Liam supposed he must have eaten lunch, although he couldn't remember it, just because he'd been trained to eat proper meals when he could. When he was done, he said a collective goodbye to everyone in the hall, then shouldered his pack and walked out to the main gate. A tall man was standing there.

As Liam approached him, he turned and looked down at the short boy. He had dark skin, and a sharp nose. His eyes were peat black and he wore a simple burnoose on his head. Liam thought that he was probably a Bazhir tribesman by birth, but of course, he was still relatively inexperienced at judging.
"I am Hassam Firesoul, the Eagle," the man said. "I am of the Bazhir tribe of the Bloody Hawk."

Liam smiled inwardly but kept his face solemn as he replied,
"Greetings to you sir. I am Liam Ironarm, from the kingdom of Tortall."
"You are the son of the Shining Brightly One? She who slew the Nameless ones?"
"Yes sir."
"Very well. Is this a well known fact?"
"No sir. I have been going under my father's name, and none of the children are of the Tortallan nobility or commoners from my parents' estates. I believe the masters do know - they are so widely travelled that it would be hard to conceal it from them. My eyes are somewhat distinctive."
"That is true. I shall name you Liam Cooper then, if it is ever necessary. You are ready to leave, I assume. That is good, we can begin immediately. We will be travelling on foot, rather than riding as many warriors choose to. For a Bazhir, I am a disgraceful horseman. On foot, you also attract less notice. We go first to Tyra. We have been employed as bodyguards for the Crown Prince of Tyra. You know how to behave in a court, I suppose?"

"Yes sir, although I haven't been to Tyra, just to Corus."

"I had not expected you to be well travelled yet, although by the end of your journeyman years I can assure you that you will be. The Prince is travelling on almost immediately after our arrival to the Yamani islands. It is supposed to be educational to him, although we're probably designed to be the education. The Yamani warriors are excellent, you will learn a lot from them."
"Like using a glaive?. I've wanted to learn, but no one at the camp felt that they were good enough to teach it."
"I'm sure they will learn if you ask. Do you have weapons with you?"

Liam looked at him disapprovingly. Did he think that Liam's training had been incomplete? Was it that he just looked too young for thirteen? As every student knew, a Shang was never without weapons; he was a weapon. Besides, only a first year student would leave the camp without at least a dozen weapons concealed on their person.
"Yes sir."
"What?"
"My sword and my bow are easily accessible. I have daggers in my boots, on my belt and in the strap of my pack and there's a throwing knife concealed in each of my sleeves."
"Very good. You also have your walking staff, and that can be used as a weapon."
"Oh, yes," Liam acknowledged, feeling stupid not to have remembered that.
"Don't worry, you'll learn. You're also good unarmed, I suppose?"
"Of course."
"Excellent, let's leave now then."

* * * *

Their journey would lead them right across Maren, through some of the small state of Tyra to the port that shared its name. It was an educational walk. Liam had become totally unaccustomed with dealing with anyone outside the strict discipline of Shang, where everyone had their place and there was no free time to spend playing.

One day they passed through a small village, Rivervale. It was a standard sort of place, like many others that were scattered around the lands like wheat in a field.
"This is Rivervale," Hassam told Liam. He made a point of telling him about every place they went through as his education, and his training took place before they left on their journey every morning and every evening when they stopped. "Two main jobs here: fishing and farming. Small place, but it has an inn, a carpenter and a tailor, who doubles as a sail maker for those who can afford it."
"Sir, can we stop here for a minute." Hassam looked at him, following his gaze to where some children were playing kickball on the scrubby piece of grass by the side of the road. He smiled.
"Of course. We will have lunch in the inn, come in when you're ready. We can train afterwards before we start again."
"Thank you sir."

When his master had gone inside, Liam walked off the road and put down his pack. The boys, ranging from about his own age downwards, stopped playing and looked at him.
"Can I play?" he asked shyly. They glared at him.
"What're ye doin' 'ere?" one asked roughly.
"Passing through with my master," Liam said, perfectly truthfully. "We're heading for Tyra."
"What's he then, a messenger? Some murderous bastard mercenary?"
"He's a Shang warrior," Liam told them calmly. Losing your temper was a sure way to lose a fight, unless you were an ill-trained berserker who had nothing else to rely on. They looked at him, scared, even though he could pass for one of them, wearing rough brown clothes that had seen better days.
"Yer sort ain't wanted 'ere. We ain't got no trouble, and we don' want none neither. Eat yer meal, if that's what yer gonna do, then push off."

Liam looked at them, then nodded silently and left. They watched him go, shouldering a pack that a grown man would think twice about lifting. It was the newest part of his training. He'd got his callus on his feet now, so he was carrying both Hassam's and his own belongings to improve his stamina.

It was easy enough to find the rundown building that served the village as an inn and lousy drinking hole. Hassam had taken a table by the door, away from the bar with its usual drunkards and the smoky fire. Liam propped the pack up against the wall and came to sit down.
"What happened?"
"They told me to push off," Liam said roughly. "That they didn't want fighters in the village."
"And did you retaliate?"
"No sir, I came straight here."
"Why?"
"Because a Shang warrior does not incite conflict, he avoids it at all cost," Liam recited. "He will fight at the command of a senior member of the brotherhood, of a king whom the brotherhood supports or to save innocent people from harm. He never fights for his own gain, even though he may accept a fee, whatever is not required for living costs will be sent to the training camp where children will benefit from it. A fight without honour is worse than doing nothing."
"That's enough. Well done Liam. It's a sad fact that warriors are almost universally distrusted in Maren, and even in Tortall sometimes. The difference is that Tortall's warriors are all kept under close check by the crown and are trained to fight honour, but in Maren there are far more freelance mercenaries stirring up trouble. You'll get used to it in time."