Warrior Training System

Once the others had filed out of the tent, Julius leaned back in his chair, the flickering lamplight casting shadows across his sharp features. His gaze settled on Cassian, assessing.
"Tell me," Julius began, his voice casual but edged with quiet intent, "did you inform Katherine about your... special armor?"
"I did," Cassian said. He hadn’t mentioned
he got it, and he wasn’t about to. That place—the Challenging Grounds of Marthya—wasn’t something to casually send others into. He and Cassandra had survived, but he had no illusions that the thing guarding it would let just anyone walk out alive.
Julius read his hesitation and smirked. "Relax. I’m not asking for directions." He tapped a finger against the map in front of him. "Cassandra briefed me—enough to get the gist, anyway. Might pay a visit myself once things settle here."
Cassian gave a slight, reluctant smile as Julius anticipated his thoughts. It wasn’t about keeping the location secret - he just needed to understand what they were dealing with first. Those seals breaking, the old man’s vague explanations... none of it sat right with him to share blindly.
While Cassian was still processing this, Julius dropped his next line casually, "Besides, I’ve already got one. Never hurts to have a spare though..." He smirked at Cassian’s surprised expression.
Cassian studied Julius. "You have a war armor too?" He needed to be sure they were talking about the same thing.
Julius gave an amused half-smile. "That’s why the city ministers put me in charge of the army. Why else would they pick a seventh circle warrior over higher ranks like Sergeant Hally or Commandant Sher?"
Cassian nodded slowly, still processing. War armors weren’t just rare equipment - they were legendary artifacts men waged wars over, betrayed families for. One could elevate a warrior by two, maybe even three full ranks in battle. He’d experienced it himself days ago when his armor turned the tide against that Cult member.
Cassian knows just because he’d acquired his war armor early didn’t mean others had the same opportunity. Though considering Julius came from an old noble family, it made sense - they might keep one or two in reserve for promising heirs. Or perhaps Julius had earned his through his own merits. Either way, it was noteworthy. Most circle warriors never obtained one, and judging by Julius’s comments about his command position, neither Sergeant Hally nor Commandant Sher possessed their own.
Julius leaned forward, pushing a rough sketch across the table. "About your armor - that’s actually why I’m sending you on this mission. Your friend spread word about you taking down those Cult members. A first-circle warrior killing two second-circles and a third-circle? That made you a minor celebrity. Good for morale, bad for your safety."
Cassian examined the crude sketch. The rough lines barely captured his features, though the artist had taken care to mark his eyes and hair in vivid red. Beneath the drawing, unfamiliar symbols were scrawled - their meaning lost on him, but their ominous intent clear enough.
"You’ve been added to the Cult’s special kill list," Julius continued. "Low priority for now, but still unusual for a first-circle to even register."
Cassian absorbed this silently. The revelation surprised him—warriors and mages had been dying by the dozens these past months. The last month alone saw more deaths than the entire previous year. Why would his three kills warrant this attention?
Julius read his expression and shrugged. "Probably because of that head-collecting mage you spotted. High-ranking, by the looks of him. They don’t take kindly to losing their own." He folded his arms. "With Cult spies still being rooted out of the city, it’s better you’re not here when they come looking. This mission puts distance between you and where you were last seen—perfect timing."
Cassian understood the reasoning, but it still sat uneasily with him. Being sent away felt like retreating—like cowardice. But Julius wasn’t finished.
"There’s another reason I’m sending you," he said, lowering his voice. "We suspect this mission ties into that... clone situation you’ve dealt with before."
That
—the one that had toppled one of the oldest kingdoms into civil war. Many considered the Ironclad Kingdom’s collapse the Cult’s first true move in this conflict, though little news had surfaced since their attacks began along the forest’s borders.
Julius watched Cassian’s reaction before continuing, "This is confidential. Don’t share it—not even with your new commander. But we’ve received reports that in the Karmen Earldom, where you’re being deployed... the current Earl, or at least key figures in their leadership, may have been replaced by clones you fought back at Valtross academy’s testing grounds."
He leaned forward slightly. "There’s no other explanation for why they’re struggling this badly against mere monsters, let alone the Cult."
"Were all the Karmen family’s heirs trained at Valtross too?" Cassian asked. It made sense - if the Cult had compromised the Ironclad Kingdom’s leadership, a smaller earldom would be vulnerable to the same tactics.
"Not all of them," Julius replied. "Just the current earl and some of his council members." That didn’t make the situation any less serious, but at least now Cassian understood this wasn’t just about keeping him safe - if anything, the mission zone might be more dangerous than staying here. The only difference was that there, he wouldn’t be the primary target.
Cassian considered for a moment before asking, "If I find proof, who do I report to?"
"The city has some spy operating there," Julius replied. "They’ll reach out once you arrive. Until then, keep this to yourself - only share with those you’d trust with your life if absolutely necessary."
Cassian gave a firm nod. "Any other orders, Commander?"
Julius shook his head. "Just stay alive. No more reckless charges into impossible odds. Even winners can’t keep winning those forever - and I say that from experience."
A faint smirk crossed Cassian’s face. For all his arrogance, Julius had always been brutally pragmatic. "Understood, Commander." He snapped a crisp salute.
Julius dismissed him with a casual wave. "Get moving. Come back in one piece - Katherine would have my head if you didn’t."