The newcomer walked forward, looking concerned about the naga yet not as much as most would. He carried a large metal shield in the hand that didn't hold his torch, but no drawn weapon that Meg could see. "Allow me to handle this." He stepped past the trio to face the creature. She stared in bewilderment while guttural sounds—or words?—that made no sense issued from his mouth. However, they must have had meaning to the naga as it responded with similar noises of its own. Was he talking to the thing? After exchanging sounds a few times with it, the man said, "Please allow the naga to pass now. It has agreed to leave here, and relocate to an area farther from human settlements."
"What are you," Gavin demanded, "some kind of monster friend? We're on a job here. If we don't deliver its head to our client, we won't receive our payment."
"I apologize for any inconvenience," he replied calmly. "However, as the policy passed down from Aerilea forbids children of the Father of All Monsters from being killed without pressing need, I suggest you step aside while I'm still of a mood to overlook what was likely an unprovoked attack."
Patrick looked anxiously at Gavin. "Maybe we should listen. He seems serious, he might have some kind of authority if he's ordering us around."
"Can we at least be compensated for our lost work?"
The man gave a half shrug. "We can discuss that later. If you're cooperative enough."
"Ugh, fine!" Gavin moved to give the naga space to pass, and they watch it slither off towards the exit. She hadn't even recognized how big it really was, until she saw how much body flowed past before it ended. "Now who the hell are you, and where did you learn to speak with creatures like that?"
"I am Lieutenant Baxter, one of the men trained owing to the hard work of Aerilea's scholars to communicate with monsters in a fashion. Our understanding is still quite limited, yet it's enough to resolve our share of situations such as this. Good thing I got wind of this monster sighting when I did, and got here in the nick of time."
"So are you actually from Aerilea?" Meg asked.
He smiled. "No, I was born on the rich soil of Plasbias on whose land you stand and merely received training from the expert linguists of Aerilea. What of you? For such youngsters, you must be capable warriors to put a naga of this size on the defensive like so."
"It's kind of our specialty. We're monster hunters."
"Then you must have begun your careers no more than four years ago, when the monstrous races returned to the land."
"Three years," Patrick clarified. "We didn't start right away when the monsters appeared, but after a while we saw a good opportunity in them to make our names."
"I'm sorry, but I do not think this will be a viable path for you to continue on. Humanity is trying to make peace with their kind on this continent, and while it was understandable for you to make money by getting rid of them before, that'll no longer be possible if things play out in an ideal manner."
Gavin grumbled, "So we're to lose our livelihoods? We've worked hard to carve out our niche, even making decent names for ourselves as the Free Fangs, and you think you can just tell us to stop?"
"He might be right though," Patrick said. "If not slaughtering the monsters is a vital step towards lasting peace, it would be selfish of us to hinder that for the sake of profit. Besides, I doubt the authorities will turn a blind eye if we insist on defying them."
Baxter nodded. "Indeed, we are reviewing cases more closely these days to determine if lethal force is justified. Instances of legitimate self-defense will still be excused, of course, but I believe much of what you've been doing would not pass scrutiny."
"So what are we to do?" Meg asked. "Must we give up our calling as warriors, or turn to general mercenary work in which we'll often have to kill people instead?"
He took on a contemplative frown. "Your goal is simply to make a mark with your fighting skills, yes?"
She and the others exchanged looks. "I suppose that's what it is. But we"—at least her and Patrick, anyway—"would prefer to limit the number of human lives we must take in doing so."
"Warriors who strive not to kill except when truly warranted? Sounds to me you'd be a good fit for Plasbias' expanding defense forces."
Meg needed a moment to take that in. "What, you're suggesting for us to join the Plasbian military? But we're not even citizens of your country, why should we and would we even be allowed?"
"Would I propose it if it were not allowed? As for why you'd join, I take it you aren't very attached to your homelands considering you're out here in the first place. What great difference is there between being a sellsword in a foreign country and working for its government?"
"We became monster hunters thinking to roam the world going on adventures," Patrick said. "If we join an official military, won't we be tied down and unable to explore as we please?"
"You won't get to travel with complete freedom, true. But there would be opportunities to take assignments in different places as you advance in your careers, perhaps even outside Plasbias' borders." He winked. "Think of this as a chance to have a real job which offers stability, rather than stumbling without clear direction from task to task—if you're fortunate enough to find them."
That did hold some appeal in Meg's mind. The difficulty of getting jobs wore on her; if she could possibly have steady work, that would indeed be a relief. "I can see merit in that. Why try to recruit us though, shouldn't there be plenty of young people from your own land who you could help by offering them work first?"
"With the current expansion of our military requiring experienced soldiers to be transferred to the new outposts being created, we are struggling to fill all the opened positions. Namely, the fort nearby where I'm stationed could use some new hands in a hurry. Besides, as said before I appreciate your demonstrated talent, which noticeably surpasses the majority of recruits. Adding in the fact all our nations fall under the larger banner of Aerilea, your being foreigners isn't much of a issue."
"So, should we give this a chance?" she asked the boys. Thinking of something, she looked back at Baxter. "We can just give it a chance, right? Like if it doesn't work out we won't be forced to stay?"
"Normally soldiers agree to serve for a certain number of years, and cannot simply quit like from a common job if they're dissatisfied." He paused. "However, since this is a somewhat of a unique situation, with you being foreigners with desirable skills and us not currently at war, I may be able to make you a special deal. I'll have to ask my superior first to be certain, but I wager we could grant you a trial period of six months or so before you must decide whether to commit yourself for longer."
"Six months? That sounds like a long time if things don't go well."
He sighed. "I suppose it should be expected in young people to have less patience. Very well, I could propose that your initial term be four months to my captain."
Four months was still a solid time commitment, but Meg told herself being a trainee soldier couldn't be that unbearable compared to the freelance warrior life they were used to. Besides, if it got really bad they could always run away. She turned to Patrick and Gavin. "Doesn't sound bad to me. Try out the military for a few months, and not have to worry about feeding ourselves in the meantime? What do you think?"
"I'm up for it," Patrick said. "It'll be good to take a break from traveling around for once. Not that I don't enjoy it, but three years straight is getting to be a bit much. I hope too that we'll make some new friends."
A brief silence passed. "Gavin?" Meg asked.
"I don't like it. We meant to make our names in the world, how are we to do that lowering ourselves to the status of neophyte soldiers? Even little you shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath as such, singlehandedly capable of taking on a dozen men as you are. And we all know how unlikely it is that you'll continue in a military career when your stint is done, so what's the point of wasting four months?"
She glanced awkwardly at Baxter, who watched them with a cool look. "Well, it's not a given we won't go on in the military. If we've never tried it, how can we know it isn't a better path forward for us than being wandering sellswords forever? This is a good opportunity, to explore our options and not be stuck in one way of thinking. Even if we don't find a new career here, the experience might be valuable."
"Huh. Well, I don't see it that way. Go ahead and 'broaden your experiences' if you insist, but I won't be doing so with you. I'll come see you when the four months are up, to hear your decision."
"You won't come with us?" Patrick asked, sounding worried. "Does that mean you'll keep hunting monsters alone—are you sure you can handle that?"
"So you want to go off with her too? Maybe I should've realized you two weren't cut out for such a nonstop pace, and given you a break sooner. Though with our money situation... but in any case, it'll be fine. I'm not a fool, I'll just take easier work in the time we're separated."
Meg reached up to squeeze his shoulder. "Sorry about this. I know it's a hasty change in our situation, but I want to try something different. Pat, do you really want to come with me? I'm sure I can handle myself fine wherever they send me, and Gavin will be in more immediate danger taking jobs like we normally do."
"Uh, I don't know..." Patrick began.
Gavin waved a hand. "I told you, it's fine. Do whatever you feel like. I hardly need you shrimps to take care of me."
Patrick laughed. "Shrimp? I thought it was just Meg who's... anyway, if I have your blessing, I'll go with her. I've always been curious what life at a military base is like."
"You've decided, then?" Baxter addressed Gavin. "You can follow me with your friends until we get to the fort. That way you'll see and know where to find them."
"By the way, what about our compensation for losing our reward?"
"A chance to join our prestigious military was your compensation."
"Prestigious? Yeah right," Gavin muttered under his breath, which Baxter might've heard given his dark look but chose to ignore.
They updated the village chief on what had happened, then headed south towards what was to be their new home at least temporarily. Meg felt guilty for springing this so unexpectedly on Gavin and even Patrick, who while seemingly enthusiastic could have used more time to make his choice. But the offer had come suddenly, and she not wanted to miss the opportunity. Could she still change her mind now, and ask for more time to consider it? But Baxter might view such indecisiveness poorly, and besides she'd already made up her mind. It would just be for Patrick's benefit.
"Are you sure you don't want to think this through more?" she whispered to him while they traversed the road surrounded by browning fields of tall grass.
"You already asked that before. Why are you acting so motherly all of a sudden? I'm not your son, or even your kid brother. If I say I've decided something, you should trust in that as much as I'd trust you."
"Sorry if I'm annoying you. I just see you like a little brother as you said, that's all."
He smiled and patted her head. "I may be younger, but you're the one who's little."
"Cut that out! You better not draw attention to me by doing that or calling me Mouse at the fort, either."
"I'll try and remember not to."
They eventually came into view of the wide stone building with rounded towers at its corners. By now, it was almost dusk. "Guess this is where we part ways," Gavin said. "See you in a few months."
Meg hugged him. "Take care of yourself. Feel welcome to visit us before then too, if you want... that's okay, isn't it Lieutenant?"
"We have family visit the soldiers sometimes, so it's not a problem. He can't stay, though."
Gavin shrugged. "I might stop by if I'm in the area. You take care also, Mouse. Don't make too big a fool of yourself."
"Oh come on, it's not that bad. The other novices should be impressed with my combat skills if nothing else."
"Just make sure to ask for help or get a stool when you need one and don't jump to try and grab things off high shelves too much."
She hung her head, remembering when she accidentally pulled down a whole cabinet on top of herself and wound up having to pay for all the shattered kitchenware. "You'll never let me live that down, will you? I was less refined then, I could get a plate from that high without trouble these days. Anyway, farewell for now."
"Bye. You too, Pat. Look after your big sister for me." He walked away, tireless as always in the pursuit of his ambitions.
Meg and Patrick stood quietly for a bit, feeling the heaviness of what just transpired. It wasn't as if Gavin would be gone forever, barring something dreadful happening to him while away, but this was a big big change for them nonetheless. They'd both agreed to do it though, so they should face their new environment with courage and drive to gain something from it. "You ready to take the next step?" Baxter asked. They looked at each other and nodded.
He led them to the front gate and motioned to a guard who gazed down from above. The iron gate clanked as it rose slowly up, and they stepped through into a dusty courtyard. Over fifty men wearing what looked like undertunics stood with backs turned to them, not noticing their arrival as they seemed focused on something else. "Considering the number of people I see, quite a few new recruits have arrived since I was last here. Regardless, there should still be room for a couple more. They appear to watching something, so let's not interrupt and just see for ourselves what's going on."
They moved around to the side of the crowd, drawing a couple of looks but none that lingered as the mostly young men turned their attention back to what happened beyond them. When Meg and Patrick could see, they beheld two boys stalking one another with scrapes on their faces and fists up. One was slim and lithe, of average height; the other slightly taller but a lot bulkier with back and shoulders thick with muscle. "A fight?" Patrick said. "I'm surprised somebody doesn't stop them."
"Some of the audience are bruised up too," Meg observed. "I bet this isn't just a random brawl, but part of a competition of some sort."
Overhearing them, a young ginger soldier gazed their way and confirmed, "That's right. We were having a tournament for the newbies to see who has the best hand to hand skills. This is the final."
"Dammit Pat, did you hear that? If we'd gotten here a bit sooner, you could've participated and made a good impression for yourself."
He gave her a curious look. "Me fight and not you? Why's that?"
"It wouldn't even be fair for me to bully inexperienced youths. Maybe not for you to do it either, but oh well."
"I wouldn't be so overconfident if I was you," Baxter said. "Some of the other recruits might have a decent background of their own."
She watched the slighter fighter flick jabs at his brawnier rival to keep him back, looking competent in his footwork as well while he circled away from missed haymakers. "You're right, that boy with the defensive style looks pretty good. I'd place a wager on him, if anyone was taking."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "You've barely seen anything yet. You're just automatically siding with the smaller man because of bias."
Not knowing anything else, she did often tend to root for those who seemed to lack the physical advantage. "True. He looks like he knows what he's doing, though."
"He did make it to the finals," Baxter put in. "But so did the other one. It might not be wise to dismiss him."
Nose growing red from repeated jabs to it, the bigger boy snorted and rushed low at his opponent's legs. The slim boy threw his legs back and torso forward, stopping the takedown attempt though with difficulty due to the weight difference. He punished his foe's body with knees, then spun onto his back and wrapped an arm around his neck. "Choke him out, Christopher!" somebody yelled. So that was the slim boy's name...
"Your premature assessment of his ability proves accurate," Patrick said grudgingly.
"Was there any doubt? Skill recognizes skill."
He glanced towards her and started as he noticed something. "Are you standing on your pack again?"
"So what if I am? You remember I had it made specially reinforced so I could do that once in a while."
"Obsessed..."
The thick boy managed to peel Christopher off his back and throw him over himself, but the nimble fighter rolled deftly up. Thick stomped forward and threw a wide hook Christopher leaned back from. He continued to chase, missing more looping punches. "Are you guys new recruits too?" the ginger soldier asked.
"That's not incorrect. I'm Meg, and this is Patrick. And you are?"
"Dennis." He looked them over with interest. "I'm surprised you came here already having all those weapons. Most of us arrived with nothing more than a knife for defense, but you two are practically carrying an armory on your backs."
Keeping her tone casual, she replied, "We're not completely new to the fighting business."
"I thought that might be. Are you going to train alongside us despite being more advanced, or-" He cut himself off as something significant finally happened in the fight. After another hook which fell short, the thicker boy switched up his attack and landed a loud slapping kick to Christopher's thigh that made him hop. As he tottered off balance, Thick swung a meaty fist at his face. Though it didn't connect clean, just brushing across his cheek, that taste of his power alone was enough to make Christopher's eyes bulge with worry. He backpedaled, and seeing his new approach pay off Thick attempted another leg kick. It didn't land perfectly this time, foot making contact in lieu of the intended shin, but the jab Christopher fired back with looked hesitant while his adversary's eyes lit up with confidence.
"Stay calm, Christopher," Meg muttered under her breath. She wondered if Patrick would make fun of her for already being invested in the fight, but he didn't say anything, focused on the action himself. Her favored pugilist's jabs found their mark less now, as he concentrated more on staying away from Thick's power. Ducking in as a jab missed, Thick hammered his midsection with a punch that lifted him on his toes. Before he could follow up, Christopher grabbed him in a clinch and retaliated with knees, though his face was strained with pain. Veins stood out from both boys' necks as they struggled to control the other, the bigger one moving the other around more but unable to stop his strikes. This was getting to be a gritty fight... Thick weakened Christopher with short punches to the body and broke free, shoving the smaller boy back from himself. Seeing the danger, Christopher tried to disrupt Thick's vision with a jab and jump in with a knee. But he underestimated the composure of his opponent, who blocked the knee with a forearm and simultaneously brought up his other arm. His elbow crashed against Christopher's temple. The latter plummeted down and flopped on the dirt, out cold.
Patrick whistled. "That was a pretty flashy move, compared to the rest of his fighting style."
"It was good timing," Meg admitted. "Oh well, being faster doesn't always make you more skilled. I just prefer the other guy's style, but it is what it is. I hope Christopher will be okay though. That was a nasty knockout."
The triumphant fighter raised his arms while a couple others attended to Christopher. Some of the audience cheered, though many seemed more concerned like she was about the fallen pugilist. He wouldn't wake up in spite of his fellows trying to rouse him, and now an older man who might one of the fort's senior soldiers went to his side. "Excuse me," Baxter said, leaving Meg and Patrick's side presumably to help.
"Such brutal strength," Dennis said, sounding timid.
Meg gave a nonchalant wave. "It's impressive. But I would eat that elbow like candy."
"In the interest of not drawing undue attention," Patrick reminded her, "it'd probably do not to brag too much, Mo-"
"What are you calling me?!"
"I mean, Meg."
As Christopher started to stir, eyelids fluttering though they were still closed, the boy who beat him said, "Ha! Of all men under twenty in Plasbias, I am the strongest!"
"Don't be tempted, Meg," Patrick whispered. "The official contest is over, and he did say men not people."
She unclenched her fist. "Still, it would've been fun."
A voice sounded from the right, unexpectedly female. She had assumed everyone here but her would be male, considering that seemed the case from what she saw so far. "Congratulations on your victory, Rich. But there'll be one more match for today." Meg looked. In front of a door in the fort's inner wall stood a figure, its size surprising given the voice that belonged to it—her. It was a young woman clad in black armor with long dark hair, the top of her head almost at a level with that of the door. She didn't have too bulky a figure, her upper body lean though fairly broad, but her height alone made her seem huge. The head of an immense axe jutted over her back. "I may be a shade too old for your criteria, but I hope you'll humor big sister Taryn with a display of your skills."
"You want to fight me?" Rich raised his fists. As she strode closer, Meg confirmed she towered more than half a head over the boy who stood about six feet himself. "Of course I'll meet your challenge!"
The tall woman took a swift step towards him, launched into a high kick. Her shin passed over his hand as he attempted too slow to guard and slammed into his skull. He reeled back on rubber legs, windmilling his arms to stay upright.
Dennis stared in shock. "Did she just use a high kick as her opening move with no setup at all and actually land it?"
"That's because she threw it faster than most people punch," Meg said. Quite interesting.
Taryn stood impassively, waiting for Rich to recover. He steadied himself and burst forward with a overhand punch from far back. His fist thudded against her jaw as she neglected to try and dodge, but despite getting full extension and all his weight behind it, she didn't even move and just grinned. She answered with a flurry of punches that instantly had him scramble back forming a helmet with his arms around his head. He dove for a desperation takedown, only to find himself caught with his neck trapped under her arm. She gripped his belt with her free hand and pulled him into the air, flinging him over herself in a suplex. Still keeping her hold around his neck, she rolled backwards to straddle him and wrenched savagely. He tapped her side frantically in submission, no doubt feeling like his head threatened to pop off. She stood calmly off him while he writhed in anguish.
"Wait Meg, what are you doing?" Patrick asked as she stepped forth, unable to help herself.
She stomped in front of the towering woman, and muttering rose from the crowd. "That wasn't very fair! He was already tired from his previous fight, and more fights before that if I'm not mistaken. Kind of an opportunistic time to show him up, don't you think?"
Taryn crossed her arms. "I was just demonstrating to everybody that you should never get too full of yourself—because no matter how strong you think you are, there's always someone stronger."
"What about you," she snapped, "why don't take me on and see if you've met your match?"
The giantess reached out and patted Meg's head to the sound of mass laughter. "You're challenging me? Are you sure you're in the right weight class for that?"
She scowled, annoyed by the soldiers' mirth. "You're just a tall scrawny beanpole. I could just push your legs and you'd fall over."
"I weigh two hundred thirty pounds on a skinny day. And didn't somebody much bigger than you just try that?"
On closer inspection, her thighs did look pretty formidable, but Meg wasn't about to let reality stand in the way of her belief. "Well, he lacks technique. Skills pay the bills, not size. If it was me shooting on you-"
Before she could say any more, Baxter walked between them. "Captain Taryn, please excuse this young lady. She has not been introduced to you, after all."
She recoiled. "Captain? But you're barely older than me!" It would surprise her if Taryn was more than a year or so over twenty, if that.
"Age and merit aren't the same thing," Baxter said. "The captain has more than proven herself in service to the kingdom, hence her deserved position."
Meg looked helplessly at Patrick, who snickered. "Well, if this isn't awkward."
"I suppose now is as good a time as any for you to get acquainted." Baxter gestured to her friend. "Patrick, you come forward too. This is Meg and Patrick, two experienced though young monster hunters interested in what our growing military has to offer. And this of course is Taryn, commanding officer of our humble outpost. I offered them the special deal we talked about before, but for a period of four months instead of six. Do you approve?"
"If you see potential in them, I have no objection."
"Sorry about my rash behavior," Meg said, extending her hand. Taryn took it, the length of the fingers closing around hers making her feel very small. "I thought you were just a big bully among the recruits. But that doesn't mean I entirely approve of you treating Rich so."
Taryn smiled. "I didn't hurt him that bad. Stunned him a bit with my kick and didn't come close to breaking his neck with my crank, though it might've felt close. Besides, I did let him get a solid shot on me in return."
"I guess, though it hardly affected you." She noticed the beginnings of bruising on soft skin now, though.
"I'm used to taking a hit." The captain addressed the watching group. "Everyone, go eat!" She returned her attention to Meg and Patrick. "Not you. Since you missed the orientation I gave the other recruits, I'll catch you up now."
The rest of the soldiers filed away into the door, many looking back at them before disappearing out of sight. Meg caught a glimpse of Dennis waving them goodbye. Left alone with Baxter and Taryn, Patrick asked, "So are we going to train alongside the others, even though we're probably more advanced than most of them?"
"How advanced exactly are we talking?" Taryn regarded Meg curiously. "It takes some confidence for a little girl to step up to one my size, but I haven't actually seen you fight."
"What do you say we test our arms against each other and measure it that way?"
Patrick groaned. "Oh no, not this again."
"Not at this time," Taryn said. "I don't feel like humoring you right now, so why don't you show off to Baxter instead?"
Meg heard the scrape of a sword leaving its scabbard and looked to see the lieutenant with weapon in hand. "You mean..?"
He pointed the blade at her. "Yes. Come, convince me of the skills you act so proud of."
"My side still hurts a bit from an old wound. But I'll try not to disappoint." She ran at him, slashing rapidly with her smaller sword. He used the shield he had carried into the naga's cave to block and struck back. She dodged the strokes, trying to come up with a way around the protective bowl. Hmm, maybe from above... she jumped and tried to strike down past it, only for him to raise the rim higher and intercept her swing. She jumped away from his return cut, spun aside from a lunging thrust and slapped his arm with the flat of her blade. "Would've wounded you there," she said.
"Not really. That was a light tap, it wouldn't have penetrated my mail even with the edge."
Meg smirked. "Your judgment is good. Then, I'd better step it up a notch!"
She hammered at his guard like a whirlwind, twisting this way and that in exaggerated movements meant to throw him off though it hurt her flank. Still his defense remained tight, though she heard Taryn say, "Impressive." Her short reach probably made it easier for him to see her attacks coming. Timing a high slash from him, she ducked under with a sweeping kick at his legs. He leapt over it, but anticipating that she brought her sword up. The flat would have smacked the bottom of his foot hard, robbing him of his balance, but he kicked down first at it and knocked her blade downward.
"Hey, that's cheap!" she spat in irritation while she leaned aside from a stab. "If I'd used the edge, do you think you could've gotten away with using your foot like that?"
"Maybe not... but maybe so. The sole of my boot is reinforced with iron, so you wouldn't easily cut through it."
"Tsk, fair enough. Still, don't think that's all I've got."
He shrugged in carefree manner. "I can't imagine what I'd have to fear from a midget girl."
"Oh, now you've done it. Prepare to be humiliated!" They exchanged more blows, breath coming faster and faster as their pace intensified. Their weapons locked after a heavy clash, Meg giving it her all to keep from being pushed back. Seeing him lean forward to glare down at her while they stood face to face, she got an idea. She kneed the bottom of his shield, knocking the top of it up into his chin.
"Ack!" he cried, staggering back.
She dashed after him. "I can take advantage of any mistake!" Still stunned from the surprise blow, he flailed his sword before him to keep her back. She evaded the wild strokes and swatted his hand with her blade, making him lose his grasp on his so that it tumbled away. He tried to hide behind the bowl of his shield. "Do you concede?"
"Not yet, I still have-"
"That's enough," Taryn said. "This is supposed to be a test of the new recruits, not a fight to the finish, and she's already more than exceeded expectations."
Meg gave a twirl of her sword. "Does that mean I get to fight you next?"
"No, it's your tall friend's turn now to prove his skills."
Patrick frowned. "Wait, I'm not tall. I'm practically a manlet compared to you."
"But compared to her..."
"Can we stop with the small talk and get on with it?" Meg grumbled.
"'Small' talk indeed."
"Grr."
Patrick hefted his poleaxe, but seemed to be taken off guard when Baxter immediately charged him. The lieutenant struck with both sword and shield, looking far more aggressive than when he fought Meg. Having experienced how capable the Free Fangs really were, he probably strove to avoid looking bad again. Patrick defended well though he didn't muster as much offense as she had, being continuously pushed back around the yard. However, Baxter proved unable to pin him down to put a definitive conclusion to the match, and after a while Taryn said, "Enough. Not quite on par with your friend, but still very good."
He hunched over panting while Baxter sheathed his sword, then looked up with proud eyes. "I guess there are some competent warriors in Plasbias after all, if not enough to make much difference during the last invasion. So if we both impressed you, does that mean we can help instruct the other recruits or something instead of going through the same training?"
Taryn took a moment to respond. "No. I have enough assistant instructors in Baxter and the other old hands, there aren't open spots for you. If you want to give extra help to your struggling peers, feel welcome to. Also, I hope you won't be too harsh on those less knowledgeable than you."
Meg replied, "Of course, we're not bullies. But then what was that 'test' just now for?"
"It's good to know what skills those under me have. When I have to pick soldiers to send on assignments, I'll keep it in mind."
"What are we expected to do here anyway? Baxter already told us some things on the way, but I'd like to hear it from the horse's mouth."
"Are you calling me a horse?" She flashed a reassuring smile. "It's pretty laid back around here. You'll spend most of your time training, keeping up maintenance of the fort, and just being ready to fight if called upon. On occasion when there are local troubles, we might have to send people out to help deal with them. You'll likely be among my first choices in that case given you're even better than most of our veterans."
"Easy with the compliments," Baxter said. "You don't want to make them even more big headed."
"I think they're seasoned enough not to let some earned praise go to their heads. Anyway, time to get ready for the next drill."
Patrick gaped. "What? The others got to go eat, and we don't?"
"Your sparring matches took up most of dinnertime, and we can't stop everything for two people." Taryn chuckled. "Besides, I'm sure being hardened fighters that you're used to such inconveniences."
"It amuses you to give us a hard time, doesn't it?" Meg mumbled. "But I suppose we can just grab a bite later."