Her Da would have said these men and women were good material, but still needed work because it was his firm belief that a soldier could never train enough. A retired king's guardsman, he purchased a farm with his end of service entitlement and married her mother. Even though he wished for a boy, their first child was female: Elsa. Two more female children quickly followed as her father tried to produce the male offspring he truly desired. Finally giving up, he treated his eldest, Elsa, like a son. This meant she did an abnormal number of chores and helped plow the fields twice a year. Then, gifting Elsa a wooden sword on her fifth birthday, they practiced endlessly, eventually graduating to other weapons, then tactics as her training progressed under his tutelage. From swords to bows, staffs to axes, then mock wars with the village boys and a few girls, Elsa had grown into a strong, confident, and dominating female leader under her father's guidance.
In addition, her Da was always right. If he said it would rain, then it would rain. If he said the winter would be colder than normal, then it would be. He said the neighboring kingdom of Belgresse would invade because of Jordache’s trade practices, and they sat down in the cellar amidst candles to wait it out. When next-door neighbor Tommy Kendrick came down sick with blisters all over his face and neck, Da had ordered his daughters to shun the Kendrick's until the disease ran its course. Da also ordered all neighboring farms to have no contact with the Kendrick's, and they had obeyed. In the end, three of Tommy's family had succumbed to the disease, including Tommy himself.
For Elsa's entire life, she felt like she lived in the shadow of an invisible and unborn brother’s footsteps, but finally she came to realize her Da loved her without reservation, for herself and who she was and not for some fantasy, that he was very proud of the woman she'd become. When she informed her father that she would be leaving home to join the guard and to not try to change her mind, he had swept her into his arms, all six-foot two inches and one-hundred and eighty pounds of her, and cried with happiness. Then he packed their farm wagon, left mother home amidst teary goodbyes, and bundled her and her sisters off to the capital of Jordache, Crystal City.
Once they arrived at Crystal City, their father led the three girls to a small, yet cozy, boarding house on the outskirts of the city and settled them in a room that had a nice view of the river. The innkeeper, Widow Rosa, was especially nice to Da and Elsa. She refused to ask any questions about how her father knew this woman or why the two of them appeared to be so friendly with each other. She knew her father brought produce to the city, sometimes several times a month, and in her limited years she was still wise enough to “let sleeping dogs lie.” A phrase her father had taught her. It was important to note that their father did not share the room with them but slept elsewhere, and she sternly instructed her younger sisters not to ask any questions.
The following morning, Da spent a small portion of the family's hard-earned money to buy her sisters and their mother new, yet modest, dresses, and Elsa a well-tempered sword that she promptly strapped to her side. Then, leaving Elisa and Eleanor with Rosa to help in her garden, her father told Elsa to dress in leathers and escorted her to the city guard barracks where recruiting took place.
"Oye, Mad Dog!" Shouted one of the two guards they found at the entrance. Turning into the open doorway behind him, he shouted out, "Get your lazy tails out here, you dogs! It's Captain Mad Dog! I want to see full kit ready for inspection in sixty seconds!"
"Mad Dog?" whispered Elsa to her father.
"Best not to ask, daughter of mine," he whispered back. Elsa raised her right eyebrow but refrained from saying anything, instead simply stood back and waited.
In a matter of minutes, a full company of guardsmen had assembled in the courtyard. A man dispatched after a whispered conversation with the guard officer on duty saluted her father, a salute he returned with military precision. Elsa knew her Da had been in the guard but never realized he had been an officer, let alone a captain.
"Sir!" Barked the grizzled war veteran as he marched up to her Da then came to attention, arms straight down his sides with palms inward against the thighs. "King’s Own ready for inspection, Sir!" Then he saluted, which her Da returned. Each man raised his right hand to lay over their hearts. It held for a brief few seconds before both snapped their hands down again. The rest of the men and women continued to stand at attention as her father surveyed the ranks before him. Her eyes widened in amazement as she remembered the king’s Own was the elite of the elite and charged with guarding the royal family. That her father earned such respect from these hardened and deadly veterans was beyond amazing.
Each man and woman wore nearly identical cuirasses of lightweight burnished steel that covered the front and back, the woman's being pre-formed in the chest for breasts. In addition to steel gauntlets that covered hands and forearms, each wore bracers over their upper arms and greaves over their thighs and shins. All the additional armor was of thick boiled leather, and leather boots covered their feet while across their back slung a rectangular shield approximately two feet wide by three feet tall made of vulo wood strips bound by steel bands. Finally, a steel helm covered their heads and the sides and back of their necks. The entire ensemble strapped to a thick leather blouse and pants, and at each side hung a steel short sword with leather wrapped hilt.
She knew that the entire outfit, though lightweight, would protect against the average arrow and sword stroke. She also knew that all the countries of the Alliance wore uniform armor and shields. The only way to tell one country’s guard from another's was the painted insignia across the front of each cuirass and shield. They also kept the same rank structure, making it easier to work together. She knew the only part of the outfit that would change would be the shield, as a round shield was worn while on horseback instead of a rectangular one.
Her Da proceeded to walk the line of fully equipped men and women, of which approximately a hundred and fifty were present from the company of normally two-hundred. Slowly and carefully, he examined each one as they presented their kit for inspection and with thoughtful remarks and nods of approval; eventually he reached the last and proceeded to the front of the quadruple column. As far as Elsa could tell, each one of the men and women present had been resplendent in their spotless garments and well-used yet clean weapons and equipment.
"A fine bunch of warriors, Sub-Captain Milstein," her Da remarked to the grizzled man before him. Elsa knew from her Da's teachings, the position of Sub-Captain, allowed captains to perform other duties. Usually, the most experienced man or woman assumed this position.
"That they are, Mad Dog."
Then Da grinned at the soldier then both men reached out and shook, forearms tightly grasped.
"I need to see the Captain and Troop Commander. Are they around?" her Da asked.
"I sent for them when you showed up. They'll want to catch up and talk about old times."
"Mad Dog, is that you?" A voice spoke from behind them, and as she was turning, Elsa saw the Sub-Captain approach as all the men present snap to attention.
Before them were two older men, roughly her father's age with calm demeanors and friendly smile on their faces. Both carried themselves well and from the insignia on their helmets, she saw the designation for captain on one and troop commander on the other. All were in top physical shape and as they approached, all four of the others near Elsa, including her father, saluted. Her Da at attention and saluting was something Elsa had never seen before. Suddenly she had a glimmer of what her Da must have been like twenty years ago while in the service to the king, for his back was ramrod straight, and a profound feeling of no nonsense was readily apparent as he addressed the troop commander of the king’s elite guard.
The hand over heart salute held for several seconds before the arms of all four snapped downward, after which the men grasped forearms and slapped shoulders. For a moment, she became lightheaded as she started to realize just how important a figure her father had been before retiring to a farm in the middle
of nowhere.
Her father was the first to speak."It is good to see you, Commander Morre, as it is you, Captain Ream." The two facing him smiled in return.
"Yes, it has been too long since your last visit. At least six months, I think. Wouldn't you say, Ream?" responded the commander.
"Agreed. Great to see you, and when did you get in?" said Captain Ream.
"Late yesterday afternoon. I wanted to get over here as soon as possible."
"I am surprised you were able to pry yourself away from the widow Rosa so quickly," laughed Ream. Elsa blinked as she looked at her Da out of the corner of an eye but did not say anything, watching his face turn red before he cleared his throat.
"I'd like you to meet my eldest, Commander Morre. Her name is Elsa, and perhaps we should leave Rosa out of the conversation for now," said Da as the others grinned at him, then he reached back to grab Elsa by the elbow and drag her forward. As he did, the older man, the troop commander, removed his helmet, holding it in the crook of his arm and walking toward her. Having never seen a helmet close up before, she glanced at it quickly, but thoroughly, and noticed it covered most of the head, leaving eyes, nose, mouth, and chin clear. Scalloped curves on the front covered the cheekbones, and the entire piece seemed to be made of steel.
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Dragod." Moore reached out to take her hand, and, bending at the waist, he brought his lips to the back, causing her to blush. The older man kissed her hand for only a moment before suddenly stiffening and straightening slowly, still holding onto her. He turned it over in his, spreading her fingers out. Carefully, he rubbed his own fingertips over the heavy calluses of her hand, circling those on the pads of her fingers and the thick ridge on her thumb.
"Thank you, Sir." Elsa responded with a shy smile, trying to pull her hand back to no avail. The commander’s grip was like iron, and she waited as his attention now focused on her father.
"Sword and bow, Mad Dog?" The question was simple and direct.
"Yes, Sir, and trained by my hand since the age of five. My guess would be that you've not a man or woman here that can beat her. My girl wants to join the guard, so I'm looking for the right sponsor. Trust me, Colonel, when I say she is good enough for the King’s Own, but without the right sponsor, she'll end up in some trash company in the middle of nowhere, fending off men trying to grab her from behind while beating away mosquitoes the size of your fist. Commander, I'd take her at my back before anyone else," her father finished fiercely.
Slowly, the troop commander turned his eyes back on her, and, pulling her closer, he ran his hand up her arm, feeling the tight compact muscles beneath the leather. Then he felt the muscles in her shoulder, before finally releasing her, turning back to her father.
"Has she done any shield work?" the commander asked.
"No, Sir, not yet, as proper shields were a bit too pricey for me to justify the expense with the missus."In silence, both men looked at each other before the commander turned his head, addressing the junior officer.
"Milstein. Two practice swords, and drag Gunnor out here. We have an entrance test to conduct. Oh, and find a helmet that will fit her, but no shield."
"But Commander," the man protested. "Wouldn't it be better to test her using one of the new guard recruits?"
"No. If Mad Dog trained her, I want to see her against our best. Spar will be in leather jerkin without armor other than helm," responded the commander, as he waved Milstein away.
Slowly, the encouraging words of her father and that of this other man instilled confidence within her, and a smile grew across her face. The commander looked over at her again and spoke, a stern expression on his face.
"Elsa, you do realize that if you join the guard, there is no modesty within the common ranks, as we do not distinguish between male and female. When not on guard duty, you will be training incessantly, living in a cramped barracks with dozens of other men and women, and cleaning up each day in a community bath. If you have a complaint, you will take it to your squad leader and not me. If I sponsor you, you will obey the law and rules of the company and kingdom."
"I understand that, Sir," she said in a husky voice. "My father explained the guard and barracks living to me, Sir." She finished before glancing at her father.
"Well, I'm not going to mince words because you're testing. You've been gifted with your mother’s endowment. I can see that plainly, even though your figure is large for your gender. Large is good, but some of the men and perhaps a few of the women will be…interested. What would your response be?"
"To seek out my squad leader and voice my complaint," Elsa said, looking down at her full chest and shrugging. The commander was correct. Of the three girls her mother birthed, only Elsa had gotten her looks, breasts, and hair. However, her frame came from her father's side of the gene pool, as her mother was short and petite. Still, she knew she was well endowed, more so than many women.
"And if it still continued?" he asked.
"Well, Sir, Da says to beat them black and blue until they stop causing issues. I already have to do the same with some of the village boys."
The men and few women around her laughed, including the commander, who wryly shook his head and asked another question.
"When standing at attention, if the king approaches you, what is your response?"
"Drop to my right knee, bow my head with my hand on my sword, and not speak. If we are on review or receiving a visitation from a foreign diplomat, then I am to simply remain at attention until told otherwise."
"I see your father coached you well."
"Yes, Sir."
Just then, a large soldier ran up, grasping two practice swords and helms, snapping to attention before the commander. "Sir! Guard Gunnor reporting with two practice swords and helms as ordered," he shouted.
"Gunnor. You won gold in the last quarterly field competition, didn't you?" inquired the Colonel as he took one of the swords and a helm from the guard whose hands were full, holding both swords in one and the helms in the other. As he stood there, the commander removed one of the swords and a helm holding them both loosely with one large hand.
"Three out of four, Sir! Sword, spear, and bow. I didn't make it into the finals on siege craft."
"Aye, well, it takes a special talent to operate one of those beasts, so don't feel bad. This here is Elsa. She's Captain Mad Dog's daughter and seeks a position within the guard. How well she performs will determine if I sponsor her into a superior company or another of the lesser units. The two of you will spar here in the courtyard, then we'll test her on spear and bow." With that, he handed Elsa the wooden blade and the steel helm which she quickly donned. With pleasant surprise, she found the sword was weighted to resemble the steel short swords that were guard standard issue. Tentatively, she took a few practice swings to accustom herself to its heft and was pleased to see that it was similar in length to the ones her father used with her back on the farm. Then, handing her own sword to her Da, she stepped away from the men and waited.
The guard named Gunnor approached her while the others moved back far enough to clear a large space around them. Looking at the massive man who was at least four inches taller than her, and probably outweighed her by sixty pounds, she could already see his eyes had not left her chest, which caused her to snort softly as she assumed the two-handed on guard position her father had taught her for the short sword. Pommel raised to neck level, the blade pointed downward at a thirty-five degree angle. She kept her left side to her target—she was ready to block or strike as the need arose.
"I'll try to take it easy on you, girlie," he chuckled, still watching her chest. She shifted left, then slightly right, just enough to cause her breasts to bounce heavily within her leather jerkin. Her mouth stretched into an evil grin as his eyes widened, following the movement. She knew right then, no matter how good this opponent was, she would beat him.
"And I'll try not to damage you too badly, though you should know that my eyes are up here," she said ca
lmly as she pointed two fingers at her eyes before placing her hand on the hilt again. He laughed in return while holding his own sword loosely in one hand.
"Alright, tap swords and come out fighting. Three strikes or a single incapacitating one and you're out," called the Sub-Captain.
Gunnor lazily swung his sword to tap her blade, and Elsa instantly a half step back, waiting for his first move. She did not have to wait long. He quickly followed her movement with his sword raised and swung at her shoulder.
With a short step forward, she rotated her wrists and arms sideways to block his blade while using the momentum gained from the force of his blow to arc her own sword in an overhand semicircle to rap him sharply on the top of the head, almost driving him to his knees.
Infuriated, Gunnor came at her in earnest this time, his blade swinging back and forth like a scythe, almost as fast as the eye could see, but not fast enough. Elsa dropped into a crouch, letting Gunnor’s blade whistle overhead before slashing him in the thigh, then rolling backward out of range, not wanting him to take advantage of her position. Elsa smiled at Gunnor, then winked. He in turn scowled at her and proceeded cautiously forward, using an upright guard position. As he neared, he quickly feinted a blow to her head before spearing his sword forward, trying to take her in the stomach.
Watching his eyes, she knew exactly where his primary strike was aimed and did not fall for the feint. If they had been using real swords, it would have been a killing blow. Even with practice swords, it would still probably have broken ribs. Rotating her upper arms and shoulders while sidestepping in a lightning-quick move, she rapped his knuckles hard enough to cause him to drop the sword. Without slowing down, her body twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees, presenting her other side, her blade rushing through the air like a club to hit his head with a resounding thunk of wood against metal. Instantly, Gunnor dropped to the ground, dazed and bleeding from a head wound beneath the helm.
The crowd stared in shocked silence as she relaxed her ready state to salute the commander with her sword, pommel down, blade to forehead and watched as he nodded back while her father grinned like a maniac beside him as he spoke.
The God Warriors Page 4
