by Kris Hiatt
“Guard!” Tabor barked after stepping out into the hallway. He was facing the doorway at the end of the hall facing the training yard.
Treace could hear the guard running to his commander’s side.
“Sir,” the guard said, saluting at attention.
“Move three of these beds down the line out of the way. Only one is being used anyway. We need to make room for our newest Elite Guard,” Tabor said, motioning to Treace.
“Sir?” the guard asked.
“Take the unused beds and stack them somewhere, but leave one bed in the corner for our newest Elite. The one used bed and belongings can be moved further down the line.”
“That’s my bed, sir,” the man said.
“And?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, popping to attention and offering another salute. He moved to do the work with only a cursory glance Treace’s way. It wasn’t hateful, but it wasn’t friendly either.
“Sir,” Treace said. “That’s not necessary. Nothing needs to be moved for me, any bed will do.”
“Are you certain?” Tabor asked. “It’s no trouble.”
“I’m certain, sir. It’s fine.”
“You heard him!” Tabor barked to the other guard. “Get back to your station.”
“Sir!” The guard said, then stopped and turned on his heels and jogged by them. He offered a deferential nod to Treace as he passed.
“That was a kind gesture. Unnecessary, but kind. The men will respect that,” Tabor said.
Treace just nodded his agreement. He didn’t do it to be kind, he did it knowing if he didn’t, the men would hate him for it. He was being singled out as their better and being put in a corner of his own while the others were side by side wouldn’t have helped things at all.
“And don’t worry, Plent and his crew are in another room.”
He hadn’t thought of them. This might not go as smoothly as he thought it would. What if other guards felt the same way Plent did? He would have to keep on his guard. He silently laughed at his own pun.
“There’s washrooms through the back of the room,” he told Treace, pointing to door in the back wall.
“Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the palace and how to move about it. We’ll also get you some armor to use temporarily. Guess we should get you a sword and shield too,” Tabor said.
“No shield, sir. Just two swords,” Treace told him.
“That’s right, you use an unusual fighting style. I’m curious to see it.”
“I’ll need a little time to heal first,” Treace told him.
“Of course. Let’s go,” Tabor said, leading Treace out the door.
“Where does the last door go, sir?”
“Oh, that’s the storage room. Armor, weapons, training gear, and the like.”
Treace nodded his head and followed Tabor down the hall in the direction from which they originally came.
#
He walked the road, mainly a circuit that included the Iron Anvil and the Palace Inn, as Commander Tabor had requested, and every time he followed the circuit around by the forge, he couldn’t help but think about when he was attacked. He still didn’t have a good relationship with the four men that attacked him, but even though he had been there for two weeks, he had only seen them a handful of times.
“Wolf,” a man said, tipping his hat as he walked by in the opposite direction as Treace.
“Afternoon, sir,” Treace said, nodding his head.
Up to that point, he had been alternating his shift; three days, then three nights, then the seventh day off. He was on the last day of his shift before moving to the night. It was a simple job, he thought. He hadn’t had to do barely more than walk around. If he did find people fighting, they usually stopped at his approach. If they waited until he got there, they always stopped after recognizing The Wolf.
His two steel short swords hung from his hips, and he wasn’t used to them being there yet. He still felt a little awkward with them; he’d never worn weapons up until that point. It was something a few of the other guards dared to mention. They only laughed a short laugh, because Treace would tell them that it didn’t matter how the swords looked on his hips, only how they worked in his hands. That never failed to quiet them. Treace almost felt bad doing it, like he was one of the bullies he despised, but he decided he was nothing like a bully. He never pressed anyone that hadn’t pressed him first, and besides, he could actually back up his words.
He would be ending his shift soon, then he would go to the Iron Anvil for a bit and then to the Palace Inn and have a few drinks and see if Moff showed up. By his estimate, he should be showing up any day now. He figured he would find him in one of the two places sooner or later. He had already talked to Red when he cleared out his belongings and asked him to tell Moff to meet him at night in the bar. He tried to use his first week’s pay to repay Red for his losses when he took care of him, but the man wouldn’t take any of it. He was spending more time at the Palace Inn trying to use his reputation to get Red more business. He hoped it helped. The man had helped him, he thought it was the least he could do in return.
He walked back toward the barracks, happy to get rid of his armor. The weather was getting warmer and the rough, thick leather made him sweat. He was glad they didn’t make him wear a helm. That would be stifling. He also would be able to put his wolf charm back on. It didn’t fit very well under the armor. He tried it the first day, even though he was told by Tabor that he probably shouldn’t wear it, and it had rubbed him raw. He left it in his closet hanging on a hook. Someone had taken it once and hung it over the hole in the bathroom, but no one ever owned up to it.
He came to an old dog, tied up with a short leash. It growled at his approach, as it always did, but as Treace neared it, it began wagging his tail. Treace scratched behind his ears and patted his chest. He knew the dog’s growl was enough to keep most people at bay, but he knew, too, even an old dog needs attention. He wondered how long it had been since the dog had bit anyone or even tried. He left it behind and continued on.
“Wolf,” the smith said, using the shortened version of his name that most people started using. He had told everyone that it was okay to call him Treace, although not many did.
“Afternoon,” Treace said, nodding his head and smiling. It occurred to him then that he didn’t even know the smith’s name. He’d been talking to the man for a couple of weeks and hadn’t asked his name. He felt bad about it so he turned to ask.
“I’m sorry smith, but I don’t even know you’re name,” Treace said.
“You just said it,” the man said, smiling.
“Smith?”
“That’s what I’ve been called for as long as I can remember. I don’t see no sense in complicating things with the name my parents gave me.”
“Fair enough. Afternoon Smith,” Treace said.
The man merely smiled and went back to work. The man was smiling a lot today, so Treace guessed his work was going well. He did think it was sort of nice that someone else was being called a different name than the one he was given. Wolf was better than The Wolf; he thought that sounded rather pretentious. Wolf, however, was acceptable.
He nodded at the guards at the entrance, and they nodded in return. He headed toward the barracks, unbuckling his armor as he walked. By the time he made it to the door, he had it pulled off and hanging in his hand.
There were several other guards lounging around when he entered. One looked at him and stopped his conversation with two others.
“Hey, I was just asking Milt and Gregen if they thought anyone would choose you next week. I don’t think so, but what do you think?” the young guard asked him.
“Haven’t thought about it, actually,” Treace told him. It was the truth; he completely forgot that the next Proving Day was next week. Tabor told him he didn’t have to fight unless he was selected by an opponent. He had proved himself already.
“Gregen says they’d be stupid to, and so do I.”
&
nbsp; “What about you, Milt?” Treace asked. Milt wasn’t quite a bully, but he loved to talk about how good he was. Most everyone knew that he was virtually all talk and little action. It wouldn’t surprise him if Milt told them he thought he might challenge Treace. Or at least that Treace would be challenged. Treace thought he might turn the tables on the big mouth.
“Huh?” Milt asked, pretending not to hear even though he was only a few paces away.
“Do you think I’ll be challenged?”
“Meh, I don’t know. It’s possible.”
“Aren’t you going to fight this time?” Treace asked him, setting him up.
“Yeah, why?”
“Are you going to challenge me?” Treace asked, knowing full well that he was putting Milt in a very tough spot; he could either accept the challenge and get beaten, or decline and show everyone that he was all talk. There was no way he could beat Treace, and everyone in the room, including Milt, knew it.
Many of the men stopped what they were doing and stood, staring at Milt. Milt didn’t bother looking at any of them, however, because he was too busy shooting Treace a look that clearly indicated he wasn’t happy being put on the spot like that. Treace met his eyes and stared back, unblinking.
“Don’t suppose I will,” Milt finally said after lowering his gaze.
Several men made some disparaging remarks toward Milt. Treace knew Milt deserved to be put in his place, but he didn’t deserve to be ridiculed for finally admitting he wasn’t as good as he told everyone he was. Milt lowered his head further and his face, which was already red from Treace, got even more so.
Treace felt his temper rise. It didn’t show that often when he was a child, but it seemed to find him slightly more often as he aged. Bullies agitated him to no end and he supposed that was the reason.
“Will any of you challenge me?” Treace asked loudly, silencing the room. He looked around the room and all the men belittling Milt lowered their eyes when he cast his gaze upon them.
“No?” Treace said, still loudly, and still with fire. “Then why call him a coward when you aren’t willing do what you’re calling him a coward for?”
No one answered. Many men shifted uncomfortably and nearly everyone looked down then. Treace’s cool started to return.
“We are supposed to be a team, brothers in arms for a common cause, yet we have members of this guard belittling each other and making others feel unwelcomed and like less of a man,” Treace said, walking toward his closet. “Sure I called Milt’s bluff, but I let it go at that. Some of you don’t know how to let it go. This is a team, it’s time you started acting like it.”
He reached for his closet, then paused, his temper not quite gone.
“If I find any of you poking fun of others, I’ll challenge you, and then we’ll see who gets the last laugh,” Treace said, letting the threat hang in the air. He didn’t feel too particularly bad about it. He figured he was just helping to solve the bully problem.
He opened his closet and immediately noticed his charm missing again. He turned around and was about to demand to know who took it and what they did with it when he was interrupted by someone clapping.
“Attention,” someone yelled.
Everyone, including Treace, snapped to.
“Well spoken,” Tabor said, still clapping and looking at Treace. Treace thought about responding, but knew he shouldn’t since Tabor hadn’t told them to go at ease. Talking at attention was a good way to get you cleaning duty. Treace had learned that the hard way once already.
“At least up until the last part. Threats, no matter how good the intention, don’t sit well with me,” Tabor said. “But, I’ll let it go this time. I believe you’ve done more good than harm.”
Treace was glad to hear that. Tabor seemed to be a good man, but he was firm. He didn’t vary from a line he thought to be the correct path. Treace could appreciate that, coming from the College where you dedicated most of your time trying to master a Path.
“At ease,” Tabor called out. The men only relaxed a little, still leery of how Tabor would react.
“Apologies, sir, and thank you for your leniency,” Treace said.
“Accepted, and you’ve earned it,” Tabor said, looking over the men and not directly at Treace.
“I don’t like threats,” Tabor started, speaking loudly. “So I remove his previous one.”
Treace felt a little deflated. He had only spent two weeks watching these men fight, but he saw gaping holes in all of their defenses. He knew he could easily defeat every one of them. He hoped to use that knowledge to put a few of people in their place. Now Tabor was removing that possibility.
“Instead of a threat, it is now my declaration that if any of you idiots put yourself before the duty you swore to, you will face Salden, Primain, and Treace in consecutive battles. Let the knowledge of that guide your actions the next time you want to make fun of someone,” Tabor said.
Treace couldn’t believe it. He knew exactly what that meant. There wasn’t a single man in this room that could hope to defeat any of the three that Tabor had just named. Fighting, and losing all three battles in succession meant the offending guard would have to wait a year before attempting to fight again. It would effectively put them out of running for the elite guard for nearly two years.
“If that’s not enough, if you lose all three battles, you will be removed from the guard,” Tabor finished, letting his gaze linger on each man in the room for a few seconds before moving on. None of them could keep it, just as they couldn’t with Treace.
“Come with me, I know where your charm is,” Tabor said to Treace. “And bring that armor.”
“We’ve needed someone to stand up and do that a long time ago,” Tabor said when they were in the hallway. “I’m glad it was you.”
“Me too, sir,” Treace said.
Tabor led him back outside, past the guards and to the forge, where Smith was standing with a large smile on his face. Treace had no idea what this had to do with his charm, but figured it was best to stay silent and let Tabor tell him what was going on.
“Show him,” Tabor said.
“It’s one of my better pieces,” Smith said, pulling at a cloth that was covering something on one of his workbenches.
When the cloth was pulled back, Treace couldn’t believe his eyes. On the workbench rested a beautifully crafted set of black leather armor. It was thinner than the leather armor he carried in his hand and much more intricate. As beautiful as it was, and it was easily the best looking armor Treace had ever seen, that wasn’t the part that he couldn’t believe. Set in the center of the armor’s chest piece was his wolf charm. It was set in the leather perfectly, and Treace knew Smith had done the work. That was why he was smiling at him so much when he first went by.
“Well, put it on,” Tabor said.
Smith motioned him over and took the old armor out of his hands. He picked up the new armor and was very surprised at how soft the leather was; it was very supple. He slid it over his head and was not surprised when it didn’t scrape or chaff him as he slid it down his body. Smith showed him the buckles, which were fewer and easier to manipulate than his old armor. He then motioned to the table where a pair of matching bracers rested. Treace turned to the table and began putting them on.
“And this,” Smith said, showing Treace something that looked like two very long and narrow leather pouches somehow stuck together. “Combined with the rest is what makes it the best piece I have ever made.”
Treace couldn’t say anything, and let Smith turn him around and began attaching the piece to the back of his armor. He understood then; they were scabbards for his swords.
“I designed it, and I’d appreciate it if you told people when they asked,” Smith said.
“I will,” Treace said, unsure of what else to say, lifting the front flap of his new armor to remove his sword belt.
Smith took the belt and put his two swords in their places. Treace reached up and found the handles,
which he found was easier and more natural than he thought it would be.
“I’ve angled the one over your left shoulder slightly, to make it easier to retrieve and replace the sword,” Smith told him.
“I don’t know what to say,” Treace said.
“Thank you would do,” Tabor said, smiling.
“I can’t pay for this,” Treace said. He barely had any money; most of his coin he used to buy drinks for the bar he was in. He didn’t drink to excess without Moff there, but he sure made sure the people in the bar were toasting The Wolf.
“It was included in our deal, remember?” Tabor asked.
He didn’t, but he nodded his head anyway.
“One last thing,” Tabor said. “Turn around.”
Treace noticed Tabor had a red piece of cloth in his hand then, and when Tabor shook it out, he noticed it was the symbol of the baron; the sun, half in the horizon. He turned around and Tabor fashioned the cloak onto his back, under his weapons. It was slit high in the middle so that it would go over the weapons and still function to cover Treace’s head.
“I don’t deserve this,” Treace said.
“Prolly not,” Smith said, laughing.
“Thank you,” Treace said, taking the smith’s words as a joke.
“You’re welcome. Now go celebrate,” Tabor said before he smiled and walked away.
“Why?” Treace called after him.
“A promise is a promise,” Tabor said, and then walked back into the complex.
“I don’t deserve this,” he told Smith again.
“It’s the baron’s coin, don’t worry about it. He’s got enough,” Smith said, looking down. His gaze settled and the man began to chuckle.
“What?” Treace asked looking down. He thought he understood; his armor was black, his pants were black, or once were; now they were more grey, but his shoes were brown. He didn’t think the brown looked that bad with his beige shirt or his previous armor, which was brown, but guessed it looked odd with his new outfit.