That all you got?

Part 1: 

The next morning, before the first light of dawn, while the world still lay shrouded in darkness, the young boys in their barracks were awakened by the commanding voice of Sergeant Pruleium Lacia. His words cut through the chilly morning air like a horn's call, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of a wooden stave against a metal pot. With bleary eyes and drowsy minds, they roused themselves from their makeshift beds, the prospect of another day of training spurring them to action.

Their attire, though modest, reflected their status as trainees in the ancient craft of warfare. Fashioned from coarse, homespun wool sourced from the hardy sheep of the kingdom's hills, their uniforms were pragmatic and unembellished, yet robust enough to endure the rigors of their training routine. Each garment bore the emblem of Miliscient, painstakingly embroidered onto the breast—a shield adorned with the kingdom's sigil, a constant reminder of the pledge they had made to defend their homeland.

The tunics hung loosely about their frames, allowing for ease of movement during drills and exercises. Beneath the outer layers, they wore simple linen shirts, their sleeves rolled up to expose forearms that would soon bear the calluses of countless hours spent with sword and bow. Their trousers, practical and utilitarian, were cinched at the waist with sturdy leather belts, while their boots, though worn and scuffed, were diligently maintained and essential for the miles they would traverse on the training grounds in the coming weeks.

As they dressed, the young recruits felt a sense of anticipation mingled with trepidation. Each piece of clothing they donned brought them one step closer to their goal of becoming skilled warriors, yet they knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials. They were still in the early stages of their training, with much to learn and prove before they could earn their place among the ranks of Miliscient's defenders.

With their uniforms secured and their belongings gathered, they made their way to the training ground, the pre-dawn darkness giving way to the soft glow of torchlight. Today marked another opportunity to hone their skills, to prove their mettle, and to forge bonds of camaraderie that would sustain them through the trials to come.

As they stood shoulder to shoulder amidst the throng of young men, their breaths mingling with the crisp morning air, anticipation hung heavy in the atmosphere. The training ground was a sea of faces, each one bearing the mark of determination and resolve, a testament to the trials they had endured to reach this moment.

In the center of the field, Sargent Pruleium Lacia stood tall and imposing, his presence commanding the attention of all who gathered before him. Despite the weariness etched into the lines of his weathered face, his eyes blazed with a fierce determination that mirrored their own.

"Young men," his voice boomed, resonating with the weight of experience and authority, "today marks the beginning of your journey as defenders of Miliscient. Each one of you has been chosen for a purpose—to rise from the ashes of adversity, to reclaim what was lost, and to stand as guardians against the encroaching darkness of the 6th Veridian empire."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, the gravity of their meaning hanging heavy in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon.

"You may have witnessed the horrors of war firsthand, felt the flames of destruction lick at the heels of your loved ones," Sargent Lacia continued, his voice tinged with a solemnity born of harsh reality, "but know this—you are not alone. You stand shoulder to shoulder with your brothers, united in purpose and resolve, bound by the unbreakable bonds of duty and honor."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, the fire of determination burning ever brighter in their eyes.

"Today, as you embark on your training, remember the sacrifices that have brought you here," Sargent Lacia proclaimed, his voice carrying across the field like a rallying cry, "remember the faces of those who have fallen, the homes that have been reduced to ash. Let their memory fuel your resolve, let their sacrifice guide your every step."

Despite the absence of raucous cheers or exuberant shouts, the palpable sense of motivation hung heavy in the air. The young men stood tall and resolute, their chests swelling with pride at the opportunity to defend their kingdom. While their response was measured and composed, it belied the fierce determination and unwavering resolve that burned within each of them.

As Sargent Pruleium Lacia's words echoed across the training ground, a silent but powerful wave of inspiration swept through the assembled ranks. Their hearts stirred with a sense of purpose, their spirits lifted by the gravity of the task that lay before them. Though their voices remained silent, their eyes shone bright with determination, reflecting the fire of conviction that blazed within.

Amidst the quiet intensity of the moment, the young men felt a profound sense of pride to stand among their comrades, united in their commitment to defend their homeland. Each one understood the weight of the responsibility that had been entrusted to them, and they embraced it with a solemn reverence, knowing that they were part of something greater than themselves.

As they prepared to embark on their training, their resolve was unshakeable, their determination unwavering. Though the path ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials, they faced it with heads held high and hearts brimming with the indomitable spirit of Miliscient. 

As Sargent Lacia concluded his stirring speech, he strode purposefully back into the garrison, his steps echoing through the corridors with a quiet resolve. The garrison staff and sub-instructors immediately sprang into action, ushering the young lads into groups based on their assigned living areas.

Among the various barracks, each named after esteemed soldiers of legend, one stood out—the Ignis Barrack, named after.... you guessed it, Fabian. His reputation as a fearless warrior and noble leader had earned him a place of honor among the ranks of Miliscient's defenders.

However, fate had a different path in store for Aurelio. Instead of following in the footsteps of his legendary father, he found himself randomly assigned to the Constitus Barrack alongside Rono, Sili, Lubry, Ichen and Cailchu—a twist of fate that diverged from his family's legacy. Despite this deviation, Aurelio remained undeterred, his determination undiminished by the seemingly arbitrary nature of his assignment.

"Imagine how cool it would be to be in the Ignis Barrack!" Lubry exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with awe.

"Pfft, yeah, as if they'd let someone like you in that barrack," Sili retorted with a scoff.

As the two bantered back and forth, Aurelio couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Little did they know that the boy they'd met just a few hours ago was the son of the legendary Fabian Ignis, after whom the barrack was named. He was an Ignis himself, inheriting both the legacy and the burden of his family name. Yet, Aurelio had made a conscious decision not to reveal his surname. 

Instead of correcting Lubry and Sili, Aurelio simply smiled and remained silent. He knew that his true worth would be proven not through his lineage, but through his dedication, skill, and determination on the training ground. And in that moment, surrounded by new friends and the promise of adventure, Aurelio felt a sense of excitement and purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

The six of them, these young lads that would collectively now be referenced by all the sub instructors as the "Constitus barrack," gathered eagerly in the open field, their eyes alight with anticipation and determination. They stood in formation, their uniforms crisp and their resolve palpable, as the sub instructors prepared to outline the plan for the next two weeks of training.

"You are to follow a special training regimen that will prepare you lads for the upcoming reclamation mission in two weeks," announced the lead sub instructor, his voice carrying across the field with authority. "Together with other barracks, you will form a platoon tasked with reclaiming the annexed territories of Millicent. The details of this mission will be disclosed in due time. But for now, let us focus on your training regimen."

He paused for emphasis, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing.

"For week one, we'll start with physical conditioning," he declared, his gaze sweeping over the recruits. "You'll engage in a series of rigorous exercises to build strength, endurance, and agility. Then, we'll move on to weapon proficiency, combat techniques, and tactics, ensuring that you're well-equipped for whatever challenges lie ahead. We will not stop until we reclaim what was stolen from us."

As he spoke, the recruits exchanged determined glances, silently steeling themselves for the trials to come.

"During week two," the lead sub instructor continued, "we'll focus on endurance training to push your limits further, as well as refining your weapon skills and tactical acumen to a razor's edge."

With a sense of purpose and resolve, the recruits nodded in understanding, ready to embrace the challenges that lay ahead.

"But before we dive in," the lead sub instructor announced, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, "let's kick things off with a quick warm-up. Two laps around the field, lads! Show me what you're made of!"

With a collective cheer, the recruits sprang into action, their footsteps pounding against the earth as they embarked on the first step of their journey towards becoming formidable warriors of Millicent.

Part 2: 

The sub instructors had overestimated the physical capabilities of these young lads severely. As they set off on their first lap around the training field, it quickly became apparent that they were struggling to keep pace. Gasping for breath and legs heavy with fatigue, they hadn't even run halfway before exhaustion set in.

The enormity of the training field loomed before them, stretching out seemingly endless in every direction. It was a daunting sight, and no one could blame the recruits for feeling overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the task before them.

After completing the grueling warm-up lap around the training field, the recruits collapsed onto the grass, chests heaving and sweat dripping from their brows. The two-minute break felt like a fleeting moment of respite amidst the relentless intensity of their training regimen.

As they caught their breath and wiped the sweat from their faces, the recruits exchanged weary glances, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and determination. Despite the physical strain, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie among them, forged through shared hardship and a common purpose.

The sub instructors watched from a distance, their gazes assessing the recruits' progress with a mixture of satisfaction and concern. They knew that the road ahead would be tough, but they also recognized the potential within each recruit to rise to the challenge and emerge stronger for it.

After the brief break, the sub instructors wasted no time in leading the draftees to the next phase of their training. With a sense of anticipation tingling in the air, they gathered around as the instructors outlined the next exercise.

"Alright, lads, listen up," barked one of the instructors, his voice cutting through the quiet anticipation. "For our next exercise, we're going to focus on building strength and resilience. We're going to do a series of circuit training stations, each designed to target different muscle groups and push you to your limits."

The draftees exchanged determined nods, steeling themselves for the challenge ahead.

"At each station, you'll perform a set of exercises before moving on to the next one," continued the instructor, his tone firm but encouraging. "We'll rotate through the stations, giving it our all at each one. Remember, the key is to push yourself beyond your limits and never give up."

With that, the draftees split off into groups, each heading to a different station scattered across the training field. At one station, draftees heaved heavy sandbags, testing their raw strength as they hoisted the weights overhead. At another, they grappled with ropes, their muscles burning with exertion as they pulled and tugged against the resistance.

As the circuit progressed, the intensity mounted, each exercise pushing the draftees to dig deeper and find reserves of strength they never knew they had. Sweat poured from their brow, muscles screamed in protest, but still they pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to prove themselves worthy of the challenge.

By the time they completed the circuit, exhaustion hung heavy in the air, but so too did a sense of accomplishment. They had pushed themselves to their limits and emerged stronger for it, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead on their path to becoming warriors of Millicent.

After completing the intensive circuit training, the draftees gathered once again, their chests heaving and their muscles trembling from exertion. Despite the physical strain, there was a sense of pride in their eyes, knowing they had pushed themselves to new heights in pursuit of their goal.

"Excellent work, lads!" exclaimed one of the sub instructors, his voice ringing out with genuine admiration. "You've shown true grit and determination today. But remember, our journey is far from over. We have much ground to cover before we're ready for the challenges that lie ahead."

With a collective nod of understanding, the draftees braced themselves for what was to come, knowing that each day brought them closer to their ultimate test on the battlefield.

"Tomorrow, we'll focus on agility and speed," continued the instructor, his words punctuated by the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional groan of exhaustion. "We'll work on drills to improve your reflexes and coordination, ensuring you're quick on your feet when it matters most."

The draftees exchanged glances, a mix of anticipation and apprehension flickering across their faces. They knew that the road ahead would be demanding, but they were determined to face it head-on, united in their resolve to defend their kingdom at all costs.

As they made their way back to the barracks, the sun setting on the horizon, a sense of camaraderie enveloped them, binding them together as brothers-in-arms. They knew that in the days to come, they would rely on each other for strength and support, drawing courage from the bonds forged in the crucible of training.

part 3: 

As the draftees trudged back to the barracks, their stomachs growled in protest, gnawing with hunger after the grueling training session. The promise of a meal beckoned them, but there was no mistaking the sinking feeling in their guts as they approached the mess hall.

Inside, the mess hall was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows that danced across the worn wooden tables. A haze of smoke hung in the air, mingling with the stale scent of sweat and musty linens.

The food that awaited them did little to lift their spirits. A sorry excuse for a meal lay before them, consisting of watery broth, meager portions of gristly meat, and stale bread that had seen better days. The draftees exchanged weary glances, their expressions a mix of disappointment and resignation.

"Looks like we're in for another feast," muttered Lubry sarcastically, poking at the unappetizing gruel on his plate with a grimace.

"Man, I wish we got fish instead....." added Sili, a wistful tone in his voice.

"We should be grateful that we even have something to eat, given the circumstances," chimed in Rono, his voice tinged with resignation.

Ichen remained silent, lost in his thoughts, his gaze distant as he stared down at his plate. His lack of reaction spoke volumes, a stark contrast to the vocal discontent of his comrades. 

Meanwhile, Cailchu's exhaustion seemed to override any concerns about the quality of the food. With a voracious appetite, he devoured his meal without hesitation, seemingly unfazed by its lackluster flavor.

Aurelio remained silent, lost in his thoughts.

-- I didn't think this day would come, but I have to admit, even school food from my past life is better than this.... uhm... discombobulated sorry excuse for food, though I suppose that we have no other choice than to eat this, war really sucks! I miss Valarie's food, I guess I should've been more appreciative of it back then, when this is all over I want to eat her food again.

With little enthusiasm, the rest of the draftees forced themselves to eat, each bite a struggle against the unappetizing fare. The food offered little sustenance and even less satisfaction, but they knew that they had no choice but to persevere.

Despite the dismal meal, there was a sense of solidarity among the draftees as they ate. They knew that they were all in this together, bound by a common goal and a shared sense of duty to their kingdom.

And as they pushed aside their empty plates and returned to their bunks for the night, they resigned themselves to the fact that in times of war, even the simple act of eating was a luxury they could ill afford. But with every meager mouthful, they found solace in the knowledge that they were one step closer to fulfilling their duty and defending their homeland from the oppressors who sought to crush their spirit.