You have been critically struck by Alpha Wolf!
You have lost consciousness!
Experience earned.
Alpha Wolf has Perished.
You have saved versus death!
Jack found himself swimming in a liquid sea of soothing darkness. Oddly relaxed, slipping free of all worry and care, in that perfect state between wakefulness and sleep, content to drift from moment to moment a sleeping shadow in the night.
Until a tiny flicker of pain, easily ignored, built up to a hot coal blazing in the back of his mind.
An awful, nauseating wave of pressure that a tiny terrified part of Jack sensed like a damn about to burst in his skull. And when the crimson tides of his life finally escaped, death would at last claim his due.
"I'm sorry, Captain Storm," said the gruff voice of one of the soldiers. "We did all we could. But we're stuck in the woods, our mounts were slaughtered, we're miles away from the nearest farm, and half the remaining men can barely walk."
It was all Jack could do to push through the mind-numbing fog sufficient to crack open a single gummy lid, gazing into the panicked eyes of the too beautiful girl gazing down at him with an odd mixture of relief, anger, and fear.
"You idiot, I told you not to come back!" She sobbed. "You've only known me for a single day. Why the hell did you come back?"
Jack smiled as her warm tears caressed his cheek.
Even as darkness sought to claim him, it was a balm to his soul that someone would mourn his passing. And here he was, with barely the energy to utter a handful of syllables.
But whisper those words he did.
The girl's eyes widened. Was she really named Storm?
She flushed and chuckled through her tears. "Yes, Jack. I thought Stormy would be a cool name for an adventurer, since Chantrea Davi Sing just earned me odd looks, here in Norway 2.0." She swallowed, shaking her head. "But I'm just an idiot who wanted to believe it was all a... that I hadn't really been jumping through a gate the day after I got home from college, right before our whole world was going to... Oh god, I can't even say it!"
Jack's eyes held all the sympathy a dying man could give, too exhausted even to speak as the agony at last began to abate as his mana pool crashed, Lesser Healing pushed to the utmost as the tiniest of bleeds that could have spelled his death finally began to seal up and heal, intracranial pressures at last easing as flashes of ancient insight and the simple struggle of survival commanded his focus like never before.
Even as the girl holding him broke down into fresh sobs when Jack began to slip away, save for the tiniest part of his will clamping down on peril, his rate of healing compressing to a steady tiny trickle now equal to his mana recovery rate, only realizing when he was finally out of dire peril that he and Stormy, or Chantrea, had been speaking in 21st century American English. A language no one in this world who wasn't a reborn soul even knew.
The same language as the message now flashing across his mind's eye.
You have successfully repaired: cracked spine, shattered ribs, intracranial hemorrhage.
Congratulations! Lesser Healing is now Journeyman Rank 3.
Only then did he let the darkness of utter exhaustion, not imminent death, claim him at last.
When Jack next woke up it was with a wince, as the rickety wagon he found himself in hit the equivalent of a pothole on the hardpacked dirt road. He winced and groaned, bracing himself for a wave of pain, only to find that, much to his surprise, despite the jostle, he was feeling better.
Remarkably so.
Whereas before his head had felt like it was being crushed in a vice, and his ribs like ground glass, now he felt not a lick of pain, the momentary throb fading to a tingle then nothing but the odd realization that not only had he healed, he felt more alert, energized, and alive than he had at any time living an idyllic farmboy's life in Hidden Grove. Except, of course, it hadn't been exactly that, as the dying screams of a certain corrupt inquisitor could attest, when the lessons he had learned at his sisters' sides had been of a far darker sort.
He shook his head, still stunned by how much his dream of a perfect life had itself been a dream, for all that he had no doubt that the love of his parents had been real in both worlds.
No matter how dark and ruthless either pair had had to be in order to survive.
His mind flickered upon the memories of all that he and his family and closest friends had done to gain entrance to a facility that Eric's vile father had done everything he could to ban anyone save his favored cronies from ever entering when Earth's final day was at hand, to say nothing of the hundreds of souls fighting by their side as they forced their way into the most well-guarded facility in the state, their only chance at salvation.
Even when Jack had first gazed slack-jawed at an actual gate between worlds, a deep blue sky laced with fluffy white clouds suddenly popping into existence in the underground facility, surrounded by a barrier of crackling darkness he knew better than to touch, he had known it all to be a fools gamble. A desperate hail-Mary pass as the world came to an end. To actually think that any AI, no matter how powerful, would be able to use the inconceivable amount of energy released with their own univers's death to seed a reality with all the limitless potential of a game so hyper-realistic that it had incorporated both relative and quantuum physics, including an entire lexicon of additional forces and fields allowing for inconceivably complex and intricate systems of magic without any upward limit, was nothing short of absurd.
Yet when he had jumped the rift with a bullet lodged near his heart, minutes or seconds away from his own final death, his father just desperate to get him uploaded while his brain still worked, that absurdity had proved to be the most profound truth of all. A glorious dream of a world that so many players had wanted to lose themselves within, yet only the tiniest fraction of humanity had actually made it in time. It was a world Jack found himself in even now.
And the odds of him even being in that jostling wagon he was in at that very moment, after their enemies had done all they could to make sure Jack's family were just one more causality of Earth's final hour, was itself a feat beyond the pale. Yet even from the very beginning, when Eric's dad had first started making moves, Jack's own parents had taken steps. Carefully giving the word of hope to a certain group of professional mercenaries that had transformed in a matter of months to a local militia and their families buying up property and becoming neighbors and acquaintances when his father let certain dark secrets slip, after Rothson had taken the first steps to squeezing Jacks' dad out of his own facility, trying to steal credit for his father's own AI innovations and discoveries, almost a year before the end of the world.
A militia made up of scores brothers and sisters in battle from his parent's military days had been the key that had popped open the lock that had served as their salvation, and the salvation of so many others. Including countless programmers, guards, general staff, and who knew how many other young interns, guests, and family members who just happened to be at the right place at the right time, like Stormy Sing herself.
Jack wondered if that was why fighter builds had been so favored among the various Originals he had encountered in his odd flashes of memory of previous lives, considering how many dozens of highly trained soldiers had crossed that portal between worlds. Perhaps they and their families had comprised a third of everyone who had successfully jumped through.
He was surprised to see his hands shaking, though he knew not if it was from traumas suffered days, hours, or lifetimes ago.
He closed his eyes and shook, almost oblivious to the soft, husky voice whispering soothing words in his ear, his mind instead cuing in on the terrible groans of a dying man.
"Jack?"
He squeezed the hand of the girl he had risked his life to save, her dark complexion, high cheekbones, and halo of soft curls both strikingly beautiful, and like no one else he had seen since awakening to who he really was. What he really was. Only Sharon, Japanese with straight silky tresses and far paler complected, even came close. Really, he should have known she was an Original, just like the band of friends he regretted leaving behind, from the start. Even if, he feared, she had no idea how much time had really passed since her original upload, or the fact that she had wiped at least once before.
He smiled into her concerned gaze, realizing that maybe he didn't have to regret his choice after all.
Before wincing in sudden sympathy for the dying groan next to him, only now realizing that there were several other riflemen looking much the worse for ware. Only one of them seemed mostly whole, save for a mangled leg, well enough to still be wearing his tabard and jack of plates, his rifle kept by his side.
The sandy haired man gave Jack a respectful nod. Even a smile. "Good to see you still with us, wizard," said the rough-voiced man.
Jack smiled at that. "Thanks," he said, "but I don't know if I really count as a wizard."
The man's eyes widened. His rough features cracked a smile. "Really, kid? You'll say that after taking down eight of those bastards yourself? Using magic I sure as dickens don't want hitting me, no offense, kid. But I gotta say, magic arrows that melt the faces off your foes works well with a rifle company."
Jack grinned at the complement, before his attention was pulled back to the man groaning beside him, before coming to with an agonized cry and a sob, rocking back and forth.
Jack's heart clenched to see a man in such agony, his eyes also taking in the other brutally savaged men, one missing his hand and half his face, another suffering grievous lacerations that didn't look that much better off.
Jack swallowed, his throat dry. "What happened?" It was a stupid question. He knew that from the start. But the man just shook his head and closed his eyes.
"All it takes is one mistake. One hotheaded fool of a captain, and all the close calls survived and victories earned mean nothing."
Jack bowed his head, unable to say anything to that. All he could do was clench his fists and meet Stormy's gaze. Already fearing the life path now flashing so brilliantly before him. Wanting anything but to be surrounded by constant, never-ending pain, because there was always another victim of chance, circumstance, or violent hate. Countless thousands. Countless millions in a world, a recursive AI generated multiverse, every bit as real as the chance cluster of universal constants that had allowed life to flourish at least once in the universe that had come before. A never-ending stream of suffering that had left wounds on his soul so deep that a once-gifted healer now needed to invest perk points just to heal himself without pain.
But still. At this moment, there was a man desperately sobbing for relief.
Relief only he could give.
So, very pointedly ignoring the gasp of the girl he was most definitely falling for, doing his best to push out the long term consequences of showing off a healer's arts in a world where not even one of his chance-met companions seemed to have access to any sort of recovery magic, he did his best to free at least one dying soldier from the grips of agony.
Congratulations! You have restored moderate blood loss. You have repaired abdominal rupture. Intestines have been restored to full functionality.
Minor Healing has been enhanced by the Internal Medicine sub-perk as old memories come into their own at last!
Minor Healing is now Journeyman Rank 4.
It was with a shudder that Jack pulled himself out of his trance, mind flashing as viscerally as it ever did with memories that weren't his own.
Nurses screaming for doctors. Father's crying out for their dying children.
And there was more. Ever more. Always more dying souls needing succor. An end to their pain.
An end that too many times, over too many lives, only Jack could give.
Soothing their screams.
Keeping them locked within his soul.
"Jack? Jack, talk to me."
"Heaven's mercy, I think he healed Olle!" whispered the maimed soldier, hard-bitten features shifting into an odd mix of hope and awe.
Jack's heart was racing, only then noting the soft fingers caressing his cheek, drawing his face to the dusky smiling features of the girl he so badly wanted to kiss, or perhaps just hold as his mind flooded with too many things he didn't want to see as false dawn turned to a brilliant red gold sunrise seen in all its glory beyond the pasturelands, the wild woods now thankfully some distance away.
"Jack, are you alright?"
Jack clenched his jaw and forced a smile. Because however much he wanted to say he was the farthest thing from alright, his senses were too attuned not to sense the shallow breaths of the pair of dying men beside him, knowing his work was far from done.
"By the gods, he still has juice left!" muttered the crippled vet even as Olle opened his eyes with a jolt, gazing back at the man now blinking away a tear.
"Samuel, the pain, it's finally gone! Does that mean... it's time?"
Samuel grinned, pointing at Jack just as he closed his eyes, placing his hands on yet another man's gristly wounds. "No, Olle. Turns out our witch's fancy is quite the clever young wizard, after all."
The man frowned. "What does that even mean?"
This earned a soft chuckle. "It means you get to live."
Whatever else was said Jack quickly tuned out, lost in the agonized cries of multiple bodies forced into perilous discordance with organs lacerated, flesh torn away, hypoxia and blood loss the notes thrumming through the dirge Jack focused all his being into changing into a song of hope and resolve as blood vessels reknit themselves, infection was burned away, and fresh blood filled a dying man's veins.
It was dark by the time Jack was finally done, finding himself in what could only be a military compound with the local equivalent of nurses standing at attention beside beds aligned with military precision, looking at him with odd deference as the calls of marching soldiers filled the air, and Jack found both to his wonder and horror that Lesser Healing evolved into something far greater, Adept Rank 1 finally achieved.
Congratulations! You have achieved Adept Rank 1 in Lesser Healing! You have risen past the ghosts of past tragedy and transcended your own limitations, healing internal injuries with a surgeon's grace! All healing limitations have been transcended! The Healer's classes are now open to you!
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
You have unlocked a bonus perk: Knowledgeable Healer! Though you have transcended the vise of ancient regret, it's lessons hold wisdom still! You are able to heal any part of the body with equal ease and no additional critical failure checks, whether an explorer's blood loss and muscle lacerations, or poison's bite or cancer's peril, all may be treated with equal ease!
Additional Adept Rank Perk available!
Jack gasped and lurched back as everything suddenly became crystal clear. Synergizing insights with skills never before garnered in the same lifetime, he desperately sought for some way to scribe his insight before it left him forever.
And then he had it.
Pulling free a copper bracer he only sensed at that moment with a tingle of perception from his mother's storage pouch, pulling it out and all but ripping open his thumb with a tear that elicited a gasp in one of the nurses nearby.
"Lieutenant? Is anything wrong?" whispered one of the anxious nurses, Jack doing everything he could to blot out both her words and implication as he poured all his insights gathered over a time-span he dare not even think about into an intricate rune refracting upon itself countless times as his inscriptions became increasingly intricate and complex until with a final shudder, the dizzying glyph blazed with red gold light, and Jack felt a sense of incredible repletion and wonder as his artifact was forged.
And the price he had to pay was bitter. But the boon it promised, and the freedom as well, were incomparable in their worth to him.
Adept Rank Perk Successfully chosen!
Congratulations! You have successfully forged a Greater Artifact of Healing!
You have lost 1 full level of potency!
You have the maximum possible experience for your level.
Experience point total is now zero!
Rune Forging is now Adept Rank 4!
Lesser Healing is now Adept Rank 2!
Jack groaned and shuddered at the price he had paid, for all that he was filled with awe at the wonder now in his trembling hands. Between one eyeblink and the next, he stored it in his soul-pouch, catching the awed gazes of the nurses with as warm a smile as he could manage, before gazing back down at the soldier who had come so close to his last breath before it had all clicked for Jack.
"The good news is that I think he'll make a full recovery."
This earned him a relieved smile from the more senior of the pair, if her manner and baring were anything to go by. "Wonderful. The commander will most pleased." She then pointed to a curtained off corner of the room. "Now why don't you go freshen up? bucket's of soap and fresh water laid out by the grate, and since the hospital stove's lit, no chance of you catching sickness with a chill."
Jack flashed a grateful smile, only at that moment realizing how grubby he felt. The fierce pace of life lived over the last few days had necessitated forgoing certain comforts, and neither he nor Stormy had cared in the least during that desperate hungry hour they crossed the bridge between admiring strangers and the closest of connections. But all the same, he'd love a chance to freshen up.
After stripping free his soiled attire—and carefully placing in his Soul Pouch a certain impossibly sheer undertunic he was both extremely careful with and did all he could not to look at too closely— he made full use of the soapy water bucket in the tiled corner of the sick room curtained off from the patient beds. He luxuriated in the feel of warm soapy water freeing him of sweat and dirt without any shiver or chill, noting that it was indeed warm in here, especially his feet, making him wonder if there was some sort of central heating. Perhaps hot air circulating through floor ducts, or water pipes. He was curious, but not enough to stop from enjoying a rather luxurious soap and rinse, feeling cleaner than he had in days.
Clean enough, in fact, that he dreaded putting on his dirt and bloodstained attire.
Though when he inched aside an oiled linen curtain, he found to his surprise that his rather worse-for-ware outer garments had been replaced by grey woolen tunic and pants that smelled strongly of pine, in addition to a freshly laundered linen shirt, stockings and underpants.
For a second he was surprised and grateful, before noting that it looked suspiciously like a uniform.
A sudden jolt of alarm struck him, realizing that he had been so entranced by the idea of a fresh bath that he had stripped without a care. Where the hell was his Soul Pouch?
Momentary panic turned to a soft chuckle of relief. Both is Soul Pouch, looking like nothing more than a finely stitched leather belt purse, was right where it should be, along with his quilted linen gambeson and leggings, the multiple layers of cross-stitched linen actually making his attire qualify as armor in its own right, good for cushioning blows and catching the tips of spears and arrow heads, and at least somewhat cushioning the force of the deadliest blows.
Surprisingly, a single wipe of his soapy sponge was all it took to remove all traces of dirt, grime, even the stink of his own sweat, from his gambeson. And perhaps far more remarkably, of the numerous cuts and tears that he knew should be there, when teeth or sharp tips of one sort or another got around the gaps in his still limited Elemental Armor spell, he didn't see a scratch. Only the mud and gore of desperately fought battles, with no sign of how close tooth and blade had come to perilous injury.
But a casual wipe with his soapy sponge, and all the marks of battle came effortlessly off. A second wipe with his towel and his gambeson and leggings were clean, dry, and as good as new.
He shook his head in wonder, appreciating once more what a remarkable gift his mother had given him. The torn and bloodstained outer tunic and loose leggings he had worn with them he was almost happy to discard, if he didn't suddenly recall the work put into making clothes in this day and age, feeling an odd sense of dizziness as the mindset of a 21st century kid and one who had lived on a rustic farm all his life warred for a few brief moments.
He couldn't help laughing, thinking of all the ways he truly was one with his former self. He still felt a strong connection to the idealism, values, and in some ways, cold practicality that his inner gamer of a lifetime ago could so easily embrace when not playing the paladin. It was only the casual way his former self would throw away perfectly serviceable clothes and everything else that he cringed at today, now knowing firsthand how hard it was to manufacture a fresh pair of serviceable garments. So he had been surprisingly grateful for the fresh change of clothes, and had tried not to think too hard about the significance of the uniform grey of the woolens he had been given, which looked nearly identical to the clothes being worn by the riflemen he had fought beside and worked so hard to heal, underneath their armor.
Fortunately the undertunic and hose were perfect fits, showing the skilled eye of the nurses, and the grey tunic and pants fit perfectly over his once more donned gambeson and quilted leggings, now smelling and looking as fresh as if he hadn't been fighting and adventuring with them constantly. Still, best not to think too hard on the significance of the clothing he had been given, already knowing what it implied.
He kept his face innocent and grateful when he stepped from the curtained bathing corner, feeling as fresh and clean as he could remember, giving both of the beaming nurses a bow.
"Thank you kindly for the bath... and the fresh change of clothes."
The girl's smiles, for they couldn't be older than early twenties, were wide with approval.
"He cleans up nicely, doesn't he?" Said one to another, earning a nod.
"Stormy lucked out with this one."
Jack forced a shy chuckle. "Speaking of which... I don't suppose either of you could point me in the direction of Captain Stormy?"
This earned him a furrowed brow as the slightly older one took on a mock serious tone. "Battlefield promotions are not to be referred to off the field, lest the promotion is made permanent. You may find Subcaptain Stormy on the shooting range, just to the north of the exit." She arched her brow. "It is my understanding that you are currently acting as her adjuvant?"
"It's a way for apprentice mages to serve under their masters formally while in the military," the younger nurse whispered with a wink, when Jack hesitated to answer. "Don't worry. They even pay you as much as a sergeant, but don't tell my husband that."
Jack forced a smile, suppressing the anxious twist in his gut, sensing that he had to be very, very careful with his words. "I am grateful that she's willing to have me on, being as I am older than the typical apprentice."
The wry smile this earned made it crystal clear that both women were well aware of Jack's role, and that certain terms were being used for form's sake alone.
Which, of course, made his own risk all the greater.
Covering for any awkward pause as his thoughts raced, he offered a bow. "Thank you both for your time." He chuckled softly. "She's at the shooting range, you said?"
This earned him a smile and quick directions from the younger nurse as the older one frowned, answering the cries of a patient in back, and Jack took advantage of the distraction, quickly making his way out of the infirmary to find himself in a busy looking camp that, according to his widened eyes, was just a short ways from the grand walls of the city that could only be Greyspeak, captivating in its majesty, that he caught a perfectly clear view of, thanks to the slope of the ground around him.
He was awed by the sight of grand multistory buildings capped in marble that were just visible past the impressive city walls making it clear that wealth and affluence could be found in plenty beyond those walls, though what truly took his breath away was catching a glimpse of majestic silver white towers capping a magnificent palatial structure of magic and dream, somehow looking more visceral, real, and larger than life than the city around it. How he could even see it in such exquisite detail was a question for which he had no answer. He felt a wondrous ache in his chest as he took in the city as a whole even from that distance. It was a glorious bastion of humanity more steeped in mystery, wonder, and the power of possibility than anything he had ever experienced before, the whole of it framed by lush green forests and fields, all of it serving as a breathtaking example of man's limitless potential.
He then chuckled softly and shook his head, surprised to be so captivated by a city, let alone make it out in such exquisite detail, from at least a couple miles distance.
He then deliberately turned his attention back to the military encampment while making his way to the range, noting the multiple long narrow buildings constructed of whitewashed wooden planks and clay tiles for the roof, all of them no more than a single story high, save for the impressive building of stone he had just left, perhaps the original keep in the area, converted to a hospital and perhaps administrative quarters as well, if the pair of frowning officers giving him a curious glance as they hurried their way to one of the adjoining barracks buildings were anything to go by, conversing as they were about logistics and supplies and such. Jack couldn't help flushing, feeling suddenly like the naive tourist strolling about, in the way of men with actual business of import.
He quickly sped up his pace to northern corner of the compound, peripherally noting a handful of other training areas where men were practicing using spears, halberds, or weapon and shield, both in individual sparring duels and in group formations as well, and some distance away he noted what seemed to be a full score of cavalrymen charging forward with sabers flashing in their hands, lopping innocent cabbage heads as they passed the stakes they were mounted upon with chuckles and shouts, as other men practiced similar maneuvers using war hammers against slabs of meat covered in cuir boille armor and rather banged up helmets that had definitely seen better days. Jack couldn't help grinning, almost certain that salted pork and cabbage stew were staples of these powerfully built soldiers' diets, for sure.
Then his focus was naturally pulled to the crack of gunfire, turning and quickly making his way to the far side of the impressively large compound, heading past several squat, white-washed wooden buildings before catching sight of a full score of men aiming intently at targets lined up against the impressive earthworks surrounding the entire military encampment. The wall itself seemed to be made of hardpacked dirt lined with clay, a good ten feet high and several feet thick, with plenty of room for crouching up top and taking shots at any invaders, the thick wooden palisade further helping to reinforce the structure as a whole.
Jack had the feeling the entire massive earthworks construction surrounding the encampment had been more a field exercise than anything else, though designed such that they really could hold off any number of invaders with the most practical construction. His eyes were then pulled back to the crack of gunfire he still found utterly discordant to this time and place, taking odd comfort in the fact that the hay stuffed dummies were also being fired upon by crossbowmen staggered behind and to the left of the riflemen, and an equal number of bowmen, shooting from horseback, as the horses gazed sedately on, their sensitive ears alone flinching with the crack of gunfire.
Jack couldn't help but be impressed both by the discipline of the combined units and by the obviously well-trained horses circling behind the rifle and crossbowmen as well. For all that some would argue that the bowmen were the most primitive, the horse archers with their recurved horned bows seemed like the most powerfully built and disciplined of all of them, firing far more arrows than both crossbowmen and riflemen shot bolts or bullets. Of course, though powerful and easier to learn and use under cover, crossbows fired much slower than bows, and no doubt the riflemen were taught to be extremely conservative with their precious ammo, firing shots only after making each count with almost meditative precision.
And when rifles were carefully set aside and additional double shot crossbows picked up, it became obvious how else those men were being trained, increasing both their overall accuracy and usefulness in battle, as Jack already knew bullets were limited, the men each having access to just a handful of ammo wheels that Stormy had to put so much of her focus into keeping stable. And it was far cheaper to use a goat's prod to cock back another bolt than make fresh ammo, Jack was damned sure.
Then his heart sped up when he caught Stormy's gaze from across the field. She flashed him a brilliant smile, before turning her focus back to her men.
Of course he had made note of other training areas as well, and he had no doubt that there was a magnificently complex training regimen in place that would forge any recruit with promise into a promising soldier in just a few gloriously sweaty seasons. Yet at that moment he cared nothing for whatever potential he could unlock here, his vision narrowing to the girl who caused his cheeks to flush with her smile as he approached her side. And how odd it was that he found himself so tongue-tied he couldn't even think of what to do or say.
Save clasp her hand with his own, which immediately caused her to blush, squeezing it gently as he turned his gaze back to the archers and riflemen training so intently.
Everyone absolutely paying no attention at all to the stranger holding a certain subcaptain's hand.
Which of course meant that absolutely everyone knew the score. This was effectively a military base, after all, where his mother had once joked that the only thing more accurate than a good soldier's aim was the gossip they always had ready to fire.
Jack cleared his throat. "They're really very good."
"They are. I can't tell you how grateful I am to have them by my side."
For long moments they stood there, gazing at the men practicing so diligently, and Jack wondered if her heart was pounding as fast as his was. He then smiled, paying attention to the pulse in the hand he held, knowing it was true.
"Jack?"
He kept his eyes straight ahead. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Jack swallowed, turning to catch her gaze, flashing a cheeky smile. "Any time."
She bit her lip and turned away.
"What's wrong?" he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.
But Stormy was busy blowing a whistle so loud his ears rang, shouting out the words. "Training is done, you lazy sops! Now get some food, see your wives, and I don't want to see any of you til after mess tomorrow!"
This earned her a number of snappy salutes and cheeky grins. "Yes, Captain!" being the almost universal response.
Captivating kohl-lined eyes then caught Jack's own. Her smile was positively wicked. "What's wrong is that training has just ended, and my heroic champion isn't even offering to escort me to my quarters."
Jack flushed and smiled, swallowing his sudden awkwardness as he held out his arm. "Shall we?"
She flashed an approving grin. "Let's."
And as easy as that, they were walking arm in arm, one in a captain's tabard, the other wearing the grey woolen tunic and pants that had been laid out for him that made him fit right in. Perhaps a bit more than was comfortable.
But all such thoughts left him with the feel of a certain girls hand in his own, and he couldn't help smiling with the simple pleasure of walking beside a girl a part of him already dared to think of as his own.
"So, how was your day?" He wanted to cringe as soon as the words escaped his lips, the farthest thing from witty, but she still blessed him with her throaty chuckle.
"My day went well, Jack, all things considered. For all that my CO won't be back til first light on the morrow and will expect a full report of absolutely everything that went wrong during our operation, and will no doubt be hungry for blood when he finds out Lord Hecklebart's pawn met an extremely unfortunate end. Because irate lords, no matter how absurd, must be humored, and someone will have to take the fall. With any luck, it will be that damned alpha Shadow Wolf whose head and monster core will make fine prizes for the powers-that-be."
She sighed and shook her head, before flashing a grin his way. "Still, a handful of men we thought certain were doomed, miraculously pulled through, thanks to some unknown hero. Valuable men who are some of the few we know will survive at least peripheral exposure to the pustules of shadow idiotic adventurers like you and me so love taking on. Friends I've known and fought beside for the past two years. So things are far, far better than anyone has any right to expect, and if Commander Hjalmar doesn't like it..." she smirked and shrugged. "Well, to hell with him anyway."
Jack grinned and laughed, catching her wink, and savvy enough to note her words were said when no one was passing their way. He squeezed her hand. "So, any chance that a smart beautiful captain like you would like to go on a date with an up and coming adventurer a bit too good at getting himself banged up?"
She smiled, and Jack's heart skipped a beat when she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I would. Where were you thinking of taking me on this date of yours, Jack?"
He forced a grin, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "I thought I could take you about the city, catch whatever passes in the way of shows and fine dining there. Of course, I've never so much as entered the city before, and have no idea how to even get a hotel room without getting ripped off, but there you are. It's a start, right?"
She laughed. "I have a better idea," she said, spinning him about and locking his lips with her own, as surprisingly powerful arms wrapped tightly about him and his mind exploded with the sheer joy of kissing the beautiful sultry woman in his arms. A kiss broken only long enough for a sultry voice to say "open the door behind you, and carry me over."
Which he did in a breathless moment, surprised to find her both so powerful and so light, kicking the door closed as she grabbed his hand and led him through her rather well appointed quarters to a surprisingly full and modern looking queen sized bed. At which point all reasoned thought left Jack as soulful eyes gazed into his own in the seconds after constraining clothes were freed, and it was just them gazing at each other's tendermost secrets before lips locked and Jack lost himself in passion's deepest waters, swallowing her cry with his hunger as lips and hips locked, and they savored a dance as old as time.