Struck heavily, the child could hardly bear the fall despite the armor absorbing most of the impact.
"That's not how you fight. If that had been a sword, you would be dead by now," Reynard said calmly, watching his son without a hint of mercy.
Having fought in battles himself, he knew any slight mistake could cost a life, and only harsher training could keep one alive.
Even now, he considered himself fortunate. Back when he had impulsively joined the Crusaders, he had barely a month's rushed training before setting off on the holy war, while some had only days after arriving at the assembly point.
A throng of excited new recruits marched into battle, soon to realize that war was not as sacred as the Bishops had proclaimed.
In his first battle, the cost was a wound that nearly cleaved him in two, and he survived only because the Army Chaplain had found him...
