Life was good in the village that year. Mark had everything a young worrier would want for himself.
He had a new sword. A beautiful, and comfortable, new cummling that he had inherited from an uncle that died of an infection, and he had a new lover to be with.
He thought about Shasta now, and about how they had met. Which had not been one of the most pleasant ordeal. It had been three months ago in a training session.
Worriers were grouped in sets of five and in the later years they would be put against each other in mock battles for more extreme training. Back then Mark had had another person he was in love with. It was his group captain Shamus.
Shamus had been hotheaded and irresponsible at the worst of times and not much better in the good times. But Mark had been inexperienced when it came to men so he had taken to Shamus out of sheer desperation for some understanding and guidance. Shamus had been more than happy to teach Mark about his place when it came to sex between men. He was a very dominant being and loved to play with younger inexperienced men.
Shamus’s troop had been very effective in their bouts against other troops so far. But that was mainly due to their ability to crush an enemy quickly. But tat day was a different story. They were to be put into a maze each at different entrances. Mark quickly spotted that this would defeat their main strategy of attacking as a group and moreover pummeling the enemy into the ground.
What was worse was the stories of their opponents captain. It was common knowledge that the man was a genius when it came to strategy especially against troops like Mark’s. But no amount of fussing would ever get Shamus to think of a strategy so Mark had felt no need to point out that their enemy would have one. The point of the maze was to get the enemies scroll at the other side and then make your way back and to yours. If you met anyone during you could defeat them by disarming and they were knocked out of the game. Mark knew he would be alone in the maze with no help from anyone but himself.
He was correct. His troop was completely destroyed except for himself. He was the only one who got through the enemies strategy by sticking to the south wall while going through the whole maze. When he got to the other side he took the scroll and started his way back.
He was halfway through before he met anyone and much to his dismay it was the other teams captain. He had the red armor that all the captains wore and the helmet that covered his entire head but his eyes. Mark did the only thing he could do in the situation. He ran as fast as he could before he turned the corner into a dead end. Knowing he was stuck he drew his sword and redid himself for a fight. The man was right behind him when he turned and he already had his sword drawn.
To his credit the man was good but Mark was much better when it came to a sword. He disarmed the man after a minuet and ran on past him. After another two minuets of searching he found an exit and left the maze and won the game.
After a match the two teams were expected to dine together out of respect but the winning team got to drink at the losers expense.
Mark didn’t rely like to drink but he would if others were. So he got himself a few shots of liquor and was done after that. Shamus on the other hand had brew after brew of mead and was roaring drunk in about an hour.