12 A day in Jameson's Shoes

Ashtehar stood in the library beside Jameson as he delivered his annual report to Reginald. "I've found nothing yet," he said, "But I did manage to find a boy with the talent in Petal town. He's going to be my disciple."

"Very well," Reginald nodded, "Is there anything more to report?" He held quill to a blank sheet of paper, but the war monk shook his head.

"I will be going now, there is much to do." Ashtehar bowed and left. As he walked out of the mansion, he tugged a frightened fourteen-year-old boy along with him. Jameson stayed in the library and let other guards escort them out. Reginald rested his head on the desk and sighed.

"It's getting close to that time," Jameson said. "You need to relax more; all this stress is eating away at you." He put a hand on Reginald's shoulder.

The noble lifted his graying head: "I know, I know, but Thomas is nearly twelve. Jameson, I already lost my wife, I can't lose Thomas as well. I can't go through that again. I need this to end. After, I'll get some rest." He smiled and tried to get up but fell back down.

"Are you going to live until the war?" Jameson leaned Reginald back and got him a pillow. "You're pushing your stress on Thomas and comparing him to commoners that are better than him every day. That's going to put a large burden on him. He won't come out of your training with a good mindset. You need to give him attention as a father."

"I have to," Reginald looked at the painting of his wife and family on the library wall. "Thomas is strong like his mother. He's got a good heart and picks everything up quickly, but I need to push him further."

"Are you pushing him further or are you pushing him away?" Jameson knocked all the papers off the desk. "Look at yourself. At this rate he's going to grow up without knowing his father. Trust me. I've been through this. You'll regret leaving your son alone."

"You hypocrite, you're just as hard on your son as I am." Reginald sneered. "And it hurts. Thomas looks and acts so much like her. I should feel like I'm with Emma again, but it just keeps reminding me of the past. I keep picturing her dead in my arms." Reginald picked the papers back up and handed one to Jameson. "Look at this, our profits for the roses have doubled in the last year. The war monks have gone nearly in a frenzy. The year-long war is coming, we need to get stronger."

Jameson sighed at his friend, "I know we need to get stronger, but too much training has a negative effect. Take a day to relax, get with a woman, have some fun for just a day. I need to go train my men, try to get some rest." He bowed. Right after he left the room, he saw Doevm waiting. "We'll be training in the guards' barracks when you're done cleaning." The boy nodded and entered. Jameson sighed and made his way to the front yard.

All his men were still doing the drill with his second in command leading. "Weapons rest!" The ninety-nine spears stopped in unison in ten rows of ten. That was the ideal formation, but one was missing. Jameson stood in front of the line of nine men with one spot absent. "Squad three, where is Frey?"

"Helping his sister sir," one of the nine said.

"She slipped again?" Jameson mumbled. "Understood, continue drill. I'll go get him."

"Yes sir. One!" Jameson grumbled to himself as he made his way to the rose fields. He knew where Frey and his sister were just by the screaming alone. The farmers paid no attention to the noise and kept working. Jameson walked further away from the fields, eventually finding the shack that Doevm used to live in. Inside, Frey's sister was flailing around her small thin arms and screaming. Her long black hair was disheveled and flew everywhere. Her plain brown clothes were wrinkled and dirty.

Frey held her down: "Please, it will be over soon." He said, his voice as soft as a lullaby. He held a bottle with green liquid to his sister's mouth.

"Poison, poison!" The sister screeched. Only the right side of her body, which Frey held down, was moving. The other side was completely limp. Her words slurred, as even part of her mouth refuse to open. Jameson waited in the doorway until Frey poured the contents down her throat. She tried to spit it back up, but Frey covered her mouth. She bit hard enough to draw blood, but Frey held on. He massaged her throat until she swallowed every last drop. She fell unconscious, so Frey let go.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Frey apologized. When he turned around and saluted his captain, his face was wet.

Jameson sighed, "What happened to her? I thought she was just clumsy."

"She was pricked by a thorn." Frey sat down and stroked her hair. "Most people die, but she had a slight resistance. Instead of paralyzing her whole body, it paralyzed her right side. She lived, but she's slow, both physically and mentally. She's nice most of the time, but when it's time to give her medicine she gets like that. She's recovering, but not very fast."

'So this is where he gets his soft heart and why he's so afraid of the fields,' Jameson thought. 'No wonder. If I imagine Rena like this, I would have slit her throat out of mercy.'

"Well, is this all the treatment she needs?" Jameson felt pity, but he needed to wrap this up. "You don't have to skip from now on. Family is important after all. Let's get back to the field."

"Yeah, let's get back to training." Frey left his softness by his sister's bed. He stood up as a soldier and returned. Jameson led them for an hour in spear drills, then moved everyone to the Pit for additional training.

The Pit wasn't a building, more of a cave they found decades ago near the mansion and away from Petal Town. All it looked like from the outside was a hole in the side of a hill. On the inside, the rock and stalactites had been cleared out to be smooth. The walls and roof were reinforced with metal and wooden bracers. It had enough space to fit a warehouse and had no real structures or furniture. While weights and training spears were put in the back, there was no other equipment. The hard floor was too dangerous to train on, so dirt was moved in.

The reason they didn't use this facility when training with spears was because of the echo. Soldiers needed to move in unison. A hundred and one spears moved to make one sound, which was hard to tell with everything echoing off the walls. They didn't practice outside much because they didn't want outsiders to copy their techniques like Doevm had done.

In the soil were circles eight feet (or 2.4384 meters) in diameter. The soldiers paired up and drilled basic offense, defense, and dodging. Ten minutes into the training, Doevm showed up. "Everyone halt!" Jameson's voice echoed. Everyone stopped and faced him. He put a hand on Doevm's head. "This is the newbie, and he needs to be shown the basics. Frey stepped forward. "Not you, I don't hate Doevm that much." The soldiers laughed a little. "From yesterday, I'm guessing he already knows all this, but he still needs to learn our routine. I need someone his body size. Actually, I have an idea, continue as is, I need to talk to Doevm and Frey anyway."

"Yes sir," the guards boomed and continued their training.

"Sir, what did you need me for?" Frey asked. Doevm looked a little curious as well.

"Don't you know?" Frey shook his head. Jameson face palmed. "I forgot you've only been here for a few months, usually after a sparring as intense as that one, I go over your fight with both of you. I cover your weaknesses and strengths."

"Doevm, you were crafty and made use of your environment. You used the first battle to test Frey and act like you were tired to get an edge on him, but you relied on your spear too much in the third round. You gave up on attacking him with your hands because he was bigger than you. That cost you the match because Frey knew how to dodge your spear. Don't rely on your weapons too much, no matter how much more comfortable it is. Your body is a weapon. Use it, you know how. That feint for Frey's groin was good. You used experience to scare him. Wipe that smile off your face when you fight, it's annoying."

Doevm scratched the back of his head: "Sorry sir, that is a force of habit. I can't control that."

Jameson balanced the idea of hitting the idiot. "What do you mean you can't control it? Just be focused. Is it a nervous habit or something?" Upon seeing the boy's shrug, he sighed and moved on.

"Frey, you were reluctant to fight someone weaker than you. That is called pity. Doevm said it best: You can take your pity and your spear and shove it up your ass. This is training for war. There's no pity. Don't throw down your spear because you feel you have a sense of honor. Use any means necessary to kill your enemy. You did, however, realize your mistake. You threw your pity away as soon as you realized he was strong. You acted calm even when you were blinded. You knew he was going to aim for your heart, so you moved that area and caught his attack. You knew to dodge when Doevm had a spear, and you dodged well."

"Overall, you two are opposites. One is soft-hearted while the other is cold-hearted. Strong against skillful. I want you guys to fight and learn from one another. Doevm, pick up Frey's bravery. You run too much, although that wasn't always a bad thing. If you stayed confident, you would have won. Frey, learn to have a switch for your heart. At one point, you can be soft, but the next you need to be a killer. Use your environment like Doevm did and throw away your sense of pride in battle. Frey, try not to kill Doevm." Doevm paled.