Free Ranger's Apprentice 1 & 2 Bindup by John Flanagan

He shrugged to himself.
    â€˜That was why I was so keen to go to Battleschool,’ he said finally. ‘To follow in his footsteps.’
    â€˜You have other talents,’ Halt told him and Will remembered the Baron saying much the same thing to him the previous night.
    â€˜Halt …’ he said. The Ranger nodded for him to continue. ‘I was sort of wondering … the Baron said you chose me?’
    Halt nodded again, saying nothing.
    â€˜And both of you say I have other qualities – qualities that make me suitable to be a Ranger apprentice …’
    â€˜That’s right,’ Halt said.
    â€˜Well … what are they?’
    The Ranger leaned back, linking his hands behind his head.
    â€˜You’re agile. That’s good in a Ranger,’ he began. ‘And, as we’ve discussed, you can move quietly. That’s very important. You’re fast on your feet. And you’re inquisitive …’
    â€˜Inquisitive? How do you mean?’ asked Will. Halt looked at him sternly.
    â€˜Always asking questions. Always wanting to know answers,’ he explained. ‘That was why I had the Baron test you with that piece of paper.’
    â€˜But when did you first notice me? I mean, when did you first think of selecting me?’ Will wanted to know.
    â€˜Oh,’ said Halt, ‘I suppose it was when I watched you steal those cakes from Master Chubb’s kitchen.’
    Will’s jaw dropped open with amazement.
    â€˜You watched me? But that was ages ago!’ He had a sudden thought. ‘Where were you?’
    â€˜In the kitchen,’ said Halt. ‘You were too busy to notice me when you came in.’
    Will shook his head in wonder. He had been sure there was nobody in the kitchen. Then he remembered once again how Halt, wrapped in his cloak, could become virtually invisible. There was more to being a Ranger, he realised, than how to cook and clean.
    â€˜I was impressed with your skill,’ said Halt. ‘But there was one thing that impressed me far more.’
    â€˜What was that?’ asked Will.
    â€˜Later, when Master Chubb questioned you, I saw youhesitate. You were going to deny having stolen the cakes. Then I saw you admit it. Remember? He hit you on the head with his wooden spoon.’
    Will grinned and rubbed his head thoughtfully. He could still hear the CRACK! made by the spoon hitting his head.
    â€˜I wondered if I should have lied,’ he admitted. Halt shook his head very slowly.
    â€˜Oh no, Will. If you’d lied, you never would have become my apprentice.’ He stood up and stretched, turning to go indoors to the stew simmering on the stove.
    â€˜Now let’s eat,’ he said.

Horace dropped his pack on the floor of the dormitory and fell across his bed, groaning with relief.
    Every muscle in his body ached. He had no idea that he could feel so sore, so worn out. He had no idea that there were so many muscles in the human body that could feel this way. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was going to get through the three years of Battleschool training. He’d been a cadet for less than a week and already he was a total physical wreck.
    When he’d applied for Battleschool Horace had a vague notion of glittering, armour-clad knights doing battle, while lesser folk stood by and watched in awed admiration. Quite a few of those lesser folk, in his mental picture, had been attractive girls – Jenny, his yearmate in the Ward, had been prominent among them. To him, Battleschool had been a place of glamour and adventure, and Battleschool cadets were people that others looked up to and envied.
    The reality was something else. So far, Battleschool cadets were people who rose before the dawn and spent the hour before breakfast doing a severe course of physical training: running, lifting weights, standing in lines of ten or more to lift and hold heavy logs over their heads. Exhausted by all of this, they