Strength
???
Dexterity
???
Physique
???
Energy points
???
The senior officer was much stronger than his new subordinate, so it wasn’t possible to ‘scan’ him. Hadjar didn't exactly look presentable. Thanks to the General, he was covered in bruises and cuts. He limped along, leaning heavily on his sword, which served as a makeshift crutch.
“Go to the warehouse and leave your toothpick there,” the officer’s voice was quiet and even slightly high-pitched, despite the man’s mighty appearance.
“Yes, sir, senior officer Dogar.”
“Just sir will do.”
They left the main camp area and headed toward the outskirts. There wasn't even a parade ground there. Just lots of tents and marquees, standing in the high, uncut grass. It looked like a backwater village or some sort of ‘refuge for exiles’. But, nevertheless, Hadjar could feel the unique military atmosphere of the place, one that he hadn’t been able to sense in the main camp.
It had seemed to Hadjar, back at the main camp, that he had not come to an army camp, but to an ordinary tent city. The only difference was that the people had worn armor instead of clothes, nothing else.
“Here’s your tent,” Dogar pointed to a tent in the center of the area. It was spacious enough to accommodate several people. He stood next to the bigger one that was right next to Hadjar’s own tent. “You’re my new assistant, so we’ll live near each other.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dogar turned to Hadjar for the first time. He appraised him coolly, then pointed his finger at his subordinate’s chest. The newly instated officer of the Royal army swayed from the force of the accidental poke but did not fall over.
“You’re fragile,” Dogar could hardly stop himself from spitting the words out. “I watched your fight. Your speed and reaction time are great, but you have the body of a frail little girl.”
Hadjar didn’t argue or try to prove anything because he felt that the officer was telling the truth.
“Well, since you're my assistant, you’ll train ten times harder than my other subordinates. Any objections?”
“No, sir.”
“I'll send you to the healer afterward. You’ll sleep all night, and you’ll come to training in the morning. If you come to training lame, with a runny nose or a headache—I’ll kill you and then tell everybody that you attempted to desert the army. Any objections?”
“No, sir,” Hadjar repeated.
Dogar stood there for a short time, towering over Hadjar like a mountain, and then nodded. He took Hadjar to one of the most spacious tents in the whole camp—the Healer’s tent. The Prince counted all the tents on the way over—there weren’t many of them—approximately enough for a thousand people. In all honesty, it was a very small camp.
In an army of several million soldiers, a tithe, which had ten thousand soldiers, was considered the smallest unit. This camp was like a tithe that had been formed from a tithe. What does the General use Dogar and his people for?
The healer was a quite pleasant man of indeterminate age.
He had Hadjar lie down on a foldable bed. There were about three dozen of them in the tent. The tent itself was full of pained groaning, howling and bandaged bodies resting on each of the beds.
“Was the battle fought recently?” Hadjar asked while the healer was coating his wounds in an ointment.
“The battle?” the scholar was distracted for a moment, looked around, and then smiled. “Oh, no. This was just training.”
Training? This is how they look after training! What did they do to end up like this?
“I heard about your fight.”
Hadjar’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Just some rumors,” the healer explained. “Half of the camp is talking about the hick swordsman who beat adjutant Colin. But don’t get a big head. There are plenty of great swordsmen in the army. There is a great number of those who are ‘One with something’ too. I want you to keep this in mind—a girl came here at the beginning of the last month. She was at the ‘One with the World’ level of swordsmanship. She defeated four senior officers like they were helpless kittens.”
Hadjar blinked a couple of times and leaned back against his pillow. Every time he felt like he had made a little progress on the path of cultivation, it turned out that the world was much more complicated than he’d previously thought. To reach ‘One with the World’ before the age of eighteen... Who was this monster in a skirt?
However, it wasn’t at all surprising to see such immense power in such a young practitioner. No wonder that the various sects, clans, Academies, and even the army, had introduced the age limit. Simply put, as somebody matured and aged, they were less likely to move on to the next stage.
If a practitioner hadn’t managed to reach the stage of the Heaven Soldier by the beginning of their third century of life, they would never reach it. The same law was also applied during the transition to other stages.
That was why the fastest and most active cultivation occurred in the early years of a practitioner’s life. It was also why the children of the Empire had stood out so much when compared to the children of the Lidus Kingdom.
The situation changed a little when Primus came to power. Now, once mythical Mortal Techniques had become quite commonplace. And not only those Techniques, either…
“Don't be angry at the General.” The doctor had a slightly rural accent that Hadjar found made him sound kind. He put aside the ointment and placed a green pill on a spoon for Hadjar to consume. It tasted vile, but the pain gradually faded away. “She saved your life.”
“No, she probably saved Colin’s life.”
“Don’t be silly, officer Hadjar. The adjutant had, after all, only been using power at the level of the Bodily Rivers against you. Do you really think he would’ve followed the General's orders in the face of death?”
Perhaps he wouldn’t have. But Hadjar was still sure that he would have cut off his head before Colin could’ve used all his strength.
“Besides, even if you’d killed him, you wouldn't have been prosecuted. His father is very dangerous. The laws mean nothing to him. I'd be willing to bet my soul on it—you wouldn't have woken up tomorrow morning, after killing him. And that’s the best case scenario. At worst, you'd have spent the rest of your life in his torture chambers. And trust me, the torture chambers of General Larvie are known throughout the Prefecture.”
Hadjar understood that there was at least a grain of truth in the words he’d just heard, but it was still a hard pill to swallow.
“Moreover, Dogar’s group is a punishment only for the weak of spirit and the weak of body,” the healer continued. “For people like you, however, there's no better place in the whole army. You’ll see for yourself, in time.”
Hadjar looked at all the wounded, groaning men around him... He wasn’t quite sure he could agree with that.
“Drink this,” the doctor ordered and held out a wooden mug with a sweet-smelling, scarlet drink inside.
[Object: unknown. Properties: unknown. Initiating analysis... Visual data is not enough to complete analysis. Analysis process has been halted.]
“What is this?”
“Definitely not poison. It is a mixture of berries and sleeping pills, designed to help someone sleep soundly and restfully.”
Hadjar sniffed it and didn’t detect any toxins... He scanned the drink with his neural network one more time. Just for sure.
There was nothing dangerous in it.
Nothing that his extensive database of the smells, colors, and textures of various poisons and other nasty things could detect, anyway.
Hadjar thought the taste of the drink was quite pleasant as he chugged the entire mug. A minute later, he was sleeping peacefully, wrapped in a blanket the healer had brought. Cheap healing ointments always caused people to feel a bit cold.
Hadjar didn’t know that
he would soon get used to this feeling and to the company of the talkative healer.
Chapter 37
Hadjar woke up because he’d felt like someone was staring at him.
He opened his eyes and immediately reached behind the headboard, where he always kept his sword, but Hadjar’s grasping hand found only empty air.
“Good reflexes,” Dogar nodded.
The senior officer was standing next to Hadjar’s bed. With his arms crossed over his powerful, naked chest, he looked even more like a bear than he had previously. He was covered in scars and black tattoos, with sinewy, steel hard muscles.
In addition to his military gloves, Dogar was wearing only a pair of pants made from high-quality leather and high boots that didn’t have hard soles. The soles had been replaced with several layers of the same leather the pants were made from.
Hadjar looked around—there was no one else besides them in the tent. The scarlet rays of the dawn were piercing through the cover that fluttered in the wind, acting as the door.
“Sir, I was sedated and…”
“I was informed,” the man interrupted him. “Otherwise, you wouldn't have woken up at all. You have twenty seconds to get ready, officer.”
It didn't take Hadjar twenty seconds. Ignoring the slight pain from his bruises and cuts, he managed to get ready in seven seconds. Dogar counted down loudly and demonstratively, playing with his huge muscles as he did so.
Hadjar didn’t know what stage this bear of a man was currently at, but he assumed that it was the Transformation stage, at least.
“You are slow,” Dogar shook his head. “But we'll correct that, too. Now, before training, I will conduct a brief inspection of our camp. As my assistant, you have to figure out the what, where and how of all the things that need to be done.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Leave that toothpick behind. My aide shouldn’t go around with a sword that I can bend with just two of my fingers.”
And, to demonstrate that he wasn’t exaggerating, Dogar really did pick up and fold the sword over using only two of his fingers. It was a good, solid sword, not an artifact, mind you, but suitable for battle. It was possible to strike armor with it without the blade getting any notches on it. And Dogar had bent it, just like that…
Hadjar was inspired. He understood that it was pointless to argue, not that he wanted to do so, and followed Dogar.
They came out of the empty medical tent and... Hadjar didn't see anyone.
Walking between the tents, Hadjar could hear snoring or sniffing from time to time. As far as he knew, the soldiers wouldn’t get up at the crack of dawn, and would instead start the day when the wake-up call was sounded, two hours after dawn
Consequently, a senior officer would be in charge of rousing them.
“What do you know about the army, Hadjar?”
Dogar walked in front, with his arms crossed behind his back. It looked as if a giant from legend was striding among mere mortals. He suppressed the will of all around him with just his appearance and even silenced the dogs tied to pegs around the camp. They lay down on their bellies and covered their ears with their paws, assuming the most submissive poses they could manage.
“In the army, they feed us several times a day and give us an opportunity to become stronger.”
The giant grunted.
“You're right. By the way, hold on to this.” Dogar took out a locket on a leather strap from his pocket and threw it over his shoulder. Hadjar caught it deftly.
“It's the army seal. The number on it will change after each of your achievements.”
On the front side of the medallion, in addition to the designation of their army, was a metallic character indicating ‘zero’ in that world. I wonder how a metal engraving can even change…
Damn it! Hadjar was still annoyed that the diary of South Wind had been ruined. He still didn't know anything about spells, although he had seen them used several times before.
They were somewhat disturbing and fascinating at the same time.
“What do these numbers track, sir?”
“Usually it just how many enemies you’ve killed in battle. For more, they show how much of a reward you’ve earned, but only the General can bestow it. And only with the approval of the War Council. So, rewards are rare around here. Well, if we raid the monsters in the woods, we can get a reward for slaying them, too.”
“Do you often go raiding around here, sir?”
Dogar turned back to look at Hadjar over his shoulder.
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
As soon as Hadjar began apologizing, the Bear laughed.
“It's a good trait in an assistant. My last assistant was so afraid of me that he was ready to swallow his own tongue as soon as I glanced at him. He was stronger than you and was at the first stage of the Bodily Rivers, but I like you more.”
Dogar was a surprisingly straightforward person, considering his rank.
“When there is no war on—there are raids. When there are no raids going on—there are exercises. You can also get Honor points during the exercises. That’s what they’re called, by the way. But I personally don’t find anything especially honorable in them, so I just call them ‘figures’.
“I understand, sir. Can I ask you one more question?”
“As many as you want, deputy. Your secondary task, after training, is to ask me as many questions as you can think of.”
Hadjar looked at the camp and at the carts and wagons already moving through the gates of Spring Town. He looked at the carts laden with countless bundles of spears, arrows, bows, and swords that could be seen in the southern part of the camp. Others were fully loaded with all sorts of provisions.
“Nomads or neighbors?”
Dogar laughed.
“You’re smart. However, what else can I expect from an ‘One with the Sword’ practitioner... Yes, they’re for the nomads. Last week, the War Council and the General decided that we would move north exactly one month from today.”
Dogar spoke in a rather odd way, but Hadjar had quickly gotten used to it.
So, a month from now, they would hit the road and be on their way to fight the nomads. It was earlier than Hadjar had anticipated, but it was still within reason. He should have a chance to carry out his plan.
He had to advance to at least the fifth or the sixth stage of the Bodily Rivers during this month. Otherwise, he would most likely end up killed and never get the chance to attend a Royal reception at the Palace.
Elaine…
Hadjar shrugged off the unwelcome thoughts. He needed to focus on the here and now if he hoped to have any success in the future.
“Now, Hadjar, if you don’t want to get stabbed, don’t make any unnecessary movements.”
They approached a distant, but enormous tent. It was much larger and more luxurious than the one where the General lived.
At the entrance stood...Imperial Legionnaires. They were soldiers clad in green armor. Hadjar felt the aura of the Transformation stage emanating from them. What sub-level? There were no sub-levels.
Unlike the Bodily Rivers and the Bodily Nodes stages, the stages that came after them had no divisions within themselves. But Hadjar knew almost nothing about them. South Wind hadn’t had the time to tell him the details.
“Senior officer Dogar,” the Bear introduced himself. “My new personal assistant, officer Hadjar, is with me.”
Full names were rarely used around here, almost never, in fact.
“Go on in,” one of the Legionnaires moved aside the curtain covering the entrance.
Dogar entered first and Hadjar followed after him. Only after he’d entered the spacious, bright rooms did he understand why the Imperials were here.
Many officers and even some ordinary soldiers sat inside, among the wooden shelves filled with a variety of scrolls. An old man was pacing in front of them, one whose type of aura Hadjar would never fail to recognize.
He was in the presence of a
Heaven Soldier once again. A creature that could destroy almost half of Dogar’s group with only one movement of his hand. But what was he doing here?!
“Senior officer Dogar,” the old man greeted him, extending his hand.
The Bear shook it, simultaneously nodding his head slightly. Apparently, this would do in place of a bow.
“Is this your assistant? I seem to recall that the previous ones never received such an honor.”
Before today, Hadjar had seen only two true cultivators in his life—Primus and the Governor. That’s why his impression of them, in general, wasn’t very nice. But this old man, with his long, gray beard and warm eyes, seemed to be quite pleasant. Hadjar just hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a ruse.
“I have a good feeling about this one.”
“Well,” the old man approached Hadjar. “Officer Hadjar, would you mind if I checked you?
“In what way?” He’d spoken without thinking. He immediately bowed. “I beg your pardon, venerable adept.”
“I’m just a librarian,” the old man smiled. “And nothing more. I lost my opportunity to move forward on the path of cultivation long ago, so now I live among the various works and books you see here. Maybe a young man like you wouldn’t consider it the most pleasant fate, but I'm not complaining. So, now that you know me better, will you let me know more about you? Otherwise, how can we find the right Technique for you?”
Hadjar looked at the interior of the tent once more. There were many officers and privates sitting at the tables. Sometimes they got distracted from reading the scrolls lying in front of them and would look in Hadjar’s direction, obviously curious.
“These are all. …”
“Techniques,” the old man nodded. “I presume officer Dogar has told you about the Honor points?”
“Yes, honorable adept.”
Hadjar could not call a Heaven Soldier something as mundane as ‘librarian.’
“In here, you can find all four types of Techniques,” the old man looked at his possessions almost lovingly. “From Techniques involving weapons to the Techniques of external energy.”
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