Magi Guard (Aether’s Revival Book 6)
Magi Guard: Chapter 7

Gregory woke in the dark of the early morning. He’d heard the chime of the hour last night during training— every unit in the empire was given a timekeeper with a chime to note the hour. Their unit’s was kept in Davis’ tent, which was close enough for Gregory to hear it ring the third bell.

Getting up, he summoned a new set of clothing to hand and laid it on the bed to dress in the darkness. When he was ready, he sat on the floor next to his bed and fell into meditation. The cavern appeared around him, his aether flame burning merrily. He took a slow walk around the cavern, looking at the channels that were still widening and deepening.

“It looks like improvement across the board…” Gregory murmured. “Time for training. Maybe a replay of the mass melee from the tournament? I heard from the others what happened to them, but I was in resonance, so all I knew was what was in front of me.”

Taking a seat by the fire, the flames shifted to become the arena. The crowd was missing, but the fighters were better defined than in his previous attempts to recreate fights. Gregory let the fight flow past; when it ended, he went back to the start and did it again, but slower. He dissected what each magi and mage had done, trying to see their reasoning behind each action.

He was pulled out of meditation by the chime of the fourth bell. Rising to his feet, Gregory stretched, flexing his body to limber up.

Basal coughed lightly, then pushed the flap into the room aside. “Sir, it’s… good morning, sir.”

“I’ve been up for an hour. The clothing is where you wanted it. What will you be doing after breakfast?”

“Cleaning the tent, then starting on laundry and other tasks, sir.”

“Would an hour away from that hinder you?”

“No, sir. What is it you need?”

“I thought you might like to participate in conditioning.”

Basal looked worried. “Sir… I’m not supposed to join the men.”

“It’s stretching, not combat,” Gregory clarified. “The orphans I worked with found it helpful. I was going to ask you and the boy who looks after Davis’ tent.”

Rafiq’s voice came from the other room, “It is beneficial.”

Basal licked his lips, then bowed his head. “I’d like to try it at least, sir.”

“Good. Ask your counterpart if he’d like to join in, too. It’ll be right after breakfast. While it won’t be vigorous enough to make anyone ill, you’ll feel tired afterward. If that happens, just take your time with your other tasks. After a few weeks, the tiredness will ebb, and you’ll be refreshed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gregory gave him a smile before going into the main room. “Sleep well, Rafiq?”

“Well enough,” Rafiq replied. “Thank you for the game last night.”

“You’re a good player. I had to focus to win,” Gregory chuckled.

“I was the chosen loser to play the chief. I got a lot of practice in.”

“Like when I play against Yuki in Go,” Gregory snorted, “or Jenn at Shogi. They both excel at their own game.”

“But not you?”

“I think I’m decent, but they just have a knack for it. If I cheated, I could probably win all the time.”

“There is that,” Rafiq nodded.

“Let’s see how awake everyone is for breakfast,” Gregory said.

Leaving his tent, Gregory was one of the first people— besides the cooks— already dressed and in the communal space. Basal came hurrying out behind him and Rafiq with the bowls, tankards, and spoons.

“Ah, right. Thank you,” Gregory told the young man as he took his things, storing them in his ring.

As they watched, more of the guard started trickling into the area. The very hints of pre-dawn lightened the sky, adding to the campfire that had been the only illumination. The cooks looked just about ready, so Gregory walked toward them while Rafiq and Basal went to get into the forming line.

“Think he’ll have a problem with it?” one of the men was asking the other, neither of them seeing Gregory coming their way.

“Not like we have bane meat and eggs for him to have,” the other man snorted. “But we should probably be ready to hear about it from Sarge later.”

“I’ll eat what the men get without complaint,” Gregory said, startling the duo who’d been pulling the cauldron off the fire. He darted forward, grabbing the handle when one of the men tripped and fell. Hissing at the pain, he helped set the cauldron down before peeling his hand free from the scalding metal.

“Sir, are you okay?!” the one who hadn’t fallen asked; he’d heard the hiss of pain and knew where Gregory had grabbed the handle.

“One of my enchantments is healing it,” Gregory exhaled slowly. “I didn’t mean to startle you into an almost terrible accident.”

“Sir, is everything okay?” Townson asked, coming out of the cook tent. The part-elf looked upset as he advanced on his men.

“It was my fault, Sergeant,” Gregory said. “I know better than to startle people carrying heavy and hot objects. Your men were worried that I’d be upset with what breakfast is. I had gone to reassure them that I’ll eat what everyone does without complaint.”

Townson stared at the two men with hard eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Davis came jogging over. “Everything okay, sir?”

“A series of bad choices on my part, Lieutenant. Everything is fine now, as I was telling the sergeant. Luckily, we didn’t lose breakfast.”

The guard who’d fallen had made it back to his feet and dusted himself off, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Let’s move past this and get on with breakfast,” Gregory said.

The same odd chime that had called for dinner rang from the cook tent.

“That’s the signal. You’re first, sir, followed by Captain Willof, myself, the sergeants, and then the men,” Davis reminded him.

“Understood,” Gregory nodded. He summoned his bowl back from his ring, holding it out as the cooks quickly pulled a ladle full of frumenty out of the cauldron. He thanked them, then shifted over to where another guard was with a keg. “What’s the ratio of dilution?”

“You’d have to ask the Sarge or LT, sir. We just give it out.”

“Very well.” Gregory walked off to the side, taking his seat in the same spot as the night before. Davis and Willof joined him a moment later. Davis was clearly still not done with what had happened before the meal was served, so Gregory explained between bites of the bland frumenty.

“I see. They should’ve known better than to discuss it like they were,” Davis said. “That’s something they could have brought to Townson after the meal if they were worried.”

“And I made it worse by trying to be helpful,” Gregory shrugged.

“One of them said you grabbed the cauldron with your hand, sir.”

“I have an enchantment that heals. I’m fine now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why the mixed water, and at what dilution?” Gregory asked.

“It makes it safer to drink, and it’s a six-to-one ratio, sir: one part wine to six parts water. It’s been the same since the First Eurtik War. Evening drinks are three-to-one. It makes those more special, but still far from enough to negatively impact anyone.”

“I see. I read that it was done when going on campaign, but I didn’t know it was all the time.”

“Anytime you are not actively stationed in a settlement, which is what this is to train for right now.”

“Very well. This means we will be shifting to Gardenia at some point?”

“Later,” Willof said between bites.

The meal was over quickly, as no one was going to linger over plain frumenty.

“Formation is so far after breakfast so the cooks can get things cleaned?” Gregory asked, letting Basal take his dirty dishes.

“Yes, sir,” Davis said. “It also gives the men time to make sure they are fully in order.”

“I’ll see you at the bell, then,” Gregory said, walking back to his tent.

~*~*~

At the fifth bell, Gregory was standing in front of the assembled men. He could see nerves on a lot of faces, as they were clearly worried about what the magi would do.

“Men, this is called the Peaceful Fist,” Gregory announced when the hour finished chiming. “It’s the training path of Aether’s Guard. It’s slow and controlled, and yet you’ll be tired at the end of it. Your sergeants know what I’m saying, as I walked them through it last night. Now, stretching formation.”

The men shifted in the same manner Magus Erichson had the novices take when training. Gregory nodded, smiling at the memory. “If you do not complete the movement, that’s fine. Just move to the next. The point is to stretch your muscles, not strain them. This will be happening every day, so you don’t need to be perfect today. Just do your best.”

The men waited, still clearly worried.

“This is the first stance,” Gregory said, showing them. Willof, Davis, and the sergeants all took the same stance, and the men copied what they were shown. “Good. Now, it begins by shifting to the back foot.”

Gregory went slower, speaking the movement as he transitioned and watching the men when he did. The majority could do it, but the rest struggled with parts. Gregory thought they would all be able to do it over the next few days.

Ending the kata, he stood back up as the sixth bell chimed. “That is the Peaceful Fist. Sergeants, the men are yours again. Captain, Lieutenant, I’m ready for instruction.”

“Dismissed,” Davis said.

As the men walked away, the sergeants went with them. Gregory watched them all, wondering how many complaints were about to spring up.

With a rough exhale, Davis wiped his forehead. “That really does take it out of you, sir. Maybe right after breakfast is the wrong time.”

“In a couple of weeks, it won’t tire you out. Trust me on that. But right now, I’m the student and I’m eager to learn.”

“Your clan has proven that at the academy,” Willof said. “First, we’ll explain why the camp is set the way it is.”