Before long, the standardized meditation experiment ended. The result was not what I hoped for. I had an arcane heart of the lowest possible quality. Asenath has a high quality arcane heart, while Naika has a middling one.
I'm happy for Asenath. I really am. She will have a smoother journey to immortality compared to other people if she utilizes her talent well. On the other hand, I will have to keep trying as hard as I can to become good enough. Unlike how it is in the Quraysh tribe, the man doesn't own his woman. If I become so far beneath her that she is ashamed of me, she might fall out of love and leave me. It's my duty to keep up the good work or step aside and allow her to rise in the world.
Naika told me that the ability I got from the demon worm was as enviable as a middling Arcane heart. I kind of understand where she is coming from, but without a robust arcane heart fueling them, most abilities are useless.
My commander notified me that I was going to be trained as a humble foot soldier. My arcane heart is already blocking my path. Asenath, however, got a different job as a librarian. The goal there was to have her study the scrrolls and create a powerhouse of a Glyphmancer in the future. She also told me men started hitting on her all of a sudden. It is mostly the sixth or seventh sons of the noble clans who are trying to increase their standing in their respective clans by introducing a high-quality, arcane-hearted wife to their families. The logic there is to tie a future powerhouse to the family and gain power through access to her. There is no mention of love. She told me she would never be a pawn or property. She is done with that kind of life. According to her, she loved the arrangement she has with me.
Now that our selection is done, we are supposed to get educated along the lines of our capabilities. Some of the people I met during the meditation test went and directly joined higher ranking positions in the army. Their arcane hearts are better than mine, so they could pay back the investment that Pharoh spent on them. There is no surprise there.
Horirem and Hake are down at the bottom with me. Which, as a true friend, pleases me greatly. Those bastards wouldn't let me live it down if they were better than me in any way.
I've informed my superiors about the actions of the Quraysh tribe.
My commander is a man named Khair.
"We will find evidence for your claims, and once we confirm what you said is true, our nation will make its move. Don't worry, lad. Our pharaoh looks after his nation."
Commander Kahir is a large man with bulging muscles. He stands over a head taller than the tallest man in our platoon. His very demeanor exudes a sense of security. He might be reassuring me with lies when he said that to me. Even then, I'm inclined to believe him when he says what he says. I responded with a solemn understanding that I couldn't do anything more than this to affect anything down there.
"That would be most appreciated."
Every morning, we spread our golden sands to our designated locations and leave them to roast under the scorching sun. Then we start practicing army formations. Commander Kahir is adamant about having us move in unison when an order is given. "Every spear out of line is a weak point," he says.
It's mind-numbing repetition at best. Yet, it works. We are perfectly in sync.
Commander Kahir is harsh on Hake because he is fat. Hake is out of breath faster than others because he carries all that extra weight around. He fails to move in sync with others as a result and creates a weak point in formation. Commander Kahir enjoys whipping him in shape.
"We always get one of these every recruitment cycle. It never disappoints." He says.
Even though it has only been a week, Hake is visibly thinner. He understandably keeps losing weight since he has been sweating for hours trying to run laps around the barracks.
The other person who keeps getting in trouble with Commander Kahir is Horirem. Horirem tried to tell him he was a scion of a noble clan and had been told to sit his ass down. He keeps springing bullshit after bullshit at Commander Kahir. And Commander Kahir is not amused. He once smacked Horirem in the face after Horirem tried to convince him that he was rich beyond imagination and that he could make Commander Kahir a very rich man if he just treated him nicer. He went flying with a slap and made a pathetic yelp.
Life in the barracks is way smoother for me since I don't cause many problems. However, every time I do something hard, like the straining exercises we do with the entire platoon, a voice in the back of my head complains in the most whiny way possible. That voice is mine. Even though my body's emotions and thoughts all protest what I'm doing, I know I have to do it regardless, for listening to those voices leads to nowhere but stagnation.
I can see every man and woman in our platoon putting on muscle mass. They are getting fitter by the second.
Another facet of life in the barracks is spearmanship education. The formation is fine and all, but as I'm told, war often devolves into a free-for-all melee. That's where individual spearmanship comes into play. Knowing a trick or not can determine survival in the battle zone.
The training spears are blunt, with a bag of sand at their tip instead of a spearhead. I realized that just with the education that Salma gave me, I could defeat nine out of ten opponents. They keep signaling their attacks, and since I keep my position properly, I'm able to dodge their strikes fairly easily.
Horirem is surprisingly tricky to fight. He keeps throwing faints while aiming for my openings, which resulted from my misjudgment. The trick is to have feints of your own. Horirem is the kind of person who can dish out but can't take it. He demoralizes and folds as soon as you make him fall for a trick. Horirem then wails and complains, yet he learns. He gets better with every fight.
Hake is more of a test of strength. If I try to block his attacks, he breaks my posture. The trick with him is to avoid his blatantly signaled attacks and smack him over the head with the spear.
Commander Kahir is methodical in his approach. His attacks are copies of each other. I can actually feel him making calculations in his head. What I figured out is that he is weak to the unexpected. He panics for a second when I do something out of the box. However, I'm not powerful enough to capitalize on that opening. Commander Kahir keeps beating me. He told me that I lack decisiveness. I could see a proud glint in his eyes when he said that. He liked the fact that I was able to test him with my spear instead of directly losing to him like the other soldiers.
I'm able to return home once the day ends, and I re-absorb the energy I had dispersed among the sands. Once I do that, my arcane heart starts to work. Slowly and steadily, it converts the raw energy into a form of energy that I have power over.
Most of the soldiers are staying in barracks. Most of those who are not from the capital don't have any other choice. But I do. And that makes all the difference. I can see I'm better rested than any other person in my platoon. That might have something to do with the fact that I have three women who love me very much. None of my battle brothers have my happy face when they return to their designated meditation locations.
The man whom I beat up during the test is in another platoon. I sometimes see him, and he is very respectful toward me. This is a perfect example of how men solve their problems. Through violence. It feels good when you have a problem with something and it gets solved through action. It makes me feel like I have power over my destiny and am capable of making my own life better. No one likes to feel stagnated in place.
The old woman we are staying with loves to have us around. As someone who is nearing the end of her life, she appreciates the company. She has a slave who looks after her. The slave is named Unaktu. He is a tall, dark-skinned man. He doesn't seem to live like a slave at all.
It's good to have one's life in a positive place. The journey to the capital was terribly chaotic.