Trial by Combat

A beam of early morning light pierced through an opening in the makeshift canvas tent, waking Andre from a fitful slumber. The pain he felt in his muscles was a stark reminder of their rigorous training schedule. He cast aside his lightweight cover, feeling the chilly morning breeze nip at his exposed body. Today is not going to be any more manageable.

He joined the crowd of men walking towards the stream to wash up in the morning. The view wasn't much improved from the day before - a scene of thin bodies coated in dirt and filth, their tired faces marked with weariness. The stream's water, tainted by the many men who had washed in it before him, provided little relief. However, in such a difficult situation, he considered water to be a valuable commodity that he would not waste.

He undressed, feeling cold despite the sun coming up, and jumped into the freezing water. The surprise left him momentarily breathless, but it also acted as a reminder, snapping him into a state of awareness. He cleaned himself as thoroughly as possible, but the crude cloth of his makeshift towel was barely effective in getting rid of the constant layer of dirt that seemed to always be on their skin.

The same unappetizing slop was served at the "breakfast" tent again today. A mixture that was grayish and lumpy, unlike anything he had ever seen on his family's farm. His stomach grumbled with hunger, yet it couldn't hide the disgusting flavor. He reluctantly swallowed a few bites, driven by need rather than want. This was not food, it was energy - a small portion to help them survive another exhausting day.

They started the day with a training session focused on weapons. Sergeant Bruiser, a massive man with fists like hams, shouted commands amidst the loud clanging of metal. The situation resembled a tumultuous dance of arms and misguided attacks. The majority of the men, recently arrived from the farm or city streets, moved awkwardly with the grace of young foals.

Bruiser navigated the trainees with unexpected speed despite his size, shouting corrections in a voice resembling gravel rubbing against stone. "Messy! Do you consider that properly wielding a sword? Similar to a woman mixing a pot! He forcefully took the weapon from the shaking young man's hand, the sound reverberating in the open space. Maintain a straight back, soldier! Keep your chest lifted, and your chin forward!"

On the contrary, Andre moved with skillful grace. He had dedicated numerous hours in his fields, practicing how to use a 'wooden' sword to spar with straw dummies. He was familiar with the weight of the weapon in his hands, the muscle memory guiding his movements. He blocked strikes, retaliated against assaults, moving smoothly and effectively.

While scanning the training ground with sharp eyes, Sergeant Bruiser noticed Andre's effortless skill. His gaze showed a sudden spark of interest. In the midst of the chaotic limbs and frantic cries, there was a hidden gem. He shouted a command, quieting the noise.

"Okay, maggots " he shouted loudly, his voice resounding through the open space. "New soldier, come to the front."

Andre stood up, feeling a combination of nervousness and excitement churning in his stomach. He looked into the Sergeant's eyes, resolute in making a favorable impact. A slight smile appeared on Bruiser's rugged face, a rare occurrence.

Bruiser growled, "Demonstrate your abilities." "What weapon do you prefer to use?"

Andre lifted the training sword in his hand, feeling the familiar weight. "Sword, Sergeant," he responded, maintaining a calm voice despite feeling anxious in his stomach.

Bruiser laughed, a deep, throaty sound. "Excellent decision, farm boy." Let's find out if you can support your claim. He made a motion towards a stocky trainee standing close by. "Garron, come up." You are given the privilege of evaluating the newcomer."

Garron, with the ugly gash still visible from their last meeting, looked at Andre with clear hatred. This was not a practice session for him, it was an opportunity to resolve their conflict. His face was taken over by a wicked smile.

The sound of metal hitting each other echoed inside Andre's head, causing a throbbing pain to start forming behind his eyes. Garron stormed forward like a raging bull, wielding his practice sword as a battering ram directed at Andre's chest. Andre quickly turned, sensing the rush of air from the metal barely missing him. His mouth was filled with a metallic taste - the scent of his own fear.

Garron's growl was rough, his expression showing intense effort and barely suppressed anger. His forehead was covered in sweat, mixing with the dirt from previous days. "Do you believe you're clever, country boy?" he sneered, his words muddled with effort.

"Combat involves more than just sheer power," Andre responded, maintaining a surprisingly steady voice despite the tremble in his legs. He maintained a crouched position, with his legs firmly planted, ready for the upcoming assault. Sweat made the practice sword in his grip slippery, about to give him away at the most crucial moment.

Garron came at Andre with his second attack even quicker this time, swinging horizontally towards his head. This time around, Andre was not quick enough to fully avoid it. The side of his helmet was struck by the flat of the blade, causing a sickening crack to reverberate throughout the training ground. He saw stars swirling in his sight, causing his head to turn suddenly. He tripped, the world suddenly tilting.

A sharp, burning sensation shot through his temple, causing potential disruption to his concentration. Garron's form started to become unclear as his vision became blurry. An innate survival reflex took over, overpowering the growing agony.

He spotted an opening in the distance through the haze. Garron, left exposed from the hit, was momentarily defenseless. This was Andre's sole opportunity. With clenched teeth, he surged forward, propelled by a blend of dread and an urgent wish. His clumsy yet determined attack hit directly on Garron's exposed bicep.

Garron's scream, a piercing high-pitched shriek, sent a shiver down Andre's spine as it drowned out the sickening sound of metal hitting flesh. Garron released his sword, gripping his arm, his face twisted in a mask of pain. It wasn't a neat injury, not a brave triumph portrayed in tales. It was unrefined, savage, and chaotic like he typically behaved.

Andre remained in place, his chest rising and falling, taking in uneven breaths. The world appeared to decelerate, with the only noise being the steady beating of his own heart. He gazed at Garron, the sword laying on the ground between them like a forgotten plaything. He experienced a strange blend of feelings - relief, disgust, and a hint of what seemed like pity.

Garron's scream had died down to a whimper, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and defeat. "You... you little... bastard" he stammered, his voice choked with tears.

"Yield," Andre forced out, his voice barely a whisper. The taste of blood, metallic and sharp, filled his mouth. He realized it was his own, a trickle running from the gash on his temple.

A tense quietness lingered as they stared, only interrupted by the rough breaths of the onlookers, their expressions a blend of wonder and grim fascination. At last, a loud noise reverberated from where Sergeant Bruiser was standing. It might have been entertainment, or possibly some other thing altogether.

"Farm boy, you have done a good job," Bruiser admitted with a deep growl in his voice. You have more determination than I anticipated. However, keep in mind that this is not a game. In a battle, that delay could result in your death.

Andre gave a nod while his eyes remained unfocused. He brought down his sword, feeling suddenly weighed down by its heaviness in his grip. Although he had emerged victorious, the win felt empty. The altercation had a profound effect on him, causing his body to revolt in agony. He was aware that he still had a considerable distance to cover before he could officially consider himself a soldier. However, at the moment, he remained alive. In this harsh new environment, the most important thing was simply to stay alive.