Chapter 14 Small Victories

The first full tactical exercise began three days after the weapons assessments.

By then the recruits had settled into routines that no longer felt impossible. They still woke before dawn, still finished each day aching in places they hadn't known existed, but their bodies had begun to adapt. Men who had struggled to finish the morning run now completed it without falling behind. Conversations returned during meal times. Laughter, though still rare, no longer sounded out of place.

Aldric waited until the companies had assembled before addressing them.

"You've spent weeks learning individual skills," he said, his voice carrying easily across the yard. "Today we'll discover whether any of you can work together."

He pointed towards the woodland beyond the compound wall.

"Each company has the same objective. Reach your assigned position, recover the supply chest waiting there and return before sunset."

He paused, letting his eyes travel across the ranks.

"You'll be judged on speed."

Another pause.

"And on whether every man returns."

The recruits exchanged uncertain glances. That final condition sounded far more important than the first.

Bram leaned towards Corin.

"I don't like the way he said that."

"You don't like the way he says anything."

"No," Bram admitted. "But especially that."

Dane stood quietly beside them, his attention fixed on the officers. He noticed Rhett speaking briefly with Aldric before disappearing towards the edge of the training ground.

Whatever this exercise was, Rhett intended to watch rather than lead.

The companies left one after another, each following a different route into the woods.

The first mile passed easily enough. Paths were clear, instructions simple and confidence high. Before long, though, the terrain became uneven and familiar tracks gave way to narrow animal trails that twisted through dense woodland.

Almost immediately the companies began making mistakes.

One group crossed a stream only to realise they had climbed the wrong ridge.

Another lost valuable time arguing over whether to retrace their steps or continue forward.

Bram's company found themselves standing in the middle of a clearing where three almost identical paths disappeared into the trees.

Bram frowned at each one in turn.

"I have excellent news."

Corin sighed.

"You have no idea which way we're supposed to go."

"I was trying to say it more positively."

"You failed."

"I know one of these paths is correct."

Corin looked around.

"So are the other twenty-nine men."

Several recruits chuckled, the tension easing for a moment.

Their temporary leader knelt beside the path, studying the ground uncertainly.

"I think..."

He hesitated.

Dane stepped forward quietly.

"The left path."

The leader looked up.

"Why?"

"The others have older footprints."

Everyone looked where Dane was pointing.

The centre path was scattered with leaves that had settled naturally.

The right showed hoof prints from livestock.

The left bore fresher marks, almost hidden beneath disturbed earth.

"Our instructors."

The leader studied the ground for another moment before nodding.

"Left it is."

Nobody questioned the decision.

Halfway through the exercise they reached the supply chest.

It was heavier than expected.

Four men lifted it together before beginning the journey back, swapping places every few minutes as their shoulders tired.

The return proved harder than the journey out.

Fatigue dulled concentration.

Tempers shortened.

One recruit stumbled while crossing a fallen tree, sending one corner of the chest crashing into the mud.

Another immediately started blaming him.

"You nearly dropped it."

"I slipped."

"You weren't watching."

"I said I slipped."

The argument gathered pace until Dane quietly moved between them.

"We're wasting time."

Neither man answered.

"If we're arguing," Dane continued, "nobody's carrying the chest."

For a moment they simply looked at him.

Then, almost reluctantly, both men bent to lift their corners again.

The argument ended there.

No speeches.

No apologies.

Just the work that still needed doing.

Elsewhere in the woods, Bram was doing his best to keep thirty exhausted recruits moving.

"I'd like everyone to know," he announced while helping lift the chest over another fallen log, "that this was much lighter when someone else was carrying it."

"You were someone else," Corin replied.

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"You complained the entire time."

"I complain efficiently."

A recruit behind them laughed.

Another joined in.

The mood lifted just enough for the company to keep moving.

Corin glanced sideways at Bram.

"You know..."

"What?"

"You're useful."

Bram looked genuinely surprised.

"I've waited my whole life to hear that."

"I didn't say often."

By late afternoon the companies began returning to the compound.

Some arrived missing equipment.

Others had taken wrong turns and finished well behind schedule.

One group returned with only twenty-nine men.

The missing recruit appeared twenty minutes later after following the wrong company home.

Aldric waited until everyone had assembled before speaking.

"You all reached your objectives."

No one looked particularly pleased.

"Some of you even completed them."

A few uncertain smiles appeared.

"You also discovered something."

He walked slowly along the line.

"The chest was never the objective."

The recruits frowned.

"You thought it was."

He shook his head.

"The objective was each other."

Silence settled over the yard.

"If you leave supplies behind, another cart can collect them."

His voice hardened.

"If you leave a man behind..."

He let the sentence remain unfinished.

Nobody needed him to finish it.

That evening the results were announced.

There were no prizes.

No public celebrations.

Only observations.

Several companies were commended for organisation.

Others were criticised for poor communication.

When Aldric reached Bram's company, he looked down at his notes.

"You finished fourth."

Bram looked pleasantly surprised.

"We did?"

"You spent too much time talking."

"I know."

"But morale remained high."

Bram blinked.

"Is that... a compliment?"

Aldric closed the notebook.

"It isn't criticism."

Bram turned to Corin after the officers walked away.

"I think that's the nicest thing he's ever said to me."

Corin nodded.

"It probably is."

Later that evening Dane found himself alone near the training yard, cleaning mud from his boots.

The compound had grown quiet again, the day's exhaustion settling over the barracks.

He heard footsteps before he saw who they belonged to.

Rhett stopped beside him without speaking immediately.

"You chose the left path."

Dane looked up.

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"The footprints."

Rhett nodded.

"What else?"

Dane thought for a moment.

"The birds."

Rhett waited.

"They weren't singing on that side."

A faint smile touched the corner of Rhett's mouth.

"You noticed."

"I wasn't sure it mattered."

"It usually does."

For a few moments neither man spoke.

Then Rhett looked towards the darkening woodland beyond the compound walls.

"Small victories matter," he said quietly. "Not because they win wars, but because they teach men they can."

He looked back at Dane.

"Remember that."

Then he walked away, leaving Dane sitting alone with his boots in one hand and those words settling somewhere deeper than he expected.

Across the yard Bram's laughter drifted from the barracks, followed by Corin telling him to lower his voice.

The sound carried through the evening air.

For the first time since arriving, the compound felt less like three hundred strangers preparing for war and more like the beginnings of an army.

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