15 years earlier
As Uli got to know Max a little better, he felt completely intimidated. It wasn't that Max scared him per se. It was just that everything about Antillar Maximus made Uli feel inadequate. As the son of a High Lord, even a bastard son, Max had had many opportunities that Uli did not. At fifteen, Max had taken lessons from Sir Nedus, one of the greatest dueling masters in Alera's history, and was very well-educated in warfare and Legion deployment. Max also had tremendous furycrafting, showing talent in all six elements while Uli was only moderately gifted with woodcrafting.
This was in addition to his natural charm. Oh, Max had a way with the camp girls. Whenever Uli would pass by the camp followers' tents with Max, they would always hear fits of giggles directed at his friend. Max could also keep Uli enthralled for hours with jokes and stories from Antillus.
At first, the other recruits were too off-put by Max's status and stature to want to be near him, and Uli had always had difficulty connecting to people, so he and Max spent a lot of their early careers as legionares together. Though Max eventually won over the other soldiers over with his charm, he and Uli still kept company at meals and after training.
For the first few weeks, they trained marching formations and conditioning. In the morning, they would practice marching on the earthcrafted ring in the center of camp. Recruits with earthcrafting talent would practice marching on the makeshift causeway, their furies allowing them to march faster and get less tired. Recruits without earthcrafting, like Uli, would simply run laps inside of the circle to build strength and endurance. In the afternoons, they would swim or lift weighted rudia to build muscles in their arms.
Uli had no idea how he would do once they would start actual combat training. Back on his grandpa's farm, he had some experience fighting with slings, a shovel, and even a spear once or twice. Out in the farmlands near the wilderness, there was always a danger from snakes, slives, mountain lions, and the like. Even the girls had to learn how to drive off unwanted beasts; it was simply a matter of survival. But other than that, Uli never had any formal training in his life.
So it came as a great surprise that Max was the one who struggled the most when out practicing with the rudius. Uli and Max were side-by-side in the formation, Bortus and Nonus on Uli's other side. Centurion Paullus was drilling them. The centurion kept criticizing Max, constantly trying to get Max to keep his elbow up as they practiced that same thrust over and over. It wasn't that Uli didn't struggle. Centurion Paullus had yelled at him to the point of tears many times, and Uli still had bruises on his arms where the centurion had hit him with the baton. For all that Bortus and Nonus were bullying, lazy slives, they proved to be fairly competent legionares. They made the least number of mistakes among the new recruits.
Max caught Centurion Paullus's baton on a painful angle between the shield and his knee. His kneecap broke with a painful crack, and the Antillan fell down with a cry. Uli turned his head towards him, horrified. It was only because he practiced that drill over and over that Uli was just able to get his shield up in time to block a strike from the centurion. He was unable to maintain his footing, however, and the strike from the centurion knocked Uli to the ground right on top of Max. Uli could see Bortus and Nonus smirking at him and Max, taking pleasure in their failure. Evidently, they hadn't forgotten that day in the tent.
"Never drop your shield," said the centurion as he stood over Max and Uli. "The Legion's greatest strength is its ability to act as a unit. You need to be able to hold your shield for the man beside you, just as he would for you."
Uli shared a brief glance with Max before the centurion yelled, "Get him to the fountain."
Uli got to his feet. He helped Max stand up and let the Antillan lean on him as they went to get some water for Max to watercraft his knee. Max sat himself down on a stool as Uli drew water from the pump in the center on the earthcrafted ring. Max's brows were furrowed together, but Uli saw something other than pain in his friend's expression.
"You'll get it, Max," said Uli. He still felt a little self-conscious over the fact that he spoke with a drawl. "It'll just take some time 's all."
"The strokes we have to do," said Max. "They're just so clumsy."
"Clumsy?" asked Uli.
"It's just, the stance is so restricting. If you need to parry, you can't easily move your sword. None of it makes sense. Does it feel that way to you?"
"Can't say it does," said Uli. "I mean I wouldn't know. I've never held a sword in my life."
"Hm." Max drew his gaze away from Uli. They went back to their cohort once Max healed his leg.
Uli would get a chance to speak to Centurion Paullus later that evening. The men were done with training and were spending their free time however they felt. Max was certainly out drinking and playing cards with the other legionares or trying to convince one of the camp girls to take him to bed. Though Uli would sometimes join him when there were no girls involved, he preferred to spend time by himself making wood carvings or reading a novel. He avoided going back to the tent, instead finding a quiet spot in the camp where he could keep to himself.
Uli was sitting in the grass carving a block of wood when he spotted the centurion out for a walk. Uli's hands clenched. Though the other recruits have accepted yelling and humiliation from veteran legionares as a facet of their existence, Uli still could not help but feel a little rage inside when a centurion publicly yelled out his weaknesses in front of the whole cohort, and Uli was still seething from when Centurion Paullus had hurt Max that morning.
The centurion must have sensed Uli's ire. The next moment, Paullus suddenly shouted, "Ulixius, stand and salute when addressing a centurion."
Uli scrambled to his feet and hurried a salute. Max had explained to him that when a centurion or other veteran yelled at a recruit off the field that they were just messing with the recruit, but there really wasn't anything that Uli could do about it, so he did his best to obey. Centurion Paullus corrected his posture vigorously, which only added to Uli's anger over the earlier incident.
Finally, Centurion Paullus let out a grunt of approval and turned away.
"You didn't hav'ta break 'is knee!" The words came out of Uli's mouth before he could stop them. He only had a moment to regret it before the centurion suddenly got face-to-face with him.
"What was that, Ulixius?" he asked.
"Oh, um, sorry, Centurion Paullus, sir!"
"No, recruit, you definitely said something."
"I…I mean," stuttered Uli, "Maximus…he would of got it…he didn't need…I mean…"
"At ease," Paullus commanded. Uli thought that Paullus would yell at him again, but the centurion simply said in a steady and calm, but firm voice, "sometimes pain is the only way a recruit learns. There are men like Antillar who learn how to be great fencers before they join the legion and are shocked when they find that it is completely different from what they have been taught. On top of that, the boy is one hell of a metalcrafter. Nothing less extreme than a real injury would ever get it through to him. You notice that I've never broken any of your bones, correct?"
It was true. Though Uli never gave the centurion a shortage of things to correct on the training field, Paullus had never struck him hard enough to harm him like that. "No, sir."
"You didn't need it to get the point across. And you've noticed that you've made fewer mistakes in training than Antillar had, right, farm boy?"
It was also true. Uli was definitely learning the legion style of fighting faster than Max was. "Yes, sir."
Centurion Paullus's gaze was completely level with Uli's, and Uli had no doubt at the sincerity of what the centurion said next. "There is no doubt that Antillar is one of the finest young men I have ever seen. Strong fighter, strong crafter, commands the loyalty of most everyone he meets. If he keeps it up, he could grow up to be a legend. But I'm not here to train legends, I'm here to train legionares, and by the furies, I will make a legionare out of that boy even if it kills me. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Uli.
"Good," said Centurion Paullus, "now go run laps around the ring to cool your rage."
"Yes, sir." Uli saluted before running down to the track. All the things he had been worried about – his lack of training, the fact that he had absolutely no metal or earth crafting – Uli never thought that they would be an advantage.
Max looked wistfully out the windows at the Knights Aeris who were holding up the coach he was riding, wishing he could just step outside and ride the winds. He hadn't done any real cursor work since he had first been sent to the First Alera, and for good reason. As one of the First Lord's singulares, most everyone in the Realm was sure to recognize him now, and his large frame certainly didn't do him any favors when it came to blending in. Of course, what was slightly less known among the populace was that he was rather skilled at using watercraft to alter his appearance. Thinking back to that night below the old First Lord's palace brought a smile to his face that was both bitter and remembering. Had it really been that long ago? Crows, was he really thirty now?
The coach eventually landed on a platform in the small city of Alesis. The white marble platform offered a rather breathtaking view of the mountains from the clifftop it sat on. Max could see endless fields of green over the rolling hills. Steadholds dotted the landscape below. The city itself was rather lovely. What it lacked in size and splendor, it made up for in opulence. All around, people were setting up flowers, ribbons, festive furylamps, and whatever other decorations for the Midsummer celebrations. The houses were made of the same white marble the platform was and were decorated with all sorts of fancy pillars and balconies and well-groomed front gardens. Everyone was well-dressed and rich. The servants and guards were acceptably invisible. Alesis was a popular place for Citizens to vacation, especially in the summer, a way to "get in touch" with the country without actually having to come into contact with a normal person.
For all that, the defenses were rather remarkable. The city rested high on a cliff, making it only reachable by coach or by a long, winding path leading down the mountains. The path was a valley that was surrounded by cliffs on all sides, and Max could see men up on those cliffs, ready to rain hell on whoever tried to attack the city that way. The outer rim of the city was guarded by tall towers. Knights Aeris could be seen patrolling the skies. Max was rather impressed by the defenses. Alesis would certainly make life hell for any attackers that chose to target it.
Max knew that his plan would work because Ehren had helped him come up with it. He was to arrive as himself in Alesis under the pretense of going to the mountains for a vacation during the Midsummer festival. Having Max visit the city on short notice would force Count Otho to quickly and drastically make changes to any plans or arrangements he had in place, allowing Max to better discover if he was hiding something.
"A man can reveal a lot from the way he tries to hide something," Ehren had said. "Look at how he immediately invited you to stay at his estate. He wants to keep an eye on you."
Max saw the short, round frame of Count Otho approach him. The little man was dressed in very colorful robes of light cloth for the summer, an almost too pleasant smile on his face. He had a small company of three elite guards. Their armor was neat and polished, and their expressions stoic and professional.
"Tribune Antillar!" he greeted. "The journey was pleasant, I hope."
"It was fine," said Max. People who didn't know him well usually took him for a hulking brute. Max decided that this would be a good time to take advantage of that. "I'm just looking forward to enjoy all the good wine and company. Do you know where a man can get a good drink?"
Count Otho chuckled. "Well I'm sure you will have a wonderful Midsummer here. My staff will be more than pleased to attend to you. Why don't we head to my estate right now? Surely you'd like to rest after your long journey."
Just then, a face that Max never ever wanted to see came up to the Count. Senator Valerius scampered up to the count and greeted him profusely. Max still wanted to punch him in the face.
"I believe you two know each other," said Otho. "Senator Valerius is one of my Clients. He has an election coming up."
"Delighted." The Senator stuck his nose up at Max, looking at him as if he were an insect. "This is my chance to get acquainted with all the important Citizenry of Alera."
Max briefly glanced at the tiny black dots in the background that represented the Steadholds and silently pleaded to the freemen to hurry up and vote this idiot out of the Senate.
"Hmm," said Max. "I've had enough politics in Appia. I just want to get on with my vacation."
"Yes of course," said Count Otho, smiling. "Just come this way."
The count let Max back to his home. It was smaller than Lord and Lady Placida's home, but it was filled to the gills with ornate tapestries, valuable vases, and Midsummer decorations. There were flowers everywhere. Max was constantly trying not to sneeze up a storm. He definitely wasn't going to let Tavi hear the end of his complaints when he got back to Appia.
In the center of it all was a well-sized great hall. Like the rest of the house, this place was decorated for the Midsummer festival. Servants hurried to and fro to get everything set up.
A young maid caught his eye. She was setting up a large centerpiece for the decorations. The flowers and woodwork danced under her touch as she employed woodcrafting to get the plants to grow to the ceiling. Max put on his best smile and walked up to her.
"Hello there." The young lady nearly jumped when Max spoke to her. "That's some impressive crafting."
"Thank you, my lord," she replied. "There's always a lot of work to do for Midsummer."
"I can see that," said Max. "What is your name?"
"Epponina, my lord," she said.
"Please." Max lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. "Call me Max."
"Oh." Epponina blushed. "I really should get back to work."
Max let out a laugh. "All right then. Maybe I'll see you later?"
Epponina turned back to the flowers, but not before giving Max a knowing smile. "We'll see."
Max winked at her and walked away.
That evening, Max slipped away from the count's estate to go drinking with the guards. He used watercrafting to alter his appearance. His wolfish grey eyes dulled a bit, and his distinguishing features became more brutish and generic.
Once he found a bar where a group of guards were playing cards at, it didn't take much for Max to get himself into their game. It was a very welcome change to the perfumed nightmare that was Count Otho's estate. He had a wonderful time drinking, gambling, and making jokes with the men. He posed as a merchant's bodyguard whose charge was trying to move his wares through the mountains and was worried about the outlaw problem.
One of the guards snorted. "These blighters have the whole crowsbegotten mountain locked down. Damn near impossible to get anywhere without being robbed."
Another guard chimed in. "The count has everyone he can send hunting them down. They'll be squashed in no time."
"I'm not so sure about that," said the first guard. "They fight like something I've never seen. They strike quickly, somehow getting past the sentry furies, disrupting our formations and leave with the cargo before we even know it."
"Any advice for dealing with them?" asked Max.
The guards looked at each other. "I'd say your friend should avoid the mountain entirely," one of them said. "Unless he can pay to move all his stuff by coach. The bandits love attacking Citizens and rich merchants."
"Really?" asked Max. "The freemen have no trouble?"
"Not that we can see," said the first guard. "As a matter of fact, I heard that the outlaws were getting help from the freemen."
"Any freeman who helps the outlaws is a fool," said the second guard. "The count will punish anyone who throws in their lot with them."
"Well, the count has also put a huge bounty on any captured outlaw, yet no freeman has ever come forth," the first guard argued.
Max spend the evening in good company drinking and gambling. In the morning, he would have some work to do.