《Drafted to Fight [A Goblins and Grandmas prompt entry]》 Chapter 1 Everything hurt. As she floated in the place between dream and waking, each small pain could be ignored for another moment, even relished. She had nowhere to be. No duties or obligations. Her grandchildren had children of their own. She could hear at least two of her great grandchildren out there with their own beloved granny. Aching, burning, numbness, tightness, splintery¡­ She sighed, which eased some pains but emphasized others. Even when Eugenia was reclining on her own bed, barely awake, trying to decide if her bladder would let her sleep another bell¡­ Even then, everything hurt. She sighed again, since the last one had at least felt different if not better than not sighing. She spent an indulgent moment envisioning a funnel she could sew out of oilcloth that she could wear at night with the skinny end in her chamber pot. Not that her fingers would hold a needle anymore. She chuckled as she sat up, cackled. When had her chuckle become a cackle? Sometime after her Hubert died and before Cecily, their youngest had moved her into the ground floor room that used to be the cook¡¯s room before Cecily and Bobert took over the tavern¡¯s master suite. Hmm¡­ just before Cecily had her second mewling brat. He¡¯d had more colic than any other ten babies of Eugenia¡¯s experience. Business taken care of, Eugenia slid the pot back under her bed where Tim would come to empty it. Tim was the apprentice stable hand who tended the animals and the proprietor¡¯s old granny. If Eugenia had been selfish she could have sold the tavern when Hubert died instead of letting her daughter¡¯s husband talk her into signing it over to them. She could have afforded an Eye Opening Elixir with the gold the tavern would have brought. This was not a new train of thought. All her life she¡¯d wanted to try the Elixir that assigned a class to anyone who lived through the process of drinking it. It had been a pie in the sky dream ever since her great uncle had tried to convince her parents to let him buy her one. Her parents wouldn¡¯t hear of it seventy odd years ago. Children had a three out of five chance of dying trying to get a class. Thirty years ago, when she could have had enough gold for it, the one in four chance that the Elixir would have killed her had still made the alchemical preparation a bad idea, now she¡¯d take those odds over the pain. Eugenia sat on her narrow cot and began her daily exercise routine. Hubert used to tease her that all dancers were masochists. She still embodied that remark. Every stretch and flex was agony. She could barely close her fists, but she could touch her toes several ways. She did all her exercises seated now. There was too much threat of another fall. Her body was little more than skin stretched across knobby bones. She stood in front of the mage made mirror Hubert had bought for her upstairs studio before they had needed a nursery. She might get a whole gold selling the mirror. She didn¡¯t have anything else worth as much. Five gold for an Elixir. Twenty for a good one. Another six or seven for the youth and beauty of a Longevity Serum. She posed, her bleary eyesight allowing her imagination to provide the perfect grace of the beauty she once possessed. She lowered her arms when her diminished strength made holding them up impossible. Eugenia moved slowly, washing herself at the basin of room temperature water before she pulled on her clothes. All her clothes were loose now. She couldn¡¯t tie the strings or thread the buckles for common fashion. She sat on her bed again and sighed. Every moment was another reason to sigh. Her next daily activity was to walk to the rocking chair next to the taproom hearth where she could sit in relative comfort while she ate. It would be a lot closer to ask to sit in the kitchen, but Cecily was always in the kitchen and Cecily was entirely too cheerful for a grumpy day. Cecily strained the bowl of brown for her- the stew commonly served in taverns across the empire. She passed it through a sieve, to eliminate any lumps. Then she soaked the crumb of several slices of bread in the thin soup. That was what Eugenia ate, two meals a day of that, and not one tooth required. Sometimes Eugenia wondered if anyone would notice if she stopped eating it. Not like she could waste away much more. Then she got hungry and ate the sloppy abominable mess after all. She was not looking forward to the long walk. She would just sit a while longer. Cecily was singing in the kitchen. Her grandchildren, Farris and Evelyn, sang the responses, almost all of which were educational. Eugenia heard Bobert come in, the song stopped when he sang a line in his deep baritone and the children squealed and laughed. As much as Eugenia disliked her son in law, he¡¯d always been good with children. Eugenia smiled. She wouldn¡¯t want to have missed seeing her youngest raise up her children or miss having little ones underfoot for the third generation. Sometimes though¡­ sometimes. Eugenia heard the children run out to the courtyard. She couldn¡¯t hear what Cecily and Bobert were saying. They seemed to be whispering angrily. There was a quiet moment, Cecily¡¯s soft slippers scraped on the stone floor just before she knocked on the door. ¡°Mama?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I¡¯m up.¡± Eugenia offered querulously. She didn¡¯t mean it angrily, her voice did that all by itself when she put enough air behind it. She kicked until she found both slippers and slid them on. ¡°Mama, come into the kitchen. Bobert brought news.¡± Eugenia grunted. She shuffled to the door and pushed it open. Cecily pulled it out of her hand. Eugenia wished she wouldn¡¯t do that. The door was heavy, but the door moving when she was already pushing on it almost made her fall over. They couldn¡¯t afford another Healing Pill if she broke her hip again. She snatched her cane up from its place just outside her door. She didn¡¯t need it in her room where there was always a wall to lean on. ¡°Here. They were posting these in the square!¡± Bobert said triumphantly. He waved the poster in her face. Eugenia brushed it away. ¡°I can¡¯t see to read anymore.¡± Eugenia complained, walking between the two and settling heavily on a chair. The kitchen chairs bruised her legs. They were not comfortable and they were too heavy for her to move now. ¡°It¡¯s a draft poster, mama.¡± Cecily sounded excited, worried and nervous all at the same time. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, a nervous gesture she¡¯d had since childhood. ¡°The Empire is drafting every elder and granny. Every resident of Cauldira over the age of sixty two is ordered to report to the square today.¡± Eugenia blinked at her daughter, ¡°How old are you now?¡± Cecily rolled her eyes, made a face and sighed. ¡°Fifty two, mama. I¡¯m talking about you.¡± ¡°Bobert, how old are you now?¡± Eugenia demanded, although she knew he was seven years older than Cecily. That was one reason she¡¯d disliked the match. They had met as apprentices in the same household when Cecily was only twelve. He grunted. ¡°Fifty nine, mother in law.¡± He actually rarely spoke to her. They¡¯d butted heads too many times over the years. ¡°Pity.¡± Eugenia sniffed. ¡°Mama!¡± Cecily scolded. ¡°What? It¡¯s not like the tavern would leave the family. So. Read me the handbill. Am I supposed to bring anything?¡± Cecily sighed heavily and took the paper. ¡°By order of his Imperial Majesty Cereborn the Second, a draft and a levy of the citizenry is required for Protection of the Realm. ¡°All persons, male and female, human, halfling and dwarf, over 62 years of age (and elves over 750) living in the Empire are to report immediately to a designated drafting site. Life Mages will be deployed to ensure compliance. ¡°All draftees shall be issued either a Longevity Serum or an Eye Opening Elixir at induction, depending on availability, compatibility and choice. Those who survive will be marched to the training grounds in Hartmont before being deployed to the Eastern Border. Previous training and previous service prioritized with additional resources. ¡°Bah.¡± Eugenia scoffed. ¡°Availability means they¡¯ll use the cheapest Longevity Serums possible and Physique Teas and Herb Baths.¡± Getting her hopes up was begging the gods to dash her back down. She was going, of course, even a Longevity Serum should make her young and strong again. Strong enough to pull a bow or thrust a spear. ¡°But it¡¯s mandatory.¡± Bobert protested. ¡°That¡¯s how I know they¡¯ll cut corners. Eastern Border?¡± Eugenia mused. ¡°Have we heard any rumors about the Fellcrag Mountains? When I was a child it was always the orcs, but¡­¡± Everyone knew that the empire had driven the orcs across the seas, those who were still alive after the fighting that is. For generations the orcs had been a menace to the fertile farmland and pastures west of the crags. The war of extermination had followed a concerted campaign by the orcs, when they had stopped their infighting long enough to choose a warlord. Cecily scrabbled at the pile of broadsheets she only collected because they came wrapped around foodstuffs she picked up in the market. She and Bobert both scanned the headlines. ¡°Goblins.¡± Cecily frowned. ¡°Really?¡± She looked up at her husband. ¡°How much trouble could a few goblins be?¡± Bobert shrugged. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s a dungeon in perpetual overflow?¡±
Far to the east, in a new fort built in the shadow of the Fellcrag Mountains, an unclassed clerk sat, furiously scribbling notes based on the books and excerpts she was studying. The new General had requisitioned a copy of anything any library or manor in the empire had on goblins and it was Carrie¡¯s job to search through the myths and suppositions to find the truth of their current enemies. Every few days another shipment of papers, mostly copied out of older books and scrolls, arrived. Then Carrie had to organize her notes again. ¡°So?¡± Carrie looked up from her work at General Patrioc. ¡°You asked me to be thorough.¡± She lifted the long lock of grey hair that had worked its way half out of her messy bun. ¡°I just got these yesterday.¡± The wayward hair slipped over her ear and back into her face. ¡°You have had more than a month. What do we know?¡± The general was an austere, youthful looking noblewoman who had abdicated a duchy in favor of her granddaughter to take up command of the Empire¡¯s forces in this goblin war. This ridiculous war which had dragged on almost two years before anyone realized there was a war. Carrie sighed. ¡°There are two prevailing theories about the origins of goblins. One says they are all escaped dungeon spawns with no ability to procreate. The other is the Bog Goblin strain or theory or¡­¡± she shrugged. ¡°myth?¡± ¡°Every other live dungeon spawn has a natural source, a blueprint copy made from something living or formerly living.¡± The general said in a clipped tone that dared her clerk to contradict common sense wisdom. The general had a classical academy education, after all. She wasn¡¯t some uneducated rube. Carrie nodded, but couldn¡¯t stop herself from contradicting common sense anyway. ¡°Unless they came through the Multiversal Dungeon, back at the dawn of time when our realm was linked to a sprawling endless dungeon between worlds. Including realms with different rules of magic and physics.¡± ¡°Another myth.¡± The general barked. ¡°Tell me more about the Bog Goblin thing.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Carrie shuffled a stack of papers and slid a crude drawing at the general. ¡°There is a persistent folk legend that claims goblins are born from pods or eggs that float in shallow, still or slowly flowing water. Bogs, river deltas, swamps, but not deep ponds, swift streams or salt water. They are supposed to emerge from their little soft shells or pods as grindylows, semi aquatic baby sized monsters with a three tails, arms with webbed claws and-¡° ¡°I know what a grindylow is, Carrie.¡± ¡°Right. But the persistent folk legend, taken in aggregate, suggests grindylows are the tadpoles of the goblin life cycle.¡± Carrie finished triumphantly. This was her own breakthrough theory, after all. ¡°I thought grindylows were smaller grindymares.¡± The general showed off her education again. She not only had excellent marks in Beasts and Monsters, she¡¯d spent decades of her youth leveling her class in dungeons. ¡°Yes¡­ well¡­¡± Carrie frantically searched her papers again. She pulled out a drawing of a grindymare with a shockingly hobgoblin like face.¡°If I am going to be asked to guess, based on what I¡¯ve read, the reason we never see hobgoblins higher than level 50 is the same reason nobody has ever seen a grindymare under level 55. Life cycle metamorphosis.¡± The last three words came out with a scholarly glee she could not hide if she tried. As soon as she had a report she would also have a doctorate worthy dissertation. ¡°That¡­ huh.¡± The general looked around, and finding no surface uncluttered she then pulled a stool from her storage ring and sat down. ¡°So. What we¡¯re thinking is that by exterminating the orcs, who¡­¡± the general pulled a book from her storage and flipped to a recipe. ¡°Were known for farming grindylows for their unripe pods and their tender meat¡­¡± she looked up, horror and regret in her face. ¡°We actually caused this goblin invasion by eliminating their natural predators. I- yes.¡± Carrie winced. ¡°If I am asked for my opinion. Yes. That¡¯s exactly what happened.¡± ¡°Well crap.¡± Chapter 2 General Amara Patrioc fidgeted the stylus in her hand as she tried to pretend she was actually interested in General Whiteside¡¯s low staffing problem. If she was stationed in a small fort in the frozen north she would leave her post to delve the nearby dungeons as often as possible. She would complete her geas and leave the same as the delinquents seemed to do. Delving dungeons counted against the geas placed on every conscript and standing guard in a ten person fort did not. It wasn¡¯t like there was anything to defend against up there. The problem was that he needed replacements at a higher rate than the Council of Generals had scheduled, despite the regular additional disciplinary assignments. A brief search of the historical minutes record of the Council of Generals, soon after she¡¯d first heard his plea had immediately found that the problem was perpetual. It was also always discussed in every council meeting for the entire twenty minutes General Whiteside was allotted the floor. He hadn¡¯t said anything new for eighteen of his twenty minutes and the last two didn¡¯t seem promising. Amara leaned forward and jotted down: ¡°Remind me why I thought this would be more interesting than Ducal Council.¡± The words appeared momentarily under her magical stylus and then disappeared off the paired sheet in her book of paired sheets. The book and the sheets had been a gift from her father when he abdicated the duchy in her favor. She had given a similar set to Gertrude, her granddaughter almost a year ago for the same milestone. Eidolon answered with a single word: ¡°Behave.¡± She tapped it to clear the page. He¡¯d had his sheet from her set almost as long as she had. Dukes of the Patrioc line did not marry. They did not take on political alliances. They took consorts from a pool of loyal families living in the duchy. Usually the consorts also held important positions in the government of the duchy, but not always. Eidolon had begun as her riding companion. Now he was the only one of her ducal consorts still in her personal retinue, taking a role as the Major who enforced the General¡¯s orders and had her ear. She would marry him if he didn¡¯t deflect the suggestion every time she brought it up. The rest of the paired pages in her book now had different names written at the tops and that was sad when she thought about it. General Whiteside rambled to a halt and blinked around the room as if expecting some response. Given that his command was deliberately filled with misfits, problems, injured soldiers, and recovered deserters from other positions, his complaints merely boiled down to that his command was working exactly as the other generals intended. The north was the punishment detail and the rest and recovery detail on purpose. General Sanderlin eventually looked up. ¡°The General of the North has graced us with the state of his command. General of the NorthWest?¡± Amara flipped a few pages in her paired notebook while General Yanvee shuffled her papers and started deliberately wasting her twenty minutes. This was familiar too. She stopped on the page labeled Wind Mage Darren. She sucked on her bottom lip a moment and started writing. She¡¯d intended to give this instruction in person, but her Conclave Liaison had been nowhere in sight when she went looking for him. She had portaled from Carrie¡¯s tower to her command post only to have to portal back to the capitol for this weekly meeting before she found him. ¡°Liaison Darren, I need you to have your patrols bring in some Grindymare bodies. Set some appropriate bounty, but don¡¯t make it too high. Have the dismantlers clean the bones and re-articulate them for anatomical display.¡± There was a brief delay punctuated by rustling papers and a few small noises of impatience from the older generals. Darren¡®s spindly script started and stopped. ¡°Are you¡­ That¡¯s¡­ Yes, sir.¡± Amara almost broke her own sense of protocol to smile in council. Nobody had told Darren that crossing things out did not erase the marks from her page. Apparently he was not a fan of these orders. Before she could turn the page he added: ¡°Grindylows too?¡± She sent back: ¡°Sure, might as well save time.¡± Then she added the symbol that meant she was no longer attending the page. She glanced up at General Yanvee who met her eye briefly. Amusement seemed to roll right off the half elven general. Amara did not sigh. She turned to another page, the one for her personal librarian in the Imperial System of Libraries. ¡°Marta, I need you to send Carrie everything you can find on Grindylows and Grindymares. In particular, every drawing or depiction of a Grindymare possible. You did an amazing job with the goblin/hobgoblin task. Thank you.¡± She did not expect Marta to respond, she rarely did within a day, so she flipped back to Eidolon¡¯s page. He hadn¡¯t written anything else. She missed him even though she saw him every night. While she was Duke Patrioc he was constantly at her elbow as aide, bodyguard and consort. Finally, with only a small amount of her time remaining, Oralia Yanvee cleared her throat. ¡°Our Allies to the Northwest are pleased with the level of cooperation and support we currently exchange. The draft and supplies from their lands this year has been slightly higher than average compared with the past ten years. No change needed.¡± General Yanvee was more diplomat than warrior. Her great-great-grandfather was the Elven King and she spent most of her time in his court as a sort of military ambassador. She swept up all her papers and notes. She folded her hands. ¡°I cede the remainder of my time.¡± She did have over a minute left, after all. General Sanderlin smiled painfully, almost more of a grimace. ¡°Thank you General of the North West. That concludes our status updates. Are there any motions to be brought forward?¡± Whiteside, Morris and Pearlwig all raised their hands. Whiteside did not get a second. Morris and Pearlwig seconded each other and both got their requests for support approved. Their regions were the active war zones with opposing armies and thinking generals. Even with the goblin war Amara¡¯s front was basically a monster hunt. The war zone generals had long since colluded to make a mutually beneficial plan for the empire¡¯s martial resources to bring to council every month.
¡°You¡¯re too young for the draft.¡± A young mage in a cream colored robe said to the men ahead of Eugenia in line. Her voice was tinged with extreme fatigue, as if she¡¯d been saying that line nonstop for months not days. ¡°If the war drags on the Conclave and the Army will both be recruiting, but the Emperor is very specific in his instructions. Everyone over 62 and nobody under 61 will be getting a free potion, made by the Imperial Potion Service. Go home or I¡¯ll mark you ineligible for recruitment.¡± The clutch of five able bodied, barely grey haired men dispersed immediately, leaving Eugenia the closest to the mage. She¡¯d been in line for over a bell. Bobert had pushed her here in the cart, but didn¡¯t leave her a stool or even the cart. ¡°Huh. At least you¡¯re old enough.¡± The mage scoffed. She touched a wand to Eugenia¡¯s forehead. ¡°That mark will persist for a few days. Go towards the temple doors and someone will help you find the line.¡± ¡°I hope the physicians are prepared for the reality of marching us anywhere.¡± Eugenia said, stomping her cane. ¡°I barely got this far.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± The mage smiled, showing off her perfect teeth. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time the Empire has had a draft.¡± The truth was the draft was perpetually rolling around the empire, one of the biggest lies told to the citizenry. Few people knew that truth, but this mage was one of them. The Empire was never not at war. They hadn¡¯t even conquered their entire continent yet. Eugenia inched her way towards the temple, keeping her eyes on her own feet. At some point the main square had been paved flat, but many of the stones had shifted over the centuries. She had just entered the shadow of the temple¡¯s tall roof when another young person spoke to her, actually touched her arm. ¡°Infirm and over 80 this way, Mother.¡± The young man said respectfully. Eugenia considered telling him off. She wasn¡¯t infirm yet, by Solara! But she was 81 or 82. She couldn¡¯t quite remember. So she let herself be led to a line of benches that had been placed along the side of the temple, well away from the entrance stairs and headed into one of the many army tents erected in the vicinity. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Eugenia sat gratefully and leaned on her cane to ease her back. ¡°Can you see this mark the mage put on my head?¡± The woman next to her asked querulously. ¡°I assume it¡¯s our ages.¡± Eugenia didn¡¯t bother to look. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since my eyes saw letters as more than a blurry smudge.¡± ¡°Let me see yours.¡± Eugenia finally turned her head towards the other woman. ¡°You¡¯re 83? I would have thought you were older.¡± The woman scoffed. ¡°I barely qualified, 62 last month, but the Army will fix a lame leg, so this isn¡¯t all bad.¡± ¡°I¡¯d settle for less pain.¡± Eugenia flexed her arthritic hands over the handle of her cane. ¡°I¡¯m surprised so many people have lived this long.¡± The chatty woman prattled on, boasting about her grandchildren and the house she was leaving. Eugenia tuned her out. After a long, long time, mostly marked by the shadows moving across the nearby buildings, the line finally moved. ¡°Everyone up, follow the line. Everyone up.¡± The young soldiers chivvied and occasionally prodded the draftees into the tent. Eugenia was startled, but not unhappy to see an actual active portal in the opposite end of the tent. There were a lot more benches inside, and the smell of old people still lingered. She followed the line through the portal and into another tent. She looked around. This tent was bigger than the whole temple. There were cots instead of benches. Row after row of straw mattresses on rough wooden bed frames, each already filled with an old person. ¡°This way, keep moving, first available bed.¡± A young woman was saying in a tone that implied she¡¯d gotten tired of saying it. Eugenia followed the line of doddering old women to the first empty row of beds. She sat on the first available one she came to. The ropes sagged and creaked alarmingly, but she didn¡¯t fall in. Nobody told her to do anything else, so she just sat there. Eventually movement in the enormous room drew her attention. A big white thing was being moved slowly through the room. The closer it got, the more she could see. The big white thing was, in fact, two white things, two privacy screens on wheels that were playing leapfrog with the cots. There were three people moving the screens while a fourth person wheeled a large brown box into the screen that was already set up. It was reasonably efficient. When the screens arrived, the old woman on each cot was sitting on the bed. When the screens moved, she was flat on her back and yet another person picked up the pile of clothes and whatever she left behind, rolling a bin of discarded laundry to the next bed. Some of the patients glowed. That would be the alchemy working. Once Eugenia noticed the process it was only a few hours until they got to her cot. She already knew roughly what to expect, although she hadn¡¯t been able to hear anything through the privacy barrier, even when it came to the cot directly beside her own. ¡°Right then.¡± The woman steering the door to the screen around Eugenia said. ¡°Simple enough process, take off all clothes and jewelry, even your drawers. You won¡¯t fit your old clothes and you¡¯ll be issued new. Anything you want back goes in here.¡± She held up a small drawstring bag. ¡°You¡¯ll get it back after the first week or two of training.¡± She left the bag. ¡°Then settle in the bed, on your back, with the sheet pulled up.¡± Eugenia waited until the screen was closed. Then she stood and removed everything she was wearing. She had left her rings and pendant with Cecily. Not that any of them were enchanted, not even a strength bonus. She used to have a strength bonus ring, but she gave it to¡­ She couldn¡¯t remember which grandchild she¡¯d given it to. How peculiar. One of the three who went off adventuring to be sure. She hadn¡¯t even taken any money, although she also didn¡¯t tell Cecily where she¡¯d hidden it. Maybe she¡¯d be back someday. She left her old lady clothes on the floor with her slippers. She hadn¡¯t bothered with her shoes. The laces were impossible for her knobby fingers, even though she could still reach her feet. Hubert had liked her limber and she¡¯d never stopped the stretching she¡¯d learned when she was an actress and dancer. Cecily didn¡¯t like to be reminded that her mother had trod the boards before marriage. She didn¡¯t seem to think dancing for the tavern was as bad, although that was considered even more lascivious when Eugenia was young. Eugenia had made the mistake of apprenticing her youngest child, the flower of her brood, to the house of a merchant whose daughter went to the same very exclusive, very expensive school where Eugenia sent all her children. The man gave the impression of good breeding, and boasted freely that both of his parents had been servants in the household of the Great Lord who had given him his own start with the estate steward. Unfortunately, there is a large divide between the untitled ¡®Great Lords¡¯ of the world and the scions of actual great houses Eugenia had cavorted with in her youth on the stage. Cecily had impeccable manners. She could easily do the books at the tavern and half the businesses in the street. The girl had also internalized the prejudices and foibles of the gentry. The landed little lords of their little manors who aped the fashions of the capital and the titled while always a few seasons behind and a few concepts off. The daughters of the gentry dreamed of marrying up. They read the sermons of the middle class and assumed that was what impressed the immortals. The daughters of the immortals took their class elixirs and focused on the training of their tutors. They went on wild hunts and came back with the trophies. Once upon a time Eugenia had followed along in a magic bubble, watching and calling out sightings of beasts for her noble friends. Once upon a very long time ago. But mortals in the retinues of immortals don¡¯t last forever. Her star had risen swiftly and fallen even faster. She levered her legs onto the bed and arranged the sheet. She cackled quietly as she remembered the last time she had waited for a man in this state. It had been years, but not as many as her children would like to believe. Her life had not ended when her husband died, even though she had taken the potion to stop her flow and prevent pregnancy. The physician looked young, despite the shock of grey at his temples. He wheeled the chest into her little makeshift room. He eyed her emaciated form for a brief moment and then picked up a clipboard. ¡°Name? You don¡¯t have to give your own name, but it will be permanent, linked to your body magically. That¡¯s mostly to prevent you from getting more alchemy than your future training and service allow.¡± ¡°Genia.¡± She gave her childhood nickname. He looked up. ¡°Surname, patronymic or whatever second name? It¡¯s clerical.¡± ¡°Peerless.¡± She said after a long pause. She wasn¡¯t afraid of her family not being able to find her. She knew where they were. She had used Genia the Peerless Wonder as her stage name the few times she¡¯d had top billing. He made a surprised little harrumph sound but wrote it down. ¡°Are you willing to fight?¡± ¡°Is not fighting an option?¡± He grinned. ¡°Of course. We need two people in logistics and support for every soldier in the field.The fighters get better medicine though. Let me check what you qualify for and let you make an informed decision.¡± He set the clipboard down and picked up a grey box with an attached wand. He waved the wand, on its long wire, over her entire body and peered at the box as he went. ¡°No fewer than three poorly healed breaks to the femur and pelvis, Healing Pills?¡± ¡°Four breaks. The best Healing Pills we could afford, a whole gold each time.¡± He scoffed. ¡°Yeah. Didn¡¯t think to ask the Conclave?¡± ¡°My children decided on my behalf.¡± Genia looked away from him. ¡°Right. There¡¯s also a long history of minor injuries, possibly a high movement job?¡± ¡°I was a dancer.¡± ¡°That would do it. Has anyone ever told you that you¡¯re a superior candidate for an Eye Opening Elixir?¡± She paused. Why was it hard to admit it? ¡°My great uncle was an Earth Mage. He told my mother when I was a child, but she was very against it. So¡­ then I never had the money to pay for the elixir and there¡¯s still a high chance I would die from it.¡± He huffed. ¡°Three out of five for children, but the odds get better and better the older you get. That¡¯s why the draft age is 62. The odds of success take a jump from one death in four to one death in twenty at age 62, and that¡¯s without another change catalyst taken at the same time. So. You¡¯ll still be strong either way, but the Longevity Serum nobody dies from and you will look young and beautiful. The Eye Opening Elixir is reserved for those both willing to fight and likely to get a good class. I also have a supply of catalysts. The fighters will have even more alchemical support during training and service. The non fighters are drafted for a term of ten years or shorter, depending on the length of the conflict. If it takes less than ten years to rout the goblins and clear the mountains and border you¡¯d be done when the army is done. You may be transported to another war front. After training is concluded, Fighters serve up to 500 battle days. Those include nights camped on the march during the campaign but not nights in a base camp unless you marched or fought that day. If the war ends before your battle days are fought you will serve your remaining days in one or more of the Imperial Dungeons, fighting monsters and farming the resources needed to keep our troops strong and young. Oh, and days in the infirmary count as battle days.¡± ¡°I will fight.¡± Genia said. She had thought she would prefer to be a cook or something, but the Eye Opening Elixir was her one big regret in life. ¡°Keep in mind, most people who take the elixir and get a class do not end up as mages. Every class we have comes from the same elixir made the same way.¡± ¡°Not a problem.¡± She grinned. ¡°My hope has always been Acrobat.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an advanced evolution of Fencer, Blade Dancer or something like that. If you¡¯re ready, this is a Divine Dewdrop Physique Rebuilding Pill. It will rebuild every muscle, bone, organ and sinew in your body to a healthy human standard but will not make you younger. It¡¯s an epic frequency drop in one of the Imperial Dungeons. It¡¯s also one of the things on the list that substitute for the entire tax on exiting. You can¡¯t sell them except to the Emperor¡¯s Factor, but you can give them to loved ones. I used to run that dungeon back when I was a combat medic.¡± ¡°The pill is safe?¡± ¡°Better than safe, it¡¯s the catalyst I was talking about before. I have never lost a patient to an Eye Opening Elixir who first swallowed one of these. Ready to begin?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Good. You have to swallow it dry and then I¡¯ll monitor you until it starts working.¡± He placed the pill in her mouth and held the wand over her face and then throat. ¡°Perfect. Now for this.¡± He turned back to his rolling cabinet and opened a drawer that contained thousands of elixirs in a space that should barely hold four. He pulled out an Elixir flask. He held it up to her lips and slowly poured in every drop. ¡°When you wake you will be strong but not young. On average a classed person ages in reverse, year for year, until they look about thirty.¡± The words were a soothing promise. The last thing he did, just before he left her was touch a different wand to her forehead. She was already asleep. The mark the Life Mage had placed on her forehead disappeared and her service number from the form he was filling out was placed there invisibly in its stead. Much more visible was the geas mark on the back of her right hand, 500, for the days of her service. Even with a 280 day year, festivals not included, that 500 days would on average take four or five years to work off. At least it wouldn¡¯t go up. The physician tucked the sheet over her shoulders, neatly under her chin. As he did he saw the edge of his own service mark on the back of his own hand. Only 32 days left and this one counted. He smiled at the peaceful looking old woman and rolled his cabinet to the next cot.
Carrie wrote a letter to the Conclave Adventurers Society, asking them to post a bounty on live grindylows for research purposes. She sent them a sheet of paper which happened to contain not a letter but an indecipherable sheet of scribbles and crossed out sections. Chapter 3 Carrie got a terse letter and her wayward sheet of notes back from the Conclave Adventurer Society within a day. She never did find that original letter. She wrote a new one. Before she could lose it she took it to one of the General¡¯s aides and asked the young nobleman to send it for her. It arrived promptly.
Genia woke slowly. The first sensation that impeded her rest was a general itchiness, which was revealed as a flaky dryness when she moved her hand to the spot. ¡°Carefully.¡± A soft feminine voice said. ¡°Don¡¯t open your eyes yet. Let me wipe some of the crust away first.¡± A soft, dry cloth swept deftly from the bridge of her nose out to her temple, one side and then the other. Once, twice, three times. ¡°There. You¡¯ll at least not get any in your eyes. Sit up as soon as you¡¯re ready, and use the sheet for a wrap. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s all women here. Blow.¡± ¡°I noticed that on the way in, except the physician, of course.¡± Genia said, and she was surprised by her own voice. ¡°What is this crud?¡± She took the offered handkerchief and blew her nose. She had never seen such large, crusty boogers. She blinked. She could smell. It had been years since she¡¯d lost her sense of smell and it had happened so slowly she¡¯d barely noticed. In a way she wished her sense had remained dormant another few minutes. The tent was rank with unpleasant odors. She had expected the renewed eyesight, but she wished she¡¯d regained her sense of smell after her bath. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± The nurse chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s what happens with a physique pill. Every bit of your body is remade into the best you that you can be, the leftovers are pushed out of the body, shed like a snakeskin.¡± ¡°Oh. That¡¯s¡­¡± She searched for an adequate word. She settled on: ¡°revolting.¡± ¡°Yes, yes it is, but you¡¯ll be pleased with the results. Now can you sit up?¡± Genia began the long process of shifting and turning to get into sitting up position. The movements came swiftly and without pain. ¡°Whoa there. It¡¯s going to take a little while to get used to the way your body feels. Want some help?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ve got it.¡± Genia got into a sitting position, holding the sheet over her front and moving slowly. ¡°Nothing hurts.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good. That¡¯s the way it should be. Everyone here knows what you¡¯re going through.¡± The woman held up her hand which had a 1357 on the back of it. ¡°Or most of what you¡¯re going through. All the newly classed get the physique pill, the unclassed and non fighters get a serum which does the same basic mess, only a little wetter.¡± ¡°Ugh.¡± Genia sighed. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re foul. Also we wake up after a few hours. Classers take two days. You¡¯re one of the last in your lot. Then we¡¯ll move the tent to the other side and start over again while the cleaning crew works their magic. So¡­ almost steady now? Ready to stand up?¡± ¡°I think so.¡± ¡°Great! Just go slowly, do you want to lean on me?¡± ¡°No, just step back a little.¡± ¡°Sure, sure. There you go. Let me show you the baths.¡± They walked to the side wall of the tent. Genia had just gotten the sheet tied around her when they went from the big tent to a much smaller tent with a basin of water and three chattering girls. ¡°Another one.¡± The nurse sounded a little stern. ¡°Oh. Hi, don¡¯t you look steady. Step right over here and we¡¯ll get you sorted quick.¡± Genia half expected to be set in the tub, but they didn¡¯t do that. They whisked away her wrap and then bathed her with ruthless efficiency. Rinse, lather, rinse, lather, rinse, oil, scrape, rinse, buff with three towels at the same time. ¡°Step into these. Don¡¯t worry, all the trainees will be wearing them, and we¡¯re all women at this training camp.¡± Genia let herself be dressed in loose bloomers and an impossibly soft, stretchy shirt. She also had socks and the strangest shoes she¡¯d ever worn. They had soles as tall as her thumb with ridges in them. When she was dressed, if you could call that dressed, they pushed her in the direction of a hallway made out of a tent. She followed the hallway to a desk set across the end, just inside yet another tent room. ¡°Name?¡± The woman didn¡¯t even look up. ¡°Genia Peerless.¡± The woman shuffled a few folders, then opened one. ¡°Put your hand here.¡± She pointed at a magitech box with the outline of a hand on top. She still hadn¡¯t looked up. Genia considered making a snide remark, but decided against it. She put her hand on the box. The woman behind the desk checked something on the box against something on the paper and seemed satisfied because she turned the page in the file. She also picked up her quill as if to write. ¡°Class?¡± ¡°How would I know that?¡± The woman finally looked up, seeming exasperated. She sighed heavily. ¡°Try saying Status.¡± She then made a flicking gesture and looked at the page again. ¡°Status.¡± Genia said, tentatively. Genia Peerless Age: Immortal Class: Wind Dancer level 1 Strength 2 Agility 6 Vitality 2 Intelligence 8 Wisdom 7 Luck 27 Skills: Glaive Mastery 1.0 Spells: Wind Blade 1.0 Genia had barely read the whole thing before the woman at the desk cleared her throat imperiously. Genia raised her eyebrows at her. ¡°Sure. Take your time, not like there¡¯s anyone waiting. Class.¡± ¡°Thank you, I will take my time. Wind Dancer.¡± The woman wrote that down. More words than she¡¯d personally penned appeared on the page. ¡°Hybrid mage/melee, initial skills or spells?¡± ¡°Glaive Mastery and Wind Blade.¡± The woman snorted softly, and marked next to two of the lines. ¡°Highest stat? You don¡¯t have to say what the number is, they¡¯ll all be growing through training.¡± ¡°Luck.¡± The woman looked up in clear surprise. ¡°Huh. Oh, are you elvish?¡± Genia touched her ear. ¡°Not much. One out of eight great grandparents. My parents had my ears docked when I was small. I¡¯d forgotten.¡± ¡°Nasty practice, we¡¯re not at war with the elves anymore. Horrible thing to do to a kid. I don¡¯t know how much anyone has told you, but the first month or more is nothing but training. You¡¯ll be lumped in with all the fighting girls, classed or not. No bullying based on looks, lack of class or anything else. Leave the bullying to the instructors. Follow the ropes to get something to eat, then one of the instructors will put you with a training group. Keep track of your training group. You will eat and sleep together. If you¡¯re missing they¡¯re in trouble and the opposite. After the first month you¡¯ll have magic practice. No using your spell until then. If you¡¯re seen using your spell you¡¯ll be fitted with a suppression collar. Any questions? Good. Go eat.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The ropes were two lines of crowd control ropes that led through the tent into another tent hallway and another huge tent. This one was set up with long tables with benches and a line of food trays, all covered with metal covers. A woman closed a book with a loud snap and stood. She was the only person waiting in the tent. ¡°Every time I get into the story.¡± She sighed, ¡°What do you like? Chicken or fish, pasta or vegetables?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ do you recommend something?¡± The server smirked. ¡°This time of day? Not really. If I had to serve myself I¡¯d go with fish and vegetables.¡± ¡°That sounds good.¡± The server laughed. ¡°Good enough. Don¡¯t eat more than your body wants. You¡¯re probably starving, but chew slowly and stop when you¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Right.¡± The woman quickly made up a plate, including a crust of buttered bread and handed it to Genia. ¡°Sit anywhere for now, they¡¯ll make you sit with your group once you have a group.¡± She returned to her seat and her book. ¡°Oh. Forks and water on the side table.¡± She gestured. The fish was sliced too thick and dried out despite the thin gravy, but it wasn¡¯t too tough. The vegetables were very soggy and the butter was flavored with herbs and garlic. Genia was almost finished with her meal before she realized that her teeth had regrown in the two days she¡¯d been unconscious. She wondered how she could have missed that. ¡°Leave your plate.¡± The server called as Genia finished and started to pick up her plate and cup. She left her plate and went to the door of the tent. A woman in light armor was sitting under the awning in the shade. ¡°Genia Peerless?¡± ¡°Uh, yes, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Sir. We¡¯re all sir, anyone not in the whites.¡± She gestured to the soft clothes Genia had been issued. ¡°You¡¯re classed with a glaive skill?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Great.¡± She lifted a scrap of fabric she¡¯d been worrying between both hands. It was a sort of vest or harness with a big P45 on the front and back. ¡°Slip this jersey on over your uniform. It¡¯s now part of your uniform. Group P45 is walking on the track right now. Go join them, then stay with them.¡± Genia blinked a few times but she didn¡¯t ask any questions. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± She put the jersey on. The square with the number on it rode low on her stomach and back. At least the straps did not slide off her bony shoulders. She turned in the indicated direction and joined her new group. She walked onto the track and let the front of the group lap her before she settled into a strong walking stride. There were several more groups on the track, S45, T45, R45 and L45. It took a long time for Genia to catch on that the letters were for Pole, Short-pole, Tank, Ranged and Logistics. Short pole included swords. Tank included infantry intended for shield walls as well as classed tanks. Ranged included most of the mages, but not Genia. But it was days before the new trainees knew their letters meant something. The first day they all walked. The second day they all stretched, learned strange dance moves and walked. They ate together, they slept together in long tents. They were issued night shirts at night and clean uniforms in the mornings. They were responsible for keeping their shoes clean. They had no other duties, they were too tired to think. They were all filling out with muscles even after only a few days.
Carrie looked at the crate on the wagon in perplexity. ¡°How are they breathing?¡± The Conclave delivery man frowned. ¡°Nobody said I was transporting something live.¡± He hopped up and used a prybar to open the crate. ¡°Nobody meant these to be alive. They¡¯re tagged and killed proper.¡± Carrie sighed heavily. ¡°Dispose of them somehow. Apparently I need to write another letter.¡±
The second week the basic training instructors added body weight exercises and more calisthenics. At that point they also started holding sticks while they danced and the choreography became more meaningful. The stick thin rebuilt women - and a few who had been quite overweight- grew muscles and then grew lithe, shapely curves. They were well fed and their recently healed bodies soaked in the nutrients gladly. The third week they danced striking poles with their sticks- even the logistics girls who were more than half of the group. The logistics group disappeared after week three. The cafeteria got suddenly quieter. The fourth week they learned a second dance, which they then performed against each other, making a choreographed set of moves. The calisthenics shifted to include kettlebells. Through it all the new recruits gained strength and martial skill. Genia Peerless Age: Immortal Class: Wind Dancer level 1 Strength 12 Agility 12 Vitality 19 Intelligence 8 Wisdom 7 Luck 27 Skills: Glaive Mastery 2.6 Spells: Wind Blade 1.0
General Patrioc followed her new aide, Sorka- one of the recent crop of noncombatant draftees- into the display room the disassemblers had set up for her. The bailey room at the rear of the fort was clean, and smelled more of disinfectant than of bones. ¡°There are a lot of things we know for sure about goblins and hobgoblins, general.¡± Roald, the supervisor of the fort¡¯s crafters. They didn¡¯t make finished products, just raw materials used in other parts of the Empire where permanent settlements made more sense. ¡°There are three well known types, as you see here, the mountain and forest goblins have male and female sexes, same as most mammals. You¡¯re dealing with bog goblins though, the kind that become hobgoblins.¡± The nervous looking man rubbed his hands together as he continued. ¡°They all mimic thinking beings, walking upright, but have no language, very little intelligence and there has never been a recorded instance of an evolved or Spiritual goblin.¡± He paused momentarily. ¡°Or hobgoblin. Bog goblins live short lives. It¡¯s estimated two to three years unless they¡¯re lucky enough to become hobs. Hobgoblins are a direct individual metamorphosis from bog goblins. They actually go through three molting phases, I have prepared a specimen of each phase for you. This is the standard goblin, levels range from one to ten, sometimes as high as twelve without experiencing their change. They form a membrane around their whole body and emerge like this one, taller, skinnier and with these long claws. They change again quite quickly, they eat until their bellies are distended and grow a new membrane. In water, all of the goblin metamorphosis occurs in stagnant water. Hence the Bog Goblin nickname.¡± Amara winced. Yet another hint that Carrie was correct. She¡¯d forgotten that detail from her Beast lectures at academy. ¡°After the second period of metamorphosis they emerge like this specimen. As you can see, the claws are absent. The specimen is now properly a hobgoblin and level twelve to twenty five, when the final metamorphosis occurs. Again the hob gorges on whatever meat comes to hand. It builds a sort of nest on the banks of a lake and hides inside during the change. Here is the final transformation. The spinal ridges, the shorter fingers and toes as the end bones have reformed into bone spike claws and the index fingers are missing entirely, the enlargement of the cranial capacity, which actually increases their susceptibility to head injuries, and it¡¯s why you almost never see this level of Hob without a helmet of some kind. Turtle shells are common, but they prefer to have one made by orcs or humans.¡± In the entire monologue Roald had not recited a single fact Amara didn¡¯t remember hearing in school. ¡°And the grindys?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ we had them set up in the next room. Uh¡­ is there a grindylow problem? They¡¯re very low level most of the time.¡± Amara grunted. ¡°Have your assistant bring in the best preserved grindylow, set it next to the goblin. Bring all the grindymares we have and line them up over here.¡± ¡°Umm¡­ uh¡­ yes general.¡± He flapped his hands around as he passed on the orders. The general waited patiently. ¡°Sorka? What do you see?¡± The young looking woman was not an expert in monsters or anatomy. Not a scientist, not a scholar. She had lived to 65 years old as a seamstress and then as a caretaker for her grandchildren. She could read and write, but most people in the empire could. She was here, as an aide because while she refused to fight directly, her potential to thrive as a classed was judged exceptionally high. She was now a Savant, a sort of mind mage who specialized in picking out patterns and breaking codes. Sorka cleared her throat and began looking around the room at all the skeletons. She kept walking and walking, making circuit after circuit of the room. Finally she stopped. ¡°Bring me some clay or something to stick the bones together?¡± Roald clapped his hands. An assistant rushed off. ¡°Why does this one have three index fingers, none of which seem exactly right compared to the other fingers?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Roald cleared his throat. ¡°The assistants keep putting them back with the hands, but the fingers are actually part of a necklace each grindymare wears. It¡¯s crudely tied with the open or cut ends dangling. Every grindymare I have inspected had a necklace with one to six fingers on it.¡± Amara grunted, not at all sure what to make of that. Sorka used the provided putty to assemble the hobgoblin skull. Then she set it on an empty table and moved all of the grindymare skulls. ¡°The lines are the same.¡± She said when she was done. ¡°The head gets bigger then the bones grow back together. They are not separate. These heads are metamorphic analogs.¡± Amara nodded. She pulled out her paired paper notebook and stylus. She wrote new orders to her forces based on this information. She hadn¡¯t even fully exited the examination room before she was accosted by her political and legal adviser. ¡°You can¡¯t.¡± Professor Yarbo said stridently. ¡°You cannot broadcast an untested hypothesis as fact, even in war propaganda. It¡¯s irresponsible, dangerous and highly illegal. You¡¯re lucky that I¡¯m your Advisor not someone else. I¡¯ve already taken care of cancelling the announcement.¡± Amara held her head, taking a deep breath before she started. ¡°We tested the hypothesis.¡± She said. ¡°A powerful Savant examined the skeletons.¡± ¡°There is a process for a reason. You have to write a paper, or in your case have the Savant and whatever researcher came up with this harebrained idea write a paper. Then it needs to be reviewed by ten scholars in relevant fields- preferably with casts of the bones. ¡°Then you publish the paper, the reviews and the rebuttal in pamphlet or book form. Once that is provided to the imperial libraries, accepted and catalogued then you may tell the world and your soldiers about your spectacular and unlikely find and not before.¡± ¡°Can I order my soldiers to kill whatever beasts and monsters I consider worth killing?¡± ¡°Of course. In fact I have a feeling you might be right, that it will help. You just can¡¯t officially tell them why. If there are rumors¡­?¡± He shrugged. ¡°But you can¡¯t order people to spread the rumors.¡± Amara rubbed her temples. ¡°Fine. Get with Carrie and Sorka to arrange all the requirements of making the hypothesis into a scholarly book. In the meantime I will not make the announcement.¡± Chapter 4 ¡°Ladies, Ladies. Settle down. I know you don¡¯t have new uniforms today and I know why.¡± Their tent instructor, Rocha, the woman who usually set their clean clothes on the bench at the feet of their cots, clapped for attention. ¡°It¡¯s your portal day, ladies. I have your uniform of the day here. Carla Abba?¡± Carla pushed forward from the back of the group. She accepted a pile of clothing off the taller grey stack of uniforms. Grey was the color of the main army. ¡°Don¡¯t lose or crinkle the papers on top.¡± Like well more than half of group P45, Carla had a pretty, youthful face. She had started out slightly plump, but after a month of intense physical training she was fit and toned. She took her clothes back to her bench. ¡°Wendy Baker.¡± Rocha picked up a rust red uniform off the colorful pile. Like Genia, Wendy was still wrinkle faced and her hair had grown back grey. Her musculature grew back swifter and harder than the youthful army girls. Rocha called all the names in the tent. Genia¡¯s new uniform was sky blue, the color for air mages. There was underwear, which was new, a pair of shorts that clung to her legs and a short, tight shirt which flattened her newly rounded breasts. Over that she had pants and a shirt, in masculine styling but feminine fitting. Rocha gave them some time to finish dressing. ¡°Now. The portals will be set up on the quad. My infantry girls, pick a buddy and line up two by two. Classed, single file on the other side.¡± There was a brief loud moment while the girls in grey jostled around. ¡°Classed, when you go through hand your papers to the person at the desk. Be patient and wait in the line. Don¡¯t wander off. Army, I¡¯ll be with you until you¡¯re assigned a unit.¡± There were two portals set up on the workout field. The distribution of army to classed Conclave fighters was very apparent when they were all lined up waiting for the portal. The Conclave portal went active a few moments after the P group arrived. The colorful uniformed queue strode forward, disappearing proudly one by one. The opposite side of the portal was set up with stone queue lines that led to a single man sitting at a desk. There was a door on either side of him. One of the S group was already at the table. The man looked at her papers and checked them against a hand scanner. He looked over his shoulder at one of the rooms. ¡°Harvey Blake.¡± After a while man left that room and led the woman to the other door. One by one each woman was led away by a single person, as many men as women, but always in the same color uniform as the recruit. Genia presented her orders and put her hand on the scanner. The man at the table made a small displeased face, but he yelled over his shoulder anyway. ¡°Yosef Conrad.¡± When the sky blue uniformed man approached, the man at the table scowled at him. Yosef grinned at the man and ushered Genia out with a hand on her back. ¡°Captain Trent does not like me today.¡± He confided as they exited the ornate room filled with mirrors and windows. ¡°What did you do?¡± Yosef laughed. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell you sometime. So. What¡¯s your class? Air Mage? Wind Walker?¡± ¡°Wind Dancer.¡± He stopped short and looked at her. They were halfway down a ridiculous outdoor stairway that spanned the entire wing of the¡­ she looked up¡­ palace where she had arrived. He clicked his tongue several times. ¡°Do you have experience dancing?¡± ¡°Quite a lot, yes.¡± He smirked. ¡°And your skills and or spells?¡± ¡°Glaive Mastery 2.6 and Wind Blade 1.0 they didn¡¯t let me practice at all. I haven¡¯t even tried to use it.¡± ¡°No. That¡¯s what they tell all of us. That¡¯s fine. Wind Blade. Huh. Wind Blade as a first spell. That¡¯s different. So. This way. This is the Conclave Campus. I¡¯ve been out on the front lines until about two days ago. Just long enough to get on the captain¡¯s bad side. We¡¯ll do a week of training your spell, a dungeon crawl and then we¡¯re back on the front line. You¡¯ll be assigned a team by then. I won¡¯t be on your combat team, our spells would be redundant. Mentors are just for spell training and practice and so forth. Your room will be right next to mine and we¡¯ll spend most of the time together, mostly on your spells, we¡¯ll have all the mana potions you¡¯ll need to strain your system. So. Did they feed you?¡± ¡°No, actually.¡± ¡°Good, good. Mess hall is just opening for breakfast. Let¡¯s fill up and go to our assigned tower room.¡± They didn¡¯t change directions, they kept strolling through the outrageously beautiful gardens until they got to another huge, lavish palace wing. They went inside. It was like a tavern and a ballroom had merged and kept growing. The tables were post four tops with white tablecloths. The eaters got plates of food from a pass through line and seated themselves. Genia saw most of her group 45 in the large room, seated with their mentors. Yosef headed for the line. The food was¡­ presented. That was the only word Genia had for it. Once she¡¯d eaten at restaurants who served their food this way, with garnishes and swirls of different sauces. She picked a few plates. Most people were taking two or three. She had a decent feel for how much fuel she currently needed. Yosef paused in front of the sweets. ¡°Grab several desserts. Sugar helps you replenish mana. The Conclave issues hard candies when we¡¯re in the field, but there¡¯s nothing like the pastry chefs here out in the camps.¡± Genia hesitated, but took two of the confectionery delights. They settled at a table. ¡°So, where are you from?¡± ¡°Cauldira.¡± She said, holding her hand over the food she¡¯d just stuffed in her mouth. He grinned easily. ¡°Husband? Children? You were a draftee, yes?¡± ¡°I am, yes, my husband was Hubert. He died about thirty years ago. We had four children. The youngest was already grown when he passed. We owned a tavern. My youngest keeps it now. But brawls and taverns go together, Hubert took too many blows to the head. The last one didn¡¯t even bleed except a little out of his mouth.¡± ¡°So tavern dancer?¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. She smiled stiffly. ¡°I started on the large stage. I was an actor and when the plays were musical a dancer as well. Never really a singer.¡± She sighed. ¡°Then the company lost the lease on the stage and decided to go on tour¡­¡± she pursed her lips. ¡°I stayed behind and looked around. Hubert was hiring and he even built me a little stage to dance on. I was popular in my youth, pretty.¡± ¡°I can see it.¡± He grinned. ¡°Anyone tell you that you¡¯ll de-age?¡± ¡°I¡­ to about thirty?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Nobody waits. Longevity Serums are only ten to twelve gold and you¡¯ll make that your first dungeon.¡± She squinted at him. ¡°Yeah. A year ago I was a doddering old geezer. The draft is going town to town, region to region. The empire is at war on two fronts, plus the goblins. This goblin war isn¡¯t the kind of war you read about in the histories. It¡¯s¡­ we don¡¯t line up and bash our armies against each other. The army is stationed at forts in control of all the passes and fords, bridges and terrain choke points. The Conclave sends out bands to search out and destroy the enemy where they¡¯re camped. Every few months a band of a few hundred goblins shatters themselves against one of the forts. If they get past a fort they burn farms, torture the poor villagers, destroy everything they can get their hands on. Then someone tracks them down and kills them, hopefully before they do too much damage.¡± ¡°So¡­¡± Genia frowned. ¡°Yeah. At least every day in the field is a battle day.¡± He held up his hand, 268 days. ¡°I¡¯ll probably stay with the corps when my geas is gone. My friends are here, it¡¯s decent experience and every worthwhile dungeon in the empire is an Imperial Dungeon reserved for the corps. That¡¯s what we call ourselves, by the way. It¡¯s easier to say than conclave this and conclave that. You¡¯ll be in a band of six to thirty, give or take. They¡¯ll be decent enough people. Listen, do what the veterans say. Then your group will split up and form into new groups. Like¡­ you¡¯ll have a core of companions that move around together, getting more and more seasoned until you¡¯re the veterans shepherding the newbies.¡± Yosef kept chatting, giving her common sense advice, until their food was gone. He showed her where to return the trays to the kitchen. Then he led the way, chattering the whole time, to the towers. A hundred or more towers grew from a cobbled area near the kitchen, looking like a mad stone giant¡¯s idea of a forest. Genia could not see any wayfinding signs or even any symbols to differentiate the tower entrances, but Yosef led her unerringly to a certain door and up a ridiculously short set of stairs. The tower room was too large to fit inside the tower as seen from outside. ¡°Spatial magic?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ I think so. The towers were here before the empire. Before any of the other buildings. I read somewhere they might have been a dungeon that popped?¡± ¡°Huh.¡± That did happen occasionally, a dungeon dying and leaving its insides on the landscape where it had been. ¡°So. Let¡¯s get you slinging Wind Blades. Go ahead and try. Do whatever feels natural. Probably say the words. Aim that way.¡± He gestured vaguely. She frowned at him, but held up her hands. ¡°Wind Blade.¡± She ordered, slicing her hands in the direction he indicated. Something actually happened, a gust of pale blue fog left her fingers and dissolved in the direction she¡¯d indicated. ¡°Oh. Very well done. Actually got a manifestation the first try. Ok. Did you feel the mana leave?¡± She looked at him incredulously. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine. Just keep trying until you can¡¯t or until you can feel the mana leaving your hands. I¡¯m going¡­ huh. I¡¯m going to order a book from the library.¡± He moved to an odd box on the wall. ¡°Just keep going. Oh. Count the number of tries until you get a headache or until you just know you can¡¯t go again.¡± She glared at him, but did the thing. She felt ridiculous saying the words over and over to very little result. The air magic wasn¡¯t at all a blade. It did respond twelve times. Then she cast a few more times to no response at all. ¡°You can stop. You¡¯re out of mana. Wait a minute.¡± He was reading. He kept his hand up a while. ¡°Right. Any change in your status?¡± She frowned and looked. ¡°No. No change.¡± ¡°How many times did the spell produce a visible effect?¡± ¡°Twelve.¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ and is your wisdom six or seven?¡± ¡°Seven.¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°Hah. Great. Any headache?¡± ¡°None.¡± ¡°Perfect. That means your magic is preserving your mana buffer. That¡¯s good. Eventually you¡¯ll be able to use that last three units of mana, but for now don¡¯t try.¡± He chuckled quietly. ¡°So. What skill did you say?¡± ¡°Glaive Mastery.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I thought you said. You¡¯re not getting a blade because your particular Wind Blade is not an independent mage spell, it¡¯s a glaive spell. To use it effectively you have to be wielding your weapon.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a glaive yet.¡± ¡°No. So we¡¯re going down to the quartermaster early. Beat the rush so to speak. I¡¯ll just send this back.¡± He set the book on the windowsill and it disappeared. ¡°You can always request books from the library when you¡¯re in town, even at the forts, just be careful to return them before you leave the place where you ordered them or you¡¯ll get a fine. I¡¯ll show you how at the fort. You¡¯ll be using fort library interfaces more often than town ones.¡± As always he chattered as they went. The quartermaster office was in the same wing as the cafeteria, just past the kitchen with a separate entrance. ¡°You¡¯re early, Conrad.¡± The captain who had greeted the new recruits was standing on the customer side of the long counter. ¡°My trainee¡¯s only spell is weapon reliant. Without a glaive she is going to pick up some seriously bad habits.¡± The captain sighed. ¡°Wilcox, might as well give her the whole outfit. Save time during the rush. I¡¯m watching you.¡± He pointed at Yosef, then he left. The man behind the counter whistled low. ¡°He is not going to forget about it anytime soon.¡± ¡°Shh. This is Peerless, my trainee. Wind Dancer.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Wilcox froze. ¡°Thats different. Hey. Put your hand on the pad. I¡¯ll see if they specified any unusual equipment.¡± She reached out her hand to the now familiar sensor. ¡°Someone, somewhere understands the intricacies of every class. So¡­ ah. There is a note to issue her stuff early. I was working through that message list. You¡¯re only early because I am slow. So¡­ huh. Uniform is a little different, it¡¯s like a blue acrobat uniform. So¡­ in stock already, in your size. They did have a month to prepare. Oh. Interesting. They¡¯re issuing a bag of holding instead of a campaign backpack. Someone is expecting her to get a lot of field work in immediately. Usually they march the newbies around the forts and farms a few times before they switch to a bag of holding. I see the list. Let me pull it. If you¡¯d waited a little longer I would already have it all in the bag of holding.¡± He walked away from the desk, whistling. He went into a back room which was obscured by a curtain, but Genia caught a brief glimpse of row after row of armor and supplies on neat shelves. He came back with a cart full of supplies and a suit of armor on an armor stand. ¡°The stand usually comes after the bag of holding, but¡­ bag of holding. You have to see everything to sign for everything. Always check what you get against the list, otherwise you¡¯ll end up paying for something someone shorted you. So¡­¡± He handed Genia a list. She looked at Yosef. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. This is your gear, your issued weapon, armor and supplies. Pay attention to what you have.¡± She nodded. She made a small mark next to each item as it was handed to her and as she stuffed it into her new bag of holding. When everything was issued she signed the page and handed it back. Wilcox made a production of checking for her signature and adding his own under hers. ¡°All set. Don¡¯t forget to take her past the kitchen window for rations. Bag of holding means home cooking for longer.¡± Yosef didn¡¯t say anything as they left the office, ducked into a hallway and took a few turns. He knocked on the closed shutters of a window in the center of a hallway. A harried, angry looking woman in a chef¡¯s hat opened the window. ¡°Yosef.¡± She went from scowling to grinning in a moment. ¡°You are either brilliant or a complete idiot.¡± She laughed. ¡°What¡¯s brought you here?¡± ¡°New recruit, my trainee, had a scheduled early quartermaster visit and we stopped by to see if she could get rations early. She¡¯s got her own BoH.¡± Genia held up the bag of holding. ¡°And you¡¯re hoping to fill the corners of your own bag with sweets. I see you stuffing your bag at meals. You¡¯re supposed to return the travel plates, not refill them.¡± He grinned. ¡°How can I resist your cooking Marla?¡± She laughed. ¡°Let me see what I can come up with. We only just got the standard orders for catering the trainee rations in a week.¡± The window closed. ¡°What exactly did you do?¡± He pressed his lips together and shook his head. ¡°Undermines my dignity as your mentor.¡± They waited long enough that Genia was surprised nobody wandered past and told them off for loitering. Finally Marla returned with two bakery carts full of trays. One was nothing but desserts on little wooden slabs. The other had wooden boxes. Dozens of them. ¡°Let the girl have half of the sweets.¡± Marla ordered. ¡°We have orders to provide six meals each to the new trainees, but we can do more if they have a BoH. These boxes are imperial property so turn them in at a fort when they¡¯re empty.¡± Genia took possession of the boxes of rations and half of the sweets. Her bag wasn¡¯t even half full when she was done. ¡°Great. Back to the towers. Time to see the difference between popping that spell with and without the weapon as a base.¡± Genia was startled by the short number of stairs again, especially when she immediately went to look out the window. The window did not show any of the other towers or the gardens. Instead there was a large empty landscape of rolling fields. The window was a lot higher in the tower than the stairs allowed.