Gwen arrived at Waggoner’s as the sun was beginning to set. The stable wasn’t quite on the edge of Fjorir, but it was close. As she approached the Fifth Root, she saw a giant ramp running parallel to it. Gwen couldn’t quite see, but she guessed that the ramp led all the way up to the city wall. That made the most sense.

Waggoner’s Stables, as the sign out front said, was a sturdy two-story building on a fenced-in acre of land. About a fifth of the land was sectioned off for wagons--some medium-sized and some bigger than Gwen had ever seen--with the rest of the space for the horses.

Gwen gaped at the beasts. She’d seen horses before, but rarely, and never this many at once. There had to be at least ten of them, and the biggest ones were even taller than she was! They were gorgeous to look at, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to ride one. She didn’t need to feel more like a villager.

Light shone out the front windows, so Gwen tried the door. Unlocked. After a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped inside.

The front room was barely large enough to hold a desk, with one chair behind it and two in front. Doors stood on either side of the back wall, and between them hung a gorgeous oil painting of two horses with necks pressed against each other.

Underneath the painting sat a middle-aged man who Gwen assumed was Maxwell Waggoner. He sported graying slicked-back hair and a short-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. He was writing something, quill skating across the parchment, but he looked up when Gwen stepped inside.

“Welcome, young lady. What can I do for you?”

“Are you Maxwell Waggoner?” Gwen asked.

“Indeed I am. You have business with me, I gather? Please, take a seat.” He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Gwen sat. The desk was full of neat stacks of parchment. Covered inkwells stood in a row to one side of it. A wax seal and letter opener sat on the other side.

Waggoner extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?”

“Gwen.” She shook his hand, which was rough with calluses. “Gwendoline Shepard.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Gwen. What brings you to my stable?”

“I’m, er, looking for work that takes me up Ascangen. I want to be a caravan guard.” She handed him the note. “Brother Argus sent me to you.”

Waggoner’s eyebrows shot upward faster than startled crickets. “Argus? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. What brought you to him?”

“I’m a pilgrim,” Gwen said. Was Waggoner not going to read the message? “I was robbed yesterday, so I spent last night in Argus’s temple. This staff is all I own.” Maybe if Waggoner knew how much she needed the work...

“I’m sorry to hear that. The staff seems to be finely crafted, at the very least. May I hold it?”

Gwen reluctantly handed over her staff. She was wary of anyone else touching it, but she didn’t have any reason to suspect Waggoner, and holding it might give him an idea of her strength.

He almost dropped it when Gwen let go. She saw his arms and shoulders tense so he could hold the weapon. “Heavier than it looks! This could do a great deal of damage if you can swing it.” He passed it back to Gwen.

“It’s got an iron core,” Gwen said as she took it back. “And I can swing it just fine.” She gave him a confident smile.

“If this note says what I suspect it does, then you’ll probably have a chance to prove that.” Waggoner finally unfolded the parchment to read what Brother Argus had written. As he read, a grin gradually spread across his face.

“Have you read it?” he asked, folding the note and setting it aside.

Gwen shook her head. “I figured it wasn’t my business.”

“Even though it was about you?”

“He told me it was a recommendation,” she said with a shrug. “The details are between the two of you.”

“I see.” Waggoner studied her for a moment. “Well, it certainly was a recommendation. Quite a strong one, in fact. You said you only met Argus last night?”

“This morning,” Gwen said. She decided not to share that she’d barely talked with the priest for ten minutes.

“Wow. You built a great deal of kinship with him in a short amount of time.” Waggoner took a deep breath and steepled his fingers together. “Gwen, may I be direct with you?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Please,” she said, though the question worried her.

“The two most important positions in my company are ledger-keeper and guard. If the former fails in their duties, I lose money. If the latter fails, I lose trust. I refuse to hire anyone for either of those roles without scrupulously investigating their past.”

Gwen gulped.

“However,” Waggoner continued, “This is a unique situation. You clearly need the work, which normally wouldn’t sway my decisions, except that I trust Argus deeply. What’s more, I trust his values. He’s the most upright man I’ve ever known.

“That puts me in a difficult spot. Argus can vouch for your morality, but not for how you handle yourself in a crisis.” Waggoner ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. I’ll hire you on one condition.”

Hope squeezed Gwen’s heart. “What condition?”

“Hold your own in a practice bout against the captain of my guards. She’s the one who will decide if you’re good enough.”

That seemed fair. Maybe not doable, but fair. “I accept,” Gwen said.

Not that she had much of a choice.

#

Waggoner’s guard captain was a slim woman who was a couple of inches shorter than Gwen. The only thing that suggested she was a guard at all was a scar that halved her left eyebrow.

Well, that and the sword she was practicing with.

She stood in a fenced-off area behind the main building. Unlike the shrubs in the horses’ yard, these practice grounds were mostly just dirt. The captain shifted gracefully from stance to stance, blade sweeping through the air like a hawk diving for its prey. Those were the motions of someone who had trained for decades. Gwen was supposed to beat her?

“Irina,” Waggoner called.

The captain sheathed her sword and jogged over.

“This is Gwen. She wants to guard the caravan, but I know nothing about her combat skills.”

Irina raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I know, but she came with the strongest recommendation I’ve ever seen. Would you have a bout against her? Put her through her paces and see if she’s good enough to rely on.”

Irina nodded. She beckoned to Gwen, then walked to the middle of the practice ground. She unbuckled her sword, winding the belt around the guard to keep the scabbard in place.

Settling into her stance, Gwen held her staff in front of her. Ready or not, it was time to do this.

At that, a smile spread across Irina’s face. She took a hand off of her sword just long enough to give Waggoner a thumbs up.

“The fight ends when one of you signals to stop,” Waggoner said. “You can hit each other, but not hard enough to injure. And...start!”

Irina leaped forward, swinging her sword at Gwen’s ribs. Gwen blocked and with the same motion kicked at Irina’s side, but Irina lifted her leg to block. The impacts pushed both women backward, forcing them to settle back onto both feet.

Gwen began the attack this time, thrusting with her staff. When Irina swayed out of its path, Gwen swung it down, forcing Irina to raise her sword and block. The force of the blow made Irina stagger, and she raised her eyebrows, like the staff’s weight had caught her off guard.

Gwen had been counting on that. She stepped toward the captain and made a series of sharp, fast swings to keep her off balance. The first few worked, with Irina stumbling every time she blocked. But then Irina planted her feet and leaned into the next blow, stopping Gwen’s staff in its tracks.

If that was the case, Gwen would just have to put more weight into her attacks. She swung her staff in an arc, giving herself time to twist her knees and hips. Rotation was power, Steffan had taught her. There was no way someone as small as Irina could block an attack as heavy as this without leaving herself open.

Irina didn’t block. She didn’t even dodge--not really. She stepped forward and bent her knees to lower her body. At the same time, she raised her sword to parry, knocking Gwen’s swing just far enough out of the way. The change in direction made Gwen stumble, and that plus Irina’s step-in meant that the captain was inside Gwen’s guard. Gwen had gotten the opposite of what she planned.

That didn’t mean she was done. She couldn’t be done. She wouldn’t let herself. So as Irina swung at Gwen’s side too fast to dodge, Gwen let go of her staff and grabbed the woman’s wrists, stopping her sword in its tracks.

Irina yanked her arms back, trying to free herself, but Gwen kept hold. For once, she was bigger and stronger than an opponent, and she was going to use that. She bent her knees and yanked back, making Irina stumble forward.

Something hard came down on Gwen’s foot. She glanced down to find Irina’s boot on top of hers. Then a knee slammed into Gwen’s stomach, making her cough and bend forward. While Gwen was distracted with pain, Irina yanked her arms free, but she didn’t keep hold of the sword. Instead, she let it fly behind her while she threw a punch at Gwen’s forehead. It was smart--fists were far easier at this range than a sword.

Gwen couldn’t step back to dodge, so she did the next best thing and leaned forward. Irina’s fist smacked into Gwen’s forehead, making both women wince with pain.

Gwen threw her arm up just in time to block Irina’s follow-up punch, then threw one of her own. Irina swatted it away and drove her knee into Gwen’s stomach again. The pain was twice as bad this time, and the impact made Gwen struggle to breathe. Sickness accompanied it, but not only from the blow. It was because Gwen knew she’d lost. Truly, she’d lost the moment she let Irina inside her reach.

Another punch came, then another. Gwen blocked both of them, and even managed to twist out of the way of the follow-up knee, but that left her open to an elbow to the face. As Gwen reeled from the pain and impact, Irina finally lifted her foot, letting her fall to the ground.

Gwen rolled away and scrambled to her feet, but Irina held up a hand.

The fight was over.

Gwen’s chance of working as a caravan guard was over.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Let me try again tomorrow,” she begged Waggoner. “Or--or the day after.” She wouldn’t go too hungry in a couple of days, right? She could beg for a little bit of food, at least.

“Wait a moment,” he said. He turned to Irina. “What do you think?”

Irina made a flurry of hand signs too fast for Gwen to follow.

“What...what did she say?”

Waggoner smiled. “She said, She’s good. I can make her great.”

#