Aaron was gently shaken awake as orange light fell into the room. Kendia sat next to him, dressed in her brown tunic. “Greetings, Anax.”

  Aaron sat up and looked around the room. The mat and blanket felt rough on his bare skin. Their eyes met, and Aaron looked away. “Anax, I am ashamed of my behavior last night... so immensely grateful for your kindness.”

  Aaron studied her pursed-lipped face.

  “However I can repay you, I will.” She nodded solemnly. He gulped.

  Aaron’s throat tightened. He didn’t pull his hand away. “I understand. Ceiro will regret doing anything to you.”

  She raised an unreadable look at him as he slid out from under the sheets. Right. They don’t care about nudity here.

  As he slipped on the rough loincloth, tunic, and sandals, his hand went over his medallion. His medallion’s red bar pulsed at half capacity—only a tenth glowed. Half a level of potnetial in one night. Not bad.

  Kendia’s eyes found the medallion and she gulped. This time, she evaded Aaron’s look. She shifted from foot to foot as he turned to leave. “Anax, if you were serious about giving me the status of a favored slave…”

  Aaron looked at her. The voices of the others could be heard from the outside as he made his way to the lavatory. Any reason not to take her in? The Mind Mage didn’t seem concerned. He shivered as last night surfaced—and shoved it down.

  Swallowing, he responded, “Sure. Set everything up for it. I will sponsor you.”

  Kendia’s breath trembled before she straightened, but her eyes flicked toward his medallion—quick and calculating. She bowed onto her knees as Aaron left the room and inclined his head. “I cannot thank the Anax enough,” she whispered behind him.

  Outside, the two halves of his squad were studiously ignoring each other. Rhea and Theon were animatedly hugging and talking to their respective bonded servants.

  Aaron’s jaw tightened as he saw what Rhea was doing. The guy doesn’t have any choice. Or maybe he does. If the domestics really are volunteers trained for this… something between a butler and an escort. Aaron ground his teeth.

  “What has you in such a foul mood?” inquired Rhea while playfully pushing her bonded away. The servant smiled, bowed, and left for her cottage.

  “Is this a hang-up about slavery or are you just jealous?” she asked, trying to box his arm. Aaron sidestepped and scowled, about to shoot back—then stopped. What is this actually about? He took a breath. I do find her attractive, but I can’t just ignore the way she treats the slaves. Almost like they’re hard-working teddy bears. He just shook his head at her and turned toward Theon. Theon’s personal bonded was telling him about temples of mages controlling armies of holy beasts—crocodiles, hippos, hyenas among others. Aaron avoided looking at Rhea as he listened about the magic of the Eternal Kingdom’s temples.

  Yet, even Theon’s single-minded focus couldn’t resist the icy mood for long. He looked between the two of them and straightened. “Today we will—”

  “Do combat training until you collapse in the dirt,” finished Bug. The others' eyes widened in surprise. It took all of Aaron’s willpower to suppress a sigh. The Mind Mage’s revenge.

  The four Mage Guard and all the soldiers mustered in formation. Bug stared Rhea and Theon down. Why is everyone so sour this morning?

  Bug performed a sequence of hand signs. Aaron frowned but followed as the others marched off the cottage plaza. The mood remained tense as they walked through the forest. The guards formed another cordon of halberds, then a line of gunners, and finally a few soldiers walked close to them. They wore bucklers on one hand that held katar push-daggers, with warhammers ready in the other.

  Aaron observed how other mages were pushed off the path by the front halberdiers and Shard—barreling forward like a moody tank.

  The gloomy procession soon reached a walled area. It was as big as several football fields. Tennis courts were separated by palisade-topped earthen walls. Scorch marks and scars decorated the wood, and the ground was uneven and rough. Aaron could even make out some slaves spreading water over the soil in another training ground. They’re taking the battle realism very seriously. Train as you fight and so on.

  Aaron cleared his throat, the sound uncomfortable in the tense silence. “What will we do?”

  Bug smiled nastily. “I have very specific instructions.” He looked Aaron straight in the eyes. Whose instructions?

  “Rhea, two guard squads and Shard. Combat drills on unstable ground.” He pointed to the two women, who assessed each other coldly. Looks like love at first sight.

  “Theon, you will face Blade and Bark,” he added. The final addition made Theon’s face go from sour to acidic. “Only melee. Two against one.”

  His gaze swept back to Aaron. “And I will take care of our glorious champion. I can see it will be a dream to train with you.” The emphasis bored into Aaron like a pike.

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  “First,” Bug gestured at an underground entrance twenty steps from them, “we need to find the correct weapons.”

  Aaron fell in behind Bug as Rhea and Theon followed. The underground building was a plain wooden structure under the cover of a smooth stone ceiling, seemingly carved from a single piece of rock. The room stretched long and narrow, running the length of the training grounds. Weapon racks filled the walls and middle of the corridor. Aaron admired the manifold heads of the halberds—spikes, hooks, blades, hammers, and more, in nearly every configuration. All the training weapons were made from blunt steel with dulled points.

  They were first led to a counter where a bearded old freeman waited. Bug pointed at the three young mages. “They require sets of training armor. Fresh out of the Argo.”

  Aaron looked over Bug’s insectile mantis suit. “When do we get a suit like you’re wearing?”

  Bug looked at him with a glint of amusement. “At the beginning of next year. There are various symbiont gardens, but for now you’ll focus on weapons—not on finding a workable arrangement with combat suit symbionts.”

  The old man gave them assessing gazes and barked orders at a favored and three bonded. Within a short while, three sets of armor were fitted to them. Aaron felt like a puppet as he was dressed—clothes stripped without hesitation, and he stood naked until fitted.

  He was given a pair of trousers and a jacket made of thick cloth. A metal helmet, breastplate, and bracers for arms and legs completed the ensemble. The armor felt light—more like a wet winter coat than a knight’s set. Aaron ran his hands over the slightly oiled steel plates.

  “Any problems?” asked the old man. Three heads shook in unison.

  He turned around to his assistants. “The smith’s own work. Prepare storage for them.” Then he turned back to the quartet. “In the future, you may come here and request your armor. Then you will be combat-ready in no time.”

  Clapping his hands thrice, a linen-belted citizen and two freemen appeared.

  “Next, you may pick out the weapons you want to use. If you like a head but not the length, we can switch it out.”

  The group thanked the man. Aaron looked at the citizen—a woman, old, with a scar across her face.

  Why is she scarred if they have healing magic? It might be a memento she chose to keep.

  She inclined her head.

  “Greetings, Initiate. What kind of weapon are you looking for?”

  Aaron looked over the rows upon rows of halberds, katar-daggers, and warhammers. I have strong skill guides for unarmed and polearms. But what kind of polearm do I want?

  He compared a thin-bladed head with a spike and hammer on the sides to a hefty poleaxe with a hook on its back.

  Bug walked over, holding two crystals in his hands. “Don’t worry, the others are nearly as clueless as you are. The Argo allows aspirants no metallic weapons. So it was only wood and fists so far.”

  Noticing Aaron looking at the crystals, he nodded. “An attribute and a skill guide reader.”

  He held up the dice-shaped crystals with multifaceted surfaces. Damn. He doesn’t know about the divine skill guides. Is there a way around this? No—Theon said all values for young mages are recorded by the polis.

  Aaron held out his red amulet. Bug touched the first crystal to it. It glowed with bright light, projecting onto the floor. The attendant murmured in astonishment, whereas Bug simply nodded. With a suppressed sigh, Aaron read his own attributes.

  Cog: 4 | Mov: 3 | Res: 2 | Per: 3 | Soc: 3

  The attendant cleared his throat and looked at the red medallion.“Fifteen total attributes are highly unusual at this stage.”

  Aaron furrowed his brow. Has this guy not heard I’m the hot-shit champion of an eldritch god?

  Silently, Bug touched the second crystal to Aaron’s medallion. Both he and the attendant gasped.

  Divine Skill Guide: Language

  Divine Skill Guide: Hand-to-Hand Combat

  Divine Skill Guide: Polearm Combat

  Temporary Apprentice Skill Guide: Arcane Meditation

  Apprentice Skill Guide: Counter-Social Engineering

  “How?” the attendant choked out. Aaron looked at the wide-eyed man. Here we go again.

  “I am the champion of the Weaver of Lives—”

  The man threw himself to the floor and crawled toward Aaron’s feet. Aaron suppressed a dark impulse to stomp on his neck and stepped back instead. The man dropped to his knees. Armorers peeked out as he pressed his forehead to the floor.

  “Honored holy champion, forgive me my disrespect.” The rest of the armorers paled and prostrated themselves as well. Their prayers were filled with pleas for mercy and protection from edicts.

  Rhea’s snort broke the silence—but even she faltered when the old man began to cry. Aaron rolled his eyes. Just when I thought this couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  Bug nudged him slightly. His telepathy ground out a few words. ‘Say—Blessing.’

  Aaron looked at the man in his greenish combat suit. His expression was completely serious. Aaron cleared his dry throat. “I bless you in the name of the Weaver. May it have mercy upon you and your families. May you live long and prosper.”

  A few of the attendants, including the old man from the counter, were sobbing openly now. Rhea’s laughter died like the last breath of a crow. Aaron coughed delicately. “Can we proceed with getting me weapons?”

  “Yes, Champion. Your wish is my desire, Champion.” The old man from the counter nearly sprinted over. Bug looked at Aaron from the side. The side of his mouth twitched up. Yeah, hilarious.

  The old man was about to say something when he met Aaron’s eyes. Swallowing it, he looked at the wall. “Champion, if I may make a humble suggestion.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “Your values suggest that you would want a polearm with a hook, so you may grapple quickly.” The man paused, assessing Aaron like a dangerous predator. “Furthermore, you will naturally need a katar and buckler.”

  Aaron smiled and nodded. I’m getting armed in a medieval armory. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  Aaron walked to a few racks of katars and bucklers. They shared the same design—strapped to fix them to the arm, about three hand spans wide and oddly thick. The half-centimeter of metal was shaped into a shallow outward-facing dish. A weird design. Why not curve them the other way?

  Bug turned to Aaron. “Strap it on. I shall demonstrate how they function.”

  The buckler was absurdly thick for something called a shield—it was as heavy as a rock one could barely lift with one hand.

  The air grew hot as Aaron turned to Bug. The flash of a knife blade was Aaron’s only warning.

  Instinctively, he brought the shield up as Bug rushed toward his target with his katar.

  Shoutout Time

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