"You, alright, Chi?" Ishi asked, "Dad still running your training like a ten-day graft every day?"
She nodded, "I heard you've seen combat. What's it like?"
Ishi's smile went flat. "It's gonna be a lot for you." She squeezed Chimi's hand, "I'm here for you, though. Every step of the way. You talk to Asher?"
"Yes," she said, "He's... not upset?"
"Nobody knew you were that cursed," she said, "'Sides, means I get to have you all to myself."
"Taboo," Chimi said.
"Eyes focused, girls." Poole said, "Chimi, time to get in with your fellows."
Poole got salutes and cheers from the men at work, nods and smirks of approval from the women as he passed with Chimi and Ishi behind him. Chimi, still somewhat ecstatic about her situation, fidgeted and shared smiles with Ishi that the girl did not return.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
Poole cleared his throat as they returned to the barracks, "You'll understand when we're out there," he said.
The Soldiers of Emmerlaine waited at the gates, adorned in the finest gambeson in the land, steel helms and steel-tipped spears crafted by the fine forge masters.
"Attention!" Poole bellowed, "Salute!"
The soldiers, as one, formed up in a single unit and saluted, "Training for Chimi has been done by her father."
The soldiers laughed in solidarity, "Chimi will join training unit five under my watch, we'll keep to the hunting trails. Keep her safe, fellows, and Chimi, keep your fellows safe."
"My soul for Emmerlaine," she saluted. Left fist on her heart, right open palm on her forehead.
Another Platoon captain approached with her weapons, a spear, a kite shield with an axe and a broadsword. She looked up at his scarred face, Hammond. Marked by green eyes sharp enough to pierce stone.
"It'll look good on you, child," he said gruffly, "Make your father proud, prove your worth, daughter of broken prophecy."
Poole went to speak, but she spoke before him.
"I cannot apologise for Ravalel's betrayal, but my birth must mean something." She clenched the spear, "I will find what it means, or die so that the next child can." She girded herself.
Hammond studied her for a brief moment before he marched away.
"You speak well," Poole said.
"She always had fire honey on the tongue." Ishi agreed.
The war horn sounded from behind, "Embers of Emmerlaine, prepare for patrol!" Father called from behind.
Chimi sped herself into her unit at the back between Gail, daughter of Hammond and Frankie, son of Al. She was sure that was them, yes. It was them. She took a deep breath as the unit turned, the practice drills lined up, but she still felt a hint of awkwardness in her movements. A beat too slow, a motion too quick... she should've asked dad for more formal training with more units instead of his sheltering-- she appreciated his care. She clenched her fists.
The logistics troupe handed out packs of food to every soldier, and she noticed hers was slightly smaller than the rest. Father's eyes darted to the man, but she shook her head and smiled at him, he wouldn't be able to say no to her. He returned his focus to giving captains their orders.
"Relax or you'll get us killed." Natalie whispered venom.
"Sorry." she whispered back meekly.
Each of the captains took their units behind them on horseback, she marched with platoon five out of the gates and onto the snowy path. The trees were marked with different slashes and strokes of knives. They broke off to the south. Her feet already feeling the soreness twenty minutes in, she huffed and stomached the discomfort. Sweaty armour, her brow bristles with cold sweat and cloak tugged at her when the wind picked up. She tied it down with the belt.
The march across the wood flats led to roots broken under foot by purposeful stomps or trips from other soldiers as new as she was with the veterans behind lending assists. Chimi tripped twice until they reached a break around an icy lake after an hour where Poole called for a stop. The sound of another march approaching brought the fourth platoon into her view salutes were given and Poole went over with a few veterans of her unit, Blake, Gibson, Lloyd and Mell to discuss. She saw the crew take off their helmets to relax and she did the same, albeit, a divide was clear between her and the rest who remained.
For comfort, she focused on the matters of today. She was on the field, she had magical potential which means she could be a variant in combat. Things were on the move forward, she took a nice breath of the fresh icy air. The trees towered toward the sky, maybe high as the clouds. Her weapons were real, real steel and wood.
That's right, like father said. Get in the zone, stay in the zone. she took a knee and focused herself, the march, the rush of heated flow training. A breath. But she couldn't feel like she was in the right place, too cold, too slow, too warm and too sweaty. She wasn't in the brunt of the march yet, hadn't even been a tenth of a graft.
"Attention!" Poole bellowed, "March north west, fae presence confirmed, we are en route to engage!
"The glory." she whispered.
"Arse up, Chichi." Natalie said, "Earn your scraps."
"Natalie." Harrison snapped at her.
She bit her tongue and put her helmet on, did up the straps and gripped hear spear and shield. The platoon got into formation, she tried to get in but her spot was taken and she was left at the back where veterans looked at her in confusion.
"You can stay here," someone beside her said, "But you get your arse back in line up with your siblings."
"Yes, sir."
"Damn oathbreaker." he growled.
The march across the forest had her stub a toe twice and nearly trip over roots tugged upwards. A few veterans muttered curses until one of them piped up.
"Hey, you crowhead public twat boxies, if you don't stop fucking with the roots we'll have a real problem, alright!?"
Mutters of apologies followed from the rookies up ahead.
The march continued in silence, in the corner of her eye, she saw something odd and turned to see a faint shadow loom over the snow about half a mile up. "On the right, sir, what's that?"
"Stop talking, boxie-"
"No, what is it?" she insisted.
He grumbled and looked to the right, "What the f- PREPARE FOR COMBAT! LESHII ON APPROACH AT THREE O'CLOCK!"
She fell in line as the hedgehog shell formation came into place. She wanted to step back but found herself pushed to the head by her new fellows as the veterans had their designated spots. She took a glance behind to see that Dante had shoved her ahead and sneered before she could speak. Women with her frame at the front? Sure, she was well-trained and had some muscle on her... but... she audibly swallowed her fear. The shadow's head took the form of corrupted trees that shambled toward them at running speed. A branch about twenty metres in length came up and whipped against their shields. She felt the wind eject from her lungs with the shock of impact; her legs trembled.
Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold the line. The world seemed to come back into focus; she heard Poole's shouts.
Arrows and javelins flew through the air and pierced the targets. She felt the distortion in the air with discharge and surges of magic when flames erupted from the javelins that pierced the Leshii.
"INCOMING!" the soldiers on the frontline shouted.
She braced for another impact from a branch. The smack knocked some wind out of her, and her legs felt better. They started to pull back slowly as spells wove and gouts of fire consumed the daemonic trees. More whips and more thrashed against their shields, she managed to tug down the eyeshield of her helmet when she noticed that the others did it in time for splinters to bounce off, so they didn't blind her. She felt soaked in sweat, but the roar of fire in her gut from the exhilaration, something primal. Hereditary in her Emmerlaine blood. A clean fight.
Embers of flames still burned in the trees that barely moved. She kept her shield up, then lowered it once everyone else did.
"Form up, continue the march!"
She managed to get herself back into formation. Dante stuck out a leg to trip her up, but she stepped over it.
"March!"
The thunder of boots continued against the snowed woods; hers felt a bit clumsy. The sweat made her skin bristle. She wanted to strip and air herself out. She'd get used to it, surely with the marches. Her feet started to hurt a small bit, her arms felt like they were on fire, like after she'd just beaten father for the first time.