Ren realized that deep down he’d been holding onto a little hope. And that hope was a lie. The truth was way worse than he’d ever imagined. Seemed it always was.

He gazed up at the board posted on the side of the mess hall. It listed every recruit by name. Beside their names was a symbol denoting their assignment. All the names except for his. Next to the word Ren it was blank.

Was he being kicked out?

“Recruit Ren,” a messenger in grey and black spoke up from behind him. “You are to report to Captain Lurron immediately.”

Azeroth’s…

The messenger turned and gestured for Ren to follow.

It wasn’t that bad. What was the worst that could happen? He’d be discharged, broke, stranded in Rattan? No, probably worse. What if this was about the investigation. He’d refused to rat out that bastard Kareem. The investigator had bandied about some pretty serious threats about obstruction of military law and insubordination.

It took everything he had not to turn and run.

The camp was full of laughter and even some singing. Everyone was so relaxed. Relieved. Everyone but him.

The sun shouldn’t have been able to shine so bright on a day so dark. But it made sense that even the sky would mock him.

Before he was ready they were there. The messenger announced him and let him in.

The captain stood behind his desk with his back to the door, apparently studying a map of Ardus. “Take a seat, Recruit.” He turned and tired eyes met Ren’s as they both sat.

What kind of game was this? Get him to relax first, then-

“We’re here to talk about your future, Recruit.” The Captain broke the silence. “But first I want to address something with you.”

Ren nodded, throat dry.

“You refused to name your attacker after being beaten half to death. Why?”

Ren gulped and remembered Parna’s words bitterly. “I figured that we are going to be serving together for a long time, sir.” He paused, unable to read the expression on the Captain’s face. “I thought- maybe it sounds stupid- but I thought maybe if I didn’t report him it could end there. I don’t want to be watching my back for the next seven years. And I don’t want to be known for turning on my allies.”

“Even if they are entitled high-born scum,” muttered the Captain.

Ren’s next words caught in his throat.

Captain Lurron grimaced. “Saint’s blood. Did I say that out loud? Well, I’ve heard stupider reasons for worse offenses. In truth, Recruit, you did me a favor. If you’d reported him I couldn’t have done nothing, and I’d have been caught up in a bloody fucking storm of political bullshit.”

Ren’s whole body relaxed at that.

“Believe me, I don’t want that sorry excuse for a soldier anywhere near my men, let alone leading them. But a man has to take the world as it is. Anyway, if anything like that happens again, there will be no excuse for silence. I won’t protect you if you protect scum again. Life may be easier for us both in this moment, but in the years to come we’ll all be looking over our shoulders if he moves up the ranks. Do you want a man like that standing at your back?”

“No sir.” Of this he was certain.

“Good. Let’s move on then. You are here to pay off your family debt, no?”

“That’s correct, sir.” It struck him now how odd it was that they were both just sitting. He should be standing at attention. In lieu of that, he sat up straighter.

“I have a few options for you. We’ve hit quota for the kitchens, but we contract out labor for road maintenance and the mines. I could release your contract and put in a word for you if you need work to pay your way back home. You seemed to have a decent thing going at that inn if I’m not mistaken. Or I could try to make space for you as a laborer with the engineers. All of those options will pay the same as the kitchens. R1. Five dham per day.”

Ren deflated. Five dham wasn’t enough. He’d make more if he went back to Garam’s. But if he left, his dad would lose health coverage. “Thank you sir. That’s very kind. I- I don’t know. To be honest, five dham doesn’t even cover interest after the rent they are charging me. Can I think about it?”

The Captain’s eye twitched. “There is one other option. But, I don’t think it’s in your best interest. Quite frankly, I wasn’t impressed with your performance in the combat trials.” He massaged his temples and continued. “But you did show resourcefulness in the survival trial. You’ve been offered a spot with the scouts, as a forester.”

Forester… that was R2! Ten dham a day—and he’d keep his family’s medical support. It’d still be well over a decade before he could free his family at that rate, but he couldn’t say no.

Captain Lurron held up a weathered hand before he could respond. “Let me tell you why we train all recruits with the short sword even though most will be using spears. As you saw, every battle goes to chaos eventually. Whether you wield a spear or bow or or hammer there comes a time when you’ll need to draw your sidearm. Even medics sometimes have to join the ranks in a shield wall. At some point you’ll see combat. And at some point you’ll be so close you can taste your enemy’s sweat. You can’t hesitate. There are no second chances in the field. You fuck up, you die. If you’re lucky you don’t take your comrades with you. You take this option and you have to prove yourself. There is no leeway. I hear a whisper about you running or dropping your weapon and you’re out. Understood?”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Ren nodded. “Understood. Thank you sir. I won’t make you regret this.”

“Don’t thank me. I feel like I just threw you a bone that’s just as likely to choke you as clean your teeth. Just stay alive and keep your head down.” The Captain looked down to a piece of paper on his desk. “Oh, I almost forgot. During the survival trial you earned three merits. Make sure to stop by the honor commissary and cash them in.

***

Ren,

We will be imbibing dubious swill tonight at the Pointy End on Iron Street. I sincerely hope you join us.

-Bahmul (and the rest)

Rattan was different at night. Windows smiled warm light into the streets and alleys—turning a city of plain grey and sharp angles into a mosaic of gold made ever brighter by the darkness of night.

He didn’t have money for booze, even if it was truly swill—which he seriously doubted considering both Hamsa and Bahmul were drinking. All the same, soon they’d all be headed off for specialized training and he wanted to see them. Claims of friendship hadn’t really stuck before. Ren had believed them all too different. But after everything that happened these were the people who were still here for him.

Like all businesses in Rattan, the Pointy End had a well maintained square shape sign of sheet metal. No art or frills, just the lettering carved neatly.

Ren pushed the door open and was embraced by a melange of kettledrums, cymbals and laughter—all carried on a warm tide that smelled of rice wine and liquor and fond memories.

The place was packed with grey uniforms, but one look at the floor and the clean—if a bit faded—carpets told him this place was in a different class from Garam’s.

“There he is!” shouted Gunney, his pale cheeks already rosy. “Told ya he’d come. Have a seat, kid.”

Ren greeted each of his friends with a look as he sat. Bahmul simply nodded back, pushing up his glasses before turning back to his drink. Hamsa smiled weakly, his gaze lingered, but he also drank rather than confronting Ren about his lack of assignment on the board. Rhami on the other hand—

“Ye gunna stare at us like a goat at a torch, or ye gunna say what’s what?” Classic Rhami.

Ren didn’t have to try as hard as he thought he would to scowl. It was childish, he knew, but he was still reeling. Some part of him had really believed he could be a hero if he tried hard enough. But this wasn’t the time for such thoughts. He inhaled slowly for dramatic effect. His friends leaned in.

“Forester.” he blurted, not quite as gracefully as he’d planned.

Smiles cracked the tension at the table.

“Had us worried there friend,” said Hamsa.

“Good Lad!” Gunney reached his thick arm across the table to slap Ren on the shoulder. “Knew you had some sense. Let the meatheads and fools fight on the front lines. A man never truly knows his-self till he’s alone in the woods with naught but his wits and a good knife.”

Hamsa cut in. “When, praytell, does a scout ever go into the woods alone with nothing but a knife. Perhaps you could educate this meathead.”

“Bah.” Gunney shooed the princely boy like he was a stray dog. “Doesn’t know what he’s talking ’bout.”

“Seems ta me yer the one who’s a sheep calling us goats sheep.”

“What is it with you plains-people and your damn farm animals, eh?

“Actually,” Bahmul interjected, “The people of the plains let their livestock range free.”

“Why do I care?” Gunney shot him a nasty look.

“Well, you accused our esteemed Rhami of the Janjawa of talking about farm animals, when—in fact—there were no farm animals involved.”

“Oh shut your curry hole. You all’re drunker’n’a brain-sick sow. No good ever comes from listenin to a drunk.” He stood and swayed before making his way around the table to Ren. Rhami opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off, “Don’t you go accusin me of bein a sheep again, lil miss. I’m damn well aware o’my drunkenness. Can’t a man bluster these days?”

“A goat can always bleat,” she said, winking.

“Why you-” and he lunged at her, but his heart wasn’t in it, and she stood about as fast as Ren had ever seen anyone stand and kicked out his foot, sending him toppling. Then they both laughed. And laughed. Till Rhami was rolling on the ground too.

“Ah, damn. I needed that. Everythin’s been too fuckin serious of late.” Gunney wiped the tears from his eyes as he stood and offered a hand to Rhami. “Quite the move lil miss.” She grinned and took his hand.

“So what about you all?” asked Ren. “Where are you moving on to?”

“Intelligence,” said Bahmul. That was no surprise. “Apparently we are shipping out first thing tomorrow.”

“I’m headed for teh city o’ light for my oaths,” said Rhami. Of course, she was a paladin candidate, after all.

Hamsa beamed, “Squiring for my uncle. Finally going to bond my path spirit, so we’re headed south before deployment.”

Gunney finally made it to Ren. “I’m startin up as a lead scout. Might be we get posted together. You just let me know if ya need anything, ya? But not right now. I’m startin apprenticing tomorrow so I’ll be out doing field work till I get officially posted.”

They were all leaving. Ren nodded, words caught in his throat.

“Alright, enough sappy shit,” said Hamsa, his own cheeks blooming with the kiss of liquor. “We got you something.” He gestured to Bahmul who reached under the table and pulled out a long, thin box.

“We saw how despondent you got when you saw the pieces of your ney,” said the scholar, pushing his glasses up again.

“Yeh looked like a buck on geldin day.”

Gunney picked up the thread eagerly. “We can’t give ya your old balls back, but we can give ya some marbles to keep your sack full.” He laughed at his own joke.

“We couldn’t find an actual ney anywhere, but…”

Ren unlatched the case and picked up the flute. It was definitely different, with the blow hole on the side rather than the end so he’d have to hold it sideways. But the tone holes were similarly distributed. He ran his hand along it. There were simple but elegant vines carved around each hole. It smelled like sandalwood. He brought it to his mouth and tested each note, adjusting pressure and angle until it felt right. Then he realized his pod-mates were all still staring at him.

“You guys really shouldn’t have. I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” said Hamsa, a strange twinkle in his eye.

“Just drink up.” Gunney pushed a bowl of rice wine across the table. “We’re oh so excited for your performance.” He gestured to the stage. One of the drummers nodded back without missing a beat.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Ren shook his head and tried to put the flute back away but Rhami snatched the case.

“In many cultures it is considered rude to refuse a favor after receiving a gift,” said Bahmul.

“Don’t worry, lad.” Gunney’s smile was even wider than the others’. “We’ll get you plenty drunk first.”