Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Nolan the Nobody Part 1

“Sir Gil, I really can’t do this,” he said.

“You can do it,” Sir Gil said. “Geez, what kind of man are you? You look pansy, your arms are thin, and you have a gut despite being this young, what are you even doing?”

“I had been staying home...”

“You were in a dessert, how were you in a dessert for so long? If those caravans didn’t found you, then you’d be long dead, ah, you are so inadequate that I cannot help but pity and be sick at you!”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t say that. Be better than this!” he pointed at men practicing on a courtyard. “Become a warrior, seize the chance! Do you really think you can stay like this?”

“It has been a year and I am barely making progress.”

“That’s because you are lazy! They call you stupid, a retard, and a mentally challenged. You cannot speak our language, you can’t understand us, and your behavior is out of this world. I can’t believe that a weak person like you could live past eight!”

“I am sorry.”

“Those three words again!” he said. “Keep saying that and I’ll break your face!”

“But I have done nothing...to improve myself this year. I only bother you. I am sorry.”

“Sigh, what I should do to you lad? You can’t work on the tavern, because the folks kicked you out already, you don’t have any skills, you have nothing to offer this world. I offered you a way out with poison and you told me you want to live. Now, you cower, you cry, you don’t fight back, and you do what? Cry, and cry, and cry! You are like a kid! You can’t stop crying! Why are you so sad all the time? Do you really think that being like that helps?”

He lowered his head. He walked to the dummy and looked at his hands. It was covered in bandages. His left hand’s middle finger was missing, and his right pointer finger was severed. He bit his lip, took the wooden sword, and started hitting the dummy. Then night came, he retired to his quarters, and wore his tunic, and the leather strap that held his dagger. He walked out of quarters and ran to the group holding on to torches.

“Hey, Nolan of Nobody, why are you so fucking late you fucking idiot? Shit, I know your weak body can’t handle it, but don’t hold us back. We are earning our wages, and you are earning it as well. Can you be proper?”

He lowered his head. That man sneered and led the group to the vast desert. He followed panting, his eyes forced open, as his body them trembles at the cold, he pulled his coat, stopped, and turned towards the lake of stars that was located above him. The man in front of him stopped, he turned towards him, and sighs.

“Good view, I know, but we really need to move or do you prefer the giant scorpions?”

He nodded. They strolled through the dunes. They took stopped on a hill of sand and used the binoculars to scour the sands. He stood behind the group, his torch pointed at the notes, he repeated the vowels and constants repeatedly, like an ominous chant. The same man turned to him.

“Keep it down will you?” he said with a frown on his face. “We don’t want to attract the sand reapers, read it silently, chant silently, and be silent.”

He nodded. He shut his mouth and started reading again. After a while, the group started to move through several dunes, finally arriving on an oasis. They approached the dunes, gathered water, camped, and rested their bodies. He stood silently on a corner, watching the area, with his spear ready.

“Just call out when you see something okay? That should be easy for a weak guy like you right?” a man said.

“Don’t bother him, he’ll be fine, he at least doesn’t want us dead...right?”

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“Of course not,” he said.

“See?” the man nodded at the other soldier. “Weak as my young lad, but at least he can watch the road.”

“You have confidence for this boy?”

“Hey, he’s trying. A foreigner that can’t speak our language is now earnestly trying. Why not praise him?”

The man thought for a second. “I do that when he becomes a good guardsman of the throes. You’ll do that right?”

“I will, Sir!”

“Whoa, he’s calling you a Sir.”

“Hah, it has a nice ring to it, but we are guardsman of throes, we do not call ourselves like that, might piss off the others who are proud of being normal.”

“That’s your opinion, dumbass.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” the man said.

“Well, you can go to hell, goddamn piss pot.”

The night came and it passed as swiftly as it came. They traveled back to the city while dragging their feet. He rested for five hours, and went to the practice grounds, swinging the sword, thrusting the spear, bashing the shield and pulling the string of a bow.

“You’re being earnest today,” Sir Gil said. “Did something good happen out there lad?”

“Sir Gil, I want to be a good guardsman of throes!” he said.

Sir Gil looked at him with his eyes opened wide, then, it slowly transformed into a grin.

“What is this, Nolan the nobody is growing a backbone, I might actually cry!”

“I am being serious here, Sir Gil,” he said. “I want to be better. I want to become a guardsman of throes that doesn’t dishonor it!”

“I know, I know, but first,” he slaps the sword on his hands. “How in the heavens are you holding that sword? Your posture is all wrong, and you swing like a girl! Do you know what a back is? Why are you not using your back when using these weapons? You should try strengthening training first before doing these things! See, oh God why can’t you even hold that damn spear right? Come on, I am going to make you a good guardsman!”

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