The morning sun cast golden light over the camp as Dikun Silver stood in the heart of the training yard. The air was alive with the rhythmic clang of swords and the stomp of boots, but today was different. Today, Dikun led not as a Corporal, but as a newly appointed Sergeant.
His two Corporals, Joran and Eron, flanked him proudly. Both had been his comrades since the days of basic training, and their loyalty had never wavered. Now, under his command, they were more than friends — they were his right hand.
The ten soldiers who now stood in formation before Dikun were a mix of hardened veterans and eager recruits. Their eyes reflected curiosity, uncertainty, and, for some, a hint of challenge.
"Listen well," Dikun's voice rang out, firm and commanding. "The title of Sergeant is not a prize — it's a burden. My command is your shield, my orders your sword. Together, we stand. Together, we survive."
He stepped forward, his gaze locking with each man. "I will train you until your legs give out. I will push you until your arms fail. But when the battle comes, you will not break."
The soldiers remained silent, though a few exchanged nods of understanding.
"Corporal Joran," Dikun called, gesturing toward his friend. "Begin the drills. Formations and shield walls. No excuses."
Joran's grin flashed. "You heard the Sergeant! Move!"
---
The Trials of Leadership
Hours passed under the relentless sun. Sweat poured from the soldiers as they drove through formation exercises, their shields interlocking in perfect synchronization. Dikun observed every step, his sharp eye catching even the smallest misstep.
But leading from the front was never Dikun's style. He joined them, his own shield raised, the clang of weapons echoing through the yard. The soldiers fought harder, driven by the presence of their Sergeant.
"Too slow, Varik!" Dikun barked as a younger recruit stumbled. "An enemy won't wait for you to recover."
The boy flushed, but Dikun clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "But you will recover. And next time, you'll be faster."
Varik nodded, determination gleaming in his eyes.
Joran chuckled from the sidelines. "You always did like breaking them down just to build them back up."
"It's the only way they learn," Dikun replied.
---
Bonding Over the Fire
That night, the campfires burned low as the soldiers gathered. Laughter and the clink of metal mugs filled the air. Despite the day's grueling drills, camaraderie thrived.
Dikun sat with Joran and Eron, the three sharing a well-earned drink. Around them, the squad mingled, no longer separated by rank.
"To Sergeant Silver!" Joran declared, raising his mug with dramatic flair. "May his voice always be loud, and his orders just barely tolerable!"
The soldiers erupted into laughter, and even Dikun couldn't suppress a grin. "You'll regret that toast when we double the drills tomorrow."
Eron smirked. "Ah, but isn't that the privilege of being the one giving the orders now?"
Dikun's smile lingered, but beneath it, the weight of leadership remained. He would have to make choices that could mean the difference between life and death. For now, though, the warmth of brotherhood brought him peace.
"Rest well," Dikun said, his voice softening. "Tomorrow, we sharpen our blades — and our resolve."
The squad nodded, their loyalty unwavering.
To be continued in Chapter 16: Whispers of Rebellion