Languished Life Read online

  The empire is twice the size of the kingdom, their population numbering millions, whereas Phyr’s population is around two million. If they truly need the numbers, kingdom can muster an army of 350,000 knights, assuming they have the time to recruit and train the men who haven’t been conscripted ever before. Right now, 4,000 knights are defending the fortress in West, Teckton, with 5,000 reinforcements on their way there. More will be sent over the course, but for now, that’s all the marshal has mustered. There is also the royal battalion, but for now, they don’t need the numbers, so the battalion will remain on standby.

  In time, the training session is over, and Tenil gets to eat in the dining hall of the main building with everyone else at noon. There is barely enough room for two hundred to eat at a time, so not all of the brigade is dining. The tables are made of maple, rich as the land is with it. The floor is coarse stone, windows of poor glass. The food is the worst, as it has no taste at all, looks disgusting, and is served with old tableware.

  She forces herself to eat at least some of it, crying all the while. The nightmare is becoming real, will she truly have to fight? Isn’t she just a girl? No one will ever believe her unless she strips, and she loathes the idea. No, it’s not just that, she fears to do it, for there is no telling what may happen, surrounded by hundreds of men as she is. In Ivymn they’re rare, but she has heard rumors of rapists living in the smaller towns and cities. Some may very well be among the recruits or knights. Because of that, she can’t muster the courage.

  After the lunch, the training continues in form of exercise. They make the recruits run around the brigade with the leather armors on. Tenil is out of breath after forty yards, slumping behind the others. The superior yells at her madly.

  “Stand up you bloody lazy piece of shit! You’ve got to keep up with the others!”

  Tenil stands up, sweating hard and breathing heavily. She totters onward, the officer screaming at her right beside her. The others have disappeared behind the buildings, running ahead. She isn’t male, so her body can’t keep up with the young, healthy men. She isn’t fat or anything; it’s just that she hasn’t had much exercise recently.

  “The empire’s savages won’t show any mercy! A weakling like you is but a fly to them!” The officer knight yells.

  Her brutal training continues until dinner. She’s puked her lunch, fallen unconscious twice, and gotten soaked in a swamp, all of her body dirtied. They haven’t given her a chance to wash herself, so she’ll have to eat dinner in such state.

  As she sits down to eat the horrible-looking thing that should be food, she starts crying again. She can’t take it. It’s too cruel. Just why is she facing such a fate? She forces the food down her throat, weeping. Some of her tears get mixed with the food, giving a salty taste to the poor rations.

  Once the dinner is over, her unit is taken to the armory. They are to polish the swords they’d used and wipe the armors clean. That much Tenil can take, as it isn’t physically heavy to do. In half an hour, the whole unit is finished.

  Finally, after a long, inhumane day, Tenil gets to lie down in the barrack. Their duty for the day is over, and they may sleep now or do whatever they want to, as long as they won’t break the army regulations. The room in which Tenil will have to sleep is a big one, made for seventy soldiers. Respectively, there are seventy beds, and that’s pretty much it. There is an integrated locker underneath each bed, meant for keeping their personal things safe. Tenil’s bed is in the far corner. The blanket is thin, the pillow non-existent. She’ll have to learn to sleep without one.

  Tenil curls up on her bed, trying to get some sleep after the worst day of her life. She does fall asleep in no time, dreams taking over—nightmares, that is. Even in her sleep, the ruthless world keeps bullying her, showing visions of imagined battlefield, blood and guts garnishing the ground. She hasn’t seen gore before other than what one will see by gutting a fish, for instance.

  Her morning isn’t any better than that. She is forced awake by a superior who is dragging her out of the bed by the hair for oversleeping. Tenil tries to fight back, plunging her nails into the officer’s hand. The superior hits her for doing that, reminding her of the reality. She is in the army now, and therefore, she must abide, or suffer and abide.

  She is starting to believe that she’s truly going to the battlefield. Her mother is in jail, and her father is defending the fortress called Teckton, likely dead by now if the rumors of the empire are real. They may very well lose the war.

  No! We can’t lose! Mom is too weak to survive in a war-torn world! Tenil recalls her mother’s left ankle. She’s sprained it many times over, and because of that, she has a chronic joint pain in her ankle. That’s why Tenil fetched the bucket the day before yesterday.

  Tenil’s punishment is breakfastless morning. She is put to training right away, made to wield a shortsword once again. Her awkwardness with the weapon hasn’t changed at all, infuriating the superior in charge, and the yesterday’s torture becomes today’s pain.

  “I want back home...” Tenil utters under her breath.

  The second day is just like the previous, except that they bathe at one point. Twice a week, each battalion goes to a nearby pond, company at a time, to wash away the sweat and stench. Tenil is no exception in that regard. After the dinner, they go there.

  The pond connects to the river that flows beside the capital. Tenil and the rest of the unit are marching there with only shirts and trousers on. Once at the body of water, the young men around her start stripping, entering the pond to wash away the sweat.

  Tenil tenses up as she sees countless naked men. Blood surges up to her brains, painting her face red. She can’t bear to look any longer and decides to lie low for the half an hour they’ve been given. She stinks, yes, but she chooses stench over bathing with men.

  When the time’s up, Tenil follows suit, returning to the barrack, still reeking of sweat. She falls behind intentionally, hiding her stench. She has washed her face and hands, though. Maybe she won’t get caught at all. A part of her wants to expose her gender, but the superior faction not so.

  Once back at the barrack, Tenil curls up on her bed. She tries to get some sleep as soon as possible. Her comrades won’t let her, however. One guy steals her blanket, other shakes her.

  “Oi, crybaby! What’s your name?” The one who’s shaking her asks.

  Tenil sits up, backing away on the bed until she can feel the wall against her back. “T-Tenil.”

  “Tenil? Isn’t that a girl’s name? Hah!” The one who has her blanket laughs.

  “You’re awful with a sword. You can’t even get your footing right.”

  “Agreed, people like you doom us all. Be sure to die quietly.”

  Tenil is speechless. Their intimidating presence alone is too much, and now she has to deal with their harassment too. She can’t help the tears as they approach her, malicious smiles spreading on their faces. The one with her blanket is closest to her—and she kicks his walnuts out of fear and reflex.

  The young man drops the blanket, holding his crotch while crying. Tenil stares at him in horror, fearing she might be hit over and over once he recovers. The other bully does nothing to her, laughing at her and the pained guy.

  Tenil snatches the blanket, covering herself with it, curled up. The two young men leave her be, only to bring worse punishment with them a little later. Their superior, the lieutenant commanding the company, comes yelling at her. The seventy recruits under training gather around Tenil’s bed as the officer rages.

  “What the hell is wrong with you!? You can’t fight, you can’t run, and you hit your comrades!? Stand up, recruit!”

  Tenil stands straight, waiting for the officer’s punishment. Before she even knows it, he has kicked her crotch. It does hurt a little, but not so much as to make her cry. She’s merely puzzled at the act, until she finally realizes that they think she is a boy. Slowly, she reaches out for her crotch, grimacing awkwardly.

  “He has no
balls!” Someone in the crowd exclaims.

  The lieutenant seizes her by hair. “Your punishment is night watch!”

  ***

  Tenil is being harassed again, but this time by the cold breeze. She is standing on the wall with a shortsword sheathed and leather armor equipped. She is to ring the alarm bell, or at least shout loud enough for the whole brigade to hear, if any enemy comes into view, as unlikely as it may be.

  In the dark of night, any movement looks like a real person, be it swirling grass or a branch. Tenil reasons she’ll go bonkers at this rate, that is, by staring at nothing in the dark. Not just that, the coldness of night makes her shiver, limbs frozen. It’s still summer, but in a month, the season will change, and the military experience will get worse with it. She hopes she’ll get out before the cold winter.

  She hits herself lightly once in a while to keep herself awake. Just thinking about the upcoming day makes her cry. With no respite to back her, she’ll experience her third day in the army, bullied, yelled at, hit, and so on. If it were physical hell, she could bear with it, but it’s become a psychological hell as well.

  Mom, dad... I want home...! Oh Lord of Heaven, please...!

  The Lords do not answer her plea.

  Chapter Two

  Freedom Declined

  Tenil joins her comrades at breakfast, bread and water served today. She munches the meal in her personal corner she’s taken a liking to, solely because no one else ever sits there. Her eyes are partly closed, sleepy due to the lack of rest last night.

  Her face hits the wooden table. Startled, she sits straight for a few seconds, realizing she almost fell asleep, only to repeat the process soon after. She can hear the other recruits spread rumors about the empire all around her as she fights the desire to rest her eyes.

  “Our forces were butchered at the plains of Ymingor, I hear.”

  “Yeah. It was a small warband, took out our reinforcements from Tror as if it was a daily thing to do.”

  “It was a cavalry, though.”

  “Cavalry or not, they were outnumbered by a thousand.”

  “How did they get past the border anyway? Four hundred riders, someone oughta have seen them.”

  “Betrayers, I tell ya. Betrayers all around us.”

  Tenil’s heart throbs. Is the kingdom losing? Will her mother and father die for no reason? What will become of her? She’s heard stories of spoils of war, including both gold and people. She and her mother might be enslaved, put to work, or maybe even disgraced.

  I... I don’t want that!

  Tenil can’t help but fear the future. She can hear the rattling sound of rain hammering the door of the dining hall, spelling the worst day thus far in the army. They will train them even in the rain. She is likely to catch a cold if she is to train out there, soaked.

  Soon enough, their breakfast is over and they’re standing in formation outside, harassed by the rain, the whole platoon of 50 recruits. Their superior, the lieutenant, is yelling like a mad beast, warning them of his wrath should anyone slack, using the rain as an excuse. Tenil makes a firm note to do her best, hearing the punishment is cleaning the stables alone.

  Once the lieutenant has had his fill, they start dueling each other with wooden swords and iron shields, leather armors shouldered. Tenil is even worse with the shield. She has no idea as to how to use it. The one sparring with her is laughing quietly. It’s not like she wants to be there; she was forced to conscription.

  Drenched to the bone, Tenil does her best to land a hit, only to be struck by her opponent’s wooden blade a dozen times. She falls face-first into the muddy ground, fighting the urge to cry. No one will come to save her from the army. She must abide, or suffer and abide. The brutal reality isn’t going away, thus she must embrace it.

  But she can’t.

  She can’t bring herself to swing the sword to kill. She is a girl whom her mother has taught well to become a good wife, and killing isn’t wife’s duty. The worst she has done is gutting a fish, and that’s it.

  “What’s your name!?” The lieutenant cries angrily.

  “T-Tenil, Sir.”

  “You fight like a girl, and your name’s girl’s, and you constantly cry like a coward! If you won’t straighten your spine, I’ll do it myself!”

  “Y-yes Sir!”

  The duels don’t stop. Tenil is put against a weaker opponent. Finally a chance to win, Tenil takes a stance, preparing to strike the other party—only that she falls unconscious without warning, right in the middle of practicing. The superior yells at her again.

  ***

  Tenil wakes up, laid on her bed. She can’t tell how long she’s been asleep, or how she even got there in the first place. Not only that, she is freezing. The thin blanket isn’t warm enough for her, not when a fever is rising. She can hear someone enter the vast room, sneezing as the person comes in. She must’ve gone unconscious because of the lack of sleep and the fever, Tenil reasons.

  “How are you feeling?” The newcomer asks. His face is wrinkled, hair gray. He is the chief medic of the brigade, ranked second lieutenant.

  “H-how long did I sleep?” Tenil asks, stuttering because of the fever.

  “Only two hours. You missed the lunch. So, how’s your condition?”

  “Cold...”

  “No internal pain?”

  Tenil shakes her head. “Will I... be punished?”

  “For falling sick? No. But lieutenant Forhil did kick you a few times before he could assume you were truly unconscious.”

  Now that she thinks about it, her back does ache. Maybe that’s where the lieutenant hit her. The army is too ruthless for the likes of Tenil, but she can’t cry anymore; she’s exhausted her tears, and thus she can only stare at her own hands, face devoid of any hint of emotion. She is a husk of her previous self, a husk that hasn’t improved.

  The medic officer leaves Tenil alone in the vast room, sixty-nine beds without their owners watching over her. She might’ve been excused from the training for today, but what about tomorrow? All is Hell, none is well, Tenil repeats an old saying of the bible she hasn’t read at all, not even a page. She can barely read, and besides, she has no interest in being pious. She does have faith, however, as faint as it might be. The Lord of Heaven has never helped her, but the Lord of Hell has been bombarding her with the punishments of the worst grade, namely the forced conscription.

  Tenil has almost lost her mind. She might go as far as stripping in front of the unit to get out. She doesn’t care what might happen to her, for even a little more of the army’s ruthlessness and she may truly lose her mind once and for all.

  It’s only the third day...

  It’s only the third day...

  It’s only the third day...

  Tenil feels overwhelmed by the idea of being conscripted for a year or more. No, even a month is too much. Her chest hurts, and her mind is in turmoil thanks to such thoughts. The worst part is still far ahead: the battlefield. She can’t bear to imagine it.

  Before she even knows it, she’s asleep again, resting until the dinner. The medic officer wakes her up, serving her a meal. He is gone soon after. Tenil resumes her sleep, curled up under the blanket. Her comrades return from duty soon after the dinner, stinking of sweat, sneezing and talking loudly. They quiet down in no time, thankfully, enjoying the well deserved rest.

  Thus the fourth day of Tenil’s conscription begins. Her fever hasn’t passed yet, so she assumes she can stay on bed as others are gearing up and preparing to go out. Her assumption is proven wrong half an hour later, right after the breakfast, when lieutenant Forhil finds out about her. She is dragged outside, put in line with the others. It isn’t raining, but the ground is still muddy.

  “Tenil!” The lieutenant yells before the unit. “If I ever catch you slacking again, I’ll kill you! It’s wartime! I do have the authority to gut AWOL grunts like you!”

  “Y-yes Sir!” Tenil salutes.

  Feeling sick, Tenil does her best to st
and straight until the training session. Today’s lesson is parrying, practiced in pairs. Tenil’s partner does the attacking, she does the defending. Although she is sick, holding her sword defensively is easy enough, even for her. However, due to her hazy mind, she does something to anger the lieutenant again.

  Before her partner can strike, she swings the wooden sword to hit the young man’s side, then his head, making him fall. The fever has muddled her, and thus her irrational actions. Her reasoning is that if she can defeat the opponent before he can strike, she won’t have to parry.

  “What do you think you’re doing!?” The lieutenant cries.

  “If I strike before the opponent can attack, I won’t have to parry, Sir!”

  “What nonsense is that!? If I say you parry, you parry. If I say you duel, you duel! If I say you kill each other, you fucking kill each other! Got it!?”

  “But Sir...!”

  “Shut up!” He hits her, grabs her hair, and drags her face in the mud. “Who are you!?”

  “T-Tenil, Sir!”

  He drags her face in the soaked earth again. “Who are you!?”

  “I’m—!”

  “You’re nothing!” He does the same for the third time.

  Tenil wants to cry; wants to rest; wants to get out, but she can do none of them. Her front muddied, she stands up, resuming the training. To make matters worse, she is punished further. She is to block the swords with her hands for the duration of the session. By the time it’s lunch time, she’s earned herself a big collection of bruises.

  In the dining hall, Tenil eats the food without complaints. She can’t taste the food anymore, and for some reason, she can’t see the food as disgusting anymore, although it looks horrible indeed. No sane person would ever eat the soup served with gusto.

  She finishes her meal fast and heads out before any of her comrades. She still has her fever, and her face, torso, and legs are dirty. The worst part is that the army won’t give spare clothes unless hers are ragged. For now, they aren’t.