Chapter 170: Mocked Battle

Ned's group belongs to the fifth team, the last out of five. And so, they were grouped at the far corner of the training ground. Behind them was the half-crescent wall of the manor, and the rest was equal-sided in three. Forming a square with a bent edge.

All were determined to join the House Tarragon, none looked awful. Being only fourteen, Ned was the youngest out of his team, perhaps out of all. According to the other hunters, one of the convenient ways to become a hunter was to graduate from an academy. By then, one could simply apply to Hunter's guild to become a hunter, without doing Hunter's exam.

Otherwise, if one wanted to join Hunter's guild without having to graduate from any academy. Then, they have to do the exam and prove to the association that they were worthy to become a hunter.

As soon as Horn gave the word, the recruits scattered like wildfire. They strode to get their preferred weapon at the wooden rack beside the wall. There, they were stopped by other hunters—that seemed to be guarding the rack or the training ground itself—and ordered them to settle themselves like proper hunters.

Ned took a step back, giving the others the time and the chance to have their weapons of choice. One hunter passed across him, kicking grasses as he was too old to trail to the other hunters. White hair weaved like a pony, and eyes seemed force to look at the path. Ned shook his head. Too old and a recruit, Ned thought. Life must be hard. The old hunter was almost as old as his Master.

The old man stopped behind the last line of the recruits.

Horn looked at Ned, eyelids lifted with what seemed to be a mockery. He grinned. And Ned wasn't sure why unless it was all about Sasani. Then he saw the line stopped to a full halt, the recruits argued with voices crunching up.

"Cracking swine!" One of the recruits said, he stood in the middle of the line with beards messed up. "Don't you dare do that!"

"Yeah!" The one in the front agreed with voice rising in tension. "You're saying you don't have enough weapons?"

Ned frowned, the rack they were eager to line was now empty. Only six people got the weapons, while other members from other groups ran to get ahead of the rest to pick the weapons supposedly for the fifth team.

Horn watched them with eyes scorning in the distance. Ned leaned against the wall with arms folded, it felt cold. Without the torch around the edges, the recruits would surely be brushing the hands of each other. Then, the first sunlight broke through, giving a clear view of the place. Grass weeded short: green, a pavement of grey and black.

The rest of Ned's team shook their head, having no weapon meant already a disadvantage. That includes Ned, the old man, a plump guy with head shining bald against the sunlight, and a tall guy that doesn't seem to care.

"Gather up!" Horn said, revising his words to appear like he was born from the capital. "Shyou will be facing other recruits. The recruitment shwill last for two days. And depending on your talent, shyou will be one of the lucky participants to become our households and a job as a hunter."

The team clamped together in front of Horn right after he finished explaining. Ned remained to the back, together with the old man and the tall guy.

"You seemed confident," a voice rang beside Ned. "For a kid."

It was the old man, stroking his beard moving to Ned. He wore a robe that touched the grass underneath, white hair hangs loose in every direction—aside from the pony. He stopped, turned around, and stood beside Ned. He continued as Ned decided to remain quiet.

"What were you doing upstairs?" He said, not looking to Ned with his sunken eyes.

"I don't intend to answer that, old man," Ned said, eyes looking at a pair of recruits started doing their mock battle. It was the first group to start, each group have their designated circle for combat.

"Huh," he said, hands folded behind his back. "You look young to be here."

"And that as well."

"Huh," the old man added. "Fine. Then what about your weapon?"

"I don't intend to use one," Ned said, eyes went back to Horn who now have a piece of thin board with the paper being clipped. He started calling out names. "I won't stay for long either."

"Then why are you here?" The old man said, looking at Ned.

"Jerra!" Horn said across the distance.

"I also don't want to answer that, old man," Ned said, frowning. Horn has been calling out a man named Jerra for the third time.

The rest of the group turned their head toward Ned, eyes boring him. The tall guy moved closer to the rest of the group.

"Jerra!" Horn called out again, this time eyes went straight to Ned.

"Kid," the old man said, looking at Ned. Eyes met since the old man was almost the same as tall as Ned. "You must be Jerra?"

"Uh," Ned said, turning his head to the old man, pointy jaw and wrinkled skin was all Ned could see. Why would he join the recruitment? Ned coughed. "Yes. Yes. I am Jerra."

Before Ned joined, there was one already missing since none of them were on the group. The rest having ten members.

Ned hurried toward the group to avoid confusing the already confused recruits. Some scoffed, others glared.

"Loti!" Horn said, tapping the paper with his knuckled hand.

"That would be me, hunter sir," Loti said from behind Ned. It was the old man, stopping beside Ned. "Well, guess we don't need weapons, right, Jerra-kid?"

Ned nodded. Loti seemed to be friendly for an old man and seemed to not care that he was the oldest out of the rest of the group.

Ahead of Ned was the tall guy wearing a farmer's cloth, with loose sleeves and loose pants. Bruises and cuts were visible behind his neck. To Ned's right was the old man standing close to the torch. The torch burned with oil, smoke rose, and vanished as the wind blew from the east. The sun has already shone, and the sky has yet to be cleared of dark clouds. On the horizon sparks of thunder looked gloomy, breaking the silence of the sky.

Looks like meeting Sasani is going to be wet, Ned thought. Unsure why he would think something like that. But, it can't be helped, she already sent Ned an invitation. Third Hunter's board in the center of the city, with Sasani, along with the fountain. Then, Ned's name was called.

"Jerra," Horn said, arms folded across his chest. A lunky guy stood beside him holding the paper. The shell-eater looked at Ned and nodded. "Shyou're up. Shyou will be the first to battle."

"Can't help it," Ned said, walking in the middle of the group. Some gave way, while others blocked him deliberately. Most throw a dirty look at Ned.

"Trying to peek at our Lady," one of the recruits said.

Now, Ned thought that they only joined House Tarragon just to see Sasani. They would even be willing to become slaves. Ned could only shake a head.

He then stopped in the circle of stone. It was almost ten meters in diameter, it was laid flat and made of gravel to avoid slipping during battle.

Being in the center made Ned looked with scornful eyes.

"Now then," Horn said, looking at the recruits. "Shwho would be willing to—"

"I!"

"Me!"

"Pick me, Horn sir!"

"Let me teach that brat!"

All at once, seven of the recruits raised their hands to show how eager they were to fight Ned.

Horn threw a pity look at Ned. "Shtoo early to have enemies, kid," Horn said, grinning. Jaws lined with muscles, knuckles clanked with metal. He then pointed to the bulkiest of the recruit. "Bud! Shyou will be facing Jerra!"

The rest who wasn't picked lowered their hands without any hint of energy.

Bud, at almost six feet, with only leather straps covering his chest and short pants that shows his hairy legs stepped up toward Ned and joined him in the middle of the fighting circle. Ned couldn't judge how old Bud was. If Ned based only on his physique, then he was at least twenty, perhaps twenty-five. But if Ned judged him based on his looks, then he would be around forty or fifty. Thick eyebrows, thick lips, and undermining eyes, Ned wasn't sure how to judge.

Raising his ax, Bud pointed it to Ned. "You will regret joining House Tarragon!" He said.

One of the recruits dropped his blade. The rest (aside from Loti, the tall guy, and Ned), mouth went gaping. Even Horn with his thickened jaw couldn't help it.

As to how big Bud's body was, his voice was the highest of pitch Ned have ever heard. He was like an elephant with the voice of a bird. He talked like serenading, his voice if he tried to shout—Maker's forbid—could break glasses of two or three.

Bud lowered his metal ax with cheeks turning red. "I will—" he said, stopping. He must have thought that saying more would make other people laughed at him.

But not Ned, he was focused. He raised his hands: left hand forward, right hand bent across his chest. Using only his bare knuckles, Ned mimicked the form Lady Cas'a had used against him. The Water Moon Stance. This stance uses the strength of the opponent against them, followed with a prediction that came with experience, a stance well thought to fight one versus one.

Horn, pulled something out of his left pocket. It was a silver coin, raised it and said: "Shtart the moment the silver hit the ground." He then threw it between Ned and Bud who stood almost six meters apart.

Horn grinned looking at Ned.

Ned breathed, focused, and adjusted footing. Never underestimate your enemy, Ned thought. Silver coin glittered along with the sunlight, it then clanks hitting the stone pavement.

Bud gripped his ax across his chest lunging himself to Ned. Trying to ram him with his thick shoulder. He shouted, and wished that he doesn't. They don't need a Bard during this time of the hour.

Like water flowing, Ned positioned his hands in a defending stance. At a meter, Bud entered Ned's attacking range.

With his palm, Ned slightly touched Bud's shoulder. He stepped to his left, twisted his waist. He spun to evade to his right. Back in front of Bud, along with the spin was Ned's elbow. The wind whistled, Ned's elbow went straight to the bridge of Bud's nose.

Like a hammer hitting a wood, Ned's elbow connected. Bud's skull boomed. The recruit fell, head first then the body. Pupil went; eyes went white, the ax was thrown, mouth open. He was breathing. Yet, unconscious.