by Billy Wong
"We're actually from Ostuh." At his doubtful look, she said, "Just because our country is known more for exotic inventions and inefficient bureaucracy than for warriors doesn't mean there aren't any serviceable ones from there. Same as with your kingdom."
"I guess you must be right. Our reputation when it comes to fighting isn't the best either, but Taryn and Baxter are pretty strong not to mention our High Knight Roland. Does that mean you've traveled through Severil, being from the land past it?"
Patrick nodded with enthusiasm. "We've been there, and other places too! Monster hunting has taken us all over."
"I'll look forward to hearing your stories, then." Rich smiled. "It's been fun talking, but we should probably go in and pick our beds. I hope all the good ones haven't already been taken."
Meg blinked. "Wait, we have to choose our own beds? I assumed they would be assigned to us."
"Oh right, you missed the announcement. Taryn said that since we're adults or close enough, we should be able to be trusted to figure it out ourselves instead of having our hands held like children."
They entered the sleeping quarters to see most of the beds by the walls, which she would've preferred since there would be a view of her from fewer sides, had been claimed. "Well, this is some bullshit," she muttered looking around from just inside the door after Rich wandered off. "Couldn't he have mentioned that before everyone else got their pick of the beds?"
"He seems quite nice, though," Patrick said. "Guess him bragging about being the strongest was just bravado in the heat of the moment."
"Maybe, but it isn't impossible to be nice while also thinking you're the best. Either way, I doubt he's still that confident about being the strongest under-twenty year old."
They walked around for a bit, unable to settle on a bed they wanted. The fact they wanted to share a bunk and many of the spaces left open were single levels of one compounded the issue. Some of the recruits glanced their way, but didn't jump to strike up conversation probably due to already being worn out—and perhaps because they were intimidated. The older soldiers clustered together in one corner minding their own business, some already asleep while others talked and played cards.
Eventually, as they came back around to where they started, they overheard two curly-haired boys who were probably brothers speaking on a bed by the door. "Wait, this is too close to the exit," the boy sitting on the top bunk pointed out to the one below. "Every time somebody has to relieve themselves, there'll be noise close to us." They both got off and moved away in search of a more ideal location.
Patrick looked at Meg. "We don't mind being near the door, right? We're used to sleeping in much worse conditions."
"Sure." They hurried over to stake their claim before another pair noticed the freed up spot. "Now we can stay together and next to a wall, great."
"Want the top bunk or the bottom?"
"You can take the bottom if you wish. You're the one who has to get up to take a piss multiple times every night, after all."
He flushed. "Hey, why did you have to say that out loud?"
"Just getting you back for drawing attention to my scars."
Dennis waved to them from a nearby bed. "I didn't realize the heavily armed career warriors would be sleeping near me. I guess if we're somehow attacked here, I'll run and hide behind you. By the way, say hi to my new bunkmate Saul." Meg looked to the bunk above him to see the back of a rotund boy, turned away from them and snoring. "Oh, I guess he's already asleep. Never mind then, another time."
#
The next morning, they were woken before the sun fully rose outside by Baxter banging his sheathed sword on the frames of their beds. While well-traveled warriors, being freelancers meant Meg and Patrick usually got to wake on their own terms, and they weren't used to rising so early. They forced themselves up groaning with sticky eyes while the lieutenant barked for them to get dress and assemble outside. "I'm tempted to remind him I was well on my way to handing him his rear yesterday," Meg said under her breath, "but I suppose we shouldn't be making trouble just yet."
As she jumped down next to him after pulling on her clothes, Patrick said, "By the way, when I went to the restroom last night and passed by a window, I heard somebody grunting outside."
"Grunting? Did you peek and see if they were doing anything lewd?"
"Uh, I forgot to mention there were smacking sounds like from hitting something too. I didn't look since I figured it wasn't worth the risk of getting spotted."
She shrugged, partly in an effort to get her crooked shirt into a more comfortable alignment. "Probably just Taryn or Baxter training in their own time to try and keep ahead of us. Or maybe one of the recruits insecure about their abilities."
"You're one to talk about insecurity."
"What's with the attitude?" she asked, looking sidelong at him while she buckled on her sword. "Think you're a big man now that you're the tallest in our group of two?"
"Without Gavin around, someone has to keep you in check."
After a quick breakfast in the mess hall they spent the morning training in the use of spears and bows. They had lunch and a break, then practiced grappling and boxing in the afternoon. The things being taught were nothing new for Meg, but the schedule seemed respectably rigorous even to her. Having awakened so early, she dragged her feet between exercises. Plasbias must be serious about strengthening its military, or at least Taryn and her subordinates were. She and Patrick assisted recruits who had trouble as suggested, getting to know them along the way. They also took note of those who displayed outstanding skills, such as lanky Joel whose accuracy with arrows rivaled Patrick's—at least against still targets—and big-framed yet limber wrestler Bruce. Rich mentioned he had beaten Bruce in the semifinal of the tournament yesterday, though only after a hard match where he almost got his arm broken.
During mealtime they sat with Rich, Dennis and Saul, Dennis' hefty bunkmate who kept asking the others for leftovers. Dennis turned out to make fairly boring conversation, often wanting to discuss the nuances of farm life like taking care of livestock, while Saul shared his dreams of becoming a famous artist. The doodles he showed didn't exactly hint at great talent, being one step above stick figures, but he had plenty of time to improve. She had fun asking him to draw her and Patrick, and laughing at how oversized their depicted weapons turned out. Rich seemed more of a listener than talker, happy to give them all his ear though he displayed special interest in Meg and Patrick's adventure stories. She could imagine him wanting to come along if they decided to leave at the end of their trial period, although that probably wouldn't be practical.
"By the way," Dennis asked as they were finishing up dinner, "why are you two still carrying all those weapons around? Do you just want to draw attention by looking so different from everyone else even though you aren't using them?"
"We're just used to it," Patrick said. The only thing they left in the barracks were their packs and armor, as wearing that would be excessive. "Our weapons are practically extensions of our bodies at this point, we'd feel naked without them in reach."
Meg smiled bashfully. "Yeah... I would've expected Taryn to say something by now, but I guess she understands. Maybe it would be good for us to fit in better though."
"Then again, having them on us makes for a suitable mark of our eliteness."
"Eliteness?" She pushed his arm. "Now who's the one who needs to be kept in check?"
In the evening, they got some formation training before drilling with swords again. Meg noticed Christopher advising comrades who struggled, only using more flowery language than her and Patrick. "Like a swift sparrow's claw," Patrick said with a roll of his eyes after overhearing one line from him. "How much of it do you think it's him actually wanting to help versus wanting to show off?"
"Eh, who knows. Funny thing is, he might have more technical knowledge than us. Sounded like it all day from what I heard when he was helping people out with their spearwork and hand to hand."
"H
e's pretty well-rounded, huh? It doesn't matter if he knows more fancy terms though. We know what we're doing."
Still, she thought they might be able to connect well given their common background in fighting, differences in the formality of their training notwithstanding. She approached Christopher on their way to the barracks. "You showed some impressive knowledge today," she said when he turned towards her.
"Thanks," he replied simply, not seeming the most enthusiastic to talk.
"How's your head? That was a vicious knock you took in the match yesterday." He didn't respond, but just averted his gaze. "Hey, sorry if I hurt your pride. It was a good fight, I thought you were going to win for a while there."
"But I didn't. I shouldn't have lost to him, not when I have the superior training and pedigree."
Pedigree? Curious, but now probably wasn't the best time to ask about that. "Well you know, you were at a size disadvantage. A tough loss like that isn't necessarily such a bad thing, if you learn from it."
He fell silent for a bit. "Don't you feel strange being the only girl here? Almost sixty men, and just the one of you."
Taken off guard since he was the first to ask her something like that, she quickly brushed it off. "It doesn't much affect me. I'm used to being the one girl traveling with two boys, why should just adding more boys make such a difference? Besides, I have Taryn nearby."
"She's your superior, not one of your peers."
"Does that distinction matter when you were originally talking about me being the only woman here? Besides, she might be higher than me in rank, but I view her more as a peer or rival for that matter. I look forward to the time I get to test her blade."
Christopher regarded her dubiously. "That would probably end worse than things did for me last night." Rather pessimistic of him, to assume others couldn't overcome a size difference just because he had failed. "What exactly do you want with me, anyway?"
She suspected his moodiness was due at least in part to him being upset over losing to Rich, but there didn't seem to be much she could say beyond what she already had to comfort him. "I thought it generous of you helping the less well trained among us along. So I wanted to tell you I appreciate it, but we got sidetracked."
"Why would you care about that anyway? I doubt you'll be here for long, so what happens in this fort doesn't seem all that relevant to you."
Had he had heard about the deal she and Patrick made with Baxter, or did they just fit in poorly enough that he expected their stay to be transitory? "However long we're here, we want those around us to succeed. We've already made some friends, and besides, why wouldn't we want Plasbias to be better defended? As warriors, we'll be glad to know there are other stout warriors ready to help guard against another invasion like the one from the south last year. So it's good to see a skilled fighter like you helping out others, and fostering team spirit among yourselves."
"Huh. Is that all?"
"I suppose." She shouldn't rush it if he wasn't that eager to befriend her. "Goodnight. Don't push yourself too hard."
After she let him go on ahead to their quarters, Patrick who had been hanging back moved to her side. "Don't push yourself too hard? You think he was the one I heard training late at night?"
"Maybe. I'd give it better than even odds. I saw that his eyes were red as if he's been sleep deprived, and his knuckles more scraped up than I would've thought just from the fights yesterday. Might be he snuck out to hit the wall last night, training himself extra hard because he couldn't accept the loss. I mean, it's not certain that's the case, just my theory. But even if not, what I said to him still applies."
Patrick grinned. "You and your wild theories. They've proved right enough times before, though. Perhaps I'll sneak a glance if I hear it again and see if you got it correct."
"By the way, he asked if I was uncomfortable being the only girl here. I'm not, much, but do you think I should be?"
"No, why would you? Other than the possibility of boys ogling you in your sleep, I wouldn't expect you to have many problems considering you're almost a boy yourself."
"That's not nice..." she said with a frown. "Besides, I'm too cute to be a boy."
"What, you don't find me cute? I'm a boy."
"Being short with a childish face alone don't necessarily make a person cute."
He snickered. "You totally set yourself up with that."
"Not really. You're the one who's just short with a childish face. I'm short and cute."
"It's probably because you view me more like a brother that you don't appreciate the boyish charm."
They went to their beds, most of the other recruits already fast asleep after the exhausting day. Meg hoped the wound in her side would be healed soon, as she realized it quite bothered her after training all day. Rolling onto her opposite side, she said, "Goodnight, Pat. Hopefully Taryn will recognize your cuteness soon."
"Wait, what? I can't handle something that big... anyway, night."
Meg closed her eyes, savoring the softness of her pillow in lieu of using her pack for one and the calm feeling that came with actually sleeping inside. She didn't regret coming to the fort, as her time here had been a relaxing change all in all. Training like a beginner would get boring soon, though. Despite appreciating the break, she predicted her desire for excitement would return soon. She wondered how long it'd be before she and Patrick could challenge themselves again.
#
They continued their training, though it lightened up at times to make room for cleaning and other routine duties. The recruits got to learn about and participate in making minor repairs, receiving deliveries and putting them into storage, and wilderness survival activities like hunting and tracking for which the veterans took them out in squads. Even Meg got to learn something new when Baxter taught some of his favorite recipes out on the road, and she and Patrick discovered their own cooking abilities to be substantially inferior. "Damn, we never learned to cook properly," she said upon tasting what thick and savory stew he could make without access to a kitchen, gathered with ten other young soldiers in a clearing around his steaming pot.
"I guess Gavin never had as good a teacher during his original stint as a mercenary," Patrick added.
Baxter smiled. "Indeed, most people in our line of work just settle for the bare necessities over really satisfying themselves. I was fortunate enough to have a good mentor."
"And who's that?"
"His name was Bernard, a sergeant in the Plasbian army back when I started out. The warmest man I've met speaking one on one, who you could never tell was a lion in battle. Sadly he insisted on trying to delay the One Army when they marched through Plasbias towards the capital of Aerilea, and gave his life doing so."
Meg glimpsed tears in his eyes before he lowered his head, and questioned if it was ideal for him to show vulnerability so in front of his juniors. "Just last year? I'm sorry for your loss. It sounds like you had a long and rewarding friendship, though."
"Yes. You should all cherish the bonds you make, for you never know how long you might have them." Definitely not the greatest composure in the company of green recruits, and Meg felt bad about her and Patrick triggering this lapse. Still, it was more than understandable for an old warrior to have his demons, and also reminded her how lucky she was to have close confidants like Pat and Gavin... wherever he was now.
"Meg, are you standing on a rock?" one of the soldiers asked after she yelped, waving her arms to steady her balance. "You really are crazed about looking taller." The others broke into laughter while she hung her head, and Patrick raised an eyebrow.
On their way back to base, Baxter found a moment to talk privately with her. "Thanks for distracting from my bout of softness," he whispered.
"Don't worry about it, no big deal. But how did you know I did it on purpose?"
"I've noticed you standing on things plenty of times, yet you never lost your balance before."
She grinned. "Did you now? I guess I'm not as subtle as I thou
ght."
"It would be hard not to notice your obsession with height and taking the high ground," Patrick said, and they laughed.
#
A few weeks after their arrival, Taryn announced the recruits were to have their first assignment away from the fort. Kind of soon by Meg's reckoning, at least for those not ahead of the pack, but she figured it wouldn't be anything too difficult if they were being put to the test so quickly. "Trouble has been reported at the nearby town," Taryn said for everyone assembled in the courtyard. "As a first opportunity to demonstrate what you've learned, we'll be sending a team to assist in resolving the issue. Not all of you will be selected, but don't worry if you aren't because everyone will get their chance in the future. The members of this team will be Meg, Patrick, Joshua, Art, Robbie, and Christopher."
Meg and Patrick exchanged looks. "So half of us with good skills and the rest with no notable skills?" she mused. She had spoken to at least two of the boys named besides Christopher in passing, but didn't know much about them. Still, they hadn't demonstrated better than average proficiency in any of the things they trained so far.
"I think Robbie is pretty strong though. He was lifting the barrels of flour almost as easily as you."
"That by itself isn't necessarily of much use." Plus, it was harder for her to grip those with her short arms.
"Any objections?" Taryn asked.
She raised her hand. "Not really, but I have a question. Is where we're going the village in which we met the lieutenant?"
"No, it's different. You're headed to Bergin, another one west and slightly south of there. Also, some of the senior soldiers will accompany you in case the situation proves beyond your ability, though you will get the first crack." Meg had figured something like that. It would be questionable to leave matters solely in the hands of a bunch of largely inexperienced teenagers after all.
"What is the trouble exactly?" Christopher asked.
In a carefree tone, Taryn replied, "You'll be briefed on it when you get there." Trying to be mysterious, huh? It was probably just another choice made to see how well they would handle it.