Vagrant - Part VI

          The pair passed by another dyad, Patrick and Tom, going into the arena for their final sparring session.  

Van and Finnian found seats on the first level of the coliseum with a clear view of the combatants.    

The pair in the arena were walking in opposite directions, taking their place for combat.  This was the battalion’s final stage of their training before becoming an official unit of the king’s army.  After today, they would be placed on duty to serve their city. 

No one in the battalion knew much about Patrick and Tom.  But what everyone knew for certain, was that the intense training over the last year had clearly taken its toll on them both.

That was not how things began.  Each dyad began the training process with zeal and vigor; excited at the prospects of the dyad system and the potential unity it could bring to the battalion.  The original members of Thrace’s older unit; men who had served with him from the beginning and volunteered to serve under him as he was given titles of command; were able to choose who their partner in the dyads would be.  Naturally, men chose their closest friends or their brothers.  For some of them, fighting together and training hard over a year was the best thing that could have happened.  If they were not brothers before, they were surely brothers now.  But for others, the year did not go as well.  They fell to bickering, arguing - slowly the reality of being committed to the battalion and to another person they grew to dislike wore on them.  Patrick and Tom seemed to firmly fall in that category.

“Begin!” Thrace commanded.

The combatants slowly approached each other in the arena.  Patrick, the larger of the two, gave an overhead swing with his two-handed axe.  Tom raised his shield to block, but the brute force of Patrick’s attack knocked Tom to his knees.  Patrick quickly raised and swung again.  Tom tried to block again, this time with the blade of his one-handed longsword laid over his shield in his attempt to use both of his arms.  He was only driven deeper into the dirt.  

CLANG

Another blow fell.  Patrick’s grunts rose to a pitch loud enough for the first row onlookers to hear.  Tom’s position did not waver.  He was on the defensive. 

“Ha,” Patrick’s grunt became a short cry.

CLANG

Tom kept his position as scarlet droplets fell from his arms.

“Ah,” Patrick’s cry became a scream.

CLANG

Tom’s arms fell completely.  He was exhausted.  All he could do was look up at the onslaught of the man who once used to be his best friend.

“AHHH!” Patrick’s scream was filled with rage, as though he were possessed.  

SQUILCH

Patrick stopped with his axe held above his head.  It fell from his hands.  Patrick followed after, falling dead on his back with Tom’s sword stuck in his gut.

Tom hurriedly got to his feet and ripped off his helm.  He looked down the body of Patrick as it bled out onto the earth.  It was eerily silent in the arena.  The spectators said nothing, holding their breath in anticipation of what Tom would do next.  

CLANG

Tom dropped his helm onto Patrick’s breastplate.  Then he turned, and walked slowly out of the arena.  He said nothing and acknowledged no one.  He knew what this meant - they all did.  The training, had broken him.  

Thrace stood up then.  On his dais, he could be seen by all the men of the battalion who sat in the round.

“Gentlemen, your training is over,” Thrace said without a hint of emotion.  “Beginning tomorrow, you will be in the king’s army.”

There was no cheering.  There was no noise of any kind.  Most of the men sat there in silence, looking up at Thrace.  Some looked down into the arena, at the corpse of Patrick that was still bleeding out.

“Being a soldier is not easy.  In many ways, it is a thankless role.  The people we fight for only appreciate us in times of war.  In peace they either avoid us or openly condemn us.  In many cases, you will be the first line of defense while lieutenants and generals command comfortably from behind you and at a safe distance.  There will be many times when you will feel that you are giving more than anyone, even a king, has a right to ask of you,” Thrace paused.

The men were hanging on his every word.

“It is for these reasons, and more that the dyad initiative was begun.  Because men do not fight for justice.  They do not fight for peace.  Sadly, these grand ideals are dreams we have as children that become mere words as a man.  For when a Crixian raider has a dagger hilt-deep in your thigh, justice and peace are not what you are thinking of.   But one thing we always fight for is family.   These men are your brothers.  You do not have to like them all, but you have to respect them.  You must uphold them.”

Van looked around and saw several men nodding along in agreement with Thrace.  The captain’s inspiring effect was palpable throughout the coliseum and even Van found himself swept up in it.  For the first time in his life, Van was forced to look at Thrace differently.  He could no longer see his boyhood friend from years ago; instead, Thrace was now every bit the captain.  

“Take tonight to consider if this is the battalion, or even the direction, you want to move forward in.  After tonight, there is no turning back.   We will fight to defend our kingdom as best we can.  But I do not ask you to fight for the kingdom.  I do not ask you to fight for the king, the royal family or the townspeople.  I do not even ask you to fight for me.  But I demand that you fight for each other.   Because when we’re face to face with Crixian raiders or the barbarian horde, we will only have each other to rely upon.”

There was applause.  Some men stood up, they were so inspired.  Thrace turned and left the dais.  The men still clapped.  For a few moments, the applause kept ringing through the arena and Van was stunned all over again.  Here was the power of a man who knew what he wanted of his life and went after it without hesitation.  The power to unify a group of men who were not as sure.  The power to give them direction and purpose.  Van had never felt so connected to anything in his life as he did in that moment.  He was Thrace’s man and Finnian’s brother.  He was a defender of the realm and a protector of his newfound family.  For the first time, in a life of seeking a grand purpose to pursue, this felt like enough.  Even if it wasn’t Van’s dream, in that moment he felt he belonged.  The hand of fortune had led him through a life of uncertainty to this very place…and he was glad.