“Hey, scar-child.”

Two days later, my solo practice was interrupted. I stuck my sword into the ground and turned to see Kite strolling up.

“I heard you’ve been playing around with our weapons.”

“I’m not playing, I’m practicing.” I wanted to reply. Of course, I didn’t say such things. Kite wasn’t looking for excuses.

“Scar-child, can you hear me?”

Such an obnoxious nickname. With my plain looks, simple black hair and short stature nothing about me sticks out. The one exception is my face, or rather the scar carved into it. I’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to remember when I received it. It must have been when I was very young. Regardless of my memories and wishes, it’s always sat prominently on my left cheek. Apparently it resembles a claw.

“Look, It’s fine to practice. For now, though, just make do with the training we give you.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

“Of course it’s not enough.” Kite laughed. “Real mettle is forged on the battlefield. Training is just a foundation. Don’t worry, even if you aren’t matching up to Edil you never know what will happen in a real fight. Just bring enough spirit and you’ll do fine.”

“As if I could rely on that.” After relegating countless insults to the corner of my mind, one finally slipped out.

“Oh? Is that the issue?” Kite’s expression darkened. “You can’t trust simple advice from your leader? That must be tough for you.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I raised my voice but one glare from Kite halted my protest.

Kite slowly and deliberately plucked my sword from the ground. Then he turned and left without another word. My hand subconsciously moved over my gut. I may have just made a costly mistake.

Weeks passed and I continued to practice while making a serious effort to not get caught again. Edil and I also received compulsory lessons from the older mercenaries. Their lessons were simple, but undeniably effective.

“Dodge!” One man yelled.

I nearly tripped over my own feet as I evaded ten swings at varying angles.

“Block!”

This time I held my ground and raised my shield. His attacks shook me but I stood firm.

“Parry!”

He immediately switched to deadly thrusts. I met his blade with my own and continued his momentum until I felt an opportunity. With a flick of my wrist I changed the direction of his sword and my own; sending his attack down into the dirt. In the same movement I raised my shield and thrust it forward. I stopped a few inches from his face and the mercenary released a wide-mouthed grin.

“Excellent, Rowan, your skill and senses are exceptional. Although…” He pushed my shield aside with one hand and head-butted me. I fell down flat on my back. “Your physical strength is poor. It’s hard to believe that you were caught for overtraining earlier.”

“Yes…I still have a lot of work to do.” I bowed my head slightly until I remembered that the mercenaries hated that kind of formality.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Your time as a boy is almost up, soon you’ll be ready to fight with us. However, before we accept you, you’ll have to spar against one of the adults.”

“Do I have to win?” I smiled and replied without pause. It might not be impossible, depending on who I fight.

“No, us teachers will be watching you. If you demonstrate adequate ability, then you’ll be accepted.”

I raised my fist to the sky then brought it back like a piston. After so much effort, I had finally reached the starting line. For the rest of the day I swung my sword with renewed energy.

“What’s with you today, Rowan? You’ve looked so gloomy recently but now you’re smiling during laundry duty.” Marseille, my mother, noticed my new attitude. Just as I’d hoped she would.

“Well, I’m almost at that age…” I grinned.

“Oh that’s right.” She smiled back. “But this camp only has men and older women. Even if you’re at such an age I’ll be hard-pressed to find you a partner.”

“I’m not talking about that!”

She giggled like a child.

“Right, right. You’ll be going off to battle soon.” It was only for an instant, but I saw her smile curl into a frown. “I’m sure you’re prepared though. Kite already told everyone as much.”

“Mother!”

“Yes?”

“…N-nothing, forget it.” I turned my attention back to the clothes I was washing.

“Rowan…” She put down her laundry and looked at me. I glanced up at her. “I know you’ll do fine.”

What a strange thing to say, of course I would be. With that confidence, I arrived at the training field the next day to meet my opponent.

“Hey, scar-child.” Kite stood in the center of the field along with my teachers.

“I’m supposed to spar with you?” I didn’t even blink. Kite frowned, maybe he had expected more of a reaction.

“Well, if you’re joining my group then you’ll need my vote. What better way to earn it than this?”

I glowered as Kite laughed. His bastard sword and full plate armor shone brilliantly in the midday sun. Meanwhile, my only metal protection was a chainmail vest, short sword and a small shield. It wasn’t unreasonable though; I wasn’t nearly tall or bulky enough to wear such heavy equipment. Once I become a mercenary, I could be asked to fight men with heavier weapons and tougher armor.

“Are you ready? Do you want to warm up first?” Kite snickered.

“No, I’m prepared.” It wasn’t a lie; I had gotten up early to review. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that I hadn’t slept. Either way, my adrenaline was pumping.

“Good, let’s begin.” Kite extended his sword and I did the same. We stood silently for a while, connected by the tips of our swords.

My concentration waned as I heard murmuring behind me. A quick glance backwards told me that a crowd was forming. News travelled quickly through the camp and my insubordination to Kite was already well known. Of course, they all heard the story from Kite himself so I doubt anyone is on my side.

That doesn’t matter. I thought. The larger crowd was perfect for my debut.

“Begin!” One instructor called out.

We immediately broke apart. The crowd began to cheer as we stared each other down. Kite moved first, lunging forward with a fierce thrust. I stepped back and blocked with my shield but Kite wasn’t finished. Connecting his earlier motion, he rose his sword up high above his head and brought it down on top of me. With my shield already raised, it was trivial to block.

“You little shit.” Kite muttered under his breath. He stepped in and put even more weight into his overhand chop. Even though I blocked perfectly, Kite won out with brute strength. In the next instant his sword had already reached the ground, passing through me like an arrow through the wind.

My vision went black and I could feel warm blood rush down my face and soak into my undershirt. After a second of standing in silent disbelief, I collapsed unceremoniously. The world was spinning, meanwhile I heard cries for bandages and water. There was someone sobbing as well, my mother must have turned out for the fight. My consciousness began to fade.

However, I wasn’t finished. I pushed as hard as I could to raise my head above the ground and looked up at Kite. He had already dropped his sword. Switching from combatant to leader, he sternly directed people to gather medical supplies. I glared at him before falling unconscious but I don’t think he even noticed.

It took a couple days but I woke up. After having weathered the worst of it, they told me I would eventually recover good as new. The injury had carved a new scar into my face and a shorter one down my chest.

“You’re pretty goddamn lucky.” Edil remarked when he visited me. “Half a finger’s length further and you’d have been carved up.”

“I was carved up, asshole.” I pointed to the swollen line from my left nostril to the bottom of my chin.

“Still, all that training didn’t fail you.” Edil smiled weakly, he didn’t seem very happy to be here.

I strongly suspected one of the instructors had asked him to visit.

“The instructors said that you took an extra step back the instant he overpowered you. That’s what saved your life.”

“…Yea. I guess it payed off.” I mirrored his smile. The conversation slowly died from there and Edil eventually said his goodbyes.

In truth, that retreat had nothing to do with training. I stepped back because I knew Kite would pull something like this. My hands curled into fists. I continued to grip my sheets tightly while remembering the previous night.

“AACH! That kid pishes me of shometimes.” Kite spoke loudly among a group of his closest subordinates. I could hear him even while helping the cooks in a different part of the camp. “I’ll teach him a leshon tomorrow if it’s the last thing he doesh.”

“…” When he paused I assumed his friends were talking.

“No, I do mean the last thing he doesh. I know the phrash.”

I scowled. Almost half of the camp had been subjected to his drunken ramblings over the past hour. Of course, no one dared to complain. However, I was even more worried when he suddenly went silent after his last remark. I quietly excused myself from cooking duty and snuck behind Kite’s tent. Listening closely, I heard the rest of the conversation.

“What do you mean by discipline?” One of his subordinates asked.

“I mean that he needs to be taught a lesson.” Kite’s voice was suddenly different than before. It was a deeper, colder voice than I thought possible from him. “A lot of the guys around here aren’t taking me seriously. They probably prefer the old leader or some crap. That kid is the same, he doesn’t think much of us.”

“That’s true…my son told me that Rowan doesn’t want to become a mercenary.”

“Well then it’s no loss to us.” I heard them gasp as Kite slammed something down. In hindsight it was probably a sword. “He’s just the son of that whore. If I kill him then that’s one less person who’s against me.”

“You’re really gonna’ kill him for that?”

“It’s not about what he did, it’s about the message. When McDonald was alive, people he didn’t like went missing all the time. That’s what being a leader is all about.”

I tried to run but my legs wouldn’t move. Dying over some stupid outburst? This clearly wasn’t a joke. I gathered my courage and ran back to the cooks. I thought about telling someone but there was on one to tell. In the end, it was all I could do to show up for the match.

“…I’ll kill you.” Back in my bed, covered in bandages and healing paste, I was compelled to speak. “I’m still alive…so I’m going to kill you.” No one was listening, but it was as though I had made a contract with the heavens.

It would take over a month to heal, but I would recover. It would take a lot of effort to convince my teachers that I was ready to fight, but I would. Then, when that bastard least suspects it…I vowed I would chop his head off.