Stonehold.

Situated at the edge of a vast, ancient forest that stretches out far into the Wild Lands.

Like all Border Forts it had on its tallest tower an enormous pyre, with cartridges next to it created by Royal Alchemists.

The cartridges gave various colours to the billowing clouds they produced, when tossed into a lit pyre.

The fort had seen better days, but this wasn’t really a surprise.

Many years ago, it was decided that funding was to be reduced for additional funding to be put toward the Royal Navy.

It was here that Kaelen was to spend an undisclosed amount of time.

Probably, he assumed, until his 18th birth year. Traditionally, this was the time that after two years of formal apprenticeship a man decided what to do with himself.

Sergeant Gael-Ra, a no-nonsense woman of obvious orcish descent, met with the new recruits.

On their way, they had picked up a number of them, but none with the baggage he carried.

Or, at least, this is what Kaelen suspected.

When he first met the sergeant he gave her the letter Captain Tarrel provided.

She was one of the readers that mouthed her words, Kaelen noticed. But she could read, at least.

Somehow, he found this reassuring.

In the weeks that followed they were each tested in how far their knowledge of weapons lay.

Most of them were sorely lacking since in general village boys and girls weren’t necessarily taught these things. Kaelen had a very little bit of knowledge, due to his experience in the workshop, but that was quickly stamped out by the sergeant. Everyone, it seemed, was equally worthless.

But, bygods, she would learn them even if it killed them.

A small flicker of light, at least as far as Kaelen was concerned, was that he was assigned to aid the Fort’s smith. Hard work that nobody really liked to do, but for him, it was something he was used to.

All of the new recruits were drilled in the use of short blades and spears.

Even some unarmed combat, in the event that weapons broke.

Those that were “weak kneed” as Corporal Ricord was fond of saying were given crossbows to train with.

And if you were accurate enough with that, you went to the Support squads and were given bow training.

As weeks became months, the fort quickly became familiar, but not really home.

Well, except for the Forge. The dwarven smith, Master Khaldgan Granitehorn, ran a tight shop, reminding me of my father and his forge.

The tall tower with the Pyre, battlements to the left and right going in an hexagon shape.

Stables, barracks, a mess hall. Its layout seemed to have function over form at its core.

The combat drills seemed to have no end, but he could feel familiarity with the weapons slowly working itself into his muscles.

One evening, the sergeant came to the mess hall and with a curt gesture she called me over.

“Kaelen, tomorrow at dawn. You’ll join the patrols. Make sure your kit is ready.”

And she was off, leaving me astonished at the news.

Derek smirked “Figures you’d be the first she enters in the patrols.” I glance over, he’s doing his best not to laugh at me.

“Yeah, well. That just means you’ll have to take my spot in the smithy.” I counter; wiping the grin off his face.

Some others at the table groan. Smith work was intense here.

Come morning, the patrol was assembling in the mustering yard. The Fort’s priest, Bennet, was intoning a blessing.

Kaelen knew they were just words. Unlike the Priestess of the Sanctuary back in Glimmerdeep, he wasn’t one of the Blessed. But some of the soldiers, at least, have peace with the prayers.

He checked himself.

Short sword at hip, yes. Spear on my back, yep. Small round shield, forearm, still there.

Kit, for now, on the ground, but ready to be carried.

Fear? Present in massive amounts…

Easy, Kaelen, steady breathing.

Just a standard patrol into the great, big, dark forest; filled with the gods know what monstrosities.

No, ease up on those thoughts, not helping here. Steady your breathing.

Corporal Ricord, moving next to him, gave him a pat on the back.

“Steady there, lad. We all felt like this the first time we went out. We’ll only be gone for a short week. You’ll be back with tales of your heroics before you know it.”

“Troop’s ready, corporal…”

Ye Gods. Nobody should be that quiet.

“Okay, Val. Thanks.”

Valery, one of the scouts, was already gliding away. Moving like a shadow.

We marched out. The deeper parts of the forest didn’t really allow for horses. Big tree roots and all that.

As far as I am aware, we have to check some points of interest for signs of passage. A spring, some glades, a derelict tower from centuries ago. The patrol was set up in a circle, with Stonehold at its lowest point. At least the beginning and end of our route will be closer to the Fort.

But after our first day, we were closer to the Wild Lands than normal. Anything could happen.

So, naturally, it did.

A few days in, we were nearing a glade that was close to the apex of our patrol when Valery returned.

She was motioning for silence.

As she approached the corporal, the corporal whispered for a huddle.

“The glade is occupied. Goblins, at least twelve that I could see. But corporal…two bugbears.”

Corporal Ricord swore. Goblins, while dangerous, were shorter than us. In general, that is.

Though I wouldn’t want to call our smith, back in the fort, short.

Master Granitehorn would take offense.

I digress. Fear. Makes the mind wander.

The goblins wouldn’t be a significant threat, but bugbears…they stand at least a head taller than most of us and are pretty strong to boot. The corporal, while we still had daylight, wanted to take care of this problem.

Those blighters, he said, see better in the dark than us.

The scout drew a general layout of their camp, and we all were assigned targets.

The corporal and some of the senior soldiers would tackle the bugbears.

Twelve of us, at least twelve goblins and two bugbears.

Strange…I feel calm. Like knowing what will happen makes being afraid of it manageable.

As we looked into the glade, we could see a makeshift camp. Some game was roasting over their firepit.

Two large, hairy shapes were knocking some of the goblins around to have first take. The bugbears, I assume.

The goblins looked as one would expect. Green, head bigger than it should be for their size, laughing like maniacs. Perhaps a small raiding party hoping to get in the plains without noticing.

This will be my first actual combat.

One would think that we charged in the glade with boisterous warcries.

One would be wrong. It was almost eerie with how silent our approach was. Not stealth, as such.

But no breath was wasted. We would need them soon enough, once the melee began.

There were, indeed, more than twelve goblins.

Not much more, but enough to make a difference. Two goblins flanked me—grins too wide, eyes filled with malice.

A calm came over me…

They can flank. Tighten the shield, Kaelen. And angle that sword a bit different.

The stance felt familiar. It was close enough to what we were taught in the fort, but felt more advanced.

The goblins could find no openings, much to their chagrin.

Never the most disciplined of creatures they overextended and I saw an opening.

I struck and as I struck I saw how I shouldn't drive my blade into them.

A swift, scything strike across their throats. No need to jam my blade through them.

I was alive and they weren’t. So far, that was good in my book.

A quick look around. We had the upper hand. The bugbears were still up, but being pressed.

Suddenly, one of the veterans was down. The bugges howled in bloodlust.

A path opened… I saw an approach, no enemies near. A big tree trunk for a boost…Yes.

Dropping my sword, I ran. As I ran, my spear came to my hand.

There, the trunk. Launch yourself in the air.

The closest bugbear hasn’t spotted you yet, but corporal Ricord has.

A jump, gathering momentum and I crash into the creature, full force, spear tip first. My shield on the follow up, smashing in the beast. I hear bones crack. It goes down, taking my spear with it.

Blast…my sword is over there. And the second bugbear is looming over me.

It raises its morning star, but somehow, quick as a flash I raise my shield. The shield does what it's supposed to do and the morning star crashes into it.

But, by now, the corporal is already there with one of the veterans and they make quick work of the creature.

Silence falls over the glade.

Some wounded, one dead. The veteran that fell to the bugbear.

The enemy, all dead.

I took up a wound I never noticed but it is superficial at best.

Valery, with a practiced eye, is going over the bodies.

Corporal Ricord is calling for the digging of a gravesite. One big hole for the goblins.

And a proper grave for our fallen.

Strange, I can’t recall if I knew the man. One of the silent, solid veterans that didn’t give the rookies a hard time.

Valery shared her findings with the Corporal. Apparently one of the bugges had carried a map. It was unfilled, but written on it in the creatures’ language. They were to map our forts.

This was, seeing the corporal blanche over, not good news at best. After the burial, our patrol was going to take the shortest route back. Word had to be sent to the forts directly next to us, so the message could travel over the border.

On the way back, one evening as I kept watch, Corporal Ricord joined me.

“You did well, lad. Keep the dressing clean, so the wound doesn’t get infected.”

He took a swig of his bottle. I knew it was water. The man was meticulous at that. No drinking on duty.

“You know, we, the older guard. We keep a close eye on the fresh ones. Especially during their first engagement.”

I looked at him. He seemed to be working up to something.

"Kaelen. Valery saw your combat with the goblins. She couldn’t see any opening in your form. And you know our scouts are trained to see openings.”

“The strike that felled them both? Not something a common soldier can do. If anything, I'd say that is one of the apprentice ‘Azur Blade’ strikes. I have seen the school in the capital in my younger years.”

He took another drink, offering me his flask.

“But what I saw, with the bugbear. I know what that was. That spear technique comes from my ancestral country. My father used to tell me stories about the Hoplar Guard. How each of them was trained in the school of the ‘Ashen Lancer’. You used an Invest, to gather momentum. And that charge? No openings to exploit. You crashed into the beast, without losing your footing. All Hoplar Guard apprentices had to be able to do that.”

He rises, dusts himself off and turns around, walking to his sleeping kit.

Leaving me to my thoughts.

I have heard of some of these things, via the Guild of Glaives. At least, those that talked when they visited my father. And the books at the Sanctuary also talked about some of those. I seem to recall a holy school named ‘Ardea Auria’ in their scriptures.

But… and this is something that all those books and stories agree on.

Once a School of War takes root, that’s it. There has never been a warrior that took too more than one school.

But now… Captain Tarrel and Corporal Ricord and Valery saw something?

Even if a School of War took root in me, others shouldn’t have been able to manifest.

‘Azur Blade’, ‘Ashen Lancer’ and ‘Decisive Fist’...Any one of these schools would put me far above a common soldier and if I was tested and deemed worthy for further training…

Well, my life would take an enormous turn.

A military career, or even a Glaive, was not out of the question.

But three schools? I have no idea how the Sanctuary, the Military or the Noble Houses would react to that.

Those three are pillars of our country, those that Guide, Guard and Govern.With at its head, the Royal Family.

All chosen by Divine Mandate…or so the Sanctuary claims, of course.

My head hurts, damn it. I am too young to have to care for all this.

I look in the darkness beyond the fire circle. No movement.

Only sounds of the forest, which, let me tell you, are not nearly as idyllic as one would think.

Suddenly, a hand on my shoulder. Doric whispers my name. He’s taking over and I can go to sleep.

As we returned to the fort, a lot of things started happening. Messengers were sent along the border.

All forts were to be on the lookout for similar scouting parties.

As it stood, not enough information was present to make a clear picture.

More of the recruits were also sent on patrols. Field experience was the best teacher, after all.

The sergeant seemed to be sleeping less and less as months passed.

It turned out that similar parties were indeed found in the deep forest.

Eventually, word was sent to High Command.

As spring and summer came and went, autumn arrived.

I was now fully integrated into the patrols and these many months did make me more keenly aware of moving around in forests.

Thankfully, Valery always had welcome advice, in case one of us newlings struggled.

Our route brought us close to some old ruins, bits of overgrown road and everything.

The forest had almost completely overtaken the place. Valery, being point, motioned for immediate halt and we saw her looking over the ground. She was so close to it her nose almost touched it, actually.

She motioned the corporal over and they were discussing quietly.

Some of us were ordered to strip down to essentials for quick movement whilst the others would continue on.

Valery was going deeper, following tracks she found, and she wanted some additional people, in case something happened to her. So we could carry news, if necessary.

I was one of the ones to join her. So we moved, at her guidance, quickly and quietly. We made a cold camp when night fell and we were gone before the sun rose. Deeper and deeper, further into the Wild Lands.

Two days had passed. We were nearing a large clearing. Turns out she knew where she was heading.

She called it an “educated guess”.

Ever so quiet we drew nearer. Sounds were becoming more obvious. Goblin laughter on the wind. Then we saw it. I went really quiet as I heard Valery curse.

“A hobgoblin Phalanx…this is bad.”

In the clearing was what can only be called a highly structured warcamp. Sure, goblins were rushing over the place and I could spot bugbears. But, the hobgoblins stood out. They didn’t move as much as march.

Shields, spears, armoured... They stood out. So far, I have fought the gobbs and bugges. These looked a lot more formidable.

“This can only mean that a horde is forming. Damn it. And hobgoblins at the front. Not good, not good at all.”

Valery was in what seemed a controlled panic. She motioned that it was high time we left.

We raced back. Not throwing caution to wind, as such, but noticeably faster than our approach.

Valery, normally as stoic as they come, was decidedly rattled.

We eventually caught up to the rest of our group. Valery immediately told the corporal.

“Ricord.” “It's hobgoblins.”

“...Shit.”

Alright, now I was getting concerned, especially since the older men were also looking worried at her words.

“Right, boyos. We move back. Fast.” Corporal Ricord was addressing the newer ones, which included me.

We looked at each other. By now, most of us have faced goblins and so far only me, bugbears.

These hobgoblins were having the veterans concerned. Which was something new altogether.

We came back to the fort, slightly more tired than normal. The corporal had really pressed us.

Sergeant Gael-Ra was informed and, I believe it was her orcish blood manifesting here, because never in my life have I heard someone using that sort of language before.

That is, until Master Granitehorn was told what the ruckus was about.

Dwarves curse in their own language.

I don’t speak dwarvish. Luckily.

Because I think you could strip rust with the intensity and venom his voice carried.

All in all. I think a storm was brewing. And only time would decide if we were ready for it.