Second Wind and Action Surge

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

"Recruits?" Aaron sat on the 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 assessed after the autumn harvest, giving them roughly six or seven months. Most are prospective knights recommended by minor nobles, Knights, the Church, craftsmen, estate owners, or wealthy merchants. Disma is one of them. He's still a knight trainee without even a Knight's title. Only if they pass the assessment can they become Knights and receive the 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 a Knight's title, or children of great noble families like you. Whether you pass the assessment or not, you already have a title or rank. They join a little later, after overseeing the spring planting, and are assessed after the autumn harvest too."

"The two groups come from different worlds. For the first, it's their only chance to enter the nobility—the only chance they'll ever have. As for the second... most children of great noble families have taken this course."

"So I should have joined the second group, but I've ended up in the first?" Aaron understood now. "No wonder so many of the 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 at least gave you basic training. The bad news is that we can't run a separate course just for you. You'll have to train with the first group. You're joining them partway through."

"I have no problem with that," Aaron said.

"Good." Seeing how readily Aaron adapted, and remembering that he had fought Disma to a draw today, Lucian found himself with little else to say. So the Banneret raised another subject. "You've met the other two knight trainees under me. What do you think of your two brothers?"

"There is one thing I'd like to ask, mentor. Ian..." Aaron paused, then added under Lucian's stern gaze, "Why did the Grand Inspector say you were opening an orphanage?"

Lucian's expression dimmed. He stroked his beard, and Aaron glimpsed a trace of weariness beneath the strong, vigorous hero he knew. "Reynard Großkreutz was my first knight trainee. My first apprentice. His father was the renowned Kevin Großkreutz."

"Kevin Großkreutz, nicknamed 'Big Cross,' was an outstanding Paladin. Reynard's mother was a beautiful young woman. The two of them seemed so happy together, and their marriage was the envy of everyone."

"But it didn't last. I don't know why such a close couple chose to separate. Kevin entrusted young Reynard to me and asked me to take good care of him. Not long afterward, Reynard's mother took her own life. From that day on, Kevin charged to the front in every battle without fear of death. He finally died pursuing the Zhentarim, leaving Reynard 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's eyes filled with memory, and he smiled. "I don't know what came over me that day. I just wanted to walk along the shore. Then I saw a baby among the beach vines, crying in his swaddling clothes. 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 'bandit.' Perhaps I was a bandit myself, since I'd stolen the boy away."

"He certainly acts like one. What a temper." Aaron understood now. "No surname, yet he dared pull the trigger on a Viscount? He's lucky he's your adopted son. Anyone else might well have gone after him afterward."

"Disma has long been strong enough to pass the Knight assessment." Lucian sounded troubled. "He's only half an adopted son to me, but he refuses to take my surname, Bachmann... That's a small matter. He has the strength to pass, but he can never control his temper or bring himself to learn a Knight's manners. He's like those vines by the Dragonmere, wild and unruly by nature."

"I don't know what will become of him if he continues like this. I can feel that his hunger for battle and 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 talking about me behind my back again!"

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

Whoosh! Lucian snatched up the board he used to weigh down parchment and hurled it. It struck Disma squarely on the head, flooring the "bandit" in a single blow.

"He's your junior! It's my 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 among a group of recruits on a broad training ground. A swordmaster arranged them in a semicircle to listen to him.

The spring sunshine was pleasantly warm. Aaron had handed his torn clothes over to the Purple Dragons' support staff for repairs and changed into standard training gear. Layers of coarse linen were stitched together into something like padded armor, covering the vital areas from shoulder to knee. It was the sort of thing that could take a beating.

Each recruit held a wooden longsword. The deep scratches and chips suggested the weapons might snap at any moment.

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

There were nearly twenty of them. As members of the first group, almost all were sons of mid- or 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 Wars had dealt the kingdom unimaginable losses. Azoun IV had fallen, and half the positions in the Purple Dragons stood vacant.

Princess Regent Alusair had issued a decree calling for knight recruits across the country. As a result, even these "lower-city dirt farmers," as Ian called them, had been given a precious opportunity.

Cormyr's population now stood at just 1.3 million, half what it had been at the height of Azoun IV's reign.

Cormyr should have had 6,000 people bearing the title of Knight, but fewer than 4,000 held it now. The Purple Dragons should theoretically have had 500 to 600 active Knights. At present, they had only 300.

This was a rare chance to rise! It had every "dirt farmer" in the kingdom, as Ian would put it, eager to try!

For once, the door to a higher station stood open to everyone in the kingdom who could afford to leave ordinary work behind!

In Cormyr, anyone seeking a noble title of baronet or higher had to have great noble blood, making such titles exceedingly difficult to obtain. A Knight's title, however, could be granted to any commoner, including a foreigner, as a mark of lesser nobility.

There were exceptions. Aaron knew of one in the north of the kingdom, beyond Arabel and east of Tifanton. The Rocklands was a stretch of sand, desert, and hills covering roughly 250,000 acres. The Princess Regent had granted it a special charter: any adventurer, native or foreign, who conquered the land would receive the hereditary title of Great Baron of the Rocklands from the crown.

Yet no one wanted to do it.

Tens of thousands of Orcs occupied the Rocklands, along with dozens of Gnoll tribes, vast bands of human brigands, an outpost of the notorious Zhentarim, and many darker things hidden beneath the dunes.

Cormyr made a similar offer concerning the Moonsea to the north. Conquer it, establish a foothold, withstand thousands upon thousands of attacks, and win recognition from the surrounding powers, and the crown would not begrudge you a high noble title.

But adventurers were not fools. Most people had only one life.

The reward of a high noble title was generous, but you had to survive to claim it!

Now almost everyone present, apart from Aaron, had a chance to earn a Knight's title and join the kingdom's lesser nobility. How could they not be excited? Their eyes seemed to shine with hope, ambition, and dreams.

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

That did not fit with the many powerful women in the Realms. As far as Aaron knew, women made up a fifth of the Purple Dragons' Knights.

On second thought, he found it understandable. Human men had a natural advantage in strength and constitution, and families among the lesser nobility and wealthy townsfolk who could support only one or two recruits away from work would favor their sons.

The Purple Dragons welcomed Fighters, Rangers, and Paladins most of all. Under special circumstances, they also took a few Rogues, Bards, and Clerics. Barbarians, too free-spirited to obey discipline, were turned away. Druids and Monks were likewise ineligible: they followed their chosen paths and placed their own natural laws above the order's rules.

Mages? Sorcerers? They generally became apprentices with the War Wizards, not trainees with the Purple Dragons.

The Purple Dragons 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 a Paladin within the order, his current alignment was neutral good.

Interesting. Aaron remembered that he had tested as lawful good the first time.

It seemed the awakening of his memories and the events he had endured had begun to shift his alignment.

One thing was worth remembering: in the Realms, a person's alignment never dictated the choices they would make. Their choices and deeds determined their alignment.

"Recruits!" The Knight instructor appeared with a wooden sword in hand. He looked about thirty-six or thirty-seven, with deep-set blue eyes, three pronounced creases across his broad forehead, a high nose, a thin mustache, and black hair cut close to his scalp. "Stand straight!"

"I'm Instructor Simoni. For some of you, I'll one day be your brother in the order. Yes, only some of you, because some will soon fail the assessment, pack your bags, and go home!" Simoni tapped the wooden sword against his palm. "So while you're recruits, you'd best call me Instructor. If some of you pass the test come autumn, then you can call me brother. Understood?"

"Understood!"

"That was feeble! Is that how you came 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—great, powerful ambition. Good. Without ambition, you have no wish 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 alone. You might be heroes in your villages or kings of your streets, but... you are not yet qualified recruits. I cannot put the kingdom's future in your hands."

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

"Second Wind and Action Surge!"

Simoni clapped his hands, calling for everyone's attention.

"Unfortunately, apart from one recruit who joined us late, all of you here today are Fighters. You aren't spellcasters. What you have to 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 stalk of straw, and every breath of wind holds magic."

"Your bodies hold magic too. Through extensive training and repeated muscle memory, Fighters can awaken their potential, channel magic into their bodies, and put that power to use."

"That is Second Wind and Action Surge. The first lets you briefly draw on your reserves to heal your injuries. The second lets you push past your body's limits and attack again in quick succession."

"Now watch my demonstration, then start practicing!"

Simoni demonstrated both abilities. He cut his palm, then used Second Wind to heal the wound in an instant. He attacked a straw dummy with his wooden sword and knocked it upward. Just as the force of his strike ran out, he somehow followed with another blow that defied the mechanics of his body and sent the dummy flying.

He then taught them how to drive force through their arms, control the energy within their bodies, and release it through an act of will.

This training was grueling for most recruits. Fighters were not spellcasters; they could not sense magic. Only by practicing hundreds or thousands of times could they build the muscle memory needed to awaken the energy within and gain these two abilities.

Except for one of them.

Just one minute after Simoni finished his demonstration, Aaron raised his hand.

"Instructor, I've mastered them."

"..."