You want stealth? Be a rogue in World of Warcraft.

Incomprehensible Pre-Fall quote

“Donnall, stop cutting that dummy,” the sergeant growled.

“Sorry, sergeant,” Peter replied.

“You’ll never make corporal if you keep it like that.”

“Sorry, sergeant”, he repeated.

“Now try to focus. Center of mass, not the top.”

“Aye, sergeant,” he said as the man moved to the next trainee.

That was the hardest part for Peter. He had to keep concentrating on… missing. Because anytime he simply hit, his aim would correct itself, and he would spear the dummy at his most vulnerable point. Usually, strings that held it together, or the support that kept it upright, the bearing that made it turn, those kinds of spots.

Thankfully, people kept misinterpreting the slips as a mistake, rather than the supernatural aim that the Skeleton had given him back in Anasta. After all, if he was instructed to hit point A, and hit point B at times, no matter how destructive that hit was, it was an “obvious error”.

Too eager, they say. He laughed internally, keeping a straight face as he pushed the spear, trying very hard to miss and keep it in its initial trajectory.

Not that there were no benefits to be had. Even if it was hard for him to miss, the first days when you had to raise the spear repeatedly had taught him his limits, when his muscles started to scream about burning. It was very different between having to fight Lepuses until they died and having to push spears knowing that your enemy never ended until the sergeant said so.

“Close” combat also brought a second problem. Peter had sweated very hard initially because the blunt knives they’d given him had the same problem. If he didn’t focus, he’d bring the knife to the most vulnerable point and deal significant painful damage even with training weapons. At least without a weapon, his supernatural aim didn’t interfere. Fist fighting, grappling, all those were painfully normal, and he wasn’t that good at it.

His dodging also had to be reined in. Avoiding attacks, with or without weapons, was too easy, notably with the other recruits. The sergeants doing the training were a bit harder to avoid, but he could do it if he didn’t force himself not to avoid the attack or grapple.

“Small and quick, that’s me,” he had to joke to hide the fact.

That earned him a nickname, Snake. Nimble, fast-hitting. And, even if they didn’t know it, hiding in the corners, he’d added for himself.

So far, he managed to keep hiding his heroic status, turning his dodge into deception.

“Tom’s the big one, the destroyer of beasts. Me, I just avoid getting hit. Not very heroic.”

“Being the hero means you’re the guy who gets whacked. Don’t be a hero, Donnall.”

“Fat chance.”

“Goddamn, Donnall, you run like a little boy,” the sergeant yelled.

“I do have short legs, sir,” Peter replied.

“That’s an explanation, not an excuse!”

“Yes, sir.”

Privately, Peter thought that made it better, but he wasn’t about to argue. The non-commissioned officers liked him somewhat, mainly because he always downplayed his role in the Narrows. Sergeant Mord, who was one of the trainers, seemed to appreciate that, although neither he nor Franz got special treatment for standing up to the beast along with the “sorceress”. He wasn’t going to ruin that standing by being a smart-ass. With the trainers, there was something like too much humor.

“One more lap around the camp wall, Donnall. If you can’t do it fast, you can do it longer,” the sergeant yelled.

“Yes, sir.”

That’s when you curse your five foot three, he thought before starting to jog again.

But then, Peter knew he was going to be “surprised” tomorrow, and that made the running tolerable.

Johanna made sure to be officially surprised when Peter appeared in the dining hall. That was his first official “pass” to come and see them. Of course, he kept sneaking in almost every evening. She hadn’t seen him, but Laura was passing messages and kept Tom and her in the loop.

That was going to end, or at least be severely reduced, as he had “overheard” the fact that they would start doing surprise inspections of the barracks starting next week. Most levies didn’t expect that, but as salvagers, they all were used to being woken up at night to take up watch. Peter had told his wife he’d start exploring the city proper after those “surprises” rather than wake her up. Something she heartily agreed on.

“Hello, guys! Nice to see you… all!” he said cheerfully.

They hugged, and Johanna found herself happy to see him in person, even after just a mere week.

“Glad to make it, and just in time,” Laura said happily.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“In time?”

“Did you forget the day?”

Peter frowned.

“And he did,” Johanna laughed.

“I’m missing something. Help me, Tom,” he said, but the big man merely shrugged.

“I think I should drag it up further, but… happy birthday,” Laura said, grabbing him and kissing him deeply.

“Oh, fuck. 19, already.”

“Don’t you dare forget next month,” she warned.

“No way. Is it the 17th or the 18th?”

Laura took a swipe at him, which he dodged, barely moving at all.

“You’re not helping.”

“I can stand very still. Learned to do… that,” he replied.

“Goddamn, I wish we had that at the barracks,” Peter complained as he looked at the greenish… jelly… with fruits slices… topped with cream… that was on his plate.

The slight dent showed where he’d taken a small bit to sample. He thought it simultaneously herbal, sweet, and a dozen improbable qualifiers. And definitively outside of this world.

“We normally don’t. It’s usually well-made but relatively simple. But we asked the staff for something special for today,” Laura replied, smiling.

“And the staff delivered,” Johanna added.

“Hero and stuff privilege. They probably like having us there,” Tom stated.

“Can I…” Peter whined.

“No,” all three immediately replied to the implied and hidden question.

“Well, gotta tell you all about my adventures at some point,” he said.

“Later,” Johanna said before Laura could answer.

The door was closed after Peter had slipped out to check and reported that the guards were still at their usual positions from when he snuck into the keep the other days. Now that they had an official reason to be together and something to celebrate, it was time to have a serious talk without ears around and no risk of being caught with someone who shouldn’t be there.

“Okay. So, what did you find exactly,” Johanna asked.

“Told a bit to Laura already, but mostly the brass – that’s how the commanders are called, apparently – is worried that those missing levies may be a problem.”

“The ones that slipped out in the Narrows.”

“Yes, and the ones that Agnello left in Valetta in exchange for us. Eighty fewer people aren’t that much against a few thousand, but when you’re pressed… No one knows if you guys will make enough of a difference. Although they’re ‘cautiously optimistic’, so they say when I spy on command.”

“A few other levies groups are coming in, but minor ones. They can focus on properly training everyone. I strenuously object to that schedule, by the way,” he added.

The other three laughed.

“Keep discreet, Peter. If they realize you’re also… heroic, that’s going to put all of us in a bad light for not telling anyone. I told Elena you were already out of the room when the mana trap exploded, and that I think that’s why you were protected,” Johanna said.

“You told her?” he startled.

“Not everything. Not about exactly where it was, or about the Skeleton. But I wanted to know if other people had been… changed by mana explosions, like us.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Every sorcerer seems to go to sleep normally, usually at home, and wake up with powers.”

“Well, we did get knocked unconscious by that blast,” Peter remarked.

“Yea, but that’s probably not it. People have been trying to see if heavy mana pockets could imbue them with power, but it’s never worked. Mana blowouts are rare, but not unprecedented, and no dice there either. She doesn’t know much about Saints or Heroes, but I’m going to assume it works the same for them. And she hasn’t heard of anyone suddenly getting powers as we all did during the Lepus battle. New powers, that’s years between them,” Johanna said.

“So… we’re completely different,” Peter said.

“No kidding,” Tom added.

“Anyway, what do we have to expect from that war thing? The Warden says it’s serious, but how much is it? What can we expect?” Johanna asked.

“No idea. The cadre is all about the training, they don’t mention the war itself. But I got to listen to the sergeants that train us. They’re all veterans, they’ve seen it all. Listening to them in the barracks’ officer tavern is more instructive than the base commander’s ramblings. I found the right spot where I can relax and not exhaust myself hiding.”

“The Warden said they started the war eight years ago when his father died.”

“That bit’s true, I think. But his father, Victor, spent a lot on reinforcing the two forts at the Kootenai, and improving the roads leading there. And nobody among those that were there at the time seems to think it was to promote trade.”

Johanna frowned.

“Meaning?”

“I don’t know if you paid much attention to the history lessons by Mrs. Vanu, but they told us all about how the Wardens made the Montana.”

“So what?” Johanna insisted.

“It looks like old Victor Maistry may have wanted to grow Montana beyond the northern barrier. Emulate the glorious ancestors.”

“Conquest?” Tom asked.

“Less hazardous than restarting the wars of unification. These days, the constitution guarantees defense,” Peter said.

“And the tribesmen did not want to wait to see if Edgard was going to do the same,” Laura added.

“Yes. What a load of bollocks, as Franz says,” Peter said.

“That doesn’t change our situation much. So, they wanted levies, as confirmed by the Warden,” Johanna noted.

“They want us to be as good as we can be. For the counter-offensive, they say. Or maybe the conquest of the tribal lands? We get the same kind of training as the normal recruits,” Peter said.

“Normal recruits?” Johanna startled.

“The professional soldiers. There are some recruited every year, but apparently not enough. Same as a guard job, you join the army, get trained, and paid. People used to be more interested in getting paid, less now with actual fighting going on.”

“They mentioned a stipend,” Laura reminded everyone.

“And we get the same level as the pros. Except for us not having had a choice, they mostly treat us the same.”

“That’s good,” Tom said.

“Well, I expect your pay to be bigger. Don’t forget me before you spend it all,” Peter said.

Johanna laughed.

“Apparently, we’re supposed to be paid like top officers. Speaking of which, I’ve discussed with the Warden’s emissary who is on his way to Valetta. Grievar was lowballing, he says. Artifacts like what we found, yes, it’s a small house’s price or higher. No one knows how to find them, so it’s all pure luck, and some – like the sword – are mighty impressive.”

“So… we get how much?” Laura asked.

Johanna sighed.

“As much as I wanted to screw him, say that he’s owed ten thousand, period, and we get the rest straight from the Warden… the lawyer that was there said it would probably cause him to contest my proxy and keep the sword until he finds a ‘real buyer’. Justifiably so.”

“So?” Laura insisted.

“He’ll offer 80 thousand dollars,” Johanna said.

“WHAT?”

“Sush. Yes, that much. That’s a ‘reasonable amount’, or so they say. If the sword is that much a big deal, we’ll get a bonus once they secure it, but the quartermaster has to make a genuine interesting offer. Or Grievar might ‘lose the sword’.”

“He can’t get away with it?”

“He probably will. Oh, if we find more artifacts, then we’ll probably be able to thumb our nose at him, but until then… it’s all legal.”

“Dad says never use a lawyer if you can. I think I know why,” Tom said laconically.

“I think we can all agree we’re not going to give him the satisfaction of ever getting richer from our work, right?” Johanna asked.

All nodded in agreement.

“I spoke with Tom already, but I wanted to talk with you as well. If the deal goes through, I’d propose to sell back the house in Valetta…”

“So quickly gone,” Peter interrupted, then immediately stopped to let Johanna continue.

“… so, once we muster out of this draft thing, it will be sold already, we’ll have the money, and settle here in New Benton instead. There are ruins south almost as large as the ones from Valetta. The ‘jumble’, they call it. I’m sure we can find a way to sell salvage here.”

“Two years they said,” Laura noted.

“Or if the war ends quicker, we might get out early?” Peter asked.

“That’s on the draft papers they gave us,” Johanna acknowledged.

“Might as well try to make it happen faster,” Tom said.

“We’ll see. Changing the course of a war… that’s a bit too much,” Johanna wondered.

“Think of the tribesmen as bigger Lepuses,” Peter deadpanned.