The blows hammered into Gai, quick and punishing, each one making his arm tingle painfully as he fell back behind his shield, boots skidding across the churned-up dirt. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring everything and making it impossible to predict the next strike. Oswald didn’t let up—not even for a second. The wooden weapon kept thudding against Gai’s shield, which rattled in his grip, and he could feel every muscle complain. His chest thudded—not with nerves, but with the bone-deep weariness of too many days like this—and he nearly lost his footing trying to keep up.

  He took in the training field only in flashes: rough dirt interrupted by stubborn clumps of grass, battered dummies watching silently from one side, their straw guts poking out through torn sacking. The fence around the field moaned whenever the wind caught it right—a half-hearted protest after years of surviving recruits’ bad aim—and somewhere beyond, the smiths hammered away, steel on steel mingling with bursts of laughter and shouts from the odd recruit or soldier that was scattered throughout the fields.

  “Up, Gai!” Oswald’s shout cut through everything else—loud enough that even the crows would’ve flinched. He loomed over Gai, all stern authority and zero sympathy: shoulders squared, face unreadable except for that spark of annoyance. His knuckles were white around the practice sword. Another hard swing cracked against Gai’s shield and made him stagger again.

  “You deaf? On your feet! This isn’t nap time! Unless you’d rather go learn potato peeling in the scullery?”

  Gai clenched his jaw and got a knee under him, breath ragged and short. Everything felt heavy—arms gone useless from weeks of this grind—but Oswald’s words still stung worse than anything else.

  “I am trying,” Gai muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear—except apparently Oswald, who heard everything. He slumped a little farther down. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone else has some kind of power. I’m just… ordinary.”

  Oswald squinted at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing and took a step closer so Gai had no choice but to meet his glare. “Ordinary?” he repeated flatly. “You really think that’s what we’re looking for here? Those talents don’t mean a damn if you can’t hold yourself together.” He jabbed a finger toward another group of recruits loitering nearby. “Half them will choke because they think their powers matter more than backbone.”

  Gai started to say something back but stopped when he saw Oswald gearing up again.

  “You—you’ve lasted longer than most here,” Oswald went on, impatience building in his tone. “You’re still standing after all I’ve thrown at you. You know how many would quit or give up at a little hardship? Too many.”

  Gai’s doubt must have shown because Oswald didn’t hesitate; he swung low at Gai’s legs this time. On reflex, Gai jerked his shield down—which left him wide open for whatever came next. It did: Oswald flicked up a sharp gust of wind out of nowhere that yanked the shield right from Gai’s hands and pitched him straight onto his back in the wet grass.

  Gai lay there blinking up at the sky, trying to figure out how he’d ended up flat on his back when the air itself seemed dead still.

  “That wasn’t just a lucky breeze,” Oswald barked, stepping over him so all Gai could see were muddy boots and an irritated scowl. “That was me—controlled air, directed right at you. Catching up yet?”

  Gai lifted his head, staring like Oswald had just grown a second head. “Seriously? You can do that?” His tone said he almost hoped it wasn’t true.

  Oswald made a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort as he stuck out a hand. “What did you think I was doing? Swinging this thing like some oversized lumberjack for style points?” When Gai hesitated too long, Oswald rolled his eyes and jerked his hand higher. “Come on.”

  Gai took it and let himself be pulled upright while every inch of him complained about moving again—but at least he was vertical.

  “You’re not going anywhere near dish duty,” Oswald said as soon as Gai managed to stand straight without swaying too much. “Not on my watch.”

  Gai brushed himself off and frowned warily. “Why not?”

  Oswald gave him a look sharp enough to cut through armour. “Because whether you want to see it or not, you’ve got something worth keeping here—even if you’re set on missing it.” Then he let out half a laugh: "And I’m not about to waste someone useful on kitchen chores."

  “But—” Gai started.

  Oswald cut him off with a raised hand and an impatient shake of his head. “No excuses,” he said firmly. “I’ve seen more gifted cadets fail because they couldn’t stick things out.” He pointed squarely at Gai now—a jab that meant business. “You can stick things out.”

  Silence hung between them for just long enough to feel awkward—a challenge unspoken but clear all the same.

  “Now grab your shield,” Oswald finished briskly as he moved back into place, voice dropping almost casually but with just enough of a smirk: "And do try not to make an utter fool of yourself this time."

  ———————————————————————-

  Gai let out a long, low groan as he dropped onto the nearest bench in the mess hall, arms shaking from holding up his own weight. Every part of him ached—shoulders, legs, even fingers—and he had to pause just to catch his breath before he could do anything else. His shoulders throbbed in time with his pulse, a not-so-friendly reminder of Oswald’s morning routine.

  The mess hall felt weirdly empty and even bigger than usual. High ceilings and all that space just made every little clink of cutlery and mumbled conversation echo ten times louder. Most of the recruits slumped at tables, looking like they’d rather nap in their food than eat it. The place smelled good—the usual roasted meat and bread were on—but after that sparring session, Gai’s appetite was somewhere on another continent.

  He did a quick scan of the room. No lunchtime frenzy today; he was early for once, thanks to Oswald’s efficient brand of misery. Only a small group sat up front by the medical area, surrounded by bandages and mugs of broth—the regular sorry lot who’d lost their fights with training dummies or gravity.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The warmth inside felt almost decadent compared to the wind still lingering on his skin from outside. Oswald’s voice echoed in his head, but Gai shook it off and tried to focus on now.

  A sharp laugh rang out from where the medics had parked themselves. Gai spotted Penny instantly—she was hard to miss when she laughed like that, so bright it cut right through his leftover gloom. She always seemed to pull him out of whatever slump he’d been left in.

  Her auburn hair was half-tamed by a tie, though a few strands insisted on escaping. The plain medic uniform did nothing to hide her energy; she buzzed around prepping supplies while joking with her friends.

  He realized he was watching her longer than he meant to—not that anyone would blame him. He didn’t need an excuse to come over when she was on duty; Oswald gave him plenty of reasons with all the bruises anyway. Still, even the worst day felt lighter if Penny was around.

  Gai wolfed down his meal without noticing what it tasted like, determined not to lose his chance for a word before someone else snagged her attention. By the time he reached her table, she was looking up at him already—smiling easy as anything—and somehow that alone made everything feel a little less miserable.

  “Hi there, Gai!” she greeted cheerfully, her voice carrying an infectious energy despite the tired faces surrounding them. “What injuries do you have for me today?”

  Her friends behind her exchanged knowing glances and suppressed giggles, their amusement not lost on Gai. His ears burned as he tried to play it cool.

  “Oh, you know… just the usual aches and pains,” he replied with a sheepish grin, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. He could feel their eyes on him, but Penny didn’t seem fazed.

  She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied him more closely. “The usual aches and pains? Hmm…” Her gaze dropped to his arms where faint red marks from grass burns marred his skin. “Looks like you’ve got more than just ‘usual’ today.”

  Before he could respond, she gestured toward an empty chair beside her workstation. “Sit down and let me take a look.”

  Gai hesitated for half a second before obeying, lowering himself onto the chair with a wince as his muscles protested yet again. Penny stepped closer, inspecting his arms with practiced precision.

  “Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully, brushing her fingers lightly over one particularly raw patch on his forearm. “You’ve got some nasty grass burns here—and on your shoulders too.” Her eyes flicked back up to meet his. “Do you want me to put some salve on these? It’ll help with the sting.”

  “Uh… sure,” Gai mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious under her attentive gaze.

  “Alright then.” Penny straightened up and grabbed a small jar from her supply kit before turning back to him. “Take your shirt off so I can see how bad it is.”

  The request hit him like a cold gust of wind despite the warmth inside the hall. He hesitated for a moment longer than necessary before pulling off his sweat-soaked tunic, exposing not just his injuries but also every scar and bruise earned over the last few weeks of gruelling training.

  Penny’s brow furrowed as she took in the extent of the damage—not just from today but from countless sessions under Oswald’s merciless instruction. “Yikes,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to him. “What happened out there?”

  Gai let out a dry chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oswald happened,” he said simply. “We’ve been doing extra training lately—he’s started augmenting his attacks during sparring.”

  “Augmenting?” Penny repeated sceptically as she began applying salve to his arms with gentle hands. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means he’s not holding back anymore,” Gai explained wryly. “This morning alone, he pretty much dragged me across half the training field.”

  Penny paused mid-application to give him an incredulous look. “Dragged you? Across the field?”

  “Well… not literally,” Gai admitted quickly, though there was an unmistakable note of humour in his voice now. “But it sure felt like it at the time.”

  Penny shook her head with a soft laugh as she returned to her work. “You’re insane for putting up with that kind of punishment.”

  “Maybe,” Gai agreed with a lopsided grin. “But I’m surviving—and hey, at least I get to see you afterward.”

  He realized too late how much that sounded like a line and immediately wished he could take it back. Penny stilled for a heartbeat, then glanced at him with an eyebrow raised—equal parts entertained and genuinely pleased.

  “Well,” she said after a beat, her tone teasing but kind, “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  With a soft sigh, Penny bent over the battered table in front of Gai, brows drawn together as she focused on her task. She popped the lid off a little tin; the sharp scent of mint and wild herbs filled the air. The salve inside shimmered faintly in the uneven light—a pale blue-green paste that looked almost too nice for someone as scraped up as Gai. Penny scooped out a healthy dollop and gave his battered skin a quick once-over before carefully spreading the ointment across his injuries, lips pressed tight in concentration.

  “Ah! That’s cold!” Gai winced, jerking slightly as the salve made contact with his skin. His shoulders tensed, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “And it stings. A lot.”

  “Well,” Penny replied with a light laugh, her tone teasing but underpinned by genuine care. “Medicine isn’t supposed to tickle, you know.” She worked the salve into his arm with steady hands, her touch warm against the chill of the paste—and every now and then, her fingers gave off the faintest flicker of golden light.

  “What... what is that?” Gai asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and awe as he caught sight of the faint luminescence emanating from her fingertips. “How do you do that? Is that your ability? Can you heal people?”

  Penny paused for a moment before answering, her gaze flickering up to meet his. The corners of her mouth curved in a small smile, though there was a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Well... not quite,” she said softly, shifting her weight as she moved to face him more fully. She dipped her fingers back into the canister and began smearing the salve onto his chest in slow, deliberate movements. Was it just his imagination, or was she taking her time? Gai’s cheeks flushed slightly as her hand lingered longer than necessary over one particularly nasty bruise.

  “Didn’t I tell you last time you were here?” Penny asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

  “Uh… no,” Gai admitted, shaking his head a little too fast. The usual steady confidence gave way, and suddenly he felt like the awkward kid who had no idea what to say around her.

  Penny just smiled and tucked a loose bit of hair behind her ear, carefully smoothing the ointment over his skin. Her voice dropped a little, quieter and more honest. “I’ve got a nature affinity—specifically herbs.” She paused, glancing over to make sure he was following. “So I can give things like this salve a little extra kick. Not exactly miracle work—don’t ask me to patch up broken bones or anything that’d impress the healers—but I can nudge the healing along. Make it work faster. That’s about as flashy as it gets.”

  Gai blinked, genuine admiration in his voice. “That’s actually really great. And you seem to have it down.”

  Colour crept into Penny’s face at that, and she busied herself with closing up the jar like it took all her attention. “Well,” she said after a second, “keep in mind we girls got a year’s head start on all of you. We’ve had time to get pretty good at this.”

  She straightened up suddenly and clapped her hands together briskly, as if to shake off the lingering awkwardness between them. “Okay,” she said brightly. “You’re all set. You can put your shirt back on now—and off you go!”

  Gai hesitated for half a second before nodding and pulling his shirt over his head. It felt stiff against his tender skin, but he didn’t want to linger; he was sure Penny could see right through him—the way his heart raced whenever they were alone like this.

  As he turned to leave and began making his way toward the dining hall where his friends would no doubt be waiting after their training session, he caught snippets of hushed voices from behind him.

  “Careful there, Penny,” came a sharp, mocking voice from somewhere near the doorway. “You know he’s a squid, right? Don’t get too attached.”

  The words hit him like a blow to the chest—a cruel reminder of how some still saw him: weak, unworthy... useless without power and trying desperately to prove himself in a world that didn’t seem to want him.

  “Don’t be mean, Beaty,” Penny shot back sharply, her voice firm with disapproval. “He is such a nice guy.”

  Gai barely caught Penny standing up for him—just hearing her defend him was almost enough, but the sting of Beaty’s words lingered anyway. He slowed, hesitated, then turned away from the mess hall. The last thing he wanted was to force a smile through his friends’ rowdy jokes and awkward concern.

  He made straight for his dorm.

  The hallway stretched out in front of him, quiet except for the shuffle of his sandals and the uneven light from torches that left more shadow than comfort. The banners on the walls looked tired, same as he felt—reminders of belonging that didn’t quite stick.

  His footsteps echoed in the silence, each one heavier than the last. When he finally reached his door—a plain slab of wood with little to distinguish it—he felt completely spent.

  He pushed the door open with a grunt, exhaled deeply, and dumped his gear next to his bunk. The same familiar, crowded dormitory: a narrow bed squeezed between others, a shared desk cluttered with everyone's half-finished notes, and a streaky window looking out across the training fields.

  Gai sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, hands dragging down his face.

  For a second earlier, Penny’s easy kindness had lifted something inside him—but Beaty’s comment shoved it right back down. No matter what he did, there were always going to be people who saw him as less.

  Despite that, Penny’s voice stuck with him—the way she’d shut Beaty down without hesitation. That counted for something.

  “She actually called me nice,” he said under his breath. The smallest smile slipped out before fatigue finally took over.