The village had about five warriors total.
First there was me—and I had a bit of confidence in my personal combat skills. The rest were men, headed up by the village chief’s stepson, Gimul. All the rest were total amateurs, even if they did carry swords.
“When you say warriors…you mean these men?” I asked Gimul.
“That’s right.”
“Have they been through serious training here in the village?”
“Nope.”
“And you want me to teach them how to use a sword?”
“Yes.”
“There aren’t a few heartier men among the farmers?”
“No.”
“I actually think hunters, or maybe people used to doing odd jobs, could be honed into decent warriors.”
“No.”
This goddamn guy. No matter how carefully I worded my suggestions, I received flat, one-word answers.
The young men gathered there were all the sons of wealthy families in the village, and since they’d been born to riches, they were utterly incapable of actual farm work. They were warriors in name only. No guts, no physical strength. But they were part of the village leadership, so these scrawny, primping nobles were allowed to carry swords.
Gimul was more solidly built than most people, but he relied on his brute strength to wield a sword. Even he didn’t compare to the military-trained village chief.
I did my best.
“Why don’t you move the way I tell you to, worms? You have to throw your entire body at these straw dummies if you ever want to hit someone with your sword! I told you, you can’t just flail your arms around!”
Since they were rank amateurs, I had to start by teaching them how to hold their swords and do practice swings. I thought they were getting used to handling their weapons, but then they started timidly jabbing at the straw dummies. Not a single one of them managed to land a solid blow. Not one.
I was speechless.
I kept working with them, but I couldn’t help wondering if Shooter had really come from this village. If the villagers had gotten training from him, I would have expected at least some of them to be better at handling a sword.
“You’re talking about Shooter?” one of them panted. “We found him wandering around the forest. He was lost. He’s actually the descendant of a tribe that glorifies nudity. He only got here recently.”
“I see. So as strong as Shooter is, he hasn’t had any time to teach these worthless rich boys.”
“Right.”
“Are you lumping me in with the worthless rich boys?” Gimul muttered.
I ignored him. I was following the village chief’s orders to provide warrior training, but I had absolutely no idea when these guys would ever become serviceable.
They were young, and all were the sons of wealthy farmers, so I might have considered them as husbands, but not a single one of them appealed to me.
Dyson didn’t have as much personal combat experience as I did, so he was in charge of the physical-fitness training side of things. But we alternated teaching days with bodyguard duty, and today was his day.
To be perfectly honest, I think being in charge of the bodybuilding training was easier. The types of people who want to be adventurers or mercenaries have specific goals in mind, like getting rich or making a name for themselves, and that makes them dedicated. But this group of guys could be haughty decision-makers in the village without having to lift a finger. In a few years, they would simply hand the role of warrior off to some other kids. I didn’t know what the village chief was thinking by providing physical training and making them learn to use a sword, but at least it was a way to kill time.
Shooter could’ve taken on all these guys at once and still beat them.
One day I caught sight of sunlight reflecting off a bald head and realized Dyson was approaching. He was so huge that I could see him even far away. He was escorting the village chief to come check on us.
“Looks like you’re doing good things here, Electra,” she observed.
“Thank you, ma’am. As you ordered, I’m teaching them how to handle a sword, but I’m not sure they’re actually learning anything. They’re as weak-kneed as ever and they still get out of breath taking just one lap around the pasture.”
I’d established myself in the village well enough to feel comfortable talking this way to the village chief. But when she sent Dyson on to inspect the clay mine and forge, he moved away behind her then covertly shot me a resigned look, as if to say that it was no use to complain.
“That’s good enough. As long as they can put on a show. The villagers are watching, after all. Since we live out on the frontier, we need to take in immigrants from time to time. That can lead to some disagreements between the old and new residents, so it’s a good idea for these boys to learn a little swordplay.”
“How have you handled things up ’til now?”
“I’ve been able to lead a village this size well enough on my own. There was an epidemic here ten years ago, so we weren’t able to attract many new settlers at that time. We focused on managing the territory instead. It takes money to expand territory, and we didn’t have the resources to take people in. But now, we’re growing.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Here, let me see one of those swords,” the village chief said with a smile. She drew closer and snatched up a sword from one of the young village elites, who had been driven to his knees in one of the exercises. She stepped smoothly over to stand before one of the straw dummies.
“Now watch closely, boys. This is how you use a sword!”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the village chief swung herself into a wide-legged stance and instantly lunged forward despite the dress she wore, her body taut with power. Her fluid movements were as magnificent as you would expect from a woman trained in the king’s army. She slashed the target, then rapidly pulled the sword back and jabbed out again with a quick follow-up.
She sliced right through the straw dummy’s abdomen, so she had to thrust the sword back through the top half of the dummy as it tumbled toward the ground.
Dyson and I just gaped for a moment. Then we lavished our admiration on her as she withdrew her sword.
“Whoaaa! You’re amazing, ma’am!”
“You’re much better with a sword than me!”
“What, that? Ha! That was nothing.”
The village’s warriors were useless and timid, but this wasn’t just any remote outpost on the borderlands! They had Shooter, they had Nishka, and they had…her. Hot damn.
“I haven’t practiced in a long time,” she mused. “I suppose it was all right. I’m better with a spear, but of course, I sold off the magic spear the king awarded me.” The village chief said it quite casually, but that was anything but expected.
The village chief turned and walked away from us. Once she’d left, one of the young elites said, “Our village chief is something else.”
That set Gimul to bragging about her. “Would you expect anything less? If you ever oppose my stepmother, she’ll do what she did to that dummy to you.”
I no longer understood why the village chief had ordered me to play at being a soldier like this. Some piece of the puzzle was missing. Maybe…did she want to kick up a war with the neighboring villages?