Tactician: Tactics Anthem Chronicles
him the official Tactician certificate necessary to joining the Tactician’s Guild. That –
Gareth sighed, is at least eighteen months away.
It was mid-morning – and he was due to be at the training grounds by noon. Grumbling, he
performed the needed ablutions and putting on the simple garments of a Tactician of Torpann
– Gareth got up and double-bolted the wooden doors of his sparsely furnished quarter – one
of the two rooms of Rufus’ Tavern, and hurried down the creaky stairway and left the Tavern,
one hand clasped against the sword hilt on his side. One can never be too careful in the city
of Torpann, where thugs, muggers from all of Erets abound.
Today is an important day for Gareth – or so he had thought, as he made his way to the
training grounds, greeting the many familiar faces along the way. Gareth was to meet with
some of his cohort who „graduated’ with him yesterday and head to the Fair – the
Recruitment Fair. “Have you heard?” Rufus the chubby tavern keeper had told him
excitedly last evening. “A fair to recruit and train aspiring tacticians, such as yourself, has
been set up near the outskirts of Torpann City. Make your way there tomorrow lest you miss
this opportunity! I will have more news for you tomorrow, but I sure know where the ten…”.
The rest of the words were lost on the weary tactician climbing up the stairs… Right.
Thought Gareth. I cannot afford to miss this chance, and he doubled the pace of his steps as
he strode purposefully towards the training grounds barely fifty away.
Fifty feet away from you.
Here you are, waiting impatiently for Gareth at the grounds with Flubus, Sunil and Heather.
The five of you had agreed that banding together would improve the chances of getting hired
as it seems the Fair Organizers this year are looking for teams rather than individuals. Not
that It mattered. Everyone knows that at the end, the „team’ is just a way of selecting the best
performer, and weeding out the losers eventually. But as the adage goes, there is strength in
numbers, and better to be part of this team than join up with shady „tacticians’ whom you
have never met. Chances are, the odds of being back-stabbed by „em is roughly the same as
“You are late.” Heather muttered matter-of-factly. Heather Durill, arguably the finest
female tactician from this graduation class, was also the most voluptuous and sensuous girl in
this part of town. With mesmerizing emerald green eyes and soft luscious lips, as Flubus
have so „oft dryly said, “Heather is stunning to behold. But her best asset? Her winning