General Howard arrived at the training camp, approaching the group of boys.
"Good morning, everyone. I have some news..."
"General, first of all, I'd like to say something, if I may," Enea interrupted.
"Yes... sure, go ahead," Howard replied, perplexed.
"With all due respect, this training program sucks."
The others froze in shock at Enea's blunt words.
"We'd like to use weapons immediately. We can't continue like this."
This is his plan to gain the General's trust!? — thought Alexandre, completely astonished.
Howard sighed. "Enea, your manner never fails to amaze me."
"I know, and I apologize," Enea said seriously. "But I don't see a better way to express my point. Sometimes, you have to rub the truth in someone's face, otherwise nothing ever changes."
The General nodded slowly. "Nice speech... but pointless. Your first weapons training session was already scheduled today."
Enea blinked, taken aback. "So... I said all this for nothing?"
"Exactly." The General placed a hand on his shoulder. "And now, fifty push-ups for insulting my training program," he added with a devilish grin.
Enea smirked slightly. "Right."
He stepped aside and began his punishment.
Howard noticed three soldiers chatting near the edge of the field. "You three! Over here!"
The soldiers rushed to him. "Good morning, General Howard!"
"Good morning. I need eight wooden swords. Can you get them for me?"
"Right away, sir!" they said in unison before walking away.
"General," asked Alexandre, "what caused this sudden change of plans?"
"The change stems from my discussion with the King this morning," Howard explained. "From today, you'll have a month to improve your swordsmanship. After that, you'll face seven elite soldiers."
"To decide what, exactly?" Leon asked.
The General's expression became serious. "To decide your freedom."
The group was stunned. "What do you mean!?" Hector exclaimed anxiously.
"From our latest reports from the battlefield, we've learned that four of the kingdom's major cities have fallen. The year of training you were promised... we may not be able to grant you."
"And what does this have to do with our freedom!?" Leon asked, raising his voice.
"The King isn't convinced you'll get results at this rate, even in a year. So he's prepared this test: in a month, you'll fight those elite soldiers. If at least half of you win, we'll continue as we are. Otherwise... the King will revoke your current freedoms. He'll treat you like tools, not people: anything to get results."
"Unbelievable..." Andrea muttered, still processing.
"You said elite soldiers," Daniel said, confused. "So, basically, some of the best in the army... How are we supposed to beat them in just a month?"
"By giving everything we've got," Enea said, returning to the group and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Right, General Howard?"
"Yes," Howard replied firmly. "That's the plan. Not just you, I'll give everything to ensure your success."
So... more extra work — Hector thought dejectedly.
The soldiers returned with the requested swords. "Here you are, sir."
"Thank you." The General took one of the wooden swords. "I have another favor to ask of you: one of you volunteer to be my sidekick."
A soldier immediately stepped forward. "I will do so, sir."
"Excellent. Take a sword and follow me." The general moved to the center of the field.
"Yes, sir!" The soldier grabbed his wooden blade and joined him.
"Good. Now, attack me with everything you have."
"Right away!"
"Fighting can mean many things," Howard said as he effortlessly deflected the soldier's blows. "Some fight to win. Some fight for passion. Others just to hurt."
A sharper blow came from the right; Howard parried it with one fluid motion.
"But to me... fighting is an art. Every duel is like a blank canvas: two artists painting it together."
The soldier pressed harder. Howard let him, waiting. "He represents a fire when he fights," he said calmly. "And I respond by representing the sea. In the end... the fire always goes out."
With one swift movement, he disarmed his opponent.
"Find a way to paint," Howard concluded, lowering his sword. "Your style. Your art."
The exhausted soldier fell to one knee, panting.
"Good job, son." Howard held out a hand, which he gratefully accepted. "You can rest now."
"Thank you, General."
"So, did you all get the metaphor?" Howard asked, turning to the group.
The boys exchanged uncertain glances.
"Well... sort of," Alexandre muttered.
Howard rubbed his temple, realizing he'd overcomplicated things. "The point is, from now on, we'll spend half the day training with weapons, so each of you can find your preferred type and style of fighting. The other half will focus on physical preparation. Got it?"
"Oh, now that makes sense!" Daniel exclaimed cheerfully, leaving the General visibly perplexed.
Leon patted him on the back of the head. "Yes, we get it. I feel sorry for him."
"We'll give it everything we've got, General!" Andrea exclaimed, making Howard smile.
"I never doubted it," Howard said confidently. "Now, everyone, grab a sword."
"Okay!"
The boys ran to gather their weapons, while the General watched them in silence, lost in thought.
A month... let's hope that's enough.