Six years ago…
Jaysynn stepped onto the outskirts of the military training grounds and surveyed it. Standing in the middle of the dusty grounds, which were the size of a sports field, amidst the mud pits and strangely shaped obstacles, was Dracon. Jaysynn, walking toward him, was puzzled at seeing the general had no equipment with him: no wooden swords, no boxing gear, no grappling hooks. During their previous lessons a few days ago, Dracon had simply told Jaysynn to meet him there after the recruits had turned in for the day. So, here they were standing in the Thyrian military’s proving grounds in the cool of the early evening. Here the ground was drenched with the blood, sweat, and tears of Thyrion’s soldiers, and—Jaysynn assumed—his would soon drench it, too.
The air nipped at Jaysynn, who wore a white shirt and athletic pants. It even cut through the tops of his athletic shoes. Meanwhile, the general looked comfortable in his black field uniform.
“Why are we here?” Jaysynn asked Dracon once he reached him.
“Training,” the general replied dryly. “Or did you forget what this place is?”
“No, sir,” retorted Jaysynn, smiling. “But I don’t get why you want me to run an obstacle course.”
“I don’t. I want you to learn something far more important.”
“And what’s that?”
“Tracing.”
“What?”
“Come with me,” said Dracon, motioning Jaysynn to follow.
The general led the prince over to a pair of ten-foot wooden pillars that held up a chain-link fence interwoven with barbed wire. The frayed tip of a severed rope dangled out of reach from the center of the cross beam that connected the pillars.
“Climb over this fence,” said Dracon.
Jaysynn’s eyes widened. “Without the rope, I can’t get a handhold without getting my hands sliced open.”
“Even after a year of my training, you still only see obstacles.”
Jaysynn huffed. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Opportunity.”
“How’s that? And what does it have to do with…‘tracing?’”
The general smiled slightly, as if to say, “I’m glad you asked.” His face became not that of a drill instructor or even a teacher, but that of a sage. “Tracing is a discipline taught to all Thyrian soldiers. It teaches them that any and all obstacles can be surmounted no matter how large or daunting. Nothing can block their path and keep them from their goals. And all of this is done with only their bodies and is limited only by their wits and creativity.”
“So, it’s like the martial arts you’ve been teaching me.”
“Somewhat, but it isn’t about combat. It’s about critical thinking and self-improvement through physical discipline.”
Jaysynn nodded, silently absorbing everything his mentor just said.
“Let’s begin,” said Dracon.
For the next thirty minutes, the general had Jaysynn do balance, strength, and endurance exercises: handstands, chin-ups, squats, running, and several others. All of this Jaysynn had done many times before with increasing ease. But the prince knew this was only a prelude to the real training, and he had a feeling it would be the most difficult he had had to date.
Finally, his shirt darkened with sweat and his muscles flaring, Jaysynn stood awaiting instruction from the general.
Dracon pointed up to the top of a twelve-foot wooden “tower” that looked like it was a bunch of beams of varying lengths stacked vertically and glued together. “You’re going to climb to the top of that.”
“What for?” asked Jaysynn. He was grateful he and the general had developed a more casual rapport than the general had with his subordinates in the military. Being one of Thyrion’s princes certainly helped. However, the general still did not let him slack off in training.
“To learn the first important element of tracing: tumbling.”
Jaysynn loosened his shoulders and listened intently.
“A large part of tracing is knowing how to take a fall,” Dracon continued. “Tracers can jump from ledge to ledge or fall from great heights with little or no injury by tumbling as they land.” The general stepped back. “As you land, immediately curl your body into an almost ball-like shape and roll along the ground.” He jogged a few steps, tuck-and-rolled, and rose to his feet right in front of a startled Jaysynn. “This will spread out the momentum from your fall, thereby minimizing the impact.”
Jaysynn sighed. “All right, here goes nothing.”
The prince stepped onto the shortest post and ascended. Dracon told him to stop when he was six feet up. From there, Jaysynn took his first jump. He landed and rolled as instructed. Not even a scratch.
“Good,” said the general. “Now go higher.”
For the next two hours, Dracon drilled Jaysynn. The prince slowly ascended the tower until he was jumping from its twelve-foot peak. He earned his stripes—literally—by jumping six or seven times from the top. The landings were more difficult. He walked away with bruises, but he was shocked to see he had no broken bones.
After that, Dracon showed him how to vault, climb, and jump over each of the different obstacles in the “easy route” course. This climaxed with Jaysynn running the course. Sweaty, bruised, and exhausted, he finished the course as Dracon watched with a stopwatch in hand. He told Jaysynn that while it was not a record time, he would have been recruited to the Thyrian Army on the spot.
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