That morning in the Weald of Alben…501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZtL32lPHXk
A ray of sunlight rose above the canopy, and waves of heat burst from the ground, illuminating the verdant forest. It was high summer, and the earth had gone many days without rain. Leaves turned pale, and the flower petals drooped. Even the hares and foxes living in the woodland were afraid to leave their burrows. A boy, the first cadet awake, sat watching the sunrise behind a pane of glass that separated him from the wilderness, listening to the snoring and mumbling of those asleep under the same roof. The wilderness had remained unchanged in the nearly two years he had spent watching the same scenery, but the training he had every day had been taxing on him. He had the build of a soldier, partly due to the onset of his growth spurt as well. His hair had grown slightly and was parted in the middle, and his eyes were half closed, their irises darkened from years of exposure to gunpowder smoke. He crossed his legs and leaned his sword beside him, his kepi dangling from its pommel, as he rested his hand on a table, pinching a cigarette between his steel-cast fingers, which he had redesigned, but the pain in his bones was even worse than before. The only place he could find relief was when he soaked his lungs in herb smoke, which he exhaled with a sigh, its haze armouring him like a visor. His other hand, roughened by rifle stocks and sword hilts, was wrapped around a mug of water warmed by his Eifer. He exuded a sense of calm, and nothing in his demeanour was the same, as if he had always been a tool of war.
The encampment's bronze bell tolled at the sixth hour, forcing the cadets to wake up, which led many to believe they were being attacked. Squirming, the cadets felt the alcohol in their systems, but unlike some of their peers, most were able to rise despite their pain. Excitedly, they folded their blankets and dressed in their uniforms, slipping their blank rank plates onto their shoulders and getting ready in minutes. While the barracks were busy tidying their quarters, a blonde-haired cadet rubbed his eye upon waking and noticed that his friend had been up and ready long before him. Embarrassed by his lack of discipline, he was forced out of his bunk by his thoughts, swinging around with his legs dangling off the side before leaping down quietly and tiredly trudging towards his friend.
Having felt the currents in the air shift, the disciplined cadet looked over his shoulder to find that his comrade had finally woken up. “Morning.” Arminius greeted him, his coarse morning voice having already dissolved, offering his warm mug of water for him.
Julien received it with both of his hands wrapped around the vessel, but he could not feel the warmth of the water, which Arminius had heated up for him. He took a sip, and the knowledge that it was supposed to be warm was soothing enough for him as it washed away his fatigue. “How long have you been awake for?” The blonde-haired boy asked, setting the mug on the table.
Arminius wrapped his hand around the mug and heated the water again after Julien had cooled it with just his touch. “Since dawn.” He softly answered, breathing in his smoke that was unlike the tobacco that his instructors and comrades indulged in. Rather, its scent of dried tea leaves and hint of coffee was easy on the nose, and the energy it provided became his Eifer.
His friend, however, refused to see any positives it could bring, and as he packed his backpack, he protested out of care. “You should quit it.” Julien said, repeating the same complaint he has had ever since Arminius started smoking.
“Why? What else is there that’d keep me company?” Naively, Arminius defended his source of calm and gazed out of the window as the whitish-grey smoke concealed his eyes like a delicate veil before taking a sip of water and putting out the embers of his cigarette.
His comrades, in the corner of their barrack, were just rising, their heads throbbing deliriously. The brute energetically sprang awake, but the fuss he made did not bother the black-haired half-blood, who slowly opened his eyes with drool rolling down his chin. The shorter cadet shook the sleeping dragon, couched in his slumber, as a giant lay on his bed, awake, needing no sleep.
As everyone else made their final preparations to leave, the blonde-haired cadet was reminded that they would soon be going to the continent, as they had been told the night before. “Where do you think we will be sent off to?” Julien pulled on his boots and tightened their knots as he wondered aloud.
It would be wrong to say that his comrade was not curious, but when he stood up and turned around, his face bore no signs of excitement. “Somewhere no fun, I can imagine.” Arminius fitted his kepi onto his head and retrieved his sabre, slinging a rifle over his chest and fixing the pouches on his belt, before sheathing a knife on his hip. “C’mon.” He told Julien to hurry himself as he trod down the central aisle of the barrack with his back facing the light coming from the window.
Julien finalised his uniform and equipment before jumping out of bed to chase down his friend, who was fast approaching the doorway leading to the field, where their graduation parade would take place. He marched closely behind the upright cadet and noticed that beneath the veneer of confidence lay a layer of nervous uncertainty. However, Julien had too many questions to ask that would have distracted him too much from his tasks at hand, so he ignored his curiosity and followed on. Placing a hand on the door, Arminius welcomed the barrack to the fresh summer wind and the scorching heat that lapped against their bodies, ushering them on as the currents retreated out of the barrack like sea tides.501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAfGUY78RuS
Half an hour later on the parade square…501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnLoZU7de6V
“I have been cursed with this godsforsaken rank for seventeen years.” The major clenched his fist over the crown of his rank plate, standing on the sandy earth, which had been cracked by the recent drought, as he continued his speech. “It is partly why I had taken up this position. This will forever be but a reflection of my limitations.” Letting go, he brought his hands behind his back and let out a forced sigh.
His instructors held their heads high, their gaze fixed on their commander, who was standing beside an old comrade, displaying the ideal example of how a disciplined soldier should be dressed—unwavering and loyal—but there had to be another reason for his presence. The lieutenant instructor looked at his cadets, who would soon be soldiers, and noticed that only one hundred of the three hundred who had originally joined the White Bands remained, their former comrades having retired or fled, but it was not due to cowardice. The century believed that because they could withstand the torturous training and the major’s prattling, they were prepared to bear arms for the alliance, but no one had warned them that even the best of soldiers are never prepared for what they would see in the grim reality.
Ascot stopped pacing about and stepped into position, proudly facing his century of well-trained cadets. “I have shown you all I know on war, and you will exceed the limits I have only known.” The chief instructor admitted that he may no longer possess the capabilities to lead, so he brought forth another man better suited for the position.
Under the pale blue skies, the cadets braced up in readiness when Ascot backed away and gave the spotlight to his old comrade, who thanked his former commander with a stiff nod and advanced by two paces. With the sun projected against his back, it appeared like he was glowing, but his body facing the cadets was shadowed. His uniform was much newer compared to Ascot’s, ironed out and dusted. His beret, however, was as equally old and worn, identical to his former commander's whose rank he shared, but there was a dissimilar air about him and Ascot. He seemed more respectful and humble to everyone around him, standing with better posture and a healthier build than his comrade, trained in battle and constant war. The younger major’s eyes had seen fire and ash of many battlefields, yet he has had time to carefully maintain his hair, moustache, and beard. They had a similar magnitude of aura, but what he had experienced was clearly different. The horrors of war may have turned the colours in his eyes bland, but unlike Ascot, the light in his spirit had not yet waned.
“This is my comrade, Major George Codrington. He has kindly agreed to take up the calling as your century commander on the continent.” Ascot introduced his former subordinate and student of sorts, a man who he felt he could entrust his cadets to. “Heed his every command even if it goes against the will of the heavens, for there will always be a reason behind it, however damned it may appear.” The major warned them, emphasising each word so that the thought would be drilled into the cadets’ heads.
The century stood in silence when Major Codrington prepared to speak, but they could not help but judge his stature and demeanour.
He seemed like an average commander and a young veteran, making it hard to believe that the century would be led by this forceless-seeming officer. When he spoke, his voice did not deliver a rousing speech like Ascot's. “To ensure that this century will strive without break, without relent, for our king and country, the major and I have agreed to elect four cadets to serve as our lancers.” While he briefly scanned the formation, he tried to identify the four cadets, but he did not recognise any of their names or faces. “I expect them to be our eyes and ears on the battlefield, but I needn’t say that they are soldiers just as you are, no better, no worse.” Codrington urged the remainder to not be disheartened if they do not hear their names, even though he knew that envy was an invariable feeling.
From his pocket, he retrieved a piece of paper and unfolded a list of names. It was short, with mentions of reasons written in the format of annotations that were signed by the instructors of the century, including the chief instructor, whose signature was most pronounced because of his tremors.
When Codrington held out the list, yellowed under the radiant sun, he read out the names of the four cadets due for immediate promotion. “Cadet Colt Chō. Cadet Julien Carlstadt. Cadet Lev Hayek. Cadet Arminius Reichner.” He looked up and was surprised to see that the century appeared to have been expecting these four cadets to receive graduation commendations.
A smirk bled out of Colt’s face upon hearing his name, itching to rise through the chain of command, while the blonde-haired cadet, to his own disbelief, braced up, thinking that another could have taken his spot if it were not for his theoretical excellence. Julien’s assessment was, however, easier to evaluate than Lev’s. It took Skowroński a year to realise that Lev was perhaps the most capable cadet in every field. When the half-blood Rus smiled softly, it suggested to Skowroński that he was aware of his strengths after all. The last of the cadets to be named remained stoic, and he stood to attention as his comrades did. The four cadets broke from formation and marched down their ranks before pivoting around towards Ascot and Codrington and dividing themselves along each flank. Clicking their heels, they halted and turned about to face their peers, stamping into their new positions before the ninety-six cadets. Their arms remained pinned to the side when they were approached by the lieutenant bearing four sets of rank plates for Ascot to take and award to his cadets. He unbuttoned the blank rank plates worn by the four elites for barely half a morning and replaced them with the gold embroidered chevrons that distinguished the rank of lancer. However, the tremors of his hand slowed down the ceremony, and the century could only show respect by remaining silent while their chief instructor struggled to detach and attach the rank plates.
After many minutes rolled by, Ascot fitted the last rank plate on Arminius and stepped aside, intending to say his final words to his proud cadets that he would likely never see again. “Century, I bid you well! But I pray that the heavens will guide you along the righteous path of fate.” The major exclaimed with a hand over his heart.
The graduated cadets braced themselves, clapping their heels together in synchrony. It was difficult to fathom they were the same youths who signed themselves up to the army because of their want for fame, recognition, and wealth, but they have matured and have come to understand that their desires were trivial compared to what was expected out of them. Together, with their lancers, the new soldiers of Alben tore the white armbands from their sleeves and disbanded themselves from the training corps before they saluted for however long it was necessary as gratitude to their instructors who had spent a part of their lives tinkering with their skills and abilities. A determined cry belonging to warriors ushered out of the parade square echoed in the forest as their burning spirits replaced the heat of summer, untarnished by the forsaken wild yet.501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1pyG6i3Hp9
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