The First Dismissal

The weeding-out of the unfit shogu was more depressing than Kotia thought it would be, even with Chief Warden Orine 'Tough-Love' Basania. Kotia had to admire the deft way she first broke the harsh news without batting an eye, offered comfort and encouragement where needed, and returned to professionalism by the time the wagons rolled up to the gate of the Shogu Holding's grounds. Basania continued to have them by the balls even when they were leaving and likely to never see her again -- Kotia could only hope to have that kind of influence one day.
Basania had made everyone line up alphabetically either side of the dirt and gravel road that led from the base of the plateau to the bare-bones gate; those who were leaving were in plainclothes and had their drawstring bags with them, having turned in their uniforms and gear the night before. Kotia scanned the ranks, noticing how those still in uniform already seemed older while those not seemed like the fifteen year-olds they were, if not younger. Although the calling-out of those who'd failed had been public, it'd been hard to take in all of the names and Basania ran such a tight ship that teasing or even lingering on the subject had been uncommon. Nonetheless, Kotia was surprised by some who were leaving and some who were staying.
For example, directly across from her -- both of them were on the front lines either side of the road -- was the weedy pale boy about her height, with glasses and dark red hair. Lathor, she remembered; she remembered too that he'd arrived with a couple of friends and hadn't seemed to acquire any more after he got here. He was still in uniform -- he was staying -- and she reasoned that maybe those two friends, despite seeming to have gravitated away into other groups, had helped him out.
Well, she thought, this is only the first, en-masse dismissal. There’s three smaller ones to go. Just because he made the first cut doesn't mean he'll last 'til graduation.
"All right, everyone," Basania's voice bled out over the small clearing from where she stood on the small platform over the gate. It had a surprising amount of volume for so small a person. "We're here to say goodbye to some members of our family. Let's hope we all see each other again someday. To those who are leaving us -- think of this not as a failure but as a redirection to things better-suited but equally important. You will be feeding us; you will be supporting us; you will be the comfort we seek in the darkest of times and you will be the reason we fight. Never forget that. To those who are staying -- do not forget their faces. Do not forget that it is on their shoulders that we are lifted and that makes them no less worthy of praise. We owe them too much for our humble mouths to say." Her voice gained new momentum and volume, "And so! As we part ways, one final salute!"
They enthusiastically mimicked her and stood to attention. It was hard not to feel uplifted and some of the cadets were even smiling. After a few moments Basania relaxed and they took it as their cue to do the same; the plainclothes shogu – shogu no more, merely citizens – reaffirmed goodbyes made the night before and drifted through those that remained in formation, leaking onto the road and down it, toward their erstwhile Chief Warden, toward the gate, toward the wagons that waited to carry them back to their homes and families.
Kotia only felt a pea-sized amount of envy. Although close to her grandmother and not opposed to her home, she'd spent far too much time with both. Not only had the military been a calling she felt she'd be remiss to ignore, it represented an opportunity to get away, meet people, do something more with herself. She'd been homeschooled and for additional reasons she didn't understand yet, Devatska had been reluctant to let her socialize up until now or, at the very least, let others know her full name. It made any in-depth bonding difficult. Although she'd been making up for lost time many of those she'd connected with were now leaving. It was a setback and however much she tried not to take it personally, she felt her stomach sink.
The wagons were almost finished loading; a few shogu had gathered by the gate and the fence to wave them off and Basania remained on the platform above, arms folded. Everyone else was beginning to disperse or mingle despite the few cold flecks of rain that left you wondering if someone had spat in your direction. Although Kotia expected others to gravitate toward her like they often did, today she was left alone and she tried not to feel vulnerable because of it. There was no reason to be, after all. She kicked a stray rock back at the road and stretched her arms above her head. A glance back at Lathor -- his arms had folded and his expression had grown more pensive than usual. His own gaze remained fixed on the gate and his sharp profile was like a blade that warded off anyone nearby.
Looks like his buddies are gone, too, she realized after scanning the clearing. How does that work? If they helped him, how come they're the ones who were dismissed?
He continued to just stand there, unmoving. The fresh rain was growing heavier. She was fairly certain he hadn't blinked and as she wandered onto the road, a little closer, she could see that his eyes were glazed over. His expression was beginning to tip from severity to dismay in a softening of his frown, a relaxing of his jaw, a slight lowering of the shoulders that had been nearly bunched up around his ears as though cold.
She heard the snap of the horses' reins and the crunching lurch of the wagons beginning to roll forward. His head turned ever so slightly to follow their progress and it was then that she felt pity beginning to nibble at her.
"Hey," Kotia said to get his attention.
It took him a moment to turn to look at her and yet another for his face to grow defensive again. He was rather mean-looking, come to think of it, and though it didn't intimidate her it nearly deterred her from wasting her time on someone so apparently negative. However, she recognized in his eyes the same vulnerability she'd felt only a few minutes ago.
"Your friends get dismissed?" she asked, walking a couple of steps nearer and putting a hand on her hip.
His arms folded more tightly across his chest and he scowled. "What's it to you?"
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said. She shrugged. "You just looked like you wished you were on a wagon."
"Bullshit," he spat. "Why the fuck would I want to be dismissed -- it's a disgrace. I'd much rather be here where I belong."
Kotia narrowed her eyes, reconsidering her pity. "Forget I said anything." She turned and walked away, headed back to the zig-zagging path that led up the steep slope to the barracks.
At first she thought it was the rain, but then she realized it was footsteps walking quickly after her -- trying to catch up but not wanting to seem like they were trying. Though curious, she wasn't curious enough to slow down.
"I'm Fhalz Lathor," the redhead continued, to her surprise. His voice held an odd note of urgency.
"And?"
He came into her periphery as they started the ascent. "Well, you're Kotia, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Your friends got dismissed too, huh? That, and I've been watching your work --"
"That's not creepy at all," she interjected to drown how strangely appealing it was to hear him refer to her training as 'work', like it was artistry.
"-- and we're pretty equal so far, must mean we were meant to stick together." He said it like a fact. Not a musing, a fact. It was enough for her to slow ever so slightly and let him walk with her instead of behind her. The first hairpin turn of the path was a few meters away, guarded by clouds of bright green. "Only those worthy are staying."
"Does it make you 'worthy' to depend on your friends to make sure you don't fall behind?"
He scoffed. "I was the one lapping them on the track. Nobody helped me. I would've rejected it anyway. That kind of stuff just makes you soft and weak. They knew what they were getting into and they couldn't handle it -- it's best they've been sent home."
"Y'know it's saying shit like that that's probably not winning you any new friends, right? You must be the Chief's favorite -- so inspiring, so altruistic." Kotia rolled her eyes, drew ahead again and rounded the curve before him.
"What, and you are?" Fhalz retorted. "Neither of us are here to gratify other people." Again, stated like a fact, not a guess. He was right, of course, but she wouldn't give him that. They walked on for a few more minutes up another leg of the path. At the next turn, he spoke again. "They did leave," he admitted. His voice had become somber and it didn't take much for her to realize it was difficult. "Erdel Meisengrat, Chaus Berix. I'd known them since we were kids."
"They're not gone forever, you know," she replied, trying to be gentle. She picked her braid up and waved it a little to let air and the cool rain hit the back of her neck.
He hummed and then after a moment, asked, "Yours?"
"What?"
"Your friends."
"Oh." She was genuinely taken aback as it occurred to her that not only did she know a mere handful of first names even after all this time, but she hadn't known any of them before she enlisted. "A lot of them left," she answered noncommittally with a shrug.
He pushed air loudly through his nose, "I guess you're never gonna be the type to have trouble making friends." There was derision in his voice, but it was more of an envy than sarcasm.
"But they weren't anybody I knew well, like you did," she admitted in return. "I didn't know anyone when I got here."
"I guess we're really equal now, then, in that case."
"Don't push your luck, Lathor."
"It's my favorite sport, seems like."
She finally cracked a smile. "You, sport? If the wind up here gets much stronger it might blow you off the slope."
She heard rather than saw his own smile. "Good thing our line of work prefers you to be quick."
"I guess we'll have to see tomorrow who's faster, huh?"
"I suppose we will," Fhalz agreed.

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The beginning of the friendship between Kotia Acosaphaura and Fhalz Lathor.