(Flashback) Baptism of a Squire (Solo)

[Imass]

Timestamp: TBD

The various terrains at the Antonius training grounds offered the very best facilities for Imass’s training. Not even the hallowed hall of the majestic city Riverfall could offer the squire the ability to learn and grow so much.

Taking his broadsword in hand and clasping his shield close to his heart, Imass got mentally prepared to endure the hardships of the day. After a quick introduction they would begin the hard work immediately. The Akalak needed to be in the most relaxed state of mind so he could complete the tasks assigned to him.

Moustache approached the men, “Before we begin today, we are going to correct a problem you squires have,”the instructor cleared his throat, “No more lollygagging on the floor anymore! Never again! I am so tired of seeing you lads taking five minutes to stand up after falling to the floor. Boo hoo! This isn’t nap time! This is squire training! On the battlefield if you fall, you are dead! You must never dwell on the floor during conflict. We must break the hold habits. I will fix your problem now!”

The instructor spread his legs and clenched his fists hard. Imass would come to dread this look of anger. Imass knew immediately that the next four hours would be brutal. Enjoying his last moments of morning rest, the blue squire zeroed in on the task at hand.

“Drop your weapons. You squires barely deserve to wield those tools of combat. Do you understand?” Moustache spitted.

The motley group yelled “Yes, ser” uniformly and dropped their weapons to the ground. Imass couldn’t even guess what was to happen next. He was mortified he would mess up. Dressed in gray and white training linens, Imass suddenly felt naked. He had come to bond with his broadsword and shield. The grip of his pommel was already wearing down and in need of replacement.

“Alright, quick, move, move, move!” Moustache yelled. His thick handle bar moustache already wet with spit. The group started running, but it was not fast enough. The instructor stopped the group.

“Stop! Now listen. You have to sprint to the next location as quickly as you possibly can. There is no room for slowness here. If but one of you do not sprint immediately, I WILL remind you ‘why’ you are here.” Everyone got back in line silently. Imass could count on himself to sprint quickly, but what about the other knights? Would everyone follow orders on point? No way, no one was going to lag.

Imass stood completely still, anticipating the command to run. He would not be late. Moustache suddenly ordered them to run. Imass left nothing behind. Pivoting on one foot, he sprinted towards the direction his trainer pointed to. The Akalak moved as fast as possible. His efforts did not matter though as one of the other knights failed. After three strides, Imass found himself jogging back into formation.

“Not swift enough!” Moustache bellowed, “Take a good minute and look around,” he paused for a heartbeat then continued, “Look to the right and to the left. These are your new brothers in arms. You are only as good as the man next to you. You are a team now, that means if one of you fails, you ALL fail! Do you understand?”

“Yes, ser!” Imass yelled enthusiastically. Although the Akalak responded appropriately, as a whole the squires sound lethargic.

“I can’t hear you! Do you understand?” Moustache spat.

“Yes, sir!” the group said loudly this time.

“Now. Start running in place…Ready! Exercise! Go! Go! Go!”

Moustache’s torture had finally begun. Although this was no baptism by fire, it was close enough for Imass.

[Imass]

Imass had lost track of the number of times his stomach had slammed into the floor. The exercise they were doing was dubbed the “down-up”. He would run in place, then when given the command from Moustache, he would drop to the floor and proceed to get up as quickly as possible. Apparently, this exercise was both punishment and a lesson in standing up. Yes, standing up. The goal, as Moustache claimed, was to make sure no one stayed downed on the battlefield. It was imperative everyone regained their footwork after a fall. The instructor was adamant about teaching the motley crew this principle the hard way.

This torturous exercise was long and painful.

“Down!” Moustache would yell.

“Thirty-four!” they yelled in broken uniformity. Imass immediately plopped down to the floor. His whole body was tired by now. His muscles were not burning or anything. He wasn’t sore, but for some reason he was exhausted beyond measure. Despite everything though, the squire used every fiber in his body to get up quickly. Digging his flexing calf into the grass he slowly rose for the first half foot, then he sprung up from there. Imass was always in the middle of the pack, but this was because he wasn’t the fastest. If it was in his power he would be the first one up every time.

Looking around the Akalak saw that several squires were still getting up after a full two seconds.

“Quicker! Quicker! Get up! Get up! This isn’t nap time! DOWN!!” the instructor yelled. Imass obliged and plopped to the floor yet again. He would not rest ever. He would continue no matter what. Springing up to his feet, the sweaty squire had barely any breath left to encourage his teammates. He had only energy to continue onward at a sluggish pace.

“Not fast enough! Quickly! Swiftly! Bolye! You owe us three down-ups! While the rest of your team has been working, you have been laying on the floor!” Imass put his arms to his head in relief for a much needed break. Moustache was now literally picking up the exhausted squire and throwing him back onto the floor.

“There is NO rest on the field of combat -- If, you, stop – You will die! Your team mates will die! Quickness – everything, you, do, use, speed – Get up! Get up!”

Imass decided he needed to encourage Boyle. The Akalak needed to bolster his team’s moral or they would never get through this punishment.

“You can do it Bolye! We all believe in you! Isn’t that right, lads?” Imass began to clap and applaud the downed squire. Shortly thereafter, the whole group joined in on the encouragement.

Moustache ignored them and continued drilling Boyle, “Let’s go lad! Everyone is waiting on YOU! You are going to keep going until you can give me three down-ups, WITHOUT my help! Come on finish the exercise Boyle! You owe ME and the rest of your team!”

The exhausted squire was finally able to do three down-ups all alone before collapsing. The motivation given by the whole team was enough to get the man to spend the rest of his energy. Moustache immediately sent Boyle to the medic.

The instructor then turned to the rest of the group, “Now one of your team mates has fallen! Now you must pick up his slack! You must learn to continue despite the losses!” The instructor showed no remorse for working a man to his breaking point. He had no pity for weakness it seemed. This idea was somewhat foreign to Imass. Why did the instructor need to do this? Everyone understood the point of the exercise, so why keep going when it was futile.

“Down!”

The squires dropped and sprung up ever motivated, “Thirty-five!”

“Did I say to continue? With Boyle gone we have to start all over again! Down!”

The squires were not going to give up too quickly though. They all dropped and sounded off louder than before, “ONE!”

“DOWN!”

“TWO!” Imass began to clap in rhythm to Moustache’s barking.

“DOWN!”

“THREE!!”

[Imass]

“Forty-Nine!”

The instructor waited until every last squire was on their feet, “DOWN!”

“Fifty!” Imass was thoroughly drained now. Only he and two others were still clapping in rhythm. After Boyle was excused, Moustache had not made them start over. One could only wonder how much longer the down-ups would last. The instructor had never told them how many they were actually trying to do. For all they knew the goal was to do one hundred in a row perfectly.

Moustache stopped and stared at the squires. Anticipation filled the Akalak’s heart. He wished hard for the exercise to stop. Although Imass was all about working hard and getting stronger, this was too much for him. If he didn’t have at least minute to catch his breath, he would surely pass out. Due to having to start over so much, they had yet to reach fifty. Fifty down-ups felt like hours of work and this wasn’t counting the rest of the ones they did. They must have done at least two hundred.

“STOP!” Moustache yelled.

Imass let out a sigh of relief and stopped running his feet. The instructor gave them some time to relax. No one spoke at all though. Everyone was too tired. The Akalak bent over on his knees and simply stared at the ground in front of him.

The spot he was on was now torn up and well-worn with use. Dripping sweat fell off his nose, ears, and neck. His head was literally steaming. He saw an imprint of his body on the floor. No thoughts entered his mind; he was too exhausted to even think. As Imass stared at the dirt, he concluded that all this disciplined training was for the best. This whole not a shred of doubt entered his mind. His dark side was totally at bay. He made another vow too; he would never again remain grounded. If anyone dropped him again, he would stand up immediately. Never again. He could only hope his team-mates thought the same.

Before everyone could fully recover, Moustache started up again, “Now! You will run with me to the pit. We are already late as it is, so we got to hustle. I know now that you guys will not waste any more time. Understood?”

The squires fully understood now the consequences of moving slowly in the training grounds, “Yes, sir!”

“Quick! Quick! Quick! Move out!” the instructor commanded. Every last squire sprinted as fast as they could to the next location. Imass had no more thoughts. He ran as quickly as possible behind Moustache, who lead them to a massive mud pit freshly watered for the recruits. At one end of the pit was a box. In the middle of the pit was a huge log.

“Quick now! Everyone stand next to the log! Move, move, move. You are moving way to slow! GO!” Imass sprinted forward and took his position at the log.

Two other instructors appeared. One stood on the box. The other waited outside the mud pit.

Moustache wasted no time, “Welcome to the mud pit. When we are done, you lads will be very intimate with this beautiful pile of dirt, shit, and water! Remember. I used to live in this mud pit. Just as you will for the foreseeable future! Now pick up the log and put it on your left shoulder! The log weighs over a ton, so it will take ALL your combined efforts to lift it! If one man slacks off then you will all feel it… READY. LIFT!”

On a silent three second count, the whole team hoisted the log on their shoulders. Imass immediately felt the pressure of the weight on his back.

Whatever was about to happen would be extremely exhausting and difficult.

[Imass]

“One, two, three, four,” the drill master sounded from his large box at the edge of the pit. His voice was harsh, but ever in rhythm now. He was undoubtedly adjusting the speed of his cadence according to moustache’s needs.

While the drill master counted, Moustache went around and motivated the new squires.

“Come on! Faster, quicker! Use all your strength! One, two, three, four!” he bellowed.

The exercise was simple: Count one was raising the log over-head. Count two was resting the log on the right shoulder. Count three was raising the log over head again. And finally count four which was rest on the left shoulder.

“This log weighs over a ton, if even one of you stops then all twelve of you will stop!” Moustache barked in the face of small human looking squires, perhaps it was the specialist. “Are you lacking motivation? Why are you giving up on your team? Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel feint? Is that the excuse you are going to give your brothers when you fail them in battle? Will you leave another knight for death, because you’re tired? If the answer is yes, then so be it, maybe you don’t have it in you!”

It was an easy task according to his instructor, but there was much more to it than meets the eyes. In order for the drill to work correctly everybody needed to work together. If one squire dropped the log completely, then the whole team might drop it. If two slacked off at the same time, it could possibly result in injury.

Imass had nothing to keep track of the time, except for the rising sun and his own fatigue. His shoulder muscles were aching badly now. No, they were burning in pain. The squire had no idea how much longer he would be able to keep this up. The cadence rang in his head over and over. The smell of the sweaty men around him filled his nostrils. Each time the log was lifted, Imass heard the grunts and wails of his teammates. A man fell over from exhaustion; the weight of the log bore down harder on his shoulder.

Moustache motivated the lad, “Get up! Get up lad! Quick before the log falls! Don’t leave you fellow squires to die in battle! Get up! Get up! I know for a fact you didn’t sign up to be doing that! I know you can do better, get up! Get up! Get up!”

The downed man finally got up and took his spot back in line. The cadence master started up again. Imass’s mind went blank; he drowned out all the noises around him and tuned in to the endless counting of the drill master. He started to feel the need to sit down. His arms and shoulders were on the verge of cramping up. His whole body was covered in sweat and mud.

Suddenly, Imass’s mind came back into reality. Moustache had been yelling at the Akalak for some time now, but the squire was so exhausted he didn’t hear a word until now.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IMASS?” the instructor roared a few inches from the Akalak’s face, “Stop moving your head around the log and move the log over your head! I don’t care how tired you are! Keep going! Faster!"

The Akalak could not respond to the instructor. He had used too much energy. Feeling weakness overcome his body, Imass involuntarily let go of the log. He wasn’t the only one though. Another squire stopped too. Then yet another. The log quickly became too much to handle and the whole group just gave up.

Moustache blew up, but the squires were too exhausted to respond. They hadn’t gotten a break in over two hours. One by one the recruits dropped onto the muddy floor.

“I see now. You guys need a break.” Moustache said fuming. He was ready to explode on them. Despite is anger; he controlled himself, “Find your second win. In a few minutes I’ll be back.”

The drill master and instructor left. The medic remained for a moment to make sure everyone was alright, and then she took off too.