Chapter 147: Chapter Hundred And Forty Six

Thick clouds of brown dust rose into the air as dozens of soldiers shifted their feet, waiting for their turn to fight.

Standing in the very center of the ring, the instructor held his wooden sword. He looked around the circle of young, nervous recruits.

"Form up!" the instructor shouted loudly. His rough voice echoed against the wooden fences. "I will call two men at a time. Step forward when I point at you. Do not hold back."

The instructor pointed his wooden sword at two tall, muscular recruits standing near the front.

"You and you. Into the ring," the instructor commanded.

The two recruits stepped forward. They both held standard wooden training swords. Their faces were tense. They knew the loser had to run fifty laps around the massive camp in the hot sun.

"Fight!" the instructor yelled, stepping back to give them space.

The first fight started immediately. The two men charged at each other with loud shouts.

Clack! Clack!

The sound of wooden swords hitting each other filled the arena. They swung wildly, using pure, brute strength. They did not use much strategy. They just wanted to hit the other person as hard as possible.

Camilla stood quietly near the back of the crowd. She watched the two men fight.

"They are too slow," Camilla thought to herself, her eyes analyzing their movements. "They are wasting all their energy in the first minute. They swing their arms too wide, leaving their chests completely open. Amateurs."

In just a few minutes, the fight came to an end.

One of the men swung his wooden sword heavily, hitting the other man directly on the side of his arm. The wood scraped the skin hard, tearing it open. A small line of bright red blood appeared.

"First blood!" the instructor shouted, raising his hand. He pointed at the other man. "You lose. Drop your weapon and start running your fifty laps. Now!"

The man groaned, dropped his wooden sword, and began jogging heavily toward the edge of the camp. The winner smiled proudly and stepped back into the crowd.

"Next pair!" the instructor called out.

He pointed to two more recruits. They stepped into the ring. They fought, moving back and forth in the dust. Again, it was a messy fight filled with clumsy swings. One man eventually blocked a strike and hit the other man squarely on the nose. Blood dripped onto the dirt. The instructor called the winner, and the loser went to run his laps.

The fights continued. The sun grew hotter.

Then, the instructor turned around. He scanned the crowd of remaining men. He pointed his wooden sword directly toward the back of the group. He pointed right at Camilla.

"You," the instructor called out. "The skinny boy in the back. Step forward."

Camilla did not hesitate. She kept her head down slightly and walked smoothly through the crowd of men. She stepped into the center of the dusty ring. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

The instructor turned his head and pointed to another recruit standing on the opposite side.

"And you," the instructor said. "Step up."

A very large, broad-shouldered recruit stepped into the ring. He was much taller than Camilla. He had thick arms. His grey training uniform was tight across his large chest. He carried a wooden broadsword, holding it easily in one hand.

The large recruit looked down at Camilla. He saw her loose grey tunic, her small frame, and her completely flat chest. To him, she looked like a weak, scrawny little kitchen boy who had wandered into the wrong place.

A cruel, arrogant smile spread across the large recruit’s face.

The instructor stepped back to the edge of the circle. "Prepare your weapons," he ordered.

Camilla calmly raised her standard wooden training sword. She did not hold it tightly with both hands like the other men. She held it lightly in her right hand, letting the tip point slightly toward the dirt. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her weight perfectly balanced. She was completely relaxed.

The arrogant recruit gripped his wooden broadsword with both hands. He lifted it high, ready to swing it down with all his massive strength.

He looked at Camilla’s relaxed, quiet stance. He felt deeply insulted that this tiny boy was not shaking in fear.

"I hate seeing weaklings like you," the large recruit said. His voice was loud, rough, and full of deep disgust. He wanted to intimidate her before the fight even started. "You do not belong in the General’s army. You belong in a kitchen, washing dishes."

Camilla did not say a word. She looked at his angry, sweating face. She looked at his unbalanced stance.

Slowly, Camilla smirked.

It was a very small, confident, mocking smile. The corner of her lip curled up visibly beneath the shadow of her wig. She did not need to speak. Her calm, silent smirk said exactly what she was thinking: You are completely pathetic.

The arrogant recruit saw her smirk. His face turned a dark shade of angry red.

"You think this is funny?" the recruit growled, tightening his grip on his wooden weapon. The veins on his thick neck popped out. He was furious that a small boy was mocking him in front of the entire group.

"I will show you what strength feels like," the recruit threatened loudly. "I will break your little arms before I draw your blood."

"Less talking! More fighting!" the instructor shouted angrily from the edge of the ring. He raised his hand high into the air.

"Fight!!!" the instructor roared.

Up above the dusty arena, a long wooden balcony stretched along the side of the main command building. It provided a perfect, clear view of the training grounds below.

Damon and Kade walked slowly out onto the wooden balcony.

Damon’s face was serious and strictly focused. Kade walked right beside him, holding a piece of yellow parchment paper in his hands.

Kade was busy reading an official report to the General.

"My Lord," Kade said, looking down at the written words on the parchment. "The messenger arrived from the capital city an hour ago. We received the King’s official letter. His Majesty has requested that you join the next royal council meeting in the palace."

Damon stopped walking. He rested his large, leather-gloved hands on the wooden railing of the balcony. He looked down at the busy training arena below.

"The King wants to discuss the northern borders again. He heard a rumor of the neighboring kingdom planning a war," Kade continued reading. "He expects a full report on the troop movements and the recent budget."

Damon nodded his head slowly. He listened to his aide, but his eyes were drawn to the center of the dirt ring below.

Damon watched the fights every single day. He knew how raw recruits fought. They were usually clumsy, loud, and easily tired.

Damon saw the massive, angry recruit charge forward with a loud roar. And then, Damon saw the small, scrawny boy standing perfectly still in the path of the attack.

"That boy is too small," Damon thought to himself, watching the scene carefully. "If that sword hits him directly, it will break his collarbone."

Down in the dirt ring, the fight had officially begun.

The arrogant recruit charged at Camilla. He moved with heavy, stomping steps. He swung his massive wooden broadsword in a huge, downward arc, aiming directly for Camilla’s left shoulder. He wanted to crush her to the ground with one single hit.

Whoosh!

The wooden blade cut through the hot air.

Camilla did not block the strike. Trying to block a heavy weapon with a lighter weapon would only damage her own arms.

Instead, Camilla simply moved.

She waited until the very last fraction of a second. As the wooden blade came crashing down, she smoothly shifted her weight to her right foot. She pivoted her body quickly, slipping perfectly out of the path of the attack.