Building a Name Amidst the Mockery

But just as Adam's mind began to settle, a gruff voice cut through the air from behind him. The soldier, devoid of any sense of reverence or respect, uttered the words with a cold and dismissive tone that seared into Adam's soul. "Get your sorry excuse of a self together. We'll be making our way to the training ground to assess your pathetic skills, you worthless piece of shit."

In the absence of the commanding presence of the Commander, the soldiers' attitudes underwent a chilling transformation. Their once disciplined demeanor dissolved into an unsettling display of aggression and contempt. With a forceful grip, one soldier roughly seized the collar of Adam's leather harness, yanking him forward without a shred of consideration for his well-being.

As the soldier dragged him, a torrent of emotions flooded Adam's being. Anger mingled with frustration, and a sense of powerlessness washed over him. The weight of his own insignificance bore down upon him, accentuated by the callous treatment he endured at the hands of those who deemed him nothing more than a mere pawn in their game.

In the midst of this assault on his dignity, a flicker of defiance sparked within Adam's heart. He refused to succumb to their belittlement. Despite the odds stacked against him, he summoned every ounce of strength and resilience he possessed, determined to prove his worth in the upcoming training.

With each step taken, the training ground loomed closer, its presence casting a shadow over Adam's consciousness. Uncertainty gnawed at his core, but beneath the doubt, the flicker of determination burned bright. The forthcoming assessment would be a test of not only his physical prowess but also his indomitable spirit and a chance to defy expectations and carve a path to redemption.

And as soon as the soldier's foot landed on the training grounds, he hurled Adam to the floor with a vicious force. Spitting in disgust, he bellowed, "Here's a fresh piece of meat for you all! Just a lowly piece of shit, nothing to worry about. But remember, no marks on his face. We wouldn't want the Commander to see it, would we?" The crowd erupted in raucous laughter, their mocking echoes reverberating across the training ground.

As Adam picked himself up from the ground, his mind swirled with a mix of resentment and frustration. How had he gone from being a subject of a lord to a mere pawn in the hands of these lowly soldiers? The memory of the lord's taunting words, his vile insinuations about defiling Adam's sister, flashed through his mind, threatening to ignite a blazing fury within him. But he fought to keep his emotions in check, knowing that losing control would only play into their hands.

With each passing moment, Adam grappled with the conflicting desires within him. The urge to unleash his pent-up anger, to confront those who belittled him, surged like a tempest within his soul. Yet, he knew that such outbursts would only further diminish his standing in this new world he found himself in. He had to find a way to channel his emotions into something productive, something that would propel him forward rather than hold him back.

As he wiped away the repugnant spittle that had stained his leather harness, determination etched itself onto his features. This degrading treatment would not break him. He refused to be reduced to a mere laughingstock, a target for their amusement. He would rise above their mockery, using their disdain as fuel to ignite the flames of his determination.

With a resounding shout, Adam unleashed a surge of energy that reverberated through the air. "A sword!" he bellowed, his voice echoing with defiance. The sudden outburst startled the other soldiers, momentarily breaking their composure. Yet, despite the unexpected interruption, none of them moved to fulfill his request.

Undeterred, Adam's determination blazed within him. He approached one of the soldiers, one of the very ones who had laughed at him just moments ago, and seized the wooden sword from his grasp. In one swift motion, he unleashed a kick, that barely sends the soldier crashing to the ground. The onlookers stood in stunned disbelief, as the fallen soldier rose to his feet.

In a bold display of resilience, Adam stood his ground, his face undaunted by the punch he received. He had grown accustomed to such blows, enduring countless trials that had hardened his resolve. One of the soldier that brought adam to the training grounds shouted "I told ya fuck heads not in the face!". With a touch of mockery in his voice, adam spoke to the person who hit him, "Thank you for the gift of your training sword." And with that, he strode purposefully towards a training dummy, his gaze fixed on honing his skills.

The other soldiers watched in a mixture of awe and disbelief, their preconceived notions shattered by Adam's unwavering determination. The audacity of his actions had captured their attention, earning their reluctant admiration. In that moment, Adam had carved out a space for himself amidst the cynicism and mockery, asserting his presence with an indomitable spirit.

As he unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the training dummy, each blow reverberated with the weight of his unyielding resolve. With every strike, he channeled the frustrations, the insults, and the pent-up anger that had threatened to consume him. Each swing of the wooden sword echoed a declaration, a testament to his refusal to be diminished by their scorn.

With each powerful strike, the impact reverberated through Adam's body, his hands pulsating with raw intensity. As the training ground bore witness to his relentless assault, a trickle of blood began to stain the floor, each drop a testament to the sheer force behind his strikes.

Undeterred by the pain, Adam continued his onslaught, his determination propelling him forward. The handle of the training sword soon became drenched in crimson, the evidence of his fierce determination etched upon its surface. And yet, he persisted, channeling his energy into each swing, unleashing his pent-up frustrations with every strike.

After what felt like an eternity of exertion, Adam's breathing steadied, his mind calming amidst the chaos. The once-mighty wooden sword now lay broken, shattered by the force of his relentless assault. As he regained his composure, he turned towards the soldiers who had brought him to this place, his voice steady and composed.

Struggling to maintain the facade, unwilling to reveal that his muscles were on the verge of giving up and he could collapse at any moment, he turned back to the soldiers who had brought him to the training ground.

"I am ready to speak to the commander again," he stated simply, his words carrying a newfound sense of confidence and authority as he tried not to stutter. The soldiers, still in awe of the display of force and dominance they had just witnessed, nodded in reluctant agreement. Leading him through the camp, Adam observed the diverse array of individuals that populated this war-torn world. As his heart started to settle, and his vision began to narrow slightly from exhaustion.

His gaze swept over the weary merchants, their faces etched with lines of hardship and resilience, trailing behind the army to eke out a living amidst the chaos. Scattered among them were mercenaries, marked by scars that told tales of countless battles fought. Prostitution, a dark undercurrent within the camp, offered solace and distraction to the soldiers, even as it exploited their hard-earned wages. And then there were those younger than himself, enlisting out of choice or forced into service by circumstances beyond their control. Similar to his previous life, the people in this camp hailed from diverse backgrounds, and many of them gained from the demise of others.

As Adam moved through this tapestry of lives, he couldn't help but ponder the paths that led them all to this desolate place. Each face held a story, a narrative of survival and sacrifice woven into the fabric of their existence. The camaraderie and hardships shared within this encampment formed an unbreakable bond, a fragile thread connecting them all in this unforgiving world.

Finally, Adam arrived at the tent of the commander, his heart pulsating with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The canvas flapped in the wind, a gateway to a realm of power and enigma. With each step, he prepared himself for the encounter that lay ahead, ready to face the commander once again, their destinies intertwined in ways they could not yet comprehend.

As Adam approached the Commander's tent, anticipation gripped his heart. With a steady hand, she pulled back the ornate curtains, revealing herself in all her commanding glory. Her piercing gaze bore into him, demanding his presence and attention.

"Recruit," she spoke with authority, "Step inside and declare your name."

Adam, standing tall and resolute, entered the tent with a confident stride even though he was on the verge of breaking down at any moment. His chest swelled with determination as he prepared to make his mark. In a voice that carried weight, he declared, "I am Adam, hailing from the village of Faerewind. At the age of twenty, I have been a humble farmer by occupation." Luckily, the farmers mentioned the name of their village casually while working, Adam thought to himself.

With a crisp salute, he concluded, "Recruit greets the esteemed Commander."

The Commander's eyes narrowed as she observed Adam, a flicker of intrigue in her gaze. "Have you already served in a military or a mercenary company? You seem to possess a certain level of experience," she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. With a swift command of "At ease!" she signaled for him to relax from his salute, acknowledging his response.

As Adam stood before her, his posture adjusted to a more relaxed stance. The Commander's interest piqued further, her determination to uncover his past intensifying. "Speak, Recruit Adam," she urged, her voice commanding yet tinged with anticipation. Adam's voice, humble and devoid of pretense, filled the air. "I have not served in a military unit, nor do I possess any formal education in military matters, Commander," he replied, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

His words hung in the air, leaving an air of mystery around his skills and abilities. The Commander's curiosity deepened, a spark of recognition glinting in her eyes. She sensed something within Adam, an untapped potential that begged to be unleashed.

Then She continued her voice commanding his attention. "I am your Commander, and my birth name is Elara." As soon as the words reached his ears, Adam saluted once again, his voice resonating with conviction. "Yes, Commander Elara, I greet you again." Elara swiftly responded, "At ease!" prompting Adam to relax his position.

With each interaction, Elara's curiosity about Adam grew. In an attempt to elicit a reaction, she gently brushed his cheek while maintaining eye contact. However, Adam remained steadfast, his expression unchanged. As her hand caressed his cheek, she inquired about his mysterious encounter. "We found you unconscious on the outskirts of a forest. What happened to you?"

Adam's gaze met hers, his voice calm yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Commander, I have no recollection of how I came to be in that state. My memory is a haze, fragmented and elusive." Elara observed him closely, her curiosity further piqued by the enigmatic circumstances surrounding his arrival. Suddenly, Elara grabbed Adam's hair, pulling it hard. However, Adam didn't flinch. Slowly, Elara whispered into Adam's ear, "Are you sure you're speaking the truth, recruit?" Adam responded with determination, "I would never dare to lie to my commander" Then she released his hair.

Adam knew he had to conceal the truth from Elara, uncertain of her relationship with his Lord. He understood that divulging the truth could have unintended consequences. However, deep within his heart, he harbored the hope of one day revealing his past to his new Commander. As his mind wandered through various scenarios, Elara's keen eyes caught sight of Adam's bloodied hands, prompting her inquiry.

"Recruit Adam, were these wounds inflicted by your fellow soldiers?" Elara's gaze bore into him, awaiting his response. Adam hastened to provide an explanation, his voice composed yet tinged with a hint of pain. "No, Commander. These wounds were caused by the wooden training sword. The vibrations and friction from striking the training dummy bore into my hands, resulting in the bleeding. I apologize for soiling your tent." Despite the agony he felt, Adam remained motionless, not flinching as Elara examined his wounds. "Is this also the reason for the punch on your face?" she asked him, "No, Commander. The punch mark on my face was self-inflicted," Adam responded swiftly. "Oh, and why did you hit yourself, Recruit?" Elara continued questioning. "Because I am a fool and wanted to wake myself up," Adam replied. Elara knew that this was a lie, yet she didn't punish him, instead, she just gave a stern look to one of the soldiers who led Adam to her tent.

Elara responded calmly, her voice laced with understanding. "Very well, Recruit. Once we conclude our discussion, you shall see a doctor for proper care. Please have a seat in front of the table." Adam complied, making his way to the designated spot and taking his place, his eyes meeting Elara's unwavering gaze.

Elara's penetrating stare seemed to pierce through Adam, attempting to unravel the depths of his character. Her keen perception sought to decipher the kind of person he truly was.

"So, you inflicted these wounds upon yourself while training too rigorously, is that correct?" Elara inquired, her voice laced with skepticism as she attempted to discern the truth if the wounds of his hand come from training. Adam met her gaze without hesitation and replied, "Yes, Commander. That is correct." Elara found herself momentarily dumbfounded, contemplating the fact that an individual without military experience or training had managed to harm himself while training with a wooden sword. Moreover, he had avoided any altercations with his fellow soldiers, displaying knowledge of proper military etiquette.

Leaning forward, Elara crossed her arms and posed a question that lingered in her mind, "Are you a spy?" Adam's response was swift and resolute, "No, I am not a spy." Elara shrugged, a flicker of doubt passing across her features, before stating, "Well, if you say so, then you are not a spy." There was an inexplicable sensation that washed over Adam, prompting a chuckle to escape his lips. Realizing his breach of decorum, he swiftly apologized, "I apologize, Commander. It was improper of me to laugh. This Recruit's behavior is unacceptable." Elara regarded him intently, seeking confirmation, "Did you truly find something amusing?" Adam affirmed, "Yes, Commander," and promptly rose from his seat, proceeding to perform push-ups on his bloodied hands while gritting his teeth against the pain and exhaustion every push felt like it could be his last.

Elara observed him with a mix of curiosity and intrigue, her gaze probing his actions and reactions. There was more to this recruit than met the eye, a complexity that piqued her interest. As the push-ups continued, she contemplated the enigma before her, determined to unravel the layers that concealed his true nature.

Elara commanded Adam to cease his push-ups, and he promptly returned to his seat. She continued, her tone unwavering, "Adam, I am not familiar with your abilities, but judging from the wounds you bear, you must possess some skill with a sword. Tomorrow, during my routine visit to the training grounds, I have a task for you. I want you to be my squire for the day, accompanying me closely like a loyal dog. And when I give the command, I expect you to bark like a dog. Can you fulfill this task?"

Adam regarded Elara with a resolute expression, his gaze unwavering. He replied, "My Commander, there is one thing I must emphasize. I am not a dog, but a recruit. I will indeed accompany you, but I shall not bark like a dog. Instead, I will wield my sword, for it is solely in your hands that I find direction. I am but an extension of your sword, which is led by your guidance." Elara's certainty solidified, this was no ordinary farmer. There was an unmistakable air of military expertise about him, accentuated by the eloquent words he spoke.

Elara contemplated his response, intrigued by the depth of his conviction and the metaphorical language he employed. A newfound curiosity swelled within her, compelling her to unravel the enigma that stood before her. There was more to Adam than met the eye. "Very well, Adam," Elara replied with a nod of approval. "I expect you to meet me at the break of dawn. Be ready and prepared for the day ahead."