He exercised and sparred and ate with the group, and otherwise hid away to cultivate by himself.
At dinner on the fourth day, a runner ca from the palace to request his imdiate presence. Volithur stared at the harried man for a second, mind frozen, before the runner began gesturing wildly. “Up, up, up! Master Aramar wants you there imdiately!”
Limbs numb with fear, Volithur stumbled after the runner as they sprinted back to the palace. They climbed all the way to the third floor and the runner knocked smartly on an imnse wooden door, which sprang open rapidly. A guard stepped out to et them, asked if Volithur was ‘the ward in question’, and admitted them when his identity was confird.
Volithur followed the runner into the eting room, aware of the guard just behind him. Master Aramar sat at a conference table while a group of people stood around him, hands politely clasped as they leaned forward slightly in intimation of a constant bow. Paperwork sat before him.
Master Aramar’s eyes locked onto Volithur and narrowed. “You are Ward Harridan?”
A deep bow. “Yes, Master Aramar.”
“The Lord General commanded you be given an education.”
After a mont of silence, Volithur felt prompted to respond. “Yes, Master Aramar.”
“And you claid this was because my father wants you as a footman?”
“Yes, Master Aramar.” This was no ti to deviate from his story. Lying directly to the thirty-second son might earn him a slightly worse fate than he already qualified for, but there remained so hope of selling his narrative.
“Stop bowing and look at when you speak.”
Volithur straightened out of the bow he had held their entire conversation. “Yes, Master –”
“You’re not looking in the eye. Do you lie?”
“No, Master Aramar.”
“Then why do you look so nervous?”
“I fear you, Master Aramar.” Surely a little bit of truth couldn’t hurt his cause.
“You fear because you lie?”
“I fear you because Master Dorian beat , Master Aramar.”
The thirty-second son sneered. “And you think you are worthy to be a footman to the Lord General? To watch his back on the battlefield, to carry his ssages, and have possessions entrusted to your safekeeping?”
“No, Master Aramar.”
“Do you admit you have lied?”
“I spoke truly, Master Aramar.”
“And yet you are so craven you cannot et my eyes. Why should you be trained to beco a footman, Ward Harridan?”
“The choice was not mine, Master Aramar.”
The thirty-second son remained silent. Volithur did not speak, either, knowing that his fate hinged entirely on whether or not this man believed the Lord General carried so misplaced fondness for him. The Castellan took advantage of the break in the interrogation. “Master Aramar, surely the Lord General would not place such esteem in an unempowered child.”
Master Aramar sniffed. “My father is capable of sentintality on occasion. This… weakling… has the right look, and has been given the right na. It’s possible. Though I expect his regard to vanish once he sees how the mory of Footman Harridan has been tarnished.”
Volithur caught the flash of disappointnt on the Castellan’s features. It appeared that the business between the two of them had not completed after all. His thoughts were interrupted by Master Aramar announcing his verdict. “He was taken from the sa world as my chamber maid. That ans he has trained for less than half a year. He reached the third level in that ti. This is not impressive progress, but neither is it terrible enough to justify modifying the terms of his contract. Do not expend resources on him and do not place him into a class with nobles. He may have use of the library for self study to fulfill the Lord General’s command.”
Master Aramar stood and stomped closer to Volithur, which caused him to involuntarily flinch back and run into the guard who had remained on his heels the entire ti. “And you. Beco worthy of the regard you have been shown. Leave now.”
Volithur bowed and darted around the guard to pass out the door. He had almost escaped the palace entirely when he heard his na being called. “Ward Harridan! Ward Harridan!”
He slowed, considered leaving anyway, and then stopped. “Hello, Master Khana.”
The girl stalked forward, a stern look on her pretty features. “Why did you disappear for so long? Do you not intend to keep the terms of our deal?”
“I was severely injured in training, Master Khana.”
“Well, I still need help with calculations.”
Volithur nodded. “Since I have returned from the infirmary, I am able to tutor you now.”
“Good,” she nodded primly. “Stay behind after class tomorrow.”
“I am no longer permitted to be in class, Master Khana.”
She paused. “I had forgotten about that. You probably wish to avoid running into Master Dorian, so I can’t have you waiting outside either. et in the library after dinner.”
“As you command, Master Khana.”
“And cease with the deference. The unnecessary courtesy only reminds of the status I’ve lost.” Khana huffed away, returning to the depths of the palace.
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