“It is a long-cherished tradition among a certain type of military thinker that huge casualties are the main thing. If they are on the other side then this is a valuable bonus.”

Terry Pratchett, Jingo

Mireille was woken with the first light of dawn. She groaned as the light stabbed into her eyes and roused the headache she had nearly forgotten. “Wake up useless dipshits.” a soldier marched along the bunk beds while liberally kicking the beds and berating the occupants. “We got a lot to do, and you won't last half a day without food. So get to it!” The last was screamed in a parade ground voice, letting even the last stubborn sleeper wake up fully.

They stumbled into the adjacent mess hall still half asleep, a group of soldiers in training were already eating. A quick-moving line and a bit of waiting later, she found an empty table and took a look at the food she had gotten hold of. Bread, some cheese, and what looked like flavorless gruel.

‘Not bad, at least it's filling and plentiful.’ she thought. Wincing at a tingling pain from her arm and on the whole feeling ill and sore, she began to shovel the food into her waiting mouth. 'Enough food cures most ills' she thought.

“Can we sit here too?” a boy asked nervously, beside him stood two girls. She briefly remembered seeing him four persons behind her in the infamous line. The girls had been somewhere in this mess too she was sure. ‘Was it actually just yesterday?’ she reminisced and then hastily nodded while still chewing the bread she had wedged into her mouth.

The boy introduced himself, then sat down. “Nice to meet you, I am Allan. This here are Rhys and Challon.” He refrained from shaking her hand, for she had bread and cheese in both of them so he simply gave a friendly nod.

The boy was stockily built with muscles from working in the field, sporting some dishwater blond hair. Beside him stood a dark-haired scrawny girl with a squint, probably indicating poor eyesight. And where would she get something to correct that? And the last person was a honey-blond relatively pretty, curvy girl, who seated herself with a smile.

“I am Challon. Glad to see you. You looked quite out of it. Do you feel better?”

Mireille felt a headache coming on. “Am pfine. Fank shu.” Trying to not neglect the most important task of eating she managed a somewhat intelligible reply.

Rys had to giggle at that and her perceived sternness, mostly through her squinting, vanished and she looked quite nice actually. “Do take your time. I heard we have nearly an hour. Something about our training being supervised by the magus.”

“And he seems to sleep a bit longer than us,” added Allan.

After finishing her meal in companionable silence Mireille stretched and looked at the others curiously. “How are you feeling? I am still a bit sore from yesterday and there is this tingly feeling in my hands and feet.”

Rhys answered, “I think that you got it somewhat worse than us.”

She pulled her sleeve back a bit and showed an entwined sigil of two distinct parts. The redness around the fresh burn stood out and there was crusted blood along the ridged edges but it looked much less complicated than Mireille's own. Allan and Challon also showed their marks which were a single sigil and a triple one respectively. Even though it consisted of three parts Challons was also very straightforward with coiling simple lines reminiscent of flowing water.

Then Mireille showed her own brand which nearly took the whole of her slender outer biceps wincing a bit as the cloth caught on a scab. There still lingered a light blue glow with a slight pulsing like a heartbeat. “Looks somewhat elven.” Mentioned Challon.

“I wouldn’t know” came nearly identical exclamations from Allan and Mireille who then looked at each other wryly.

“It's still glowing,” said Rhys half-enviously. The girl raised her hand to her nose and not feeling anything made a dejected impression before lowering her hand again. “I miss my glasses”

“You had glasses?” Mireille was astounded. Was that not something that only the richer townspeople owned?

“Yes, I sort of ran away.” She looked uncomfortable. “My family are well-off merchants, but my father only sees the profit in everything.” “...or the lack thereof” she more quietly concluded the sentence after hesitating a bit. “He wanted to tighten an alliance with another merchant family. And what better way than marriage. Yay.” She stabbed her fork into the cheese and brought it to her lips biting into it roughly. “And I most assuredly did not want that.” she again tried to adjust her non-existent glasses.

Looking a bit chagrined she lowered her hand again. “And here I am.” she smiled a bit.

“Good thing too,” said Challon looking at her with a teasing grin. “I would not like for there to be more of an imbalance. We got enough boys as it is.”

Without really meaning to Mireille leaned forward and asked quietly “How many did not make it?”

Rhys looked solemn for a moment “From the fifty we lost nearly ten to fear and of the ones who made it to the block there were another ten who did not make it. Most went in the night I heard.” she shuddered. “Please let us no longer talk about it. If I had known that it was that dangerous, I would never have enlisted!”

“I heard they made the requirements looser.” Allan who had been quiet said. “My brother is a constable in our village and he hears things when the dispatches come through. The courier is an in-law of his.” he cleared his throat “so he told me that the war is heating up and they desperately need more soldiers able to counter the more dangerous beasts and warriors.”

“I simply had nothing to eat for three days.” Mireille quietly admitted. “So when they gave me bread for simply going to this test I went along, then there was this gold piece. A whole gold piece. Not clipped or anything.” She briefly felt her smallclothes through her trousers and made a relieved expression.

“Where exactly did you hide that?” asked Challon looked morbidly interested.

“Where you won't be looking!” retorted the now blushing redhead.

“Sure about that?” flirted Challon shamelessly leaving the rest of the table chuckling. Allan was red as a tomato.

“What do we do today?” Mireille asked.

“We have scheduled training with the magus when the sun has well and truly risen. Mireille, you were still sleeping while it was announced, but the sergeant said we later had some schooling with a teacher from town. They don’t want their more valuable troops to be completely ignorant.” this came from Challon.

“If you need any help you can always ask me,” said Rhys. “I had good schooling to help my future husband with accounts and such. And thank Gesserach that this is no longer my problem.” Mireille thought to herself that it was just as well her grandma – as long as she had been alive- had insisted on schooling the children herself. She was a magical seamstress in her earlier years until some business mishaps had cost her her store.

They talked a bit more while both waiting and trying to distract themselves from the day before and the horrible sights. Rhys was a proper and serious person most of the time, while Challon could be a bit impish. Allan was on the simpler side but seemed trustworthy enough mused Mireille. She looked around the mess hall and saw small groups like her own talking with each other.

Some of those looked as if she would have changed directions if she would have seen them coming- A brutal-looking young man with a long scar through his lower lip which bulged a bit from that. Two seeming brothers with a simple look on their faces but a cruel tilt to their mouth making fun of a thin boy who seemed threatened by their attention. She sighed. No trouble with people means no people like her grandmother always said.

Then it was time and everyone went to the outer training court. The magus was already seated comfortably in his pavilion. The apprentice – Jeremiah she remembered- stood beside him and asked something which the old man dismissively answered. The sergeant from yesterday was there along with most of the soldiers she had come to know by sight.

“I am sergeant Lucas Dornwright and I have the distinct displeasure of running herd on you magical cats. Don't think you are so special that we cannot properly discipline you.” He gripped his biceps and showed them a complicated brand of interlocking sigils. “Attention to the front please.” He motioned towards a row of targets made of stone blocks where someone had painted, with more enthusiasm than ability, the outlines of hunchbacked people with long fangs.

Then he murmured quietly to himself and a dark red glow emanated from the sigil shooting towards his hand which he then proceeded to point towards the targets. A dull roar sounded as a fist-sized sphere of roiling fire shot towards the stone, impacting with a deep rumble and an explosion of flames. The flames were short-lived but intense leaving the target cracked and blackened. Even from where the marked stood they felt a wave of heat like opening an oven.

Then there was only the crackling sound of cooling stone.

“Welcome to his Majesty's corps of magical support and attack troops, the Signed Men. Or simply the Signed.”

“..and women.” came a soft but distinct whisper from the direction of Challon. Mireille worked hard to keep her face still. A sharp look from the sergeant quelled any mirth that threatened to erupt.

“This one I will give you because it is an anachronism. Women are a part of the magical troops since about seventy years ago. But you know tradition. No more talking, whoever is next caught talking is going to be the target for those practicing support magic.”

The apprentice first bade the sergeant to group the branded into smaller squads according to their magical abilities. The largest group was fire-based, then came earth and wind and last for whatever reasons water- “..because using water offensively is more difficult and supporters are, by general opinion, the least needed.” said Rhys trying to adjust her nonexistent glasses again. Mireille as a user of lightning and wind was grouped with the latter and stood with Rhys at the moment. Allan and Challon were in fire and water respectively.

The fire-aspected Signed were already training throwing fire-lances, spears and bolts, and even the occasional fireball. It seemed to be going well until one of the more idiotic among them joked around and set another boy on fire leaving him screaming and flailing on the ground while his hair went with a lot of smoke. A splash of water from the bucket of a soldier and a blanket smothered the rest of the flames after that the still whimpering boy was brought over to the water group to practice healing magic. Mireille noted the buckets of sand and water next to some heavy blankets near the training area.

Then it was the turn of the earth-aspected. They were similarly taught some keywords and then left, mostly, to their own devices. She saw armor of stone and earth, strengthening spells, and the use of stones and earth as spears or like a catapult.

The apprentice looked a bit tired by now as he arrived at the wind-aspected group and addressed them “So, you should already know the basics by listening in on the other groups but I will reiterate- You get keywords for the magic brands you possess. When you use said words you will feel the magic taking shape inside of you. For each of you, this will be slightly different and the better brands or even the strength of your inborn magic will allow you to modify this a bit, instill it with intent.“ he took a deep breath.

“And that is where the training comes in. If it were simply point and shoot, he gestured towards a crossbow, we would be done by tomorrow. But there can be quite a difference between someone who knows what he is doing and someone who does not. We will try to give you this opportunity. Some of you will only get to be a bit more accurate, but some of you might even get secondary effects, like making a fireball that ignites like oil and keeps burning for a while or a windblade that can also be like a gust or small tornado. So come here and I will give you your keywords now.” He waved a scroll of parchment.

Mireille stood to the right of Rhys and went over the arcane-sounding syllables she had to learn. It sounded good to only have to learn three, but in actuality, it was pretty difficult. “Sialysalethusaabn, Sialysalll aaaaah.” She felt the knot in her tongue, at least she thought she did.

“Velusaries” came from her right and she saw a flirring ghost shoot from the hands of Rhys and impact the earth to the left of her target throwing dirt into the air with a tearing sound. “Damn that was not even close”.

“At least you managed to get it to work for you” complained Mireille. Rhys gave her a slight grin.

“Don’t complain, more words equal more versatility. You don’t get to add more later. Be thankful.”

“Sialysalethussar” a feeling like pins and needles rose from her chest through her arms and culminated in white-blue lines of lightning snaking under her skin, following her veins, burning with suppressed power.

She instinctively raised her right arm supporting him with her left and then the power got too much for her as a metallic taste spread in her mouth, while the air smelt of a nearing storm, an unbearable burning went from beneath her sternum to the tips of her right arm. The sigil gave off white smoke. With a crack followed by thunder, a bolt of lightning thick as an arm raced towards a target and smashed into the target the stone erupting into several pieces. Mireille was thrown back and landed painfully on her rear. Sadly it was not the target she had been aiming for. A short moment of silence reigned. Then a slow clapping was heard and a dry rasping sound.

Mireille took a moment to realize it was the old magus, laughing.

The magus mostly observed his apprentice, correcting and even helping if rarely when necessary. Otherwise, he looked lost in thought, only Mireille could gain his attention.

The soldiers never interacted with him. They learned that it was not necessary that the commands be spoken loudly but subvocalization at least was needed. Mireille also had the power to hasten her speed and increase the range of her jumps by an order of magnitude. She could, for example, jump on top of the four-meter-high wall without any problems. She could ignite a lightning bolt from her arm but needed to brace for that to be effective and precise enough. And last she could summon a shield of wind and lightning which would possibly save her from some of the more deleterious magic effects.

Allan could summon a lance of whitish fire. Challon had a spell to summon healing waters which could staunch bleeding and close wounds. She could also call upon water for a shield and summon a sphere of water nearly the size of a horse's head. Rhys was blessed with a spell to increase her visual range leading her to nearly curse aloud until she found that it also cured her nearsightedness, at least as long as she used it. And she was able to project wind blades that could cut through softer materials, which could probably be improved with training, and were useful for moving her and other objects and persons. Even if flying was still far out of her reach she had the possibility of getting there.

“Why do so many have a fire affinity?” Mireille asked equally tired-looking and sweaty Rhys during a short break.

She answered “I don’t think it's that there are so many with an affinity exactly. Those fire-aspected brands seem more numerous and forgiving of flaws, perhaps they are even more easily and cheaply made. They certainly look cheaper with less exotic materials and simpler designs. I think everyone who is not a good fit for something else and has at least a basic affinity towards fire gets them.” Afterward, they looked at Alan with pitying eyes. The aforementioned suddenly got chills.

When the training ended they were ushered into a large room containing many seats and small tables. An older man with receding hair and blue limpid eyes began to teach them about geography and then basic knowledge about first aid and the weaknesses of commonly seen threats.

The Rivenlorn Confederacy sat near the east coast of the continent of Naletar and had one port, bought for with a lot of blood, the Gate of Pareus. To the north lay the lands of Margrinar and Ulsolm. Where Margrinar was a nation of predominantly human descend and such without the more genocidal wars, Ulsolm consisted of a loose agglomeration of Warlords united under the rule of an Archliche.

The undead was thankfully bound to the city of broken Ivory on mount Iskar by a divine curse. The rest of the land was usually in a state of semi-permanent strife and war which often spilled into the lands of Rivenlorn. And in the last few years, there had been a marked upswing in military raids deep into the lands of men. Raiding parties consisted of monstrous beasts, frost elves, and different and numerous undead so this was quite a serious problem. In the west were some smaller kingdoms and duchies, but also large tracts of wilderness with nomadic orc and gnoll tribes whom the teacher described as half-hyena people. Asked what a hyena was he told them they were like big dogs. Those could also in times of desperation or when they saw a good chance invade into the soft heartlands of the confederacy.

Further inland was a host of wondrous nations, some more organized than others. And large stretches of untamed wilderness home to many fantastic creatures and monsters. Humanity was a relatively recent entrant to these shores. Their forebears left their great island empire after having angered the gods with their hubris for which the gods of sea and storm had sunk the offending piece of land. The survivors sailed for the shores of Naletar, where they bartered for the use of a stretch of coastline, today’s Margrinar. And the rest, as they say, is history.

And then there was the internecine strife between the sometimes not completely willing partners in the Rivenlorn Confederacy of Equals. Led and administered by the council of nine and the king of Rivenlorn, the largest and also founding nation of this Federation.

Mireille's head seemed to emit small clouds of smoke as she sunk onto her table.

Why did she have to do this again? “Mireille come with us, we have to secure a seat for lunch!”- Ah, sure, that was the reason.