Sunset in the west.
Training for Fontdmer Town's thirty-five new recruits kept going strong.
"Everyone run three laps around town. No one eats until you're finished!"
Pamin's gaze was sharp, his voice stern. "No one falls behind, or you'll lift stone blocks one hundred times!"
As his words fell, soldiers behind quickly picked up pace, not daring to goldbriek.
Just kidding—lifting 110-pound stone blocks dozens of times was doable, but one hundred times would turn their arms to jelly!
No one dared question whether Pamin meant business, or they'd get bloody lessons.
Two guards ran with the new recruits while Pamin stood at the town gate waiting, a simple wooden hourglass on the table beside him.
If the recruits went over time, there would be extra punishment training.
Pamin wouldn't cut them any slack.
Similarly, Pamin's iron fist was paying off.
In less than two weeks, these recruits had developed a no-nonsense attitude.
"The lord is back!"
