Chapter 12: 12. Lessons

Mark wiped sweat from his brow, returning from another search for Erin. He had found no evidence of any harm coming to her, but that did little to calm his nerves. If she died out there, it would hang heavily on him.

Henric trailed as he entered the fort, breaking his pursuit as Mark waved him away. He knew what Henric wanted. Since the wall had been completed, Henric had been hounding Mark more than ever about the training sessions.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much demand for logs yet, and delimbing a couple of trees didn’t take the acolytes very long. He had no more excuses. At least some form of lesson would be required to keep them happy.

Sighing as he closed his cabin door behind him, Mark made for his desk. He couldn’t run from his responsibilities forever.

Flicking through Atlas’s notes, he had a pretty good idea of what the Imperator had spent his time teaching the acolytes. It was a combination of Imperium law, hand-to-hand combat involving a variety of weapons, and other duties expected of an Imperator. He had read the laws himself, but there was no way he felt confident enough to lecture a class yet.

Before dying, he had been taking Brazilian jiu-jitsu classes twice weekly. He always told people it was because he wanted to get into shape—which was partially true. His shape had deteriorated quite a bit from his younger years, but the truth was, he never invested much effort in that. Mark had been almost entirely business-minded. At least since college, which was why he was as good as he was at what he did. BJJ classes were an extension of that. He had been hoping to “accidentally” bump into a well-known Silicon Valley billionaire with a penchant for BJJ. That hadn’t happened. However, he had been doing it for several months, traveling from gym to gym in the hope of bumping into said Silicon Valley figurehead, and in the process, had picked up a few skills.

Mark had no idea what level of martial arts was taught in this world. But that didn’t matter. He might not have been an expert, but his mediocre BJJ and Judo skills far surpassed his knowledge of swords and blunt weapons. He supposed he could show them a baseball swing with a smirk—yeah, that was a dumb idea. He might have seen a fencing match once or twice when flicking channels but had never even held a sword—attempting a lesson like that would probably end with him stabbing himself.

If only I had focused on Atlas’s swordfighting memories… I wonder if I’d be a trained fencer now.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

Henric stepped through, closed the door, and walked up to Mark’s desk.

“Imperator, I just came to ask about the–”

“I know, Henric,” Mark raised a silencing hand. “I’ve just finished working out my lesson plan. Gather the acolytes. Oh, and Henric, how’s the girl doing?”

“She’s umm–why Imperator? Did you really think inviting a feral behind our walls was wise? The outer palisade you built is one thing—but inside Winterclaw proper?”

“She hasn’t anyone she can trust. And I didn’t go cause a stir over her just to let some cultists kidnap the poor girl when I’ve got my back turned.”

“I understand, but what about the Law of Hierarchy?”

“She’s staying at the back of the warehouse, right? As I understand the law, that puts her beneath the acolytes—who are housed in proper accommodation.”

“Yes, I suppose…”

“Look, just keep her safe. I’ll worry about the rest.”

***

Sitting up on his bunk, sipping at a cold tea Erald had brought him an hour ago, Dober creased his brow as Callum huffed and rolled out of bed. “What are you doing?”

“Getting some fresh air,” Callum said as he grabbed his robe from the bed’s foot.

“Didn’t Mira tell you to rest?”

“Mira tells me a lot of things.”

“And for good reason.”

“And what about you? Walking around with that stick? How many times has she caught you and brought you back here this week?”

“Well–maybe I should be. And stop deflecting,” Dober pointed. “Barely been a couple of days since you woke up.”

“So what?” Callum shrugged. “I’m feeling pretty good. Besides, it’s mostly just bruising. Even Mira said so. You keep walking around on that leg, and you’re going to have serious problems. I’ve heard what she says. Permanent injury–or doesn’t that thick farmer skull of yours understand that word?”

Dober slumped.

“Yeah, like I thought. It’s you who needs to rest up.”

“What about the bandage?” Dober said, gaze steadily climbing to Callum’s bandaged head.

Callum paused and gingerly touched it. He hadn’t seen it himself, but he had overheard Mira talking about it. He knew what had been written and how likely it was to scar.

“It’s not going to kill me.”

“That’s not what I asked…”

“What can I do, Dober? The wound has already closed. No infection, according to Mira. Just a high chance of scarring… and you know what that means.”

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Dober blinked and tilted his head.

“The scar,” Callum tapped his forehead—a little too hard as he made himself wince. “You know what it says, don’t you?”

Dober shook his head.

“Heretic. They carved it into me.”

“Radic?”

“And those other three cowards.”

“--And? Just tell people what happened. You were just doing what you were told. Who cares what those bastards claim?”

“Thanks, but you know that’s not true. If it scars, that’ll be the end of it. One look and people will judge me. But you know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was going to become an Imperator or anything. So what, I’ll have to cover my forehead. Worse things have happened.”

“Callum…”

“It’s fine. Just drop it. I’m alive, aren’t I? And I haven’t forgotten about your leg,” Callum said as he walked toward the door. “I’m serious. No more walking around, or Mira will be the least of your concerns. The last thing I need is to be looking out for a cripple.”

***

“Alright, line up for your Imperator,” Henric commanded as most of the acolytes gathered in an open patch of the fort’s ground, caked by an inch of snow. Not everyone could take lessons together. A couple were still sleeping from night watch, and five were scattered across the walls.

The acolytes stood stiff in a line, chins held high, as Mark walked a lap, up and down their formation, and stopped at the center.

“Apologies for missing so many lessons. Sometimes, our immediate concerns rise above our daily duties. Today, I’ll attempt to make up for that. I’ll be conducting a lesson in unarmed combat. With any luck, you’ll never need to use the skills I teach you today. However, one can’t assume they’ll always have access to a weapon. Things can happen, like a night ambush or even losing your weapon during the heat of combat. You need to be prepared. The last thing you want is to be staring down a blade poised to strike at your neck, waiting for the end as you’ve no idea how to defend yourself.”

What the hell am I thinking? This is going to be embarrassing, isn’t it? I’m a clown pretending to be a combat expert. Please, let this be over quickly.

“Alright, everyone, partner up,” Mark said, twirling his index toward the sky.

The acolytes did as asked—forming Six groups of two.

“Extend your arms out and face each other. I want you to take hold of each other’s sleeves.” Once Mark had the acolytes take hold of one another, he demonstrated the basics of balance—getting kids to step forward while pulling their partners with them. The act immediately sent several unexpecting acolytes falling over as their center of balance was shifted. The demonstrations were as basic as they came.

Okay, good. Mark smiled as acolytes sprawled on the ground. Looks like they don’t know the basics of judo throws. At least I’ve got something going for me. If I keep this up, I might even get through this.

As Mark passed, a skinny boy pulled a much larger acolyte toward him. The boy's stump-like legs stood straight, and the moment the smaller boy stood past them, the big acolyte’s weight followed—sending him crashing to the ground.

“You got lucky,” Radic sneered from the snow-covered ground as Clay extended a hand. “Get that away from me.”

The large boy climbed back to his feet and dusted himself off. “My turn.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Radic. I’m just doing what the Imperator asked us to do.”

“Just get over here.”

Clay swallowed as he moved back into position.

“Raagh!” Radic roared the moment he took hold of Clay and threw all his strength and weight into sending Clay flying over his shoulder to the ground.

“Oww,” Clay groaned, rubbing at his lower back from the ground.

“That’s how you do it,” Radic brushed his hands off.

“Bad form,” Mark said as he paced down the line. “Follow your partner's lead—he did it perfectly. You used strength, which only worked because he’s smaller than you. Against a larger opponent, it wouldn’t have done anything. The purpose of the lesson is to learn how to manipulate weight. To learn how to use your opponent's own weight against them. Now, try again.”

Radic’s eyes bore into Clay as he pointed at the ground before him.

“Take it easy, okay?” Clay said as he sheepishly approached.

“Trying to embarrass me in front of the Imperator?” Radic growled beneath his breath as he took hold of Clay. “How’s this?” he added with a grunt, heaving Clay back to the ground.

“What did I just say?” Mark said, pacing back from further down the line. “Use weight. Not strength,” he shook his head. “And please, try not to send each other to the infirmary. Mira is busy enough as it is.”

“Are you okay, Clay? I didn't almost send you to the infirmary, did I?” Radic whispered as they resumed their position, grabbing each other’s robes.

“I'm fiiiii–” Clay squealed. Radic had pulled him off balance again as he positioned himself, flinging him back to the ground.

“Okay, better,” Mark said. “Still room for improvement.”

“See that? Took me barely a second,” Radic said, turning to the acolytes beside them as Mark walked away.

“Of course it did, Radic,” an acolyte to their right said, chuckling as he watched Clay brush the snow from his face. “Did Radic give you a boo-boo?”

“Alright, alright,” Mark said, pointing out flaws in footwork and positioning as he paced the acolytes. “You've seen the basics. Now I want you to practice these moves when you get the chance. Hopefully, you’ll learn enough for it to come in handy someday… should you ever be unfortunate enough to need it. Dismissed.”

***

“Thank you, Imperator. It might not seem like much, but that lesson will help raise their spirits. It helps remind them that you haven’t forgotten about them. And that the bullshit they endure out here isn’t a pointless waste of time.”

“I hope so,” Mark said as he stepped to Henric’s side, looking out across the new section of the fort from the wall. “How are the ferals taking it? Any problems?”

“Err—well…”

Mark’s brow rose.

“They’re on edge. Everyone knows what’s happening out there and in here. A little wooden wall with some kids carrying crossbows to guard them isn’t going to magically change anything.”

“Right. That makes sense. Well, we’re going to need to change that.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“I’m hoping that as more families come to protect their children from those cultists, a sense of security can be established. Reach out to any man with a daughter taking refuge behind our walls. Tell them that I would like to meet with them.”

“You’re meeting with ferals now, Imperator? To what end?”

“I need warriors that I can trust. And not just warriors but enforcers. We can never do it alone. I plan to elect these fathers as tribune.”

“Imperator—you can’t be serious—recruiting barbarians as tribunes?”

“We need guards and law enforcers. People we can rely on. But we have nothing to offer. That is, except for office. This is something I can give them that holds value. Something worth protecting. And in doing so, it gives them the Imperial authority to keep the others in line.”

“Barbarians don’t think like us,” Henric spat.

“I don’t think that’s true, Henric. They understand hierarchy and power perfectly fine, just as any man does. See the way they behave. They don’t attack the walls. They respect our laws, even if they don’t believe them. The reality is, they fear us.”

“Of course they do, Imperator. We carry with us the authority of the Imperium.”

“Exactly. And they are clanless ferals with nothing besides what they carry on their back and horde in their little huts. By elevating them to tribunes, I will grant them the power of the Imperium. If I fall, they go back to being nobodies. That is what will give them the courage to fight and defend this land.”

“And you will be committing an act of heresy.”

“No, I won’t be,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “The law clearly states that the title of tribune is detached and does not affect one’s place within the Holy Hierarchy. Granting this power to a feral is both legal and within the teachings of the God-Lord.”

Henric gritted his teeth.

“Don’t worry. I will grant this power with the proviso that it cannot be enacted within the inner walls of Fort Winterclaw nor against Imperials. Only I will command the Imperium’s law over you and the others.”

“That’s something, at least,” Henric hissed.

You might not see the wisdom in this yet. But you will.