Servant by Matt Stuckey (the ebook reader .txt) 📖

took young men and women and sucked them dry. The expected lifespan was only a few years, and they were hard ones. The plantations were little better; you were worked to death literally, since slaves were easy to replace and it was cheaper to replace them than actually maintain the workforce.

Suddenly, Fulmino heard a noise in the bushes; apparently everyone else did too. The leader drew his sword and whispered “So, not a coward but an idiot instead. No one takes our prizes away from us, and he would be more trouble than he is worth to take him alive. Chop him to pieces lads; the one who brings me his head gets a gold piece.”

Suddenly a spear sprouted from the leaders chest and passed through his body clean, so great was the force behind it. Bloody foam crusted his lips as “One” sank to the ground, much to the dismay of his underlings. Finally free from the oppressive boot, Fulmino lay still, feigning total weakness. He must choose his moment carefully, as he would only get one chance at this. Luckily, the slavers paid no attention to Fulmino, but instead watched the bushes with a manic intensity. 

 Suddenly a spear sprouted from the leaders chest and passed through his body clean, so great was the force behind it. Bloody foam crusted his lips as “One” sank to the ground, much to the dismay of his underlings. Finally free from the oppressive boot, Fulmino lay still, feigning total weakness. He must choose his moment carefully, as he would only get one chance at this.

Luckily, the slavers paid no attention to Fulmino, but instead watched the bushes with a manic intensity. With a great crash and a roar, Muscles barreled out of the clearing on the other side of the camp, completely taking the slavers by surprise. The boys watched in awe as the slavers were methodically dismantled until all were dead or dying on the ground. Drenched in the blood of his foes, Muscles turned to the boys with a feral light in his eyes that quickly calmed to his usual sardonic expression. In his mind, Fulmino replayed the brief battle in his head; it had all happened so fast! Two of the slavers were cut down before they could even fight back, the rest died nearly as quickly under a blistering volley of blows from Muscles.

Running to the bushes, Aldon was violently sick as the adrenaline of the situation subsided and he was faced with the staring eyes of dead men. Fulmino was numb, yet surprised himself by remaining detached from any grief for the dead men. At least part of it was because of what they planned to do with the boys, what they had done to so many others. In Fulmino's mind, no death was too horrific for such "men". Looking over at Leonidus, Fulmino was surprised to see hatred carved on his face, rather than sickness or apathy.

Muscles noticed the expression on Leonidus' face and commented on it."Not the first time you've seen a dead man, is it boy?" Muscles asked with a surprisingly quiet tone. Leonidus said nothing, but slowly shook his head, his grimacing mask of hate still firmly in place. Muscles did not comment on his lack of response, but instead stood beside the fire and addressed the boys.

"Usually, old soldiers have this talk with green soldiers after their first battle. Today, although you didn't spill any blood and I’m not an old soldier, I'll give you the same talk I received that day many years ago."Muscles got a far off look in his eyes as if recalling a scene from long ago. "War is not pretty. There is no glory to be had from it, and nobody is going to remember you from the next guy when you're gone. There is only one rule in this game called war; survive. To survive, you will take what's in your hand or on your hip and kill the man in front of you time and again, even though he is exactly the same as you in the end. If you make it through this war, never forget the men who died so you could make it here, both on your side and on theirs. Also, your fly's unzipped and it looks like a dead earthworm fell out".

All the boy's laughed, they couldn't help it. After seeing so much death, realizing how mortal they all were, anything to relieve the tension was welcomed. Muscles put on a mock serious face and then proceeded to tell the seediest jokes any of them had ever heard, causing Fulmino and Leonidus to chuckle and Aldon to writhe on the ground with mirth. After finishing up the joke about the monk and the bishop, Muscles growled for them to shut up and go to sleep.

Needless to say, everyone slept with their backs to the dead bodies, which Muscles had piled up some distance to the side. Before going to sleep, Fulmino wondered again at how capricious Muscles was. One minute he was nailing Fulmino in the nads for no good reason, the next he was taking care that his troops were okay. Once again, Fulmino chalked it up to Fulmino liking weapons more than people; it made him a good commander but a terrible human being.

The next day was surprisingly uneventful. Marching went as usual, though Muscles surprised the boys by announcing they would be at the academy in the next week. After stopping for the day, Fulmino followed Leonidus to a suitable tree for knife throwing practice.

To Fulmino's surprise, he was actually getting slightly better at throwing; he could strike point first most of the time. Leonidus was delighted with his progress, though he claimed that it was all thanks to superb teaching. Despite the fact that he was kidding, Fulmino actually agreed with him; Leonidus was a very patient teacher and was liberal with praise, at least compared to Muscles. Under his tutelage, Fulmino felt like he was near a breakthrough with the knives.

At times, he knew exactly how the throw would go, and he would hit point first in the target. At other times, it felt like he was holding a knife in his hand and throwing at a tree; he usually missed badly when he saw it like that. After a helpful and blessedly brief pep talk from Leonidus about working on his mechanics and accounting for the wind on long throws, Fulmino trotted over to meet Muscles for the daily sparring.

As if his body knew what was to come, he was suddenly aware again of the weights on his body, sapping his stamina and slowing him down. His body had grudgingly come to terms with the new reality, but was still adjusting to the extra weight. Knife throwing was not much different, especially since he had started throwing around the same time he acquired the weights. Cracking his neck, Fulmino limbered up and grabbed his weighted practice sword, swishing it through the air in warmup for their spar. Muscles looked to be in a chipper mood; no doubt he was enjoying thinking of beating on his meat bag some more today. Locking his jaw, Fulmino took a two handed stance and waited for Muscles to engage.

Muscles raised an eyebrow; the two handed stance was good for increased power, but limited your ability to quick movement. Typically it was a stance taken against either an inferior opponent or a much stronger one. The swords crossed and Fulmino began his attack; he pressed Muscles while not leaving himself open to blatant counterattack. While obviously surprised at the superior attack, Muscles quickly recovered and put Fulmino on the defensive. A swipe to the ribs followed by a stomach thrust put Fulmino on the ground, panting slightly. Quickly recovering, Fulmino rose to his feet smoothly and resumed fighting with one hand, his arm shaking from the effort of both holding up his weighted arm and withstanding Muscles' heavy blows. By the time sparring was finished Fulmino had a new collection of bruises including a black eye where Muscles had mistimed his blow, a rare occurrence.

Expecting to head back to camp, Fulmino was surprised when he realized Muscles was not following. After staring into space for a full minute, Muscles spoke."Boy, I will give you this chance only once. When we return back to the Academy, I would like you to be my sole apprentice. It will be hard, and you will be ostracized by your fellow students because of it. Do you want the position or not?"Fulmino was floored. According to military gossip, only the most promising students were given an opportunity to become an apprentice. Usually the offer was extended at least a year or two after the recruits arrived; it was unheard of to already be an apprentice upon arriving. Leonidus' warning rang in the back of Fulminos mind. Why was Muscles so interested in him? He obviously had little appreciable talent for the sword, and nothing else that would readily pique Muscles' interest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly a spear sprouted from the leaders chest and passed through his body clean, so great was the force behind it. Bloody foam crusted his lips as “One” sank to the ground, much to the dismay of his underlings. Finally free from the oppressive boot, Fulmino lay still, feigning total weakness. He must choose his moment carefully, as he would only get one chance at this. Luckily, the slavers paid no attention to Fulmino, but instead watched the bushes with a manic intensity.  With a great crash and a roar, Muscles barreled out of the clearing on the other side of the camp, completely taking the slavers by surprise. The boys watched in awe as the slavers were methodically dismantled until all were dead or dying on the ground. Drenched in the blood of his foes, Muscles turned to the boys with a feral light in his eyes that quickly calmed to his usual sardonic expression.

In his mind, Fulmino replayed the brief battle in his head; it had all happened so fast! Two of the slavers were cut down before they could even fight back, the rest died nearly as quickly under a blistering volley of blows from Muscles. Running to the bushes, Aldon was violently sick as the adrenaline of the situation subsided and he was faced with the staring eyes of dead men. Fulmino was numb, yet surprised himself by remaining detached from any grief for the dead men. At least part of it was because of what they planned to do with the boys, what they had done to so many others. In Fulmino's mind, no death was too horrific for such "men". Looking over at Leonidus, Fulmino was surprised to see hatred carved on his face, rather than sickness or apathy. Muscles noticed the expression on Leonidus' face and commented on it.

"Not the first time you've seen a dead man, is it boy?" Muscles asked with a surprisingly quiet tone.

Leonidus said nothing, but slowly shook his head, his grimacing mask of hate still firmly in place. Muscles did not comment on his lack of response, but instead stood beside the fire and addressed the boys.

"Usually, old soldiers have this talk with green soldiers after their first battle. Today, although you didn't spill any blood and I’m not an old soldier, I'll give you the same talk I received that day many years ago."

Muscles got a far off look in his eyes as if recalling a scene from long ago. "War is not pretty. There is no glory to be had from it, and nobody is going to remember you from the next guy when you're gone. There is only one rule in this game called war; survive. To survive, you will take what's in your hand or on your hip and kill the man in front of you time and again, even though he is exactly the same as you in the end. If you make it through this war, never forget