Muscle Memory

I headed out in search of the barracks of Casbriga. I was planning on copying the drills performed by the warriors there, and practicing them by myself out in the forest or plains somewhere. Since I’m a beginner and prone to failure, I’m too proud to ask for help or to train in public, lest people lose even more respect for me if I fail. Once I get some experience, I want to move on to training in public. Doing so will demonstrate my skill to everyone, making them stand in awe and pay attention to me.

My plan is solid and simple. It’ll probably take me around a month to complete it, because all I have to really do, is train a little and everything else will fall in place.

According to my uncle, the further ascendant you are, the more advanced your biology is. As the only Goblin King, I thus stand above all the other goblins, and it’s clear that my body is already attuned to fighting. So, all I have to do is connect my mind to my muscles and I’ll be able to tap into my power that Frasmul already cultivated in this body. Then I will move on to defeating each Highgoblin, dominating everyone, et cetera et cetera.

Like I said, solid and simple.

While formulating this plan, I had found the barracks. The town apparently had three barracks. One was close to the town square where my defeat took place, another was close to the main gate of the town, meant to intimidate those who entered, and the last barrack was situated in the back of the town behind the mound on which the hall stood. This last barrack was the most isolated one, so I settled for it. I did not know if the quality differed per barrack, or if there were any differences between them, but with this barrack, I could watch from afar and copy their movements without anyone noticing me.

All I needed from the warriors were drills for my sword practice. I didn’t have a spear and my uncle said that the falcata was the most advanced goblin weapon anyway, so I didn’t much care for spear training. I watched and analyzed their movements, but didn’t perform them myself. Thus I spent hours watching them perform spear drills, waiting for them to finally move to sword training.

The time arrived, and I copied their movements from a distance. They started with their footwork and drawing their blade. Afterwards, they moved to individually repeating basic strikes: right cut, left cut, upper slash, thrust. I adopted these two drills and neglected the others for now, which included pairing up, sparring, parrying, and riposting. The entire regimen took around thirty minutes, and the soldiers would repeat it for two hours before retiring for the day. The parts that I focused on took but twenty minutes, but it took a while for me to memorize the drills.

After I finish up with this training, I’ll ask my uncle to help me complete the rest of the training by sparring. Since he’s on my team, failing would not result in disgrace, and since Maraldnund called him the most powerful of the tribe, I’m sure he can teach me a great ton.

***

AREMFRID

Yet another day has come to pass wherein the chiefs refuse to budge to my will, ignorant of the fact that our people must rise up to the station of man and organize into a kingdom, to thwart human and animal incursions to our homeland, a goal only to be reached with the power of a Goblin King. They understand not how great our regression is compared to that of man, that if we fail to measure up to the standards of man as a nation, we might as well be like the dust on our shoes, forgotten and lost to time.

See how we operated and blundered when the dread lynxes invaded, unable to organize into coherent units to ward off mere animals, as our tribes quarreled amongst each other for territories and estates. Or when the wayfinders struck at Alisdat, slaying my father and enslaving my people, occurrences that would not have come to pass if we had been a strong, coordinated nation. My kind rejoices in remaining stagnant, living in wooden homes, being the backwater of the world, and they continue in their misguidance even as I bring my nephew to them a reviver of honor.

As I lamented the stubbornness of the chiefs, I arrived at my domicile, greeted by my nephew, sword in hand, he requested my assistance in his training in the form of a bout. It is indeed the truth that he had been honing his martial prowess these past weeks, for I have frequently entered upon him a perspired man, yet I remain confounded as to the reason for his training.

His loss against one of the chiefs had been humbling, though no one had expected otherwise, and it serves no purpose to redress this loss with a victory, for every man in the tribe is aware that my nephew stands above them. They have long recognized his power, for that is an innate proficiency that us goblins possess towards our own kind, yet they remain unawed by him for his general insignificance. He was comparable to my true nephew, Frasmul, in this regard and many others, for he too was recognized for his might but disregarded for his lack of contribution to the tribe.

He brought me to his site of exercise, I unsheathed my Lugustian longsword which I always carried along, faced him, and struck at him with all my power. I shall coach him on his combat in the hope that, by the will of the palace, he will come to recognize his flawed ambition in attaining raw strength, for he must learn to provide value if he seeks to become a sovereign. I serve only to guide—not to direct—for a king who learns by experience shan’t repeat the faults of himself nor his subjects.

***

ALBAR

My mind was in purgatory. My mental strength was not on par with my physical power. The grueling boredom of repetition, and excruciating pain of moving a tired muscle were a lot for my unathletic brain to handle. I fueled myself with daydreaming, like I always did, but my mental fortitude was being put to the test day-in, day-out. My expectations of doing these drills with ease fell flat, and a whole month passed.

However, my hypothesis in regards to my body seemed to be true. I managed to physically keep up with the training, a few muscles aching here, a whiff of physical exhaustion there, but in general, I kept up the pace. The slashes and thrusts came naturally, reinforced by Frasmul’s muscle memory and disciplined instincts. So despite my costly mental exertion, I decided it was time to move to the next phase: sparring. Which I was actually in the middle of doing…

“Stand up, and retaliate upon blocking my strikes,” My uncle lectured me. “for if you do not, you shall never triumph in battle.” I laid curled up on the ground as my uncle was drenched in sweat from our practice match. By accident or by purpose, he swung low and hit my foot, causing me to tumble to the ground.

I had reached out for his help in sparring, because I did not want to risk losing face in public. He wielded a two-handed longsword and was clearly experienced, fending off each of my strikes. My uncle made short work of me every time I stood back up though, attacking me relentlessly with rapid, hard-hitting strikes in addition to fluent combinations and deceitful feints.

“Fret not about this your wound, for it will heal as you slumber, but now you must continue the fight until the bitter end, whether victory be yours or theirs.”

I groaned in pain and stood up to continue the fight. Any day now, I would be combat ready and move towards the next part of my plan: challenge the captains of the barracks to a spar, beat them mercilessly, and show my strength to the tribe. Finally, I will be able to get some recognition since stepping foot in this town.