Servant by Matt Stuckey (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📕

if to agree with that sentiment, Muscles set a pace that had the boy’s gasping and huffing before another hour had passed. As if suddenly remembering he was not alone, Muscles resumed normal marching pace after that. In silence, the day was spent on the march at usual pace. After stopping for the day, Muscles went through the weapons routine with Fulmino, beating him intensely as if he was an enemy in need of death by bludgeoning. After an hour of being beaten with the spear, Fulmino found himself on his back yet again. Looking up, Fulmino saw muscles frowning and shaking his head.

“You have no aptitude with the spear boy. You could train to be a pikeman, but I will test you with the other weapons first to see if you display some aptitude with another before relegating you to monotony with the spear.”

Muscles walked over to the weapons bundle where all of the various weapons were laid out on the ground. He paused and looked closely at each weapon, as if hearing a language only he could understand. Nodding to himself, he picked up a wooden sword and tossed it to Fulmino. Catching it out of the air, Fulmino grinned and remembered playing swordfight with Sol many years ago. Though he doubted such experience would serve him much here, it was still a good memory of the past.

Swishing his own wooden sword like a switch, Muscles lunged and thrust quickly at Fulmino. Fulmino dodged to the side and swung a blow that met Muscles’ sword with a loud crack. Standing toe to toe with Muscles felt good, even if only for a second. Fulmino managed to block the second blow but the third slid past his guard and punished his aching ribs. Seething with pain, Fulmino swung with two hands right for muscles head. Ducking with a shark smile, Muscles booted Fulmino in the stomach so hard he hit the ground with his wind knocked out. Struggling for air, he curled up in a ball.

“Never lose your temper grub. Punish somebody by spilling their guts on the ground, not by offering your own the same treatment.”

The sparring session continued for another hour, until it was too dark to see. Nodding as if pleased, Muscles turned on his heel and stalked back to camp to eat dinner. Though this time Fulmino ended the session on his feet, part of him wished that he was on the ground; anything to relieve his aching body. Stumbling back to camp, Fulmino wolfed down dinner before collapsing onto his bed roll. The morning, when it came, was way too soon for Fulmino’s taste. Leonidus chuckled as he shook Fulmino again.

“Don’t fear brother, this too shall pass. In a few months, you will think nothing of this crazy regiment we now call life. For now though, just focus on rolling out of bed.”

Cursing the chuckling Leonidus, Fulmino sloughed out of bed while his body screamed protest at him. As they began breakfast, the two boys talked of their hometowns and previous life. Leonidus had a strikingly similar story to tell as Fulmino.

“I grew up in a small town, so everyone was always in each other’s business. For someone like me, it could be hell at times because people are always either bothering you or talking about you.

Luckily, everyone was poor for the most part so we didn’t have to worry about the whole working class versus noble class that happened in your area. I kept to myself for the most part so people thought I was strange. Often times, I thought of joining them to dispel my solitude, but didn’t want to accept all the petty bickering and gossiping that comes along with being part of the group.

Also, I saw people like myself become something they were not to gain acceptance, and most of the time it didn’t make them any more accepted. They were just the pet monkey of the group; fun to keep around to perform tricks and such every now and then, but easy to dump if they ever become a hassle. Yeah, Leaving for the military has worked out pretty well for me so far. At least I get left alone when I want to be by myself, and people are too busy training or dying to waste time dithering about what so and so did last month.”

Fulmino digested what Leonidus had to say and thought of how they were alike. Both of them, for different reasons, had rejected their peers and become outcasts. Then and there, Fulmino decided to stick with Leonidus through thick and thin. Anyone who could do what they did and remain strong was worth associating with. After eating breakfast, the boys began the long march that would last the rest of the day.

 

Days turned into weeks as Fulmino slowly began to get used to the routine. Every morning began with the rising sun and time with Leonidus. Some mornings they didn’t feel like talking, and that was just fine. Other days, they would wax long about funny stories or remembered activities. Sometimes, these conversations included Aldon, though he had a tendency to blather the whole time and make Leonidus and Fulmino listen to him for hours on end. After a few of these charming sessions, Leonidus and Fulmino mainly talked between themselves.

Often times especially during marching, there was a mutually enjoyed silence between the two that needed no explanation. After nearly a month of training with Muscles, Fulmino had grown more used to the sword. After deciding that the sword was suited for Fulmino, Muscles assigned him a weighted practice sword to build endurance. It took Fulmino weeks to get used to the extra weight, and in just a month’s time his arms were beginning to become corded with lean muscle that roped out when he sparred with Muscles. Fulmino was beaten badly every day, but somehow he was able to look past the obvious to what was truly important. Obviously, the beatings hurt like hell and he seemed to be making little progress against Muscles’ blindingly fast moves. Alternatively though, Fulmino realized how carefully Muscles hit him with the sword, always using pinpoint accuracy and power to bruise but not tear muscle or break bone.

 Fulmino also realized grimly that one day in the not too distant future, it would be real.

Mentally Fulmino could already picture the battlefield as it would be. Screams would rend the air from dead and dying soldiers. Bloodthirsty Barbarians would come for him, frothing for his blood. Fulmino had no delusions about his chances. Just like with the testing, everyone was sure that they were the exception; everyone around them might die, but they alone would be untouched after every battle.

Fulmino ducked a slash and promptly received a thrust into the stomach, causing him to collapse. Mentally, he imagined his organs strewing out as he took his last breath. Fulmino closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Just one mistake and he would be carrion food; oh how fragile human life was in the end!

Muscles grunted sourly “I could teach you like this until we both have grey hairs, and you would be no better. You have the speed, and your power is getting slightly better, but you will lose every fight like this. Do you know why, grub?”

Fulmino thought for a minute. Then he replied simply “You beat me because you are much more experienced, have superior muscle mass, and are much faster.”

Muscles smiled his shark smile. “Right on all counts save one, boy. The reason you lost is not because you are athletically inferior, or because you have no experience. The reason you lost and will continue to lose every fight is because you don’t want to win. Your entire strategy is awkward defense interspersed with an occasional attack to shake up predictability. That won’t work; a skilled opponent will see instantly if you don’t have the will to win, and will slaughter you for it.”

The words shook Fulmino deep, as he considered their complete truth that had escaped him for so many years. He had lost so many times in his life; he had stopped trying to win. He had always accepted the mantra that there are always more losers than winners, and someone has to lose in the end. Fulmino swallowed as he realized the implications here. “Losing” to your opponent here was not an option. While there would always be one loser, Fulmino had to be sure that it was not him if he wanted to continue living.

Surprisingly, Muscles abandoned his typical closemouthed routine and continued speaking, eyes fixed far into the distance.

“I have seen more men die than you have likely seen alive in your entire life boy. Most of them had one thing in common; they didn’t believe it was their day to die. They were wrong. You could be the best spear or blade in the kingdom, and die because you trip, or because a hornet lands in your eye. That being said, some dung brain who has no concept of weapons will die with his opponent’s sword in their gut every time. I won’t die an old man, with my family holding my hand. I plan to die with my enemies, hacked to pieces like a bug that just won’t die.”

Fulmino shivered at the intensity of Muscles’ voice. This was a man who had seen the mouth of Hell and calmly acknowledged that he would be swallowed himself one day, without a doubt.

Muscles focused again and fixed Fulmino with a piercing glare. “I know not why I feel so maudlin today boy, but I will tell you one last thing. I have seen dogs come and go in this affair, but there is something about you that is different. That is why I am training you personally; you will not die from negligence on my watch. I will kill you myself before I let you disgrace my battle training. If fate decides to take you in battle, then so be it. Until then, I am going to push you harder until you can defend yourself”.

Fulmino muttered “Or until I beat you.”

Muscles laughed heartily. Straightening up, he calmly replied “A weapons master of my skill has not been seen in many years, and the sword is my strongest area of expertise. To truly master the sword, it takes decades of intense training. As an acknowledged prodigy, it took me a single decade. If you ever master the sword, it will likely take the remainder of your years.”

Fulmino’s eyes widened. A full decade, as a prodigy. Muscles was right, he would be lucky if he ever mastered the sword, given his usual ability at such endeavors. No, he thought with a hardened determination, the day would come when Muscles would call him master, after his defeat by Fulmino’s sword. To think anything other would be to accept defeat from Muscles’ challenge.

Seeing the glint in Fulmino’s eye, Muscles assumed the stance of the sword, slowly saluting Fulmino as a worthy opponent. Fulmino repeated the gesture, only to be surprised by a lightning shot to the groin that caused him to double over and vomit.

Muscles looked at Fulmino dispassionately as he writhed on the ground. “Never trust your enemy boy. No matter what they say. That is the most important lesson.”

 

The next day, Fulmino was in a terrible mood all morning. Leonidas allowed him to sulk for most of the morning before confronting him about it.

“So what happened yesterday?”

“Muscles was a complete Sheister, that’s what!”

Leonidas chuckled at the rarely used vulgar language.

“And this is surprising because?”

Fulmino looked down and muttered “We kind of connected for a little bit, and I thought he was different, like maybe he actually cared."

Leonidas face dropped into shadow. “Do not assume for a second that anyone gives a damn about you! If you do, it’s a great way to get your expectations of people in general destroyed forever.”

Fulmino winced in sympathy. Obviously, someone had burned Leonidas badly at some point in