It was raining. No, it was pouring down. It was dark as well. Dark and heavy rain, those were never good combinations to have. Regardless, rows of men clad in leather armor were standing still. They were led by a man clad in a mix of chain and leather armor. Their number was about thirty.

  “Are you ready?” he asked with a low voice.

  “We are, sir!” They replied powerfully in unison.

  “Make no mistake. This will be a hard job, but you will be rewarded. I won’t lie. Not all of you will make it, but we all know the saying, yeah?”

  “Risk versus reward!” They replied.

  “Good. Once we move out, we will not speak under any circumstances until it’s time to attack. Follow my lead and follow my hand signals.”

  “Yes, captain!”

  All of them were silent but were moving diligently. The man in the mixed armor of chainmail and leather, their captain, was leading his men to somewhere under the cover of darkness. They were currently making their way through what looked like a narrow creek. Due to the nature of the terrain, they were naturally making quite a bit of sound. However, the pouring rain was masking most, if not all, of the noises. The creek was dug in and was providing some cover as well. The primary reason why they were using a creak to traverse was to not leave any tracks. They were making their way toward what looked like a fortress. To be more precise, they were heading directly toward its front gate. It had its gate lowered at the moment which was acting as a bridge over the very creek they were walking in. The man paused as they got closer and made a hand gesture, at which point they got down at once. They began crawling instead, making their way slowly toward the gate. When they reached right underneath the bridge, they stopped, and a new hand gesture appeared, at which point the men slowly and silently readied their weapons and they sat still because there was a pair of guards directly above them, chatting casually.

  “Fuck man, this weather is awful,” one of them complained.

  “You don’t have to state the obvious. This fucking rain won’t stop.”

  “Well, at least it will be quiet today.”

  Snickering could be heard. After taking a piss which barely missed them, the pair went back. The men down there glanced at each other. They were aware of what they were supposed to do. Even without being told explicitly, they knew that they’d soon start. Their leader leaned outside to take a glimpse of the situation. Then soon enough he raised his right hand, and the thirty men stiffened up at once. As he dropped his hand, he bellowed.

  “NOW!”

  The men dashed out of the creek with swift movements. It didn’t take long for the gate guards to notice them.

  “We are under attack!” they shouted and repeated, “We are under attack!”

  There were three guards clad in leather armor guarding the gate and they were overwhelmed pretty much instantly as the men swept them away. This was the easy part for them.

  “Gate secured!”

  “Fire the signal!”

  A man carrying a bow and a quiver on his back drew out an arrow that had a small ball of fabric instead of an arrowhead. The gate was illuminated by a pair of torches which he used to light the arrow. Then he aimed for the sky and fired. The burning arrow quickly vanished into the night. Whether anyone could spot it from a distance was questionable.

  “Signal sent!”

  “Now we hold the gate!”

  This was the hard part. You see, this was a territorial war between two small noble houses, the Veze and the Rassier. Both were minor noble houses within the kingdom of Steterra. The dispute they had was a generational one, thus even their king was unable to stop them. In other words, the dispute needed to be resolved one way or another. The king wished no internal conflict, but alas.

  “Form a wall!” he commanded. “Form a wall!”

  About ten men formed a literal human wall to block the gate completely. In order to hold onto the gate and not get annihilated, they had to form a defensive formation and hang on.

  “I kind of wish we brought shields…,” one of them grumbled. True, they should have brought shields but weren’t allowed. They had to travel light due to the weather and all.

  “Quit yer grumbling!” The captain exclaimed. “Focus on survival!”

  It didn’t take long for the defenders of the fortress to organize and launch at them. It was their own backyard after all. A man clad in plate armor led his men toward the occupied gate and aimed his long sword at them.

  “Get those traitorous bastards! You must be from the Rassier!”

  None of them made a reply.

  “Don’t feel like talking, eh? That will change soon enough, CHARGE! Leave one or two alive!”

  Soldiers clad in studded leather armor along with kettle helmets charged forward with their swords and round shields. They were better equipped. As soon as they clashed with the wall of opposing soldiers, two of them were immediately struck down but were quickly replaced by those who were waiting in the back.

  “Get them out! Are they dead?!”

  “One is!”

  “Get them out. Someone replace them! Ansel!” The captain exclaimed.

  “Yes, sir!”

  Ansel was a boy, eleven years old. He was clearly smaller than others. And ,also unlike others, he had a short spear on his back along with a wooden rod. He pulled it off his back and the rod. Upon screwing it together, its complete form was even taller than the boy. Without hesitation, the boy thrust his spear forward powerfully and pierced an enemy soldier’s neck. Gurgling, he was bleeding from his mouth as he took steps backwards, eventually collapsing to the ground. He wouldn’t probably survive unless treated immediately. He struck down several this way from behind the line. This was possible only due to the long reach of the spear and that neck was often the least protected part in an armored person. Hopping left and right, he was able to greatly lessen the pressure of the human wall that was his comrades.

  “Are they coming?!” the captain barked, getting increasingly frustrated by minutes since they would certainly be overrun eventually.

  “Not seeing anything, captain! Actually, can’t see shit in this weather and darkness!”

  “Fire another arrow!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  It wasn’t completely dark. The three Moons could faintly be seen through clouds in the sky. But it was overall dark enough to have a hard time being able to see anything afar. When Ansel had taken down more than ten soldiers, they started to realize that they were falling for their trap. Therefore, they withdrew at once, keeping a short distance. Their leader seemed to be in thoughts with his arms folded. The situation was that the gate was narrow enough to be defended with just thirty men for a prolonged period especially when their main goal was to defend.

  “Archers!” he barked. Of course, archers. It was a logical conclusion, but this turn of event was something they had predicted.

  “The bodies!” the captain bellowed. He was talking about the downed and dead bodies right in front of them. The men grabbed the bodies at once.

  “Fire!” The opposing captain barked out an order, at which point tens of arrows were fired in their direction.

  “Ugh!”

  “Ack!”

  Some of the downed men were apparently not completely dead and let out painful groans as arrows struck their bodies. Whether they wanted to or not, they apparently shot their own men to their probable demise. Clicking his tongue, the opposing captain looked very displeased. As things stood, he didn’t have a good way of reclaiming the gate which would ultimately mean the loss of the fortress. He was going to take the full blame at this rate. He was lax and had the gate open in spite of mounting tensions between the two noble houses. Granted, he didn’t believe that the Rassier would attack, especially when it was raining heavily. His belief came from the fact that the Rassier predominantly utilized cavalry. Muddy ground and cavalry didn’t mix too well. It would be quite suicidal to launch an attack at night under heavy rain using cavalry. Additionally, the gate, made from whole logs reinforced with iron plates and rivets, wasn’t exactly easy to open and close. The gate mechanism had been acting up as well to make it worse. Engineers advised to replace the aging gears that were worn out almost completely but the budget wasn’t there. Therefore, he used hardened wooden gears instead, which perhaps predictably had several teeth completely ripped off after just several months of usage. The gate could still open and close but it required monumental efforts from soldiers to pull. It was especially harder when the chains were wet. Gritting his teeth, he growled. Raising his sword high, he barked out an order.

  “Attack!”

  He decided to go with brute force. In hindsight, it was already probably too late to reclaim the gate, given the time to pull it back up with broken gears. Just as he and his men were about to dash toward them, archers at the top of walls shouted urgently.

  “We see an enemy army approaching!”

  Everyone froze momentarily. Sighing with exasperation, the enemy captain shook his head and lowered his sword.

  “Everyone, fall back! Abandon the fortress!”

  The fortress had only one gate, but they could easily escape from its walls by using ropes.

  “We will see each other again, probably on a battlefield,” he warned.

  The captain replied cocky with a snicker, “Oh, we will.”

  Seeing enemy soldiers rushing to withdraw, some of the men at the gate fell to their knees.

  “Fuck, I ain’t gonna take a mission like this again,” he muttered.

  “How many casualties?” The captain demanded.

  “Four dead, two wounded, sir.”

  “Not bad at all. Good job, kid.”

  Ansel replied promptly. “Thank you, sir.”

  “It was easy. What are you complaining about?” another retorted. It worked out, thus it felt easy. But, if even one aspect had gone wrong, they wouldn’t be standing unscathed. Ansel leaned his back against a nearby stone wall and let himself loose a bit. This was his first big mission ever since being conscripted as a foot soldier.

  Asnel was from Cavini, a farming community near Crisuri, the center of the Rassier. He had five brothers and sisters ahead of him, and his family was struggling to get everyone adequately fed. As the youngest, also the weakest, he had a hard time getting himself full. It may have been hard to accept the reality as a child, but he was able to grasp that he needed to leave his family to survive, so he did. An opportunity came. The lord of the Rassier put down posters in his land for men to enlist for his army. Of course, Ansel had no clue what it said since he was illiterate. But, thanks to words of mouth, he learned that the lord was recruiting soldiers. Thus, he merrily applied and was cleanly rejected for being too young. He was nine at that time. Although he failed to enlist, the current captain was how he got in still after he saw a potential in him. He started out as an errand boy and learned the way of the spear from trainers. He was a rare kind of a soldier. He was a spearman. There were foot soldiers who wielded a sword and a shield. There were pikemen who were effective against horsemen. But not many used a spear as a main weapon, but the spear was a necessity for him in order to overcome his small physique. The biggest advantage of the spear was its reach. Being able to attack others behind a human shield was quite effective, not to mention relatively safe. Still, if it wasn’t for the captain who saw the potential in him and nourished him, he wouldn’t be where he was now.

  “Good work, Knight Gavin.”

  A voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head toward the voice. It was the lord of the Rassier. He was a young man in his middle 20s clad in plate armor from head to toe. About three years ago, he inherited his title from his deceased father and swore that he’d re-unify the house. You see, the Rassier and the Vaze used to be the same house. Ansel didn’t know the exact timing, but the house was divided into how it became to his present time after a severe succession war. The nature of the division meant that even the king was unable to stop them from going to war because this was strictly an internal matter. Captain Gavin bowed sincerely toward his liege.

  “Milord, Fort Mow is now yours,” he declared. The Rassier was known for their cavalry, but the lord didn’t choose to utilize them. In his own words, they were “too predictable”.

  “Knight, I will not forget your deeds so far. Should I unify the house, I will grant you a fief.”

  Gavin’s eyes lit up, and his face was full of smiles. “Thank you, m’lord!”

  Giving him a subtle nod, the lord glanced back and barked out an order.

  “Occupy the fort at once! Do a clean sweep! Make sure that no one is hiding inside!”

  Once the lord and his men headed inside, Ansel told Gavin casually.

  “Grats, captain.”

  “Took me decades, Ansel. Took me decades to finally become a proper noble.”

  He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after he became a noble, though. Gavin could probably vouch him to stay in the army at least, he thought.

  “Not over yet though.”

  “Well, true enough. This is just the beginning.”

  The fort existed solely to draw a line between the two families. Conquering it didn’t really change anything other than signaling clearly that it would be a war. Whatever the case, it wasn’t really his business. He was just a foot soldier with no loyalty toward his liege. Wherever opportunities were, he’d follow. But he did owe Gavin a lot. Therefore, he was going to follow him for the time being.

  Once the fort was secured, the quartermaster called for those who volunteered to take and secure the gate.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Good work, guys. The lord has granted you guys a whole pig and kegs of ale. You are in for a feast tonight.”

  “FUCK, YES!” one of the guys yelled with his fist up in the air.

  “Additionally, each of you will be given an iron coin.”

  “All of us?”

  “You heard me.”

  “That’s a lot of money the lord is spending.”

  “He must be serious about unifying the house,” another said.

  “Whatever the case, let’s eat and drink, shall we?”

  “Woohoo!”

  A live pig was brought in. It was a very fat pig. It was slaughtered right in front of the men and gutted out before being put on a makeshift firepit. Cuts were made to cook faster. Some of them were unable to wait and were already drinking their ale. Ansel casually approached for a mug of ale.

  “You?” The one who was in charge of the ale kegs glared at him.

  “Can’t I?”

  He took a moment to answer. “Fine, but just one mug.”

  “Thanks.”

  Taking the mug, he found a spot in a corner and began taking sips.

  “Bleugh, what’s this? Why do they love this so much? It tastes like shit.”

  Throwing the content of the mug to the ground, he looked up. It was still raining although it wasn’t as heavy as before.

  “Don’t like it, eh?”

  A young man approached him.

  “Hello, Finnic.”

  Finnic was older than him although still fairly young to be here. He was eighteen years old and one of few people Ansel was somewhat close to. It wasn’t that he was anti-social. It was just that he was too young. He had little to talk about with men well into their 20s. With blond hair and a pair of ocean blue eyes, the guy looked pretty handsome. Well, he was a son of a noble.

  “You will grow to like it,” he said with a grin, standing next to him with a mug in his hand.

  “What now?”

  “What now?” Finnic tilted his head in confusion.

  “Is it going to be a full war?”

  Finnic swirled his mug for a moment before answering.

  “Probably. The domain being split into half was never ideal. We used to be a powerful family.”

  Ansel was a 11 years old boy who had orange hair and green eyes. He always donned a somewhat gloomy and emotionless expression all the time. His stoic face was what caught Gavin’s attention because the boy didn’t falter even in events of desperation. He appreciated his cool-headed personality which was pretty rare among peasants he recruited under his wing. While he lacked physical strength, primarily due to his younger age, he did have agility and dexterity, which made me an ideal spearman.

  “Good for me, I guess. I need to become someone better than a foot soldier,” he said indifferently.

  “You could follow Gavin, you know. He was the one who picked you. He is probably one of the few who appreciate your quality.”

  “So, you heard about him getting a land?”

  “Sure did. That’s every knight’s dream, isn’t it? Work hard and get a land to enter nobility.”

  “Isn’t Gavin a knight? What’s his next rank gonna be? How old is he by the way?”

  Finnic chuckled. “The man’s 43 years old. Entered the service at 15 years old as a square, I believe. He is … rather famous for never being able to climb higher.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Ouch indeed.”

  “So, what’s after knight?”

  “It’s either baronet or baron. Given his age, he should get the rank of baron but -” he shrugged. “Who knows. He should be thankful either way. Baronet or baron, he is getting his own fief to govern.”

  “... And we are foot soldiers, right?”

  “Right we are ~” Finnic took a long sip. “At the very bottom of the chain.”

  “What’s after that?”

  “Two paths probably. You could become a squire or could become a squad captain. The former serves his master. The latter will lead a small group of soldiers.”

  “Which one is better?”

  “If you aim to enter the nobility, being a squire is probably better in peace time. Being a captain and leading your own men could yield far more opportunities though. I mean, look at Gavin.”

  “So…, a squire becomes a knight and then a baronet.”

  “Yep. A squad captain is the same. You be good enough, you get knighted.”

  “I see.”

  “Aiming to climb higher?”

  “Are you happy to remain as a foot soldier forever?”

  Finnic chuckled. “Point taken. Oh, it’s starting to smell really nice.”

  “Haven’t had pork for …, like forever.”

  “Would this be your first time eating proper meat then?”

  “Probably.”

  His parents may have served meat, but he never saw it on his plates. Smiling, Finnic walked toward the makeshift firepit where the whole pig was being roasted. Its skin was already dark red with its grease sizzling on the charcoal below.

  “Hey, folks. Ansel over there says it’s his first time eating meat. Why don’t we let him have a good piece?”

  The men briefly glanced at him.

  “Sure, why not. He’s a kid, and a kid needs meat to grow properly.” one of them said with a shrug. Others reluctantly agreed with nods. There was plenty to eat, and they were tipsy even, thus it didn’t take much persuasion. Besides, a whole roasted pig was hard to go wrong. Almost all parts were delicious in their own way. Approaching the roasting pig with a fork and a knife, he mused aloud.

  “Um, what part do I try?”

  “Try belly or loin. That’s probably your best bet,” one of the men answered. “Spray some salt after you cut it.”

  There were small salt bottles nearby. Salt wasn't a cheap commodity in general but their whole region was coastal, making salt cheap enough to be used without any difficulty. As his knife made a cut on its belly, liquefied fat oozed out while releasing absolutely delicious aroma. Ansel wouldn’t have known how roasted pork would taste like, but that still did not stop his saliva filling up in his mouth as the aroma struck his nose.

  “Make sure that it’s well done. You don’t want to consume uncooked pork,” a man warned. But he didn’t know what cooked meat looked like. Just nodding along, he continued to cut a small chunk out of its belly and placed it on his plate. Sitting down on a nearby stool and placing his plate down, he proceeded to make a smaller cut, put some salt on it, then off it went into his mouth. There was delight on his otherwise stoic face.

  “Holy shit,” he uttered, which made the men nearby laugh. Then tears filled in his eyes. The taste was out of this world. He finally understood the expression “melting in one’s mouth”.

  “You are one of us, eh, kiddo,” said a man while patting his shoulder. Almost all men in the vicinity had a similar origin as Ansel. They all came from poverty-stricken backgrounds. Thus, they understood what was going through his mind when he tasted roasted pork for the first time. He gobbled down the pork and then proceeded to cut more pieces. This was the cue for the men to join in as well.

  “Let’s eat to our hearts’ content!” they roared pleasantly. Amid the chaos, he ended up drinking several mugs of ale as well simply because there was no plain water to go by. Predictably, he got drunk and passed out on the floor. It was a pleasant night for him with his belly adequately full probably for the very first time in his 11 years.

  If I could eat like this everyday…

  When he opened his eyes, he saw the blue sky, cloudless. Blinking, he raised his upper body to find several men still passed out. They were in the courtyard of the fort with a rudimentary open tent that was hastily constructed to house the feast they had.

  “Uh…, I gotta pee.”

  After taking care of business which involved washing his face and such, he came back to the courtyard to find the tent being dismantled and men busily moving about. His direct superior, Knight Gavin, seemed to be barking out orders.

  “Captain,” he casually called him out.

  “Ansel! Did you have a good night?”

  Gavin was in his tunic and pants, a sign that the area was completely safe. It was hard to believe that the man was 43 years old. He really didn’t look like it. He figured that he was in late 20s.

  “I think I did,” he replied lazily while scratching his belly. He did have a very good night although he didn’t clearly remember much of it. Perhaps the fact that he remembered little was how good it was.

  “Anything happened while we were out? I can move out at once.”

  “The two houses are talking right now as far as I am concerned.”

  “We are heading for a war, right?”

  He needed a war. Remaining as a foot soldier for years wasn’t in his mind.

  “The young lord is itching for a war. We will probably have it,” he replied with a grin. “We must have it.”

  Gavin was on the verge of becoming a baron, but a war was needed for that to happen. A fief had to be freed.

  “By the way, captain, are you in charge now?”

  He beamed a bright smile. “Indeed,” he declared proudly. “The lord has entrusted me with a hundred men.”

  The mere fact that he was put in charge of a fortress was a clear sign that his promotion was really near. As far as he knew, Gavin had twelve personal soldiers under his direct command. Ansel was one of the twelve. They were paid directly by him. Twelve was all he could afford with his wage probably. Ansel was paid ten copper coins monthly. A hundred copper coins made an iron coin, and ten iron coins made a silver coin.

  “By the way, captain, are you married?”

  His question made Gavin freeze momentarily. “No,” he replied flatly, and Ansel asked no further. Even he could guess why he didn’t or couldn’t marry.

  “But the lord is going to arrange a marriage for me as soon as I get my title,” he continued.

  “Better late than never.”

  This time, Gavin smiled. “Yeah, and I will probably get to marry a noblewoman.”

  “I thought that a knight was a noble.”

  “Just barely. I am pretty much self-made without a solid background. No self-respecting noblewoman would marry me unless she was in love with me. Even then…, do I dare? Would I be able to make my woman happy? Money is the foundation of happiness.”

  It gave Ansel some food for thoughts. As a kid, insights from adults were often useful for considerations. The majority of children would outright ignore adults’ words, but he wasn’t one of them.

  “Any task for me?”

  “I gave the guys who went out last night a day off. That includes you as well. But, if you really want to do something, go around the fortress and report if anything seems amiss. They may have done something to compromise its defense when they abandoned the place.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Yawning, he casually started to go around, checking places. The fortress was a small one. He didn’t initially believe it, but it did look like the fortress was symbolic rather than functional. A hundred men looked plenty enough to be able to defend the small keep. As he walked to the top of the walls, several guards who were keeping watch became alert due to his presence but they relaxed soon after. They actually didn’t know who he was but, given the fact that a kid was casually walking around, they assumed that he was one of them.

  “..............”

  The fort may have been small but it was pretty tall and was built on a top of a small hill, meaning he could clearly see both Veka and Crisuri from the top of the walls.

  Interestingly, the house was evenly divided. Both sides had even strength against each other, which made reunification especially hard since neither side had an upper edge. When military strength was equal, then it would come down to individual brilliance, strategies, and luck.

  “Let’s see…”

  He tried to study the terrain, but there wasn’t much because it was just a flat plain with some trees here and there. There wasn’t anything to take advantage of. There was a rather tall hill Southeast of Veka. That was about the only thing he could make a note of but it was so close to the city.

  “Damn…, this war is going to be ugly,” he whispered to himself.

  As a boy soldier, he was always at a disadvantage in battles. Therefore, he naturally began to study environments around him and took notes of what he could use. The plan Gavin came up with to take and hold onto the fortress gate, the majority of ideas came from Ansel. It did require Gavin’s authority as well as leadership however. As a senior knight, not many would command the level of respect that was required to carry out a suicidal task.

  “Well, this could be good for me. I just need to make a name for myself.”

  Turning away from the scenery, he continued to inspect the fortress throughout. It wasn’t in good shape but wasn’t crumbling, either.

  “I am not aiming for high. I just want a good relaxed life without needing to worry about food.”

  “Lowly peasants!” and “useless beings!” were often directed at people at the bottom of the chain. He heard his parents being called such from a distance, and all they could do was get down to the ground and fled for forgiveness. While his older siblings were worried about their wellbeing, Ansel was a bit different. He studied so-called nobles and found nothing different than him from a distance. They had two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and such. What made them so superior? Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get his answer until he was recruited by Gavin. It was the social hierarchy, an arbitrary structure that dictated human behaviors. He would need to be acknowledged by those on higher social status than him.

  “A long way to go. Let’s see how far I can go.”

  Where he eventually ended up was the upper part of the gate where the mechanism for the gate was housed. While he had no idea how it worked, he could see that the pair of gears was crooked.

  “The hell…?” Mumbling, he had a closer look. “This thing doesn’t look fine. Did they sabotage it?”

  Upon a closer inspection, it was clear that it was wear and tear. He had no idea that “the thing” was called a gear.

  “Wait a sec. Is this made of wood? Why?”

  While he didn't know what it was, given the fact that there was a thick iron chain around it, he deduced that it was used to pull the gate up and down. Such an object that was handling such a heavy load shouldn’t have been made of wood was what he was thinking. Running out of the place, he found Gavin down in the courtyard, still barking orders around.

  “Captain! The thing here doesn’t look right!”

  “The thing?”

  He pointed at the gate house. “The thing inside here doesn’t look right!”

  Furrowing eyebrows, Gavin had no idea what he was talking about. He eventually made his way up to see what the fuss was about.

  “Ansel, it’s called a gear, and I am aware of this.”

  “A gear?”

  “Very expensive if made of iron or steel. The count doesn’t want to replace it since the fortress will be dismantled should we emerge victorious.”

  “That can’t be a good idea.”

  “We can still open and close the gate albeit slowly and painfully. It’s closed right now. You saw that, right?”

  He nodded.

  “We are planning to keep it shut and use ropes to scale up and down the wall. If everything goes as planned, we won’t be using this fortress for long.”

  “I see…”

  Patting his shoulder, Gavin told him, “By the way, Finnic was looking for you a moment ago. Find him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Apparently, he wanted something to spar. He could have chosen another guy to have a practice fight with.

  “Hey, I can read your face. You were thinking that I should have found another guy to spar with, right?”

  Pouting, Ansel replied casually, “Yeah, right.”

  “Whatever, come at me!” Finnic exclaimed with a wooden practice long sword in his hand and a round wooden shield in his other hand. On the cue, Ansel charged forward with his wooden staff which was acting as his practice spear. Aiming at his open spot around his chest, he thrust his spear forward powerfully.

  “No, you don’t!” Finnic bashed the spear away with his shield. Using the recoil as the staff was bashed away, he let it flow circularly, letting the other end of the staff hit his shin.

  “The fuck?!” Finnic was surprised. He never saw it coming. It didn’t hurt. It was never meant to hurt. If this was real combat, however, it would have been different.

  “How in the world did you do that?” Stopping the practice, he mused aloud.

  “A staff can be pretty erratic if you know how to use it.”

  The core concept was using the opponent's power as his. Since Finnic pushed his spear away, instead of trying to correct the wayward spear, he simply redirected it, creating an unexpected counterattack.

  “Let’s go at it one more time.”

  “Sure.”

  “This time, I will attack first.”

  Ansel nodded and Finnic dashed forward with a thrust attack. This wasn’t the first time they were against each other, and he knew some of the weaknesses which a spear had. It was a thrust attack while slash attacks were easily blocked. Another weakness was that a spear was very much powerless in close range. Realistically, a spearman shouldn’t need to defend himself in close range combat. He would try to avoid it if possible. And, under normal circumstances, Ansel would pull out his dagger from his waist. But this was a training session. Holding his wooden staff vertically, he swept it sideways, essentially pushing away Finnic’s incoming sword. This was exactly what he did to his staff a moment ago. As his sword went sideways, he swung his shield by using the momentum. It was a skill known as shield bash. He was copying what Ansel did a moment ago, using the opponent's force to activate a counterattack. The only difference was that his attack pattern was pretty predictable, and Ansel was able to evade it by just jumping backwards and … that was a cue for him to launch an attack, which was possible because of his long staff. Finnic was able to block his staff thrust hurriedly but, in doing so, he recoiled and lost some balance. Ansel didn’t have to do much. He just needed to swing his staff at his shins.

  “Dang it!” Finnic grumbled in frustration. “I keep losing to you.” He sagged his shoulders in clear disappointment.

  “One on one hardly matters. On a battlefield, it will be different.”

  What wasn’t displayed at full strength in this practice match was raw physical strength, which Ansel was very much lacking. If Finnic was able to use his full strength, things would have gone differently.

  “We done now?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Scratching the back of his head frustratingly, he gave him a half-hearted reply.

  Leaving him behind, he looked around for some food, which took some time because he wasn’t familiar with the layout of the fortress. When he eventually found a maid working for Gavin, he was served with a bowl of pottage along with a loaf of hard bread.

  “Yep, back to normal,” he said to himself. “But at least I get this three times a day.”

  Home was meant to be comfortable and warm. For him, home was a hostile warzone where he had to fight for food. When strangers fed him better than his own family, then it was clear that his family was nothing more than hindrance.

  “When I climb higher, they are bound to reach out to me. I will give them what they deserve… You just wait.”