Today, he was being introduced to the followers of Cassidia, the war god. The inside of the temple walls were carved with scenes of great warriors leading their men to victory in battle, killing monsters and other impressive feats. Suits of battered armor and any number of weapons were on display tables. The weapons weren’t pretty, but just by looking at them, Edwin knew they were truly meant for someone who intended to use them.

  The High Priest was a bald man who was almost seven feet tall with a physique meant for pure strength. The priest, whose name was Terrence had an amused grin as he tapped his fingers that had a couple broken knuckles against his arms.

  “I heard what you did to that overstuffed elf after you were found in the temple,” he sounded almost proud, “I might already be training one hero, and he’s already turning out to be a warrior through and through, but I’m not sure I like the look of you.”

  He couldn’t explain why, but Edwin felt a sense of connection with Terrence. He wondered if maybe this was part of who he used to be. The giant man circled him, taking in his appearance, “You’ve a decent amount of muscle, though you’re a bit thin. And your height is nothing to brag about,” he stopped in front of Edwin again, “Do you believe yourself a warrior?”

  “If you’re a warrior, then you don’t believe, you simply know.”

  “Ha!”, the priest barked out laughing, “Oh, you think you’re clever don’t you?”

  The gnarled man called over another priest, who stood far too straight and had the look of a man who probably had seen action but not in recent enough times. The Head Priest told him that he’d show Edwin around, “Follow me.”

  The pair left the display atrium and traveled through the hallway until they came outdoors to a large sandpit. There were a few pairs of combatants fighting each other with swords or through boxing and grappling. The Priest stopped outside the pit and yelled, “At attention!”

  Immediately everyone ceased their training and looked up to see their leader before scrambling to line up and salute.

  “I thought this wasn’t a military academy”, Edwin asked, confused.

  “It isn’t”, the priest answered, “Acolynia is an independent city state. We train whoever we deem worthy of our instruction.”

  Edwin noticed how the trainees all had respectful but hungry expressions on their faces when they looked at him and the Priest, “So, I have to prove myself as worthy, then?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  The Priest turned to Edwin looking much more severe than he was just a moment ago, “I admit you seem to have the instincts of a warrior, but in many other regards, I find you lacking.”

  He didn’t know why, but that observation annoyed Edwin, but he only allowed one eyebrow to raise and a minute lip twitch. Quickly brushing off his annoyance, Edwin fully turned to the Priest and looked straight at him.

  Taking that as a sign for an explanation, “I studied what you did when you first arrived and I will admit, you have talent. The way you easily disabled and disarmed the guards without killing or crippling them was well performed. You didn’t stay in one location, used cover well and managed to evade capture.”

  “And where do you think I’m lacking”, Edwin asked feeling confused.

  The Priest clasped his hands behind his back, “Taking a hostage is a despicable thing. It does not represent a warrior’s conduct. Especially not against someone from such a position within our Faith’s hierarchy.”

  Edwin stepped forward to defend himself, but stopped himself. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt something in his subconscious telling him to take note and probe for more.

  “You don’t teach to take every advantage you can?”

  “An advantage brought about by cheap trickery and low cunning falls in the face of true strength”, the Priest said sagely.

  “Is that a tenet of your faith?”

  “Taking a hostage is seen as a sign of great cowardice and a lack of true skill”, the priest continued to defend.

  Edwin drummed his fingers against his other hand, “I was outnumbered and cornered. If you were in my position, would you have done anything differently?”

  The Priest’s eyes darkened at the prospect of disdaining his honor, “As you have said, you were outnumbered and cornered. Debasing yourself as you did merely served as a way of prolonging what would have otherwise been an immediate death sentence for anyone else”, he swept his hands over to the weapons racks surrounding the sandpit, “The only way you are going to prove that you have any place within my Temple is showing that at the very least, your martial skill is less cowardly than your sense of tactics.”

  Edwin narrowed his eyes, but remained silent. On one hand, he felt rather confused and annoyed at just how narrow the Priest’s perception of what seemed acceptable for a warrior, even if he did somewhat agree with him. But simultaneously, he knew he probably just received an insight from a rather influential source. Walking over to the racks, he saw all sorts of weapons. There were primarily swords, of varying Western design. There were axes, flails, polearms, spears, and something that surprised Edwin, “You guys have guns?”

  “Yes, these firearms have gained a certain amount of traction within the last few decades”, the Priest explained, “In past demon wars, there were many heroes who were always saying they wished they had these guns. However, due to their inaccuracy, their use is primarily as a conduit for magic spells. Though, with our god, Cassidia’s blessing even those measly balls can be devastating with the proper aim.”

  Edwin’s hand ran up the smooth barrel, noting that their craftsmanship was good in a decorative and structural sense. As he took in the details, he could feel little pricks at the back of his head. He knew what these weapons were, but he also knew much more. Ensuring that it wasn’t loaded, he observed that the rifling was rather shallow and spread out. On the next table were paper tubes, no doubt filled with gunpowder, and there were cases filled with metal balls.