Stand Short and Proud

by Billy Wong

  "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 yo
u 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.