Page 89 of Forcing Fate

Swords were the most common weapon used. However, soldiers could choose different arms based on their fighting style or physique.

There had to be something more suitable for me. Handling a blade two-thirds my size didn’t seem the best option. Though I’d never witnessed someone fight with anything other than a sword.

“Here we go! Ready yourselves! I want to see you take on your partner!” Master Elon ordered. “First recruit hit, kneels. Ready stance!”

I was doomed. Eyes wide, I looked at the bounty hunter and braced myself. I was smaller than him, but doubted I was any faster. I had no advantage over him at all. Perhaps if I swiped his leg… I only had to land a hit, not a death blow.

I trained my focus on his arms, knowing he watched my eyes. He was far more experienced. He could likely tell by the mere shift of my foot where I’d strike. Maybe if I let him charge first…

“Go!”

Recruits around us clashed. My gaze flicked up to the bounty hunter’s as we stood completely still. He gave me an open smile. Clearly, we had the same idea of letting the other person approach first.

I took a fractional step forward, and he stood rooted in place, utterly at ease. He hadn’t even lifted his sword point from the ground. If I dove now, he would parry. I had to get his weapon up.

I raised my sword, keeping it close to my body, prepared for anything. He watched my movements, a look of curiosity coming over his face. With another shuffling step forward, I feigned a strike for his flank. He lifted his sword to his waist, calling my bluff. I dropped low, swiping at his leg.

When he realized what I was doing, he leapt back. I let go mid-swing, and my sword flew from my grasp. It barely brushed his ankle, but he sank to a knee with a snort.

“Creative.” Master Elon stood behind me. He took a practice sword from another recruit. “But now you are without a weapon, and you’ve hardly scratched him.” He pressed the point of the sword against my neck.

“But the goal was only to land the first blow,” I replied tightly.

“The goal is to win the war, recruit. Always think ahead. You’re dead,” he said, tapping the sword on my neck before moving on.

I sighed and stood, brushing off my skirts.

I was exhausted. The day passed in a blur. We were up for shield inspection next, though it was far easier than weapons inspection. I only had to block strikes, not think about my own. Master Damon faltered when he spotted me, but like Master Elon, he acted every bit the Master and took it in stride.

After we broke for midday meal, and I ate quickly after switching plates with the bounty hunter. I tried to lay my head on the table for a moment of rest, but the bugle sounded, and I followed the stream of recruits.

Outside the training building was a row of tables, with a secretary stationed behind each. Piles of folded uniforms littered one table and on another, boots and belts. I stepped into line, frowning.

General Rafe took up his usual position, leaning against a wall. His intent gaze settled on me. The memory of what happened in the forest yesterday burned in my mind. Part of me wanted to ask him what happened to the man who attacked me, but the other part didn’t want to speak of it at all. Acting like it never happened was easier. I shivered, focusing on the first table with the tunics and trousers. Surely they had something for me to wear.

The Corporal’s words echoed in my mind—he would be sure I wore a uniform. I’d never worn a pair of trousers in my life. I imagined the sensation would be just as foreign as straddling a horse. For a brief moment, I wondered if I should object, but a glance at the General told me I shouldn’t press my luck.

The line moved, and I found myself in front of the first desk.

The secretary didn’t look up from his list. “Name?”

“Avyanna of Gareth.”

His blue eyes shot to mine, frowning. He frowned down at my dress before looking back at his paper. He made a strangled sound and scoured the area, as if he wanted confirmation that I was really a recruit.

General Rafe pushed his large body off the wall and stalked toward us.

Why him? I held in my sigh and tried to look as pleasant as possible.

“Problem?” he grunted.

“Ah, yes General. This—Well–” he stammered. “Her name is on the roster as approved for a uniform—but, ah, sir–”

“She’s a girl.” General Rafe finished for him, not taking his eyes off mine.

“Well, yes, sir.”

I met the General’s stare, not backing down. What would he do? Let me remain in my dresses? Force me to take a uniform? For all his insolence, I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me to strip here and change.

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