When he arrived for breakfast, the Sergeant himself approached Volithur with a vial of blood boiling elixir. “Ward Harridan, the Marshal has provided the elixir for you. It is best taken after a meal.” The Sergeant bowed as he handed over the vial. “It is a blend of powdered bck tea leaves, powdered peppermint leaves, juice of lime, and a sliver of ginger – all sourced directly from the Xian home world of Tian. The ingredients are steeped in mineral water infused with cosmic energy and then cooled to room temperature for superior absorption.”
Volithur accepted the vial with a bow and word of thanks, then joined the food line. The soldiers and recruits in the room cast furtive gnces in his directions over bowls of rice porridge topped with salted fish and pickled vegetables. As he sat with his own bowl and began to eat, Thassily leaned closer with wide eyes.
“What is happening, Harridan?”
Volithur kept his tone low as he responded, hoping his friend would remain true. “Do you remember the ceremony where we received our wardships?”
Thassily snorted. “I mostly remember being scared to the threshold of death.”
“Do you remember the Lord General speaking with me?”
“Yes. He didn’t do that for the rest of us. You… looked like someone?”
“He thought I looked like one of his attendants who died a while ago. And he said maybe I would take the guy’s pce. I guess that’s a big deal around here.”
Thassily frowned in thought. “Well, I guess that’s good. Elixirs are good, at least.”
“I…” Volithur considered the vial on the table before him. He had not done very well absorbing the moon water elixir, but this one was higher quality. No doubt it would prove beneficial to him. Though not as beneficial as it would to someone with more talent.
Volithur gnced at Thassily. The boy was scarfing down his breakfast, a look of dull contentment on his face. Thassily was taller, heavier, stronger, faster, and superior at cultivation. Based on their experiences working together, Volithur also felt confident that his friend was more diligent at putting in the necessary work. The boy was better than him in almost every way that mattered in this new environment.
And Volithur’s lies would likely shift resources away from Thassily towards himself. Volithur wanted those resources. He also wanted to defraud the fifth household of some of its wealth. But he did not want to hold back his friend.
“Thassily,” he whispered, “Drink down all of your water and pce the cup close to me.”
“Why?” His friend’s question came out too loud, highlighting the area of Volithur’s superiority: cunning calcution.
“Quiet! I’m going to share some of my elixir with you, but no one can know what we do.”
Thassily blinked at him. “Harridan, you need the elixir. You… you aren’t very good at cultivating.”
“I know. The elixir is going to be wasted on me. That’s why I want you to get some of it.”
Thassily’s eyes darted back and forth between Volithur and the vial. “But you need it.”
“I am going to make my fortune around here based on resembling a dead man, Thassily. You have to do the same on hard work and talent. Just empty your cup now.”
Thassily hesitated only a moment longer, then drained his cup in a single chug before smming it back to the table. Volithur cringed at the sound, but no one else in the chaotic bustle of breakfast seemed to notice. He uncapped the vial, tilted half of its contents into his mouth, then poured the rest into the empty cup with the least suspicious motion he could manage.
As cool minty tea slid down his throat, Thassily took another gulp of liquid and shared a bright smile with him. Volithur finished the remnants of his meal, drank the rest of his water, and stared at the empty vial. He felt nothing more than the satiety of a recent meal.
“How long is it supposed to take?” Thassily poked at his belly in a suspicious manner that made Volithur clench his teeth. “Does it not work if you take half the dose? Harridan, I hope I didn’t ruin your chance to catch up.”
The Sergeant gave the five minute warning, so they bussed their bowls and spoons. Volithur gave the vial back to the Sergeant, who held the gss container up to the light briefly before turning it upside down over his mouth to accept the st two drops that were shaken free. Then the Sergeant winked at him before yelling a one minute warning.
The morning continued on as normal. Mobility work blended into bance work blended into holding poses. Volithur forced himself to follow along with the rest of the group in spite of muscur aches that had taken residence in his body over a week ago and refused to leave.
Then came weaponless combat. Instructor Gordo paired Volithur with one surly degenerate after another. He did his best to protect his face but found himself reaching on his blocks, which he instinctively did in spite of understanding that it left him overextended and out of pce to intercept follow-up strikes. During his turns to py offensively, Volithur made sure not to be too aggressive for fear of inviting retribution. Yet he also avoided being too soft, which he knew from experience only invited sadistic contempt. He had been dropped by liver shots several times, which Instructor Gordo actually encouraged as a ‘punishment’ for weakness.
As the sparring drills continued, Volithur eventually found himself paired with a wiry man from the militia who was closest in size to him. Instructor Gordo called a halt before the two of them could even start. A sense of disappointment briefly rose up in Volithur.
“Gather round, everyone,” Instructor Gordo commanded, “Ward Harridan is going to have his first smoker. His opponent for this is Little Nero.”
Little Nero looked as surprised as anyone. “You sure about this, Gordo? He’s soft yet.”
“Quite sure. Ward Harridan has an urgent need to awaken his fighting spirit.”
“Might smother it, instead,” Little Nero said.
Instructor Gordo shrugged. “Awaken, smother, just so long as you give Harridan a real fight.”
“As you command, Instructor Gordo,” Little Nero muttered. He caught Volithur’s eye. “Keep your guard up for once, kid. I won’t be pying.”
Instructor Gordo stepped between them, brought one hand to point towards each of them, and then brought them together in a resounding cp. “Fight!”
Throughout the entire run-up, Volithur had been frozen like a mouse before a cat, but as Little Nero advanced on him with hands up, a terrible urge to flee seized him. Volithur turned tail and ran. He only made it a few steps before rough hands from the circled crowd caught him, spun him about, and pushed him towards his opponent.
His heart beating, Volithur cast his gaze about for a path of escape. There was none. All he could do was take his beating and try to minimize the damage he took.
Little Nero jabbed at his face.
Volithur threw up both hands.
The next strike hit him in the liver, causing his legs to go wobbly as the pain hit.
As Volithur hit the ground, invisible cables of power threw him back onto his feet. “No easy outs today,” Instructor Gordo announced. “Keep beating him until he fights back for real, Little Nero.”
The fists came at his face again. Volithur went to block in his usual fashion, but knew he would be opening himself up for another body shot. He pulled his block short instead, absorbed the first strike, returned his elbows to his ribs in time to catch the second strike, and ate a hook to his jaw.
Volithur swayed, almost went down, and noticed Little Nero standing with both hands at his sides, not even deigning to defend himself. Volithur whipped back around and drove his fist hard into Little Nero’s nose.
The man fell backwards onto his tailbone. He reached up to test the integrity of his nasal architecture, gave a slow nod to Volithur, and stood. “It’s on, then.”
With those words, Little Nero charged forward.
Volithur ate fist after fist, never managing to block more than one strike at a time as he filed about. The flurry of fists continued, knuckles impacting with jarring force that brought fshes of pain and panic. Volithur’s core and limbs began to grow hot from the combat.
He stumbled about, trying to escape, only to be pushed back into the fight by the spectators. Strikes came again and again, nding more often than not.
And then they stopped. Volithur moved his hands out of his line of sight long enough to catch sight of Little Nero gasping for air like he had just completed the afternoon conditioning session.
Meanwhile, every bit of exhaustion had fled Volithur during their battle. Watching his opponent sway on his feet, barely able to stay upright, Volithur had a fsh of insight. He gnced wide-eyed at Instructor Gordo, who winked at him and mouthed ‘blood boiling elixir’. The sensation of fiery heat within his body grew ever more fierce as he stood there.
Instructor Gordo cpped his hands. “Well, that wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Ward Harridan not only survived, he even knocked Little Nero down once. It looks like the boy has some potential after all. Everyone else back with your original partner for a round of light sparring. Little Nero, take a seat before you tip over. Ward Harridan, grab a shower and wait in the dining hall for someone to collect you.”
