The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) by Garrett Robinson (elon musk reading list TXT) 📕

not exactly young, either. His frame was impressive, and he wore a short goatee, neatly trimmed, with long hair bundled into a tail that fell just past his shoulders.

“Captain,” he said. “How may I serve?”

Kun turned to the two of us. “This is Tou, one of my lieutenants,” he said cheerfully. “Tou, please meet Albern of the family Telfer, and Mag, and their friend Dryleaf. I have a wager with them, of sorts. They are to be assigned as sergeants, and each is to train a squadron of militia for the coming campaign. If in one week, they can train a fighter who can defeat one of our order in combat, they are allowed to stay on as part of our force. Otherwise, they will have to leave us.”

Tou arched an eyebrow at that. “As you say, ser. I will see to it that they drill hard.”

“Oh, do not trouble yourself overmuch,” said Kun, smiling wider. “They are the ones being put to the test here, not you. After all, I have no cause to doubt your loyalty. But do see to it that they stay out of trouble, will you?”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. Tou watched him go for only a moment before turning to us.

“I am Tou of the family Shi,” he said, extending his hand. “Well met, even if in strange circumstance.”

I took his wrist. “Well met indeed,” I said.

“You look to be an archer,” he said, and then turned to Mag. “And I would guess that you prefer to fight up close?”

“Right you are, on both counts,” I said.

“A Calentin archer is always welcome,” he said. “Come. A few of my squadrons lack Mystics to lead them, and I have been trying to manage all of them on my own. Let me introduce them to you.”

He led us through the training grounds at a slow pace, in consideration of Dryleaf. Nearby, rows of stuffed targets had been lined up for archers. Too, several large practice rings had been outlined for sword and spear training.

Many people were hard at practice now, and I saw redcloaks moving among them—Mystics giving instructions and barking orders. Some paused in their duties and hailed Tou, waving, and he always waved back. He looked to be a popular man and a respected one, and I hoped that would bode well for us.

“Our forces number five companies,” Tou went on. “Each company is led by a lieutenant—me, in your case. Lieutenants wield five squadrons of around fifteen, and each squadron is led by a sergeant. Only a handful of the sergeants are Mystics. The rest are veterans of King Jun’s army or former mercenaries.” He grimaced. “Or I suppose I should say returned mercenaries, for they are all taking coin to fight once again.”

“Not the greatest force we have served in, but not the smallest, either,” said Mag. “If Kun can find a worthy target to point us at, we may be able to do quite some damage to the enemy.”

“That is the hope,” said Tou. He cocked his head. “Though as a matter of etiquette, I must ask that you refer to him as Captain Zhou in the future.”

Mag nodded quickly. “Of course. Our soldiering habits are rusty, but I will endeavor to polish them.”

At last, we came to a stop in front of two groups of people. A gaggle of archers stood to our right, awkwardly firing shafts at the row of targets before them. To the left, some fighters with practice swords and shields were drilling, though their swings were clumsy and slow.

It was our first chance to get a good look at what Kun had to work with, and it was not entirely heartening. Most of these “fighters” looked to be anything but. They were farmers, craftsmen, and shopkeepers. Every so often, I would glimpse the brawny arms and solid frames of blacksmiths or woodsfolk. But they were few and far between, and they were as helpless with their swords as anyone else. Smiths are usually skilled at crafting steel, but not wielding it.

“Green Squadron! Black Squadron!” Tou’s voice ripped through the morning air. “Form up!”

The people around us stopped what they were doing and looked at Tou curiously. One by one, they approached and formed into two ragged lines. They were slow about it, seeming more confused than interested.

“Green Squadron,” said Tou, addressing the swordfighters and waving his hand at Mag. “You have a new sergeant. Her name is Mag, and she will see to your training from now on. Black Squadron, you will now be reporting to Albern of the family Telfer.”

Dryleaf raised a hand. “And where are my soldiers, if I may be so bold?”

That got a chuckle from Tou, as well as from many of the assembled militia. “An oversight on my part, grandfather,” said Tou. “I will find a squadron for you as soon as I am able.” He turned back to Mag and me. “You will report to me at the end of each day. Muster is at dawn every morning, and while we train, your soldiers are expected on duty ten days a week. Any questions?”

“No, ser,” said Mag and I.

“Excellent.” Tou gave a small sigh and looked our squadrons over. “Get to work, then. You have much to do.”

“Ser!” Mag and I snapped off salutes, which I thought were passingly suitable for how out of practice we were. Tou waved and left us, heading towards his other units.

Each of us went to our squadrons. I eyed the archers before me critically, and Mag did the same with her swordfighters. My mind began to fall into old habits, and I noticed myself picking out those who stood poised and ready, those who seemed lost, and those who seemed lazy.

“All right, recruits,” said Mag at last. “We have watched you dance. Now you will learn how to fight.”

As we began our training, Dryleaf headed off into Taitou with Oku, seeking information. I led my squadron