Jase - 15 years old
Uncle Hridaan’s piercing gaze failed to dissuade me. I clenched my fists and repeated myself.
“I will join the royal army as soon as I’m of age.”
“Yes. I heard you,” he responded, his tone gentler than I expected.
The tension in my grip lessened, but I maintained my stance. “Then why are you staring like you’re about to lecture me?”
A hint of a smile lifted my uncle’s features. “Tell me, Nephew. Is it possible to listen and offer guidance in the same conversation?”
He was using his political tone on me. I stifled the frustration in my voice and answered, “of course you can.”
“Exactly. And how often have I suggested that you gauge a person’s reaction before becoming angry?”
“Very. Often.” I enunciated each word.
“Did you assume my lecture meant I didn’t support your declaration?”
His use of reason in place of passion sometimes drove me to the brink of madness, but it was his way of forcing me to evaluate situations and not allow emotion to control my actions. I crossed my arms and looked away. He knew me too well.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I thought you’d discourage it.”
“Jase.” His firm, yet kind tone made me lift my gaze back to him.
Most nobles didn’t want their sons in danger, even if it helped promote them to esteemed levels of society. I’d start in officer training, along with other noblemen. We’d move up in command if we demonstrated leadership and skill. Those who became commanders and generals were just below provincial lords in status.
Most didn’t attain such elevation. They failed initiation or died in battle.
Lesser nobles, like my uncle, propelled themselves into society through politics. He forged a name for his family as the elected senator from Kerulen.
He stepped closer, reaching out to grasp my shoulders. “If you want to enlist, do it.”
My jaw dropped in surprise, but I snapped it shut. I expected him to tell me that my mother would have urged me not to sign up, or that there are other paths to consider. And he’d be correct, but I wanted to fight. I needed to prove my survival meant something.
“I’ll join, then.”
“Good. We have three years to prepare. The military will train you in tactics and strategy, but you must be physically powerful and able to think on your feet if you’re to have any chance of advanced leadership. Have you finished your studies for today?”
I nodded. My tutors had already come and gone. I was gifted in mathematics and spatial reasoning, and I studied those the most, though I enjoyed Keruleni grammar and literature as well.
“First, eat a handful of sweet fruits, then go run four miles. I’ll have your next task when you get back.”
“Shouldn’t I help Aunt Sarika gather vegetables for dinner?” I asked, surprised.
He stroked his beard. “Not tonight. You will do the more physically demanding chores. We must funnel your concentration into your chosen career path to increase your chances of success.”
I processed everything he implied. He not only supported me, he was going to push me. Hard. Had he expected this?
“You knew I’d want this, didn’t you?”
He nodded with pursed lips, but a glint twinkled in his eyes. “Yes. It’s almost as if I know you, nephew. Now go.”
I often imagine that if my father had lived, he might have been like my uncle. Excitement cut through my heavy thoughts as I headed toward the kitchen for my favorite fruit, rambutans. Their pearly sweet flesh would give plenty of energy for a run.
***
He pushed me beyond my limits. I ran the miles without hardship, as Prisha and I both practiced running and strength exercises daily. My little cousin was only nine, so her physical activities were less rigorous.
When I returned, my uncle instructed me to lift a cat-sized rock up and down the walkway connecting our home to the main road. Then he had me repeat it ten times. My fingers ached and my arms shook with effort.
Dinner offered a welcome reprieve. I gobbled up more than normal, but my insides screamed to replace the energy I’d exerted.
Aunt Sarika observed with a pinched expression. “We’ll need to expand the garden and visit the market daily if you keep this monstrous appetite.”
“Growing boys get hungry. And he’s beginning a new strengthening regimen, so he’ll eat even more.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she asked, “Are you sure you wish to join the army?”
Before I confirmed, Prisha’s silverware clattered to her plate.
“No!” she exclaimed. “You can’t go!”
“Prisha,” her mother scolded.
“It won’t be for three years,” I explained. “And then there’s training after that. You’ll be almost grown before I receive my first dispatch.”
Her nose wrinkled, like it always did when she was thinking. “You aren’t allowed to die.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not planning on getting killed, Prisha.”
“Good. Because if you do, I’ll never, ever forgive you.” Her lower lip pouted, making the soft pink on her inner mouth contrast with her deep brown skin.
I hated this expression. It always made my chest too tight. “Death changes our hearts, and you’d be surprised how easy forgiveness comes. But don’t worry, I won’t let that happen to you. Alright?”
She bobbed in agreement before her mother gritted out, “Do not say such things. You should not push your sorrows onto her.”
Cold washed over me, quickly replaced by burning heat beneath my skin. I set down my fork.
Uncle Hridaan responded before I blurted my real thoughts. “He was speaking his truth, not burdening her.”
My aunt pinched her lips. They avoided arguing in front of Prisha, though they disagreed often. While eavesdropping was wrong, it was how I discovered she tolerated me only because my uncle forced her. She’d asked to send me to a boarding home, saying I dragged the family down and negatively influenced her daughter. I adored my cousin. Words I shouldn’t have heard ripped my grieving soul to shreds.
My uncle filled the gaping wound my dead father left, but no one replaced my mother. I stroked the ruby and gold ring she’d given me the night she died. It felt like a knife dug across my sternum while I struggled to breathe. I missed her.
***
Jase - 18 years old
I stepped into the officer training compound with a dozen other nobles of all genders. We held our belongings in rucksacks slung over our shoulders. Lean muscles rippled beneath my swarthy skin. Three years of strengthening regimens made me a force to be reckoned with. I was tall, fast, and strong.
A massive man called us over to him. He crossed his ebony toned arms and scowled from an intimidating height. The crown of my head reached his nose. An odd feeling as I usually stood over most of my friends or acquaintances.
“Welcome to royal officer training. I’m Major Mensah. I don’t care about your nanny, your family, or your status. To me, you’re a tool, and it’s my job to make sure you perform like one. If you break, you’re gone. If you cry, gone. Can’t finish a task? Gone. Is that clear?”
I grit my teeth. How were we supposed to respond to that?
He narrowed his gaze. “When a superior asks you a question, you answer ‘yes’ with their title. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Major Mensah,” I said. Two recruits echoed me.
“I said, is that understood?” he bellowed.
“Yes, Major Mensah!” We all raised our voices this time.
“That’s better.”
He motioned toward a short woman beside him. Her eyebrow quirked as she surveyed us.
“I’m Lieutenant Yang. Female oriented cadets, this way.” She turned on her heel, and five women trailed behind her.
“If any of you don’t have a dick, I suggest you go with them.”
No one responded. The major glanced at an androgynous individual, but they didn’t react.
“Alright. Come with me.”
We scrambled to follow him to a stone building. Once we entered and our vision adjusted to the dimness, two rows of empty cots stretched along the sides.
“This first year, you’ll be pushed beyond your limits and tested even harder than the common military recruits. You’re used to maids wiping your ass and cooks preparing your meals. Well, not anymore. You are just regular people here.”
My comrades looked at our meager lodging. A fair faced lad flushed red. My uncle’s insistence on humility gave me the advantage here. Cooking and cleaning didn’t phase me. The inherent threat of losing our positions, of failure, weighed heavy on my mind. A lesser noble already had some status and would inherit whatever funds his family left, but we needed to make something of ourselves. Youth who sat on their fortune, spending without earning, risked falling out of the nobility.
Upper nobles considered themselves a separate class, where striving for a job was “beneath” them.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” a blond-haired soldier growled. He hoisted his pack higher on his back and stormed outside.
My stomach clenched. Despite the realization that our initiation into the military would be shit, walking out wasn’t an option. Not for me, anyway.
“If we’ve got any other quitters, get your pansy prick out.”
I exhaled a tense breath. Time stood still for a moment, with neither me nor my fellows moving a muscle.
“In that case, pick a bunk and put your pack on the blanket.”
I selected a bed halfway down the left wall, as I liked the small window above it. It almost reached the roof and reminded me of the lavatory ventilation glass at home. There were six total, three on each side and evenly spaced. We’d need fresh air with a dorm full of sweaty men.
It didn’t take long for us to select our sleeping space.
“Dump your packs,” the major ordered.
I obeyed, grateful I’d followed the instructions. Not that I indulged in intoxicating substances or many other forbidden items. I would miss my pocket knife.
He began inspecting our belongings.
“Pray to the divine I don’t find contraband.”
My skin prickled at his proximity when he leaned over to sift through my items. He flipped through the pages of the two books I’d brought, then moved to the next bunk.
“Did you only bring the required items?” he muttered, shuffling through some other recruit’s underclothes.
He discovered a bottle of amber liquid and pulled the cork off and sniffed.
“He’s got contraband?” someone asked near the open entrance.
“No. This one is allowed.” The major re-corked and handed the bottle to a buff, bearded fellow. “You can’t keep secrets here,” he said to the mortified recruit.
The soldier’s throat bobbed, but his voice was steady. “I’ve got nothing to hide, sir.”
“Good.”
We had to be in excellent health, so what elixir did he have?
The major moved on and the lad wrapped the vial in fabric and stuffed it back into his pack.
“What is it?” a comrade asked. “I thought we couldn’t have tonics except those provided by the army apothecaries.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“He said no secrets,” another trainee argued.
“Tell me yours, then,” he challenged.
I kept my mouth shut through the entire exchange. Was I curious? Yes. Did I wish to bare my soul to strangers? Not a chance.
***
Two hours of strengthening exercises in the blazing sun had all of us faint with exhaustion. To my surprise, the women joined us. I’d assumed their fitness routines would differ from the men’s.
Half of the troop lost their last meal, yet the session continued.
I’d thought the ten mile runs, carrying rocks, balancing yiirte poses, and practice withstanding extended heat had been overkill. I was mistaken. Keeping up this grueling pace required all of my stamina.
Only three of us remained standing at the end. A female recruit with deep toned skin and cropped black hair returned my glance and gave a curt nod. We’d made it past the first few hours.
Lieutenant Yang scanned us with a hard expression. “This conditioning regimen revealed your weaknesses and should have pushed you beyond your physical limits. Yet, three are standing.” She glared at me. “You think you passed a test because you finished?”
“Didn’t we?” I blurted, exhaustion overriding respecting one’s superiors.
Her grin contrasted with the vitriol in her features. “I will crush you, soldier.”
“You can try,” I challenged.
A flash of emotion crossed her face, but I could not decipher it. My fatigued brain raged to fight.
“You said failure meant expulsion and ruin for our families!” the female trainee retorted.
Major Mensah projected his voice. “I decide what is success here. No one else is leaving today. Go to your basins and scrub. Then we’ll have your cooking lesson.”
***
There was no food preparation instruction. Instead, two fire pits with chopped wood, large iron pots, pans, knives, and a variety of culinary items were left on a wooden table outside our bunkhouse.
“Which of you know how to cook?” Lieutenant Yang asked.
I raised my hand, along with two of the female recruits and Enzo, the fellow with the allowed tonic.
“You four will prepare a meal using as many ingredients as possible.” She motioned toward one pit. “Start a fire with the provided flint, then make whatever you wish. The rest of you take the second area and attempt to cook something edible for yourselves.”
Pity weighed my stomach as much as hunger did. We needed a proper meal after that brutal workout.
Giulia and Sunette, the women in my group, joined us while the others groaned as they huddled over their supplies. We surveyed our options. Eggs, cornmeal, rice, peas, onions, bean curd, tomatoes, a few spices, fresh milk, and greens. No meat.
Several Keruleni recipes jumped to the forefront of my brain. We could prepare enough for the entire troop if we used everything.
Sunette fingered the grains. “We could make a thick porridge of dried peas and season it with onion and salt.”
“That sounds yummy,” Enzo said. “We could fry the eggs with vegetables.”
“There’s everything I need for tomato rice,” I added. “It will blend with both of your suggestions.”
Giulia nodded. “I can bake cornmeal cakes on the coals. It’s a pity we don’t have honey, but this will fill our stomachs.”
“Let’s do it,” I said, grabbing the rice, tomatoes, and half of the onions.
“Want me to chop those? I’m fast.” Enzo held out his hands.
“Yes. I’d rather you all didn’t see me weep.” I practically threw them at him and winked. I couldn’t believe he offered. Who likes onion tears enough to slice ten of them?
I arranged the wood in the pit and made a bird’s nest of dried grass, which I placed over a few skinny twigs. Giulia handed me the flint from the pile of supplies.
“Thanks.”
“Welcome,” she murmured while she grabbed two heavy skillets for the cakes.
Sunette fetched water from the well near the sleeping quarters, then rinsed the peas while I completed the fire.
It took an hour to finish the recipes.
I overheard frustrated mutterings in the other group throughout that time. The fragrance of scorched food burned my nostrils.
Lieutenant Yang inspected our meal first. “Well done.”
I waited for criticism, but she marched to the next station instead.
“Is any of this edible?”
“The roasted vegetables and boiled eggs are good,” someone answered. I couldn’t see who spoke in the dim light.
“Anything else?”
“No.” They didn’t offer an explanation why, but anyone with a nose sensed the reason.
Yang tilted her head. “Can you figure what the goal was for this experience?”
“Cook or starve?”
She ignored them. “We separated you into teams to show you how essential this skill is to your survival in the field. One group failed and will not have enough, while the other has plenty.”
Her explanation made sense in a heartless way. Starving was a harsh learning method.
The major announced, “I expect everyone to share. This was instruction, not punishment. Eat.”
Yang made a sharp hand gesture, and several people emerged from behind the bunk building with platters of fresh fruit, warm bread, and milk.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Maybe we aren’t in a vether hole,” Sunette whispered in my ear.
I hoped she was right.
Author’s note: Jase wanted to tell you all about his training days in the military, but I told him he needed to save the rest for some other time. I hope you enjoyed this peek into his early adult life.
Comments