[b]Cornet Leventis
[/b]

Herakles began the meeting with Captain Philolakes with unbridled enthusiasm, but when expectations met reality, there was none of the glamour nor the excitement he'd hoped for. In fact the entire ordeal seemed more like an exceedingly formal move of bureaucracy and was, frankly, dull. That is, until the commander's closing remarks were uttered. Perhaps not exactly what was said, but more how he said it. It was as if Captain Philolakes were sizing him up, yet hadn't arrived at a decidedly positive conclusion. An expression of hope for his future success was made, but the doubt lingered heavily. A doubt so thick it fogged young Herakles' mind for the remainder of the day. Sure, he'd expected an.. [i]unpolished[/i] induction into the military. It was, after all, rather unconventional for a man outside of the gentry to find the means with which to purchase a commission. Yet there was a weight to the unspoken judgment more cumbersome than the well wishes. A tone that seemed in that moment entirely inharmonious with the niceties presented. A tinge of disgust? Or was it contempt? More likely disappointment. There were better blooded boastful bastards bred and born brimming with bombast from whom he, a low born brigand, had robbed a perfectly good commission. It was evident that it would take much more for Herakles to [i]"prove himself worthy"[/i] in the eyes of most than the other officers. They might get by with being [i]good enough [/i], but he would need to excel. As the undercurrent of this line of thought swept through his mind, it begged the question: Did he measure up? Would he be ready to lead these young men with whom's lives he'd been entrusted? 

Herakles arose the following morning plagued by the same troubles. As he readied himself for the day, he felt a stirring borne from the the thoughtful reverie he'd been steeped in. Rather than dejected, he became defiant. He'd face their critical scrutiny and furtively masked low regard and make them eat every word; spoken or otherwise. He reported to Lieutenant Karras a half hour earlier than the others, freshly shaven and with every facet of his uniform in tiptop shape. No longer was it a matter of making a good impression. With his very worth now in question he could see clearly; if he wanted even half the respect due to him, he'd have to be twice as good as the rest. 

And so the training began. 

Standing alongside the Lieutenant he wore a look of gritty determination as he looked over the new recruits. His gaze set upon the men being assigned to his Omadon as their names were called. He watched for the look he saw in the Captain's eyes the day prior. None of them yet knew it, but he could have just as easily been any one of them standing on the other side of that intangible, yet stifling boundary known as opportunity. The haves and the have nots. Undoubtedly men among them knew his family name and the prestige that his father had worked so tirelessly to build. The wealth upon which his family's standing was founded was by no means a small feat, but it was his father's feat. He'd been lucky enough to be born into such a family — [i]bad breeding or otherwise[/i] — but little more than that fact separated him from the men arrayed before him. Neither the prominence to which his family had risen nor the commission he'd purchased by its means made him any better than any man present. He knew this well, but it wasn't just important that he did. If he wanted the loyalty of his troops, he'd need to make sure that they recognized his acknowledgment. And it wouldn't be enough to simply state as much. Words are fluff. In that moment he resolved never to make any of his men do something he himself wouldn't. He would afford them respect as it was due and treat each man with dignity.

As each Omadon was sectioned off, Herakles addressed his squad in a clear and calm manner; a deep contrast to the Lance Corporal who'd just spoken. 

"Good morning, 2nd Omadon. I am your squad leader, Cornet Leventis. I'm sure that for many of you these coming weeks will be trying beyond belief." He paused a moment, looking at each trooper carefully. Among them was a rather pensive looking fellow at least as tall as himself, Danius. He'd certainly be easy to remember. "You've just heard our commander and senior NCO set their expectations, so I won't overwhelm you with a list of my own. As I come to know you, you will become familiar with precisely what I expect of you. Instead, I'll leave you with this thought before we begin training. The world is plum full of different types of people; primarily the thinkers, the dreamers, and the doers. Some of you may have noticed that the two men who spoke before me might be classified as doers. If so, you're absolutely right. Warriors [i]are[/i] doers. They [i]must[/i] be. Whoever you may have been in your past life is behind you. You have a clean slate, for all the good and the bad that brings with it. No matter what you were yesterday, [i]today you become doers[/i]." At this he settled his gaze on Speros, the final man in the formation. He approached him first, "Let us begin."