Role

Chapter 2

3rd Day of Thunder, Month of Winter

Many often say you will not believe this or that, but mother, I rest assured
knowing you will not believe what has transpired. It is even more bizarre than
the time the svirfs from lower Cragstone came and one actually bashed down the
airborn giant slave. Astonishing. As I wrote to you months ago, the Village
I have joined has been without leadership. Their method for choosing new leaders,
a Commander and a Drillmaster, is called the Rites. There, they test battle skills
and wits. I of course put my name in to join, as I can think of few greater
inspirations than such a spectacle, and if I managed to be victorious, all the
better. I am confident in my skills to lead, and maintain my focus. These Rites
were held today and I was not disappointed. Great battles, individual and groups,
were fought, won and lost. Unfortunately none of my guildrank had the heart to
leave the huts other than me, so I had none to fight in the combat portion. I do
not doubt they fear my blades, as well they should. My fire burns hot. But, I
was not merely a voyeur. The Goddess had a test for me as well. I was to predict
the victor in each contest, as a test of my judgment and combat knowledge. You will
be proud to know that I predicted ten for twelve, impressing even myself with my
ability. After this came the test of wits where words held sway, and of course
I excelled. Some of the others had interesting things to say, to be sure, but
I do not believe any spoke better than I. Which is as it should be, for speech is
simply another form of Art, and they cannot match my skills there. You will be
pleased to know I did not let the glory go to my head too far though, Mother. I
made it clear that while I would accept the position of Commander if necessary, I
would rather, and am for now more suited, to be Drillmaster. Commander takes much
time and would require a diminishment of my efforts in my Art. While in the prime
of my life now, I do not wish such a reduction. There were six others in the
test of Wits, winners of the test of combat, and all in the hero ranks. In the end,
Fjarn, an oversider of the airborn, was made Commander. He will be fine, I do not
doubt. But here is where you will need to be sitting, Mother. Moments later...
I was risen to Drillmaster. I am now the Drillmaster of Battle. A heady and
inspiring result.

What is even more surprising though is how I feel myself to be changed, and changing
still. One of the things I do so prize about seeing life not as some rigid set of
rules or strict order of behavior, is that nothing is permanent, least of all a
man. Shocking as this may sound, Mother, I have developed an attachment, almost
even an affection, for these others in the village. I know, it sounds disgusting
even to write it. It is worse feeling it. Even so, there it is. Where once, ten
or twenty years ago I would not have thought twice to lie or betray or watch
die one of them, brother or no, I cannot deny I now feel compelled to help them,
at least to become better fighters in the War. And to preserve their lives. Even
the pathetic elves and dwarves. If someone had told me I would say that one day,
I would have stuck a spoon in their eye and eaten it as they watched with the other.
But change happens