Second Wind and Action Surge

That afternoon, Aaron sat with Lucian in the Banneret's office. Lucian made his new apprentice a steaming cup of coffee. "Drink up. Tomorrow, you start training with the recruits."

"Recruits?" Aaron sat on a soft, comfortable sofa. He had drunk quite a bit at lunch and felt a little dizzy, but excited too.

"Yes. By decree of the Princess Regent, the Purple Dragons will train two groups of knight recruits each year for the next two years. The first group is recruited before spring, and trains until the end of the autumn harvest—six or seven months, give or take. They're mostly prospective knights recommended by minor nobles, knights, churches, craftsmen, estate owners, or wealthy merchants. Disma is one of them. He's still a squire without even a knightly title. Only by passing the assessment can they become knights and earn that title."

"Which means they become nobles. Minor nobles."

Lucian sat behind his desk, coffee in hand. "The second group consists mainly of career soldiers who already hold knightly titles, or children of great nobles like you. Whether you pass the assessment or not, you already have a knightly title or a noble rank. They join a little later, after overseeing the spring planting, and take their assessment at the autumn harvest as well."

"The two groups come from different worlds. For the first, this is their only chance to enter the nobility—the only chance they'll ever have. As for the second... most children of great nobles have gone through this training."

"So I was supposed to join the second group, but now I'm in the first?" Aaron understood. "No wonder so many recruits I saw today came from outside Suzail."

"If that's what the Princess Regent wants, we can only accept it." Lucian nodded. "The good news, Aaron, is that Manuel gave you at least the most basic training. The bad news is that we can't run a separate class just for you. You'll have to train with the first group. You're joining them partway through."

"I'm fine with that," Aaron said.

"Good." Aaron had adapted so readily, and had already fought Disma to a draw that day, that Lucian found himself with little more to say. The Banneret settled on a new topic. "You've met the other two squires I train. What do you think of your fellow apprentices?"

"...There's something I've been wondering about, mentor. Ian..." Under Lucian's stern gaze, Aaron corrected himself. "Why did the Grand Inspector say you were opening an orphanage?"

"..." The Banneret's expression dimmed. He stroked his beard, and Aaron caught a glimpse of weariness beneath the image of the strong hero in his prime. "Reynard Grosskreutz was my first squire. My first apprentice. His father was the renowned Kevin Grosskreutz."

"Kevin Grosskreutz, nicknamed Big Cross, was an outstanding Paladin. His mother was a beautiful young lady. They were such a wonderful couple once. Everyone envied their marriage."

"But it didn't last. I don't know why such a close couple divorced in the end. Kevin left Reynard with me when he was still young and asked me to look after him. Reynard's mother took her own life not long afterward. From that day on, Kevin threw himself into every battle without fear of death. He finally fell while pursuing the Zhentarim. Reynard became an orphan."

"...I've met Reynard. He's like a little sun." Aaron looked away, his gaze settling on a portrait on the wall. In it, Lucian held a child in each arm: Reynard and Disma, both around ten years old. "What about Disma?"

"I found Disma abandoned beside the Dragonmere." Lucian smiled at the memory. "I don't know what came over me that day. I just wanted to take a walk by the water. Then I saw a baby among the beach vines, still wrapped in swaddling clothes and crying. I carried him along the shore for hours, looking for someone, but found no one. So I brought him back to the Purple Dragons and named him Disma. It means 'robber.' Maybe I was one, after all—I stole the boy."

"He certainly acts like a robber. What a temper." Aaron understood now, and did not hold back. "He doesn't even have a surname, yet he dared pull the trigger on a Viscount? It's only because he's your adopted son. Someone else might well have gone after him afterward."

"Disma has long been strong enough to pass the knight's assessment." Lucian looked troubled. "He's only half an adopted son to me, but he refuses to take my surname, Bachmann... That's a small matter. His strength has been enough for years, but he can never control his temper, and he won't learn a knight's manners. He's like those beach vines by the Dragonmere—wild and unruly by nature."

"I don't know what will become of him if he carries on like this. I can feel it. His hunger for battle, for martial skill, outweighs everything else. To him, rules and order are nothing but hindrances..." Lucian trailed off.

Before Aaron could answer, hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor.

"You rotten old man! You're telling someone else bad things about me again!"

Bang! The door flew open. Disma stood there, red-faced with anger. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking about me to everyone?!"

Whoosh! Lucian snatched up the board weighing down the parchment on his desk and hurled it. It struck Disma square in the head, dropping the "robber" in a single blow.

“He's your junior apprentice! I have a duty to tell him about his senior!” the Knight mentor roared.

"And how many times have I told you? In the Purple Dragons' fortress, address me by my rank!"

Early the next morning.

Aaron stood with a group of recruits on the broad training ground. A swordmaster had arranged them in a semicircle to hear him speak.

The spring sunshine was pleasant. Aaron had handed yesterday's ruined clothes to the Purple Dragons' support staff for repair and changed into standard training gear. Layers of coarse linen, stitched together into something like padded armor, covered the vulnerable parts of his body from shoulders to knees. It looked almost impossible to wear through.

Everyone had a wooden longsword. The deep scratches and notches in the blades suggested they might snap at any moment.

Aaron noticed that his fellow recruits were all brimming with determination. He was the one who seemed out of place.

There were nearly twenty of them. As the first group, almost all were sons of mid- to high-ranking officials, ordinary knights, master craftsmen, senior Clerics, wealthy merchants, estate owners or stewards, and prosperous independent farmers.

They had come along at the right time. The Time of Troubles and the Goblin War had inflicted unimaginable losses on the kingdom. Azoun IV had fallen, and half the Purple Dragons' positions stood vacant.

The Princess Regent, Alusair, had issued a decree calling for Knight recruits throughout the country. As a result, these “lower-city dirt farmers,” as Ian called them, had gained a precious opportunity.

Cormyr, having endured the Time of Troubles and the Goblin Wars, now had a population of just 1.3 million—half what it had been at the height of Azoun IV's reign.

Cormyr should have had 6,000 people holding knightly titles, but fewer than 4,000 actually held them now. The Purple Dragons should theoretically have had 500 to 600 full knights on their rolls. At present, they had only 300.

This was a rare chance to rise! It had every “dirt farmer” in the kingdom—Ian's words—eager to try!

The door to a higher social standing had, for once, opened to everyone in the kingdom wealthy enough to train full-time!

In Cormyr, anyone seeking a title of baronet or higher had to have noble blood. Such titles were therefore exceedingly hard to obtain. A knightly title, however, could be granted to any commoner, even a foreigner, as a mark of minor nobility.

But that was not an absolute rule. Aaron knew, for example, of a tract called the Rocklands north of Arabel and east of Tifanton. It covered roughly 250,000 acres of sand, desert, and hills. The Princess Regent had issued a special decree concerning it: any adventurer, whether from Cormyr or abroad, who conquered the land would receive the hereditary title of Great Baron of the Rocklands from the Crown.

Yet no one wanted to attempt it.

The Rocklands were home to tens of thousands of Orcs, dozens of Gnoll tribes, great bands of human outlaws, an outpost of the notorious Zhentarim, and darker things hidden beneath the dunes.

The Crown made a similar offer for the Moonsea region to the north. Conquer it, establish a stronghold, withstand tens of thousands of attacks, and gain recognition from neighboring powers, and the Crown would gladly bestow a title of high nobility.

But adventurers were no fools. Most people had only one life.

A noble title was a rich reward, but only if you lived to claim it!

Now almost everyone present—everyone but Aaron—had a chance to earn a knightly title and join the kingdom's minor nobility. How could they not be excited? Their eyes shone with dazzling light: the light of hope, ambition, and dreams.

Aaron noticed that all nearly twenty squires present were men. There was not a single woman among them.

That did not seem to fit a world with so many powerful women. As far as Aaron knew, women made up a fifth of the Purple Dragons' knights.

On second thought, it made sense to him. Human men had an innate advantage in strength and endurance. For families of minor nobles or wealthy townspeople who could afford to support one or two recruits training full-time, sons were the obvious first choice.

The Purple Dragons most readily accepted Fighters, Rangers, and Paladins. In special circumstances, they also took a few Rogues, Bards, and Clerics. Barbarians, too free-spirited and unwilling to obey discipline, were turned away. The same went for Druids and Monks, whose chosen paths of faith placed their own natural laws above the order's rules.

Mages? Sorcerers? They generally became apprentices with the War Wizards. They did not come to train with the Purple Dragon Knights.

The Purple Dragon Knights also had requirements concerning alignment. They generally accepted only four: lawful good, lawful neutral, neutral good, and true neutral.

Aaron had taken the test too. According to the Paladin who examined him, his current alignment was neutral good.

Interesting. Aaron remembered testing as lawful good the first time.

It seemed the awakening of his memories and what had happened since had begun to shift his alignment.

One thing was worth remembering: in the Realms, a person's alignment did not dictate the choices they made. The choices they made and the things they did determined their alignment.

"Recruits!" The knight instructor appeared, wooden sword in hand. He looked about thirty-six or thirty-seven, with deep-set blue eyes, a broad forehead creased by three deep horizontal lines, a high-bridged nose, a thin mustache, and black hair cut close to the scalp. "Stand straight!"

"I'm Instructor Simoni. For some of you, I'll also be a fellow Knight one day. Yes, some of you. The rest will soon fail the assessment, pack up, and go home!" Simoni slapped his wooden sword against his palm. "So while you're still recruits, you'd better call me Instructor. When autumn comes, those of you who pass can call me brother. Understood?"

"Understood!"

"No spirit! Is that how you've come to recruit training? And what do you call me?!"

"Understood, Instructor!!!"

"Good! That's the spirit!" Simoni paced before the recruits. "I'm glad to see you here. You are Cormyr's recruits, the future of the Purple Dragon Kingdom!"

"I can see your desire to serve the kingdom. In many of your eyes, I see ambition—bigger, bolder, stronger ambition. Good. Without ambition, you won't strive to improve, and without it, you won't make it through recruit training!"

"You all know these are extraordinary times. The kingdom needs you as never before. That's why you're here, and I welcome you."

"I know some of you have had basic training. Some have dealt with trouble near your villages. One of you has even killed an Owlbear single-handedly. You may be heroes in your villages, kings of your streets, but... none of you are qualified recruits yet. I can't put the kingdom's future in your hands."

"So today, you'll begin your first lesson: mastering the two most basic combat abilities of an apprentice Fighter."

"Second Wind and Action Surge!"

Simoni clapped his hands, signaling everyone to watch.

"Unfortunately, apart from one recruit who joined this class late, every one of you here today is a Fighter. None of you can cast spells. What lets you defeat your enemies is the iron in your hands and the blood in your veins!"

"But being a Fighter doesn't mean you can never benefit from magic. In the Realms, every stone, every straw, every passing breeze contains magic."

"Your bodies contain magic too. Through extensive training and repeated muscle memory, Fighters can awaken the potential within their bodies, draw that magic into themselves, and use its power."

"That is what Second Wind and Action Surge are. The first lets you summon your body's reserves to heal wounds in a short time. The second lets you push past your physical limits and attack again in the same instant."

"Now watch my demonstration, then start practicing!"

Simoni demonstrated both abilities. He cut his palm, then used Second Wind to close the wound in an instant. He attacked a straw dummy with his wooden sword, lifting it off the ground. Even after the force of his swing was spent, he somehow delivered another blow, defying the mechanics of the human body and sending the dummy flying.

He then taught them the finer points of driving force through the arms, controlling it within the body, and releasing it through focus of mind.

For most recruits, the training was grueling. Fighters were not spellcasters; they could not sense magic. Only through hundreds or thousands of repetitions could they build the muscle memory needed to awaken the energy within them and gain these two abilities.

There was one exception.

Just one minute after Simoni finished demonstrating the two abilities, Aaron raised his hand.

"Instructor, I've mastered them."

"..."

Updates will stay steady for now. I've been watching matches these past few days, so my schedule is a bit irregular.

(End of chapter)