Stone Will

by Kirill Klevanski

  Hadjar choked on the smoke he’d inhaled, dropped his sword, cutting himself on it, and then barely managed to ask his question: “Sorry, merchant, what?”

  “Yes, you heard right, everyone expects her to become a Heaven Soldier. Primus has hired teachers from the Empire and used the best resources to help her advance to that stage…”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Hadjar interrupted him, “What’s her name?”

  “Elaine.”

  Elaine... Was it really his sister? No, absolutely not. Why would Primus adopt someone who could one day stab him in the back? But why, then, did Hadjar feel that it was really her, deep in his heart? How could she have forgotten their mother and father? But the description of her hair and eyes fit—it was all exactly as he remembered.

  His beloved, flighty little sister was now the daughter of Primus.

  No, he couldn’t believe it.

  But his heart told him he’d be wrong to deny it.

  “So, right now, they’re actively recruiting people for the army.”

  And again, Hadjar flinched.

  “Do many people join the army?” He asked.

  “Enough of them do,” the merchant shrugged, gratefully accepting another bowl of stew. After all, he would be setting out toward a new village tomorrow. “There are a lot of people who sign up to ensure that they and their families definitely won’t be taken to the mine. They’ll also be paid better than most can hope for. The food is decent. They will even be given a chance to advance further in stages, if they have the talent to do so. And, accordingly, they’ll be rewarded with promotions. What kind of soldier doesn’t dream of becoming a general?”

  The merchant laughed and Hadjar pondered his words.

  “How long will they be recruiting for?”

  “Well, the recruitment will be completed at the end of the month. The nearest station is in Spring Town. I don’t think they’ll take you, young man. You’re too... sleek. You look like you’ve never even held a sword in your hands before. It’s necessary to pass an exam, once you get there. Your level must be no lower than the sixth stage, and the nodes must be no older than eighteen years.”

  The other men looked at each other and grinned. No one told the ‘stranger’ about Hadjar’s recent deeds. Meanwhile, he was estimating if he could make it.

  Less than three weeks remain, and according to Robin, I need more than a month to travel on foot to Spring Town, even without any trouble along the way.

  Elaine…

  ***

  Hadjar stood on a cliff, wrapped up in a cloak Robin had given him. He looked at the water streaming from the cliff, deep in thought. He wondered what lay ahead. How could he find justice in this harsh world? How could he bring peace to the spirits of his father and mother, whose bodies had been buried in the middle of nowhere?

  He could become a mercenary and work for many different people in the hope that, someday, he would be able to do more than just mention the King in his prayer. And then he would break through the Palace guard, after hundreds of years of training. This was a very dangerous idea, but it could be implemented...

  But there was another way. Much more difficult and bloody, but a lot faster. He could’ve gone to…

  “Are you thinking about what you should do?” Robin walked up to him quietly and asked.

  Hadjar almost fell off the cliff in surprise.

  “Yea, I am!” He nodded.

  The old man, groaning from fatigue, stood next to him.

  “You’ll go to join the army,” the old man didn’t ask but claimed. “I remember how much you don’t like soldiers. Why you’re going there is a mystery to me. But I’ll tell you something. No matter what you have to do there, no matter how hard your journey is, I know you’ll get through it. And when you’re done with all that…”

  Robin turned and hugged Hadjar so tightly that the younger man felt his bones crack.

  “You know you have a home here. You will always be welcome here and there will always be a bed and a hut ready for you to use. Don’t get lost, Hadjar. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  The Prince hugged the villager back, swallowed the unwelcome lump in his throat, picked up the bag he’d packed, and set forth through the forest.

  He left without turning around because he was afraid that if he did, he would end up staying.

  Chapter 30

  Today, on the outskirts of Spring Town—a town with a population of several million—it was surprisingly busy. For two months now, one of the King’s armies had been encamped there. Every morning, at the central square, a crier would invite everyone to come to try their hand at the exam.

  There were a lot of people that did just that.

  All sorts of individuals were represented among the men and women streaming toward the center of the army camp—from ordinary vagabonds, who expected to be fed for free, all the way to dashing adventurers. But, mostly, they were either the younger sons and daughters of large families or those who hadn’t found something else to do in town.

  Some were motivated by their hunger or poverty. Some had been lured in by the promise of power or by the prospect of advancing in the ranks, as the crier had described. He’d promised that anyone who signed up could have general’s armor and regular dinners in the capital in a couple of years.

  Alas, only a few of those who wanted to join the military could pass the entrance exam.

  A tall, young man stood in line, slowly moving in the direction of a huge parade ground in the center of the army camp that resembled a labyrinth of tents. He towered over the others around him, which surprised him a little.

  His long, thick black hair had been gathered into a ponytail and fastened with a leather strap. He was garbed in plain, blue clothes instead of a shirt or a jacket, like most of the other men wore. They were dirty, torn and didn’t look like noble robes. Instead of a belt, he had a rope, with a wooden bottle filled with water tucked into it.

  He didn’t wear any proper shoes or boots. Instead, he wore strips of cloth wound around bast shoes, fastened there with wide ribbons. He held a rusty sword and was smoking a pipe. A wide straw hat covered his face.

  “Is your tobacco from the western plantations?” Somebody asked.

  Hadjar turned toward the speaker. Next to him was the only other person as tall as he was.

  The young man was dressed decently—a leather jacket, high boots, black pants made from a durable fabric. However, he didn’t have any weapons, or even a knife.

  He was quite handsome—wide cheekbones, a strong chin, with a determined and calm look in his gray eyes. Like Hadjar, he had long hair, but had elected not to tie it into a ponytail.

  The young man held a pipe as well. But the smoke coming from it was completely different.

  “Probably,” Hadjar shrugged.

  The young man blinked several times.

  “Don’t you know what you’re smoking?”

  The Prince only smiled inwardly. Back on Earth, he would’ve just left a cigarette smoldering next to his bed. So it was hard to say that he had ever truly ‘smoked’.

  “My name is Nero,” the young man introduced himself, holding out his hand.

  “Hadjar.”

  The young man’s handshake was firm, but his skin was soft. Judging by his appearance and the absence of any calluses, he was probably the youngest son of a merchant. Or a young nobleman who had escaped from overly protective parents.

  “I see you’ve brought your own weapon,” Nero nodded toward the rusty sword.

  Hadjar noticed a slight hint of mockery in his companion’s calm gaze.

  “The road was long, so I had to defend myself from bandits.”

  “Hmm... “ The young man said. “You mean they saw how poor you were and ran away immediately?”

  The Prince laughed.

  “No, they gave me some money and bread first,” Hadjar added, snorting.

  Nero chuckled, and then they both started laughing loudly, which annoyed the people around
them.

  “Where are you from?” Nero asked, putting the pipe back in his pocket.

  “From a village. It’s about a month away on foot. And you?”

  “I’m a local,” Nero waved his hand around. “From Spring Town.”

  Hadjar looked at the parade ground. Another group of people who wanted to try out was being gathered there. According to his more optimistic estimates, it would be at least another quarter of an hour before it was his turn.

  Some friendly banter would hopefully make the time fly by.

  “Have you run away from your bride?” Hadjar smirked, putting his pipe away as well.

  “I wouldn’t run away from my bride... I would...” Nero sighed dreamily. “By the way, who runs away from a woman? Women... No, Hadjar of the village, I haven’t run away from anyone.”

  “Why then do you want to join the army?”

  “My family’s making me,” Nero shrugged. “It’ what my kin do - serving.”

  “As part of the fighting forces?”

  “As an official. A low-ranking one, but an official. Some of my family work in the court, others in the port’s administration. Apparently, there wasn’t a civilian job available for me. And so they sent me to the army.”

  “Well, it’s always good when there’s a military officer in a family of officials. You always know who to bribe.”

  Nero squinted at him and smiled.

  “Did you say you were ‘from a village’? What kind of village do you come from, Hadjar, that you would think like that?”

  The Prince shrugged.

  “Well, I did travel for a month to get here. I’ve managed to learn all about the urban lifestyle.”

  They looked at each other and smiled again. Sometimes, you may feel like you’ve met a kindred spirit. You chat, laugh, part and then never remember that other person again. But while you’re talking to them, it seems like you’ve known this person your entire life and even longer than that.

  Such people are said to be connected by the ‘red thread’—the thread of fate woven around everything in this world, be it living or not.

  “Why do you want to join the army, Hadjar? Do you think that the army, like those bandits, will feed you for free?”

  “Not just feed me,” Hadjar corrected him, “but also dress me, give me a roof over my head and replace this sword.”

  Nero stretched his neck slightly and looked at the tents all around them. They were simple, one-person tents, and all of them were white. A few of the officers had more luxurious shelters, and some even had large enough tents that they had actual entrances.

  If one squinted, it was possible to spot the tents of the top commanders and the largest one, which belonged to the general.

  “I also heard that they have women of easy virtue on Fridays,” Nero smacked his lips.

  Hadjar laughed again.

  “Do you want to join the army because of your family or because of women?”

  “In this life, everything I do is because of women, my new friend. What is the point of living, if not for the sake of enjoying women? Their magnificent and firm breasts, their long legs, those wide hips, that satiny skin...”

  The young man licked his lips and made some girls, who were standing nearby, blush.

  Unlike the villages, the world, in general, wasn’t sexist. If a person was good enough at cultivating their martial arts, then their gender wasn’t important.

  “If you hold me, Hadjar of the village, you’ll be sleeping in not just a soft but also a warm bed.”

  They turned and looked at the ladies behind them. The girls blushed and almost growled in annoyance. “Bastard!”

  “Me or him?” Nero asked immediately. “I want to emphasize that my incomparable handsomeness is known throughout Spring Town.”

  “And I was the best catch in my village.”

  “That doesn’t matter, my new friend. Spring Town is much bigger than a village. Therefore, my good looks are more objective.”

  “But the girls are prettier in our village.”

  Nero clutched his chest.

  “The girls are more beautiful than the ones in Spring Town? You must take me to your homeland!”

  “I'm afraid you would end up stoned if you went there...”

  “So be it! Even the threat of such a cruel fate will not deter me! I must get to these fabulous creatures!”

  The ladies behind them were already reaching for the canes tied to their belts. They’d probably brought those canes with them to avoid feeling ‘inferior to the men’. Or maybe they just couldn’t manage without a cane...

  Hadjar shook off these thoughts. I’d best avoid that particular rabbit hole.

  “Hey, you two!” A soldier in black armor barked.

  Exhausted from the heat, he was trying with all his might to move the breastplate away from his body and looked silly doing it.

  “Go to the parade ground! Damn, why is it so hot…”

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Hadjar,” Nero extended his hand.

  “You too,” Hadjar shook it.

  Then they went in different directions.

  There were too many people interested in joining the army, so the parade ground had been divided into four parts. In each of them, separate groups took the same tests. Hadjar went up to the table where four people who looked like Scholars were sitting.

  Just ‘looked like’, mind you, because compared to South Wind, they were ordinary quacks. They had big bellies, shifty eyes, and fat fingers. The Scholars showed Hajjar the large skull of some creature.

  “Put your hand in there,” one of them said. “If it doesn’t bite your hand off, your age and stage are suitable.”

  “What are the requirements?” Hadjar asked, to make sure.

  In all honesty, he was simply stalling for time, because he wasn’t sure how the skull might react to his neural network.

  “To become a private, you should be no lower than the sixth stage of the Bodily Nodes. And under the age of eighteen.”

  “How do you check that?”

  The Scholar was about to answer when his colleague interrupted him.

  “Peasant! Don’t delay the queue! And you! Put your stinking stump in the skull or get out of here.”

  Hadjar shrugged and put his hand inside the mouth of it, feeling a small, cold, stone sphere in there.

  “The Bodily Rivers, the first stage. The age is under eighteen.” The third and most sensible of the Scholars wrote this down in a huge scroll immediately. “Name?”

  “Hadjar.”

  “Full name?”

  “Hadjar… Traves.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Hadjar,” the Scholar made his well-rehearsed speech in a bored tone. “Your level of cultivation allows you to take an officer’s exam. It’s much more complicated than a private’s exam, but your salary will be higher and the conditions will be... better. You’ll start with a low rank—junior lieutenant. Of course, you won’t have anyone to command straight away.”

  “And if I fail?”

  “Then you’ll be a private.”

  Apparently, he wouldn’t lose anything if he tried to become an officer.

  “I accept,” Hadjar answered without hesitation.

  Chapter 31

  “Then I’ll administer the first part of your exam. If you pass, I’ll tell you where you should go next. Agreed?”

  Hadjar nodded.

  “In that case, draw the hieroglyphs for ‘house’, ‘sword’ and ‘light’ in the air.”

  Apparently, this was how they’d test his literacy. Hadjar drew the required hieroglyphs immediately. Even without the neuronet and its database, he was still a literate man. Well, as far as anyone can be a ‘man’ with a dragon’s heart beating in his chest.

  That’s why Hadjar had chosen the dragon’s name as his surname...

  “Tell me, what herb should I apply to a wound to ensure a speedy recovery?”

  He wanted to answer ‘plantain’ at first, but that didn’t
exist in this world.

  “A leaf from the Yellow tree dipped in water.”

  “How much will I have to pay back if I take out a loan from the moneylender at twenty percent interest?”

  What a stupid trap. Nevertheless, the Scholars smiled, enjoying the free show. After all, what they saw wasn’t the Prince of Lidus, but an ordinary boy from some backwoods village, with a rusty sword as his greatest treasure. And, admittedly, with a decent level of cultivation considering where he’d come from.

  He’d probably been lucky enough to stumble upon some rare plant or some other means of getting so far.

  “How much would you borrow?”

  “One gold coin.”

  “In that case, you’d need to repay one gold and twenty silver coins.”

  The Scholar nodded, wrote something down in the scroll and pointed toward the path leading to another parade ground. There was no queue there since it was five times bigger.

  “Take this,” the Scholar held out a wooden plate with his name and ‘signature’ on it. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you,” Hadjar nodded again.

  Moving away from the table, the young man turned around. He saw a profusely sweating Nero holding a huge tub. Its weight was obviously more than one hundred pounds. Clenching his teeth, he straightened his legs and held the tub in the air for almost ten seconds, and then threw it back on the ground. The officer overseeing the exam roared something and Nero went to another section—some people had been paired up and were already fighting there.

  Judging by his shrewd gaze, Nero was trying to join the queue in a spot that ensured he’d be fighting a woman, not a man.

  Hadjar wished his new friend good luck.

  Bypassing several tents, Hadjar approached the huge parade ground.

  He was stopped by an officer in fairly standard metal armor, without any patterns or silly frills like the armor of ordinary privates had. The quality of the armor was also much higher.

  “The seal,” he extended his hand.

  Hadjar handed him the plate.