The course (Attn: Chaelca)

[Sherper]

Trouble always came wearing heels, and in one late September afternoon as the autumn winds blew against the sides of his tent, it came sauntering in unannounced. Sergeant Edward Fawn had been about to subject himself to an hour of frankly undeserved drinking, the confiscated wine already half way to his lips, when the tent flaps opened. Fawn was the company sergeant, a non-commissioned officer and the only person who could enter the establishment in this way – apart from bloody Calder himself… “Sergeant!” the boyish lieutenant with the astonishingly feminine face gasped as he straightened up and saw what Fawn was holding in his hand. “Is that alcohol I see?”

 

Ah crap, the weathered sergeant thought and struggled desperately to come up with some lame excuse. Fawn was technically still supposed to be on duty.  “Yes sir,” he replied with only half a plan worked out in his head. “Just sharpening the tools of my trade sir.”

 

He unsheathed his arming sword, a one handed weapon which he used as a backup to his halberd. “It’s an old technique which my gran used to teach me,” he continued, now committed to the lie. “Soak the whetstone in wine she used to say, until she passed away of course, god bless her soul,” he pulled out a small rectangular block of hardened sand then inwardly winced as he poured the richly textured liquid onto it. “Then sharpen it and reapply every few minutes,” he began whisking away at the edges.

 

“Yes, yes, very good sergeant.” The lieutenant evidently uncomfortable with the sound, said as he began pacing around the tent’s single supporting beam. The ends of his riding boots, which to Fawn’s eyes resembled heels, clicked as he circled round and round the same spot. “I’ll be blunt with you Sergeant,” lieutenant Crawsby said after a few moments of awkward silence as he continued his pacing. “The state of this company is a disgrace.”

 

“An excellent observation sir,” he quickly replied, “and my precise sentiments.” In reality, Fawn didn’t have a single bloody clue what the man was on about. The officer was young, twenty-one and with the air of someone who had something to prove. “In fact,” he continued “I was just telling Donald the other day that exact same thing. But err…” he needed to broch this carefully “Just which part of the company are you referring to sir?”

 

Crawsby, his confidence bolstered by Fawn’s words beamed as he began pressing home his charge. “The part sergeant, where every company apart from ours can complete the obstacle course!”

 

The sides of Fawn’s face twitched, “Ah! Yes, of course sir.” He lie, giving a smile that never touched his eyes. The only reason every other company could do it, he thought gloomily, is because they have seasoned veterans. Those men could avoid the various obstacles put in their way by using their extensive campaign experiences. Half of Fawn’s company on the other hand was comprised of newly initiated recruits. He wondered how he was going to relay this information to the over enthusiastic lieutenant, whose purpose here today Fawn was beginning to induce. “It’s none of the lads and girls fault. They just need a bit more training and some more experience out in the field,” Fawn said, cleaning the last of the wine residue away as he sheathed his sword. “I’ll be sure to have them doing extra drills and patrols by the end of the week.” He said, satisfied that would get the lieutenant off his back for now and leave the rest of them to doing some proper soldiering. Crawsby though had other ideas on his mind.

 

“Actually Sergeant,” the lieutenant said, a silky smile touching the corner of his lips. “I want it done by the end of the week.”

 

***

 

Fawn spit a stream of tabac juice from the corner of his mouth and glared across at the front ranks who returned his gaze with dread in their eyes. Fawn understood their fears, he had ordered the entire company into parade column, packs and weapons scrubbed for inspection, and even the new recruits could see where Fawn had taken them. It was the morning following his confrontation with the lieutenant and Fawn wondered again, as he had done throughout the entirety of the previous night, how he was ever going to achieve the man’s ridiculous demands in under three days.

 

“Eighth company, -tion!” he barked, and was pleased to see every last person click their shoes and stand straight in rigid obedience to his call. He was proud of the progress this company had made. More than half of them had been civilians; thieves, rogues, outlaws and runaway princesses just three weeks prior, but now they paraded as well as any company in the Band.

 

He never showed any of this pride on his face however, and the hundred and twenty or so men and women stood in silence as their sergeant strode up and down along the line, picking out small imperfection in this man’s pack or that woman’s spear. On the whole however, he had to admit they had done an admirable job. And Fawn, being ultimately a soft hearted person, would have wanted nothing else in the world but to commend them on their efforts. Instead, he was going to have to force them to hate him.

 

“Company. At ease!” the soon to be soldiers relaxed their postures somewhat, though Fawn could still see from the quick sideways glances and rigid postures that they were on the whole still nervous. “As many of you are well aware,” he began, both hands clasped behind his back as he strode nonchalantly up and down the line, making sure every single person in the company could see and hear him. “Eighth company is the only company in our Division who has yet to pass the obstacle course.” He paused for emphasis. “As such, the lieutenant and I have devised a plan to knuckle all of you down to some proper practising.”

 

He stopped his pacing and looked up, as he knew every person in the ranks would look, towards the colossal tangle of ropes, pullies and counterweights that made up of the dread obstacle course. It almost spanned the entire length of one of the citadel’s walls, a hundred metres long and thirty in width, it was a truly remarkable piece of creation. Fawn still remembered keenly the first time he had been forced to tackle the course, and he inwardly chuckled at the memory. The experience had given him a slight phobia of cushioned staves for the next few months, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Since those faithful years however, the course had been constantly improved and renovated to fit the latest horrors the engineers could think of.

 

Trip wires, spinning wheels and moving floors, not to mention the many pit falls made up the dangers of the obstacle course and Fawn knew it took more than strength or agility alone to navigate safely amongst that massive tangle of the hurt and shame. A small windmill which was also connected in the same building to a paddle pump gave the moving parts their drive and Fawn walked over and pulled a lever to turn the entire contraption on. They all knew what was coming, but Fawn had one last piece of news he needed to share with them before this was all over.

 

He turned his head back to looking towards the men of the eighth company, and waited as the inevitable question was asked. “What are we doing with these, sarge?” the man gestured towards the entrenching tools Fawn had instructed them all to carry before the short march.

 

“Why, I’m so glad you asked Timulton!” Fawn barked and gestured for them to pull out the wide bladed shovel out from underneath their packs. “These, gentlemen and ladies,” he gave them all a wicked smile, “are your tickets to light duty this afternoon.” He gestured to Timulton who handed Fawn his shovel. “Every time you fall over or into a pit on the course,” he explained, “I want you to dig a hole large enough to bury your head in. Whether you actually do it, perhaps out of shame, is completely up to you.” A round of nervous laughter rippled along the ranks as the eighth company fidgeted and fumbled with their tools. “You are to keep running the course until you complete it, and I don’t care if I have to keep you here all night. You may dig the holes whenever you like, I do expect them to be done by the end.”

 

Fawn knew everyone’s head size was different, which was how he planned to balance out the work and not give an advantage to the larger men. Yet even still, the average time it would take them to dig a hole that size was around an hour a piece. They could all do the maths, and a few grins popped up as the more confident members of the group realised the sergeant was telling them the truths. If they could finish the course within a reasonable number of tries they could have nearly the entire afternoon to themselves to do as they’d like.

 

“You have what’s in your pack to sustain you. The water pump is over there if you need it,” finally, he gestured towards the course. “If there are no more questions, you may begin the run. Good luck,” he added the last part in, for he knew most of them would probably need it.

 

~ Edward Fawn

Sergeant of the Band of the Red Hand. Infantry Division.

 

 

[Guest]

This is going nowhere, Fang thought as she was cleaning her nails with one of her daggers. It seemed people were not really paying attention to the new recruits and she had had to battle to get some proper training. A couple of band members had offered her sword and archery lessons and she was now getting used to the weapons she had acquired at the quartermaster's. Her short sword started to feel familiar as well as the recurve bow. Fang would need more training to really master them, though.

 

Suddently someone called for an assembly. "Get your arses in the courtyard ! Parade time ! Bring ur packs and weapons for inspection !".

 

Fang jumped on her empty bags and threw in them everything she thought useful. It didn't take her long, as she didn't have that many belongings. But she couldn't help but feel stressed. Bags on the shoulder, she grabbed her belt with her scabbards. In one she placed her short sword and in the other she pushed the dagger she had been using for her nails. The bow, she kept it in her hand. What kind of exercise is that? She wondered while running. Soon she discovered she was the last one to arrive in the courtyard. Did the other soldiers already have bags ready? Fang made a mental note, her bags would never be empty again.

 

Sergeant Fawn was in the middle of the courtyard, already inspecting the troops. "Dasso, 35 push ups!", he yelled without even looking at her. She was late, the push ups were the obvious punishement... but 35 push ups were a bit too many. Fang didn't dare to complain though and she went down to the ground, immediately. With the bags on her back and her weapons in the way, the girl tried her best to satisfy the sergeant. Of course, she collapsed at the last push up. A couple of soldiers sniggered and Fang hurried to raise her head to see with whom who she would need to have a word after the parade. Many people were thinking of her as a princess on the run and she hated it. When she was done glaring at the ones who had dared to laugh at her, Fawn started “Eighth company, -tion!” and Fang clicked her boots, just like the other soldiers and straightened her back.

 

As Fang feared, the sergeant stopped in front of her for the bags inspection. "Dasso, open your bag!" he ordered and Fang obeyed. "Where do you think you are going?" Fawn asked? "To a flaming ball? Too many clothes, no rations! 30 more push ups!" He added. And down Fang went again. When she was done, her arms and shoulders were on fire. No one dared to laugh this time. 

 

The sergeant finished his inspection and, with his strong voice, started to talk about the obstacle course. It seemed the company would have to be able to complete it, for the day after of all things! This was close to impossible. Fang had heard from the other soldiers that only vets could finish it properly. When Fawn mentioned that the only thing she would be able to eat was what was in her pack, she shivered. There was nothing edible in there... and that was motivation enough for her to try to do her best.

 

The obstacle course was a tough one: there were ropes to climb, beams to avoid, weight to lift... trip wires, spinning wheels and moving floors... The soldiers tried to form a tight rank and advanced towards the contraptions. One by one the men and women tried to go through the first and seemingly easiest part: they had to walk on a horizontal beam while avoiding bags full of sands that would move on their paths. Many fell, except for the ones who were known as thieves in their previous life. Fang could feel the sweat running down her forehead even before it was her turn.

 

And then she started, the beam was easy work (she too was a thief after all) as well as the rope climbing. She missed the part where she had to lift weights, unfortunately. Cursing, she came to join the many others who had failed to dig her hole. A hole, the size of my head? That will surely not help me fight ! Some had done their digging far away: they couldn't bear the shame it seems. But Fang didn't care: she did it on the spot to start all over again.

 

The second try was better, she managed to go through the beam, the rope climbing, the weight lifting (she may have cheated there, using the strengh of one of her companions), the irregular ladders then someone pushed her in one of the muddy pits. The man may not have done it on purpose, Fang yelled at him anyways, cursing and insulting him in way that earned her 30 more push ups.

 

Third try was the worst, she was so angry that she didn't pay attention to her surroundings and fell after only a couple of seconds. The sam happened with the fourth and the fifth try.

 

Screaming with rage, she pushed her way to an empty spot where she could dig another hole.

Edited September 3, 2015 by Chaelca

[Sherper]

Yeeeeelllppp! Splash! Flop! That was the collection of sounds a recruit makes when he or she loses their balance and falls into one of the course’s various mud pits. Fawn had quickly grown acquainted with that sound as the day wore on. Leaning against a tall oak tree, protected from the majority of the mid-afternoon sun, he watched as another recruit – this one a tall blonde girl – do what was essentially a mid-air cartwheel as she too fell victim.

 

He shook his head, raised his mug of Kaffe to his lips then took a sip. He frowned at the weak unsatisfactory taste, looked up towards the position of the sun then judged it was probably late enough in the day to start drinking again. He then fished out a small hip flask which he poured into the mug.   Splash! Yet another recruit bites the dust. Fawn takes a sip from of his beverage.

It had become a continuous cycle. Out of the hundred and twenty or so members of the company, only a quarter or so had managed to complete the course by noon of that day. The rest, all of them already muddied from head to toe, were either digging holes with their shovels or climbing back on the course for another attempt.

 

By late afternoon, that number had shrunk again until only thirty were left. Fawn watched as another recruit, fists pumping triumphantly into the air, crawled out and instantly ran back towards the direction of the citadel. A few of the remaining recruits shot resentful look towards the man, but he was already too far gone and tired to care what the others thought of him.

The corner of Fawn’s eyes flickered as he turned to see one of the remaining recruits scramble towards the beginning of the course for another try. He had taken notice of this specific recruit for she seemed to be having the most trouble out of the entire company. She was on her twelfth attempt, though no one was really counting.  She navigated the rotating floors, blocked with the length of her elbows the incoming mechanised staves, then did a forward roll into a long tunnel which she had to crawl through. But when it came time for the rope swings, she missed a jump and came hurtling down to the ground once again. Fawn sighed as the girl let out a frustrated chocking sound, extraditing her mud, rage and voicing her unfairness to the world. Fawn saw her running up towards the beginning of the course again, evidently planning to backlog the digging portion of her exercise until later, and once again falling helplessly once she reached the rope jump.

 

Fawn decided he would go and have dinner then, the sun having already dipped below the horizon. When he came back an hour later, now carrying an oil lantern, he saw everyone had left except for the girl who was still trying the rope swings. She let out another moan of despair as she failed to grab hold and toppled to the floor once more. Fawn’s eyes were hooded as he saw her climb instantly back up again, and once again fail hopelessly to the floor.

 

She huddled curled herself into a tight ball then. On the floor, her arms wrapped around her locked knees and after a moment Fawn realised that the girl was crying. The girl – Fang, that was her name he finally remembered, made no sounds as she laid down on the floor, huddled up in a fettle position. Standing there with his lantern, Fawn suddenly felt like he was somehow intruding on something deeply personal. She must not have seen him, for she made no move as the large burly Sergeant tiptoed silently away. When he came back an hour later, he saw she had fallen asleep, still curled up in fettle position.

He sighed. He had to keep reminding himself not to get in the habit of doing that. It made him sound like a tired old man sometimes. Fawn walked next to the recruit, looking at the girl’s smooth yet mud caked face, then fished around his pack for a blanket. Inside he produced his old campaign roll which he draped carefully around Fang’s body to cover her from the night’s chill. Then, when that was done, he pulled the shovel from the mud bank nearby then walked towards an empty patch of ground.  

 

***

Fang awoke the next morning to find someone had draped a rough blanket around her. She felt surprised, though admittedly still feeling groggy from sleep deprivation, she didn't think too much on the subject. She yawned, then looking around at her surroundings, noticed the fourteen freshly dug holes, each roughly the size of her head.

 

~ Edward Fawn
Sergeant of the Infantry, Band of the Red Hand.

Edited September 10, 2015 by Sherper

[Guest]

It took Fang a long minute before she could understand what had happened. Why am I sleeping outside? Why am I covered with mud? But, when her eyes fell on the contraptions she had had to go through the day before, everything came back to her. She felt a like a mess. The only thing she wanted was to leave the place to have a bath and her breakfast. Her stomach was rumbling like thunder.

 

The girl was surprised to see that no one was around. There were holes freshly dug around her but she didn't remember digging them. She didn"t even remember failing at the course that many time.

 

"Well, off we go!" She told herself getting back on her feet. She brushed the dried mud from the top of her pants and stretched her arms, legs and back. Her muscles felt so sore that they welcomed the exercise. Even if it hurt like hell at first.

 

The citadel was slowly waking up. Some soldiers were already out, starting some kind of training. Servants were running here and there. This is now or never... Fang advanced towards the obstacle course with a determined face. She breathed in and out as she was trying to analyze what she had seen and done the day before. Each time, she had hurried, feeling a lot of anger. She had paid a lot of attention to what the others were doing. Each time one had managed to finish the course she had glared at him or her, cursing loudly. This had not helped her to focus. Strength had helped many soldiers but not all of them. Some had used other skills. Maybe that's what I should do too? As for scowling at others, I am alone now. Nothing will disturb me! The girl looked around her to check one last time whether or not someone was watching and was happy to see that the only people out at this time were nicely busy.

 

And so she started. Focus, do it slowly. One contraption at a time.

 

The first beam was a piece of cake. She didn't go as fast as she had done the day before. Then, slowly and concentrating on what was to come, she started the rope climbing. I need to preserve my strength.

 

Before starting the weight lifting, she stretched her arms once again. It took her some time but she managed to do pass it. For the irregular ladders, once again, instead of hurrying, she used a more reasonable speed. Using the same technique, the rotating floors became less hard than they had been the day before. She didn't have any kind reluctance about crawling in the mud anymore and so, at last, she managed to arrive at the end of the first tunnel in a good state of mind.

 

Step after step she went on, taking the time to breathe and to concentrate, taking the time to remember the others moves. This was she managed to find tricks to go through what had been so hard the day before.

 

Her heart started to beat faster when she arrived in front of the swinging ropes. That had been the most difficult part. I can't give up now. I have to do what i have done so far. I know i can do it. Sighing, she took some step back, ran and jumped. She was so happy to have been able to catch the first rope that she had to make efforts to focus again on the next part of the course. And it worked. Going from one rope to the other, she finally saw the course ending. The last part was less terrible than what she had had to go through. But still she tried to measure all that she had to do before starting each new contraption.

 

Her efforts paid. Crawling out of the last tunnel, she started to cry. I did it! I did it! Already, she promised herself to train hard with that course. She wanted to be able to do it faster and faster. Hoping that that way, her company would be proud of her.

[Sherper]

Fawn’s mouth quirked in a lightning brief smile as he watched the girl run towards the last rope swing. The night’s sleep had done wonders to her performance and Fawn could see the deliberate care to which the girl took in not falling. She would make a good Infantryman one day, he thought idly as he watched her progress. Solid, dependable and stubbornly infallible: those were the traits of the humble footsloggers that made up the centrelines of the Band. With a sufficient amount of practise and yelling to mould her into shape, Fang could become one of the best. If only the Scouts hadn’t already called first dibs. Shame.

 

The girl let out a long whoop as she cleared the last obstacle, pumping her fists in the air and bouncing up and down excitedly in exultation. Fawn flashed another of his half-smiles, then determining it would be best to leave her alone to her triumphs without some surly sergeant spoiling the mood, he extricated himself from the tree and began the long walk back to the Citadel. It would be another three hours before the sun hit its zenith, which was plenty of time to get washed and maybe even grab a bite to eat.   

 

***

 

“Alright you maggots, fun’s over.” He barked to the general chagrin of the eighth company, many of whom had already made preparations for yet another lazy afternoon. “Get your weapons ready, full packs on, we parade in five.” Groans and mutterings immediately followed the set of orders, and Fawn watched as he hefted his halberd and waited for the hundred and twenty or so men and women to retrieve their gear and line up into formation.

 

In the busy throng of sword belts, boots and weapons, he could pick out Fang as she straightened up from her tent. She stifled a yawn, one hand cupping her mouth whilst the other rubbed at sleep deprived eyes. Even though she didn’t know it, Fawn had been forced to show her favouritism the previous night. Everyone else in the company had dug their own holes each time they failed, but Fang had gotten away with only digging some of hers. Nobody saw or knew, of course, and Fawn believed in his troops achieving their level best, which meant giving them a hand or two once in a while. But he was also a strict disciplinarian at heart.  

 

“Private,” he barked after the entire company had formed a parade ground line, a hundred and twenty shoulders wide. “Step forward and present your weapon.” Fawn’s face was a blank mask devoid of any emotions as he watched Fang draw her short sword. There was rust on the tip of the weapon. He had expected there to be rust. “There’s rust on this weapon, private,” he said, stating the obvious to everyone. “Why, is there rust on your weapon?”

 

“No excuse, Sarge.” Fang’s face was passive, though Fawn detected an undercurrent of loathing emanating from the young woman. The answer had been brisk, and as toneless as she could make it. A smart move. She was attempting to deprive Fawn of ammunition to grill her. “Drop your pack and weapons. Get down on the ground and give me fifty. Then, when I’m next back and if I still see rust on this weapon, you can give me another fifty. Does that sound fair to you, Private?” It wasn’t, and everyone knew it, but a smart infantryman learnt to grin through the beatings.

 

“Sir, yes sir.” Three bags full, sir, Fawn thought in the back of his mind as Fang gave him a crisp salute.

 

“I’m your sergeant, I work for a living. The real ‘Sir’s’ coming right now.” And sure enough, Lieutenant Crawsby choose at that moment to appear riding on his large grey stallion from the direction of the officer’s tents. Fawn grounded the butt of his halberd to the floor which emanated a muffled thump as he did so. “Eighth company all present and accounted for, sir!” Crawsby nodded, dismounting and walked up and down the line a few times, inspecting the uniforms, checking weapons and speaking once in a while to the odd soldier about light knows what. After a few more minutes of this charade, Crawsby turned and walked back towards Fawn who still stood at attention.

 

“Report Sergeant.”

 

“Sir,” Fawn affirmed the order, snapping in his best parade ground accent. “Eighth company has performed as you ordered, sir. Full complement now able to complete the Obstacle Course.”

 

Crawsby nodded, a hint of surprise showing through on his face. “Is that so, Sergeant?” He turned and addressed the line of soldiers. “Well done men! It appears you’ve met my expectations.”

 

He returned his eyes to look at Fawn. “But tell me truthfully, Fawn. How many of them do you reckon could do it again? In one try?”

 

Fawn hesitated a moment before answering. “Unit will take seventy-five percent casualties, sir.”

 

“Ah! Good. Good. Then let’s see it.” Fawn nodded, waving the line into a marching column.

 

***

 

When they reached the Course, Fawn was feeling worried. He caught Crawsby looking towards him a few times, a malicious grin plastered across the man’s face which quickly disappeared as soon as he saw Fawn looking in his direction. Crawsby was up to something, and Fawn didn’t think he would like it when he found out. A few minutes later, he was proven entirely correct.  

 

“Company, halt!” Fawn barked as they filed into the clearing that housed the Course. Crawsby trotted up behind him and remained mounted, a magnanimous expression on his face.

 

“Company may begin the course,” he said, issuing the final instructions. But when Fawn was half way to repeating the order, the Lieutenant suddenly interrupted him. “The Company, includes you too sergeant.”

 

Ah crap. “Sir?” he raised an eyebrow, and was forced to look up at the Lieutenant. “I don’t understand sir.” He understood perfectly; the Lieutenant was punishing him for something he did. Unlike the people in the rank and file, Fawn’s position as a Noncom meant he wasn’t as easily punishable. His expression was neutral, but inside he was snarling.

 

“You are to lead the men through the course,” the lieutenant further explained, the sneer coming back as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Oh, and for the record Sergeant. I know you weren’t sharpening the tools of your trade with that wine. Now, give the orders and let’s go.”

 

“Sir.” Fawn snapped his boots and about turned. “Company, fall out!”

 

“Oh, and if anyone falls from the course. You can expect latrine duty for the next week!”

 

Sergeant Edward Fawn hasn’t had to do latrine duty for nearly ten years. Neither, for that matter, did he have to do the obstacle course. It was going to take all the field experience he’s got to compensate for his old and aged bones.  

 

~ Edward Fawn
Sergeant of the Infantry. Band of the Red Hand.

Edited September 14, 2015 by Sherper

[Guest]

Fang cursed. She had not expected to have to go through the course again so soon. "I can't get upset, I need to get back to that state of mind I was in yesterday". The girl shook her head and slowly tried to get to the back of the column. She would feel less pressure if everybody was nice and busy in front of her.

 

To see Fawn joining the company was a big surprise. It became even bigger when she saw him getting in front of every one.

 

She didn't particularly like the man but about him since the morning parade she had started to feel curious. The way he had looked at her had been different from usual. He had looked worried, proud and inquiring at the same time. Fang suspected he was the one who had helped her that night with the obstacle course. If he was, she had to find a way to help him. The poor man was sweating a lot and obviously panicking. A man like him, who spent his time drinking more than training, was clearly not in shape to go through heavy physical efforts. Official the company pretended that they didn't know the Sergeant was a drunkard, but that was officially. Everyone knew exactly what was happening when the man was not directing the company exercises.

 

Fang grabbed the shoulder of the man in front of her and whispered. "Are we sure he's gonna make it?" The man laughed and whispered back "I don't think so, but i am not sure i'm gonna make it either." The girl clenched both her fists out of frustration. She knew enough about her father's experience with his business partners to know that this moment would be important for the company's future. She didn't have enough influence to make people understand that. She was a raw recruit after all...

 

She grabbed the shoulder of the man in front of her again. "What do you think of Crawsby? Is there any reason why Crawsby wants to make an example of us, or Fawn ?"

The man hesitated. He had not seen things with that angle. This had been a big laugh to him and now he started to wonder. If Fawn fails or the company fails, there may be consequences. Assignments were given to the companies according to their skills. And lately, the 8th had been pretty well ignored. Fang saw that the seed she had planted was growing. The man grabbed the shoulder of the man in front of him and whispered to him. That man then talked to the woman in front of him and so on down the line. Fang crossed her fingers hoping that something would come out of it.

 

A signal was made and people started to move. "Let's hope something good will happen..."

 

The soldiers rushed to the contraptions, the fastest passed in front of Fawn to give him the time to go through the obstacles at his own pace. The others stayed safely behind, not hurrying too much and probably hoping that, that way, the sergeant would not feel too pressed.

 

Soon it was time for Fang to start, herself. As the last of the line, she managed to concentrate enough to go through the first obstacles. The first beams were as easy as they had been the day before, and so was the rope climbing. The weight lifting was tough but she still managed to pull on the ropes placed in front of her. "This is a nice start ... " she thought, feeling more confident in her own abilities. Like last time, she analyzed each contraption before getting through it but now she was not only trying not to fall. She was trying to find ways to be faster.

 

That was how she passed through the crossed ropes on her toes instead than on her flat feet, how she thought about breaking into a run before jumping on the wooden walls. Soon, she passed her fellow soldiers without even noticing. Their presence was not a bother anymore. She was concentrating on her only goal, reaching Fawn before the worst obstacles.

 

The man was slow and it was only thanks to helping hands that he had managed to get that far without falling. Fang had been quite astonished to see that the company had tried to keep him safe without really showing it. "The man must be more loved than I thought. All the more reason to help him out...  "

 

And then appeared the worst part of the course: the rope jumping with obstacles. Fang hated that part and she saw that Fawn didn't like it too. she was right behind him now and the man was sweating buckets.

 

"Sarge, let me help you" the girl said, grabbing one of her daggers. "What...." Fawn didn't have the time to say more. Fang threw her weapon on one of the wooden parts of the contraptions that was pushing the obstacle in the middle of the jumping rope area. The mechanism stop and immediately the girl jumped. she didn't know how long her dagger would prevent the damn thing to work but she didn"t want to wait. Fawn jumped right after her and the both of them safely arrived on a quieter spot.

 

The sergeant winked at her. "Now, let me finish this he said." He said passing in front of her.

 

***

 

When the course was done, Fang was ready to go back to sleep. She had had to help Fawn a couple of times before then end and she was very scared of the consequences of her dagger-act. She would probably be in trouble. Some members of the company were smiling at her though. She took comfort from it hoping that this would maker her something more than just a recruit...

Edited September 20, 2015 by Chaelca