Page 27 of Forcing Fate

“If you would pass that along, I’d be happy with any job, no matter what they might be,” I said. “Thank you, Meredith.” I finished the last of my berries and stood.

She lifted her hand in a small wave. “Have a good day, dear. Don’t get into mischief.”

“I’ll do my best not to.” I grinned and ducked out of the room, then down to the foyer.

I nibbled on my roll as I started for the gate, noting the students as they darted to and fro. With my mood now elevated, I smiled, thinking of the ones I had helped when I assisted the Masters on the school grounds.

In potions class, a poor boy tried to make a healing salve, but instead of plantain, he used snakeweed. His salve had been so smelly and potent, we deemed it a new potion used to keep people at bay.

In reading and writing, a girl read words at a lightning pace in her head, but when she read aloud, she stuttered endlessly, taking all morning. The Master of Letters told me that she did not sound out the words or read them aloud in her mind, which caused her to falter while reading aloud.

In art, a boy would constantly use the wrong colors for things. He painted a red sky, purple grass, and yellow leaves. At first, I thought him a terrible artist, but the Master of Art corrected me. The boy did not see colors. To him, everything was varying shades of gray and black and white.

Every student on these grounds was different. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses. Even I had my own shortcomings. My lack of friends made me vulnerable. I also had a tendency to think violent thoughts about a certain General.

At the gate, I reached into my pocket to retrieve my orders for the guards. I smiled at Willhelm as he caught my eye, talking to the men with his arms crossed over his chest. The morning guards didn’t bother checking my orders, but ushered me in with a rough jerk of their heads. I grinned at them and turned to Willhelm, catching the end of their conversation.

“This is not the front lines. We’re training. We need sleep to train,” one guard groaned. “He expects us to perform at the highest levels, yet he doesn’t let us prepare.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think. It’s what has been asked of us, and so we will do it,” Willhelm said in a firm tone, motioning me to join him. “I understand where you’re coming from, soldier. You weren’t the only one he woke last night. Stand tall.” He nodded in parting, and we headed off.

“What was all that about?” I asked.

“General Rafe.”

I waited, but no further explanation followed. Was that the only reply I was going to get? I was sure that the name ‘General Rafe’ was an appropriate answer for many situations. What could cause any soldier to groan? General Rafe. What was the bane of my sanity? General Rafe.

However, in this instance, his name did not answer my question. “What did he do now?”

Willhelm rubbed his neck, and I noticed dark circles under his eyes as well. “He put forth a new training exercise.”

“How is that bad?”

He paused, casting a baleful stare my way before continuing, “He decided, at the third chime of morning, to blow a Shadow Men’s war-horn, then storm through the bunkhouse on horseback.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth, but not soon enough to stifle my giggle.

“You think it’s funny, but you weren’t there.” Willhelm leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Grown men pissed themselves.”

At that, I laughed freely. It wasn’t hard to imagine being dead asleep, and the sound of a horn jerking me awake. A demon the size of General Rafe swooping through the dorm bunks would be quite a terrifying sight.

“He tossed cots and bunks and fought off at least twenty men before someone realized it was him. He announced that we should be ready for an attack at any moment, then walked out of the bunkhouse.”

I smiled at the story as we neared the training buildings. The General was already up and active, then. Would I have another shirt to mend from his adventures last night?

“He takes his job of training the men quite seriously,” I commented.

“I don’t think he realizes he’s no longer on the front lines. I’m all for men learning, but he’s expecting first year cadets to be in fighting shape as of yesterday. Captains over the first and second years can’t train their cadets fast enough.”

All jesting aside, Willhelm was tired and worn. This week having the General back was rough on him. When he wasn’t escorting me back and forth, he was training his cadets. Or he was with the other company commanders, trying to wrap their minds around the General’s antics.

I stepped close to Willhelm, and he raised a brow in surprise. “You’re a great Sergeant. Your company has done amazingly,” I assured him, knowing he was thinking of his own men who were in their fourth year.

A few months after Hatching Day was Recruitment Day. It was the time in which both fourth year Dragon Riders and fourth year cadets would leave for the front. In their stead, more soldiers were recruited and added to the ranks to fill the voids made by men who would probably never return.

Recruitment Day saw the companies and their Captains shipped off. Willhelm had never been offered the title Captain, and would likely never seek it out. He was happy in the homelands, training soldiers. He never shirked his duty, but he never pursued battle either—something I could respect. Willhelm was more valuable here, instructing the cadets, than killed on a battlefield where he couldn’t train anyone.

He smiled before he stepped away, putting distance between us. I admired Willhelm for many things. His gentleness toward me, his regard toward others, his fierce loyalty. He always respected me, and I cherished that. Even as a girl of seventeen-winters, it meant so much to me. He treated me like a proper lady, even though I hadn’t received the title yet.

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