Ger'ron was listening to Jack and S'haar discuss Em'brel's nomination of Sare'en to fill the role of a servant. Jack was currently speaking, and the old veteran was still having a hard time getting used to Jack's voice making sense to him after his 'procedure.' "Well, I mean, I don't think we'll have to worry about the girl's loyalty, but I'm worried this might be a bit much for her. She's already way out of her element, and taking her with us to act as a servant, even if it's only for appearances, might be more than she can handle. Regardless of how badly she wants to be of assistance."

S'haar was quick to respond. "You can't protect every young female in this world from a bit of discomfort; she's an adult, and you need to understand that. Yes, this might be rough for her, but you disrespect her by deciding what she can or can't handle without her involvement in that decision. Besides, I think you're overreacting because you see a little too much of yourself in her. Take a look at yourself and how much you've changed in only a few months. Give her a chance to make similar changes and decide her own fate!"

Not long ago, Ger'ron had gotten his implant along with the rest of the masters. What surprised him the most was when they explained the process involved implanting something into his head. S'haar and Em'brl had shown him the sites of their own "implants." There was a barely noticeable scar, and they assured him that aside from some minor discomfort for the first day or two, they didn't even notice the implant any longer.

They'd warned him to expect weird or intense dreams, but Ger'ron had not been prepared to dream of himself fighting a tug-of-war with a wolgen over his lost leg.

When he described the dream during his hazy recovery, Jack had burst out laughing before covering his mouth and apologizing while a bit red in the face. Those were the first words from Jack that Ger'ron ever truly understood. The old guard had laughed, saying he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Now he was standing by the front gate with his two friends, waiting for the last group of guards to arrive, along with a village representative sent to pick up the first shipment of ore to transport back.

Jack sighed and nodded. "While I paid a high price for some of these 'changes,' you make a good point. It's neither of our places to decide her fate for her. We'll invite her to dinner and discuss it more thoroughly. I'm not necessarily going to try and talk her out of it, but I want her aware of all the risks and difficulties that come with the job. If that scares her away, we'll look elsewhere or do without."

S'haar nodded. "That's a reasonable compromise. If she's too delicate to handle you making the job sound scary, she probably shouldn't be out there with us anyway."

Ger'ron felt comfortable enough to add his own thoughts to the discussion. "In my time in the guard, I've found that the most withdrawn and quiet guardsmen often simply hadn't found something worth fighting for...yet. Once they do, they become an entirely different person. The young lady might surprise you yet!"

S'haar looked satisfied, while Jack looked contemplative for a moment before the human shrugged. "Well, I suppose we'll wait and see. Right now, it's all academic anyway. She hasn't agreed to anything at this point."

Both Jack and S'haar tilted their heads, looking off into the distance the way they did when Lady Angela was speaking to them through their headsets. Then, after a moment of relative silence, Jack sighed. "Sounds like we'll have to table that discussion for later. Our guests are about to arrive."

The old guard shook his head. Despite all of his time here, he still had no idea how any of this worked. Jack insisted it wasn't magic, and Em'brel even tried to explain it to him once or twice, but as far as Ger'ron could tell, the only difference between magic and science was the viewer's perspective. Still, he no longer doubted them when they made far-fetched claims, such as knowing the whereabouts of distant travelers.

This time he didn't have to wait long for those claims to be confirmed. A few minutes later, a group of travelers cleared the treeline. As they walked forward, Ger'ron wasn't too surprised or disappointed by what he saw. These were hardly the guard's elite, but they weren't the laziest the village had to offer, either. They were primarily young and unseasoned, excited by the prospect of adventure in a new and untested place, even if that place was only a little more than half day's walk from the village they knew. He could even see Jar'maal, the younger male he'd worked with in his previous role as a gate guard. The youngster grinned and waved in an exaggerated movement as he approached. Ger'ron simply smiled and nodded in return.

That was when he noticed the other person the guards were escorting. Shooting a glance toward S'haar, he could tell by her scowl that she'd noticed too. B'arthon, trailed by his familiar henchmen, stalked toward the Outpost and didn't look pleased to be here.

Thankfully, she managed to turn her scowl into only a slight frown that wouldn't be too out of place for someone of her position as she stepped forward to greet them. "Welcome to the Dragon's Outpost. Most of you already know me, but for those of you who don't, I'm Lady S'haar, and I'm in charge around here. This is where I'd usually give you a welcome speech and tell you a bit about life here at the Outpost, but this time we have some more...dignified guests than usual. So instead, I'll leave those of you intending to remain here for an extended time in the hands of our captain of the guard, Ger'ron."

It wasn't lost on Ger'ron that this was the first time he'd ever heard S'haar refer to herself as Lady S'haar. He suspected it was meant to be a message for the lordling she now addressed more directly. "Young Lord B'arthon, if you and your men would follow me, I'll show you to the shipment."

S'haar stepped to the side, and Ger'ron took her place. He smiled a bit, noticing how many soldiers looked in wonder at his prosthetic leg. He gave them a second more to gape at it before speaking up. "Welcome to the Dragon's Outpost. You all know me. I served with each of you in one way or another, but things here are a little different."

With a nod to the retreating forms of Jack and S'haar, who were followed closely by B'arthon and his men, Ger'ron continued. "For some reason, those two saw fit to put me in charge of you all here, and I intend to do right by them and by you. Life here won't be easy for anyone, least of all us guards. Since there are so few people here, everyone needs to do a little more than we did back in the village."

The guards all chuckled, knowing the old guard was referring to himself as much as them. "In addition to watching the wall, we'll be helping out around here as needed from time to time, and when you're not doing either of those, you'll be training."

He started to see a little doubt in some of the guards' eyes and decided it was time to bait the trap. "That being said, it's not all hard work around here. I'm sure many of you have heard of how good the food and shelter is at the Outpost, and I can tell you that, if anything, those stories are understated."

Now he had everyone's attention. "You'll all have breaks and even a day off in seven to do with as you wish. In addition to the payment you've been promised, your room and food will be covered. Now that we've got that out of the way, there are a few more rules you need to be aware of..."

As Ger'ron continued his own take on S'haar's usual speech, he couldn't help but wonder how things were going between S'haar and B'arthon at that moment...

-

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

B'arthon was looking up at the massive wooden gate. "Seems like a bit much, doesn't it?" He looked down at the comparatively diminutive Jack with a condescending leer. "Or are you trying to compensate for something?"

To Jack's surprise, S'haar resisted the urge to lash out at the obvious bait. "The humans have a saying that I've taken a liking to. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. After the unprecedented raid by the hill people near the end of the winter, I think our precautions are more than justified."

B'arthon grew uncharacteristically somber at the mention of the raid. His face switched from petulant to contemplative for several moments before he shook his head and settled on a scowl. "Whatever. Enough gawking, let's see this shipment of yours. Given the investment in village resources we've lent you, it had better be a considerable amount."

S'haar looked at Jack as if to say, "Can I kill him?" to which Jack answered with a negative shake of his head. She stepped through the gate with a sigh, speaking over her shoulder as she walked. "This way, if you would please, honored guests."

-

As they walked into the Outpost, it was easy to see the surprise on B'arthon's face as he looked around at the various designs and features that the village lacked. The cobblestone walkway received a curious glance but not much contemplation beyond that, though the guardhouse was much more thoroughly investigated. He was currently crouched down, inspecting the frame and walls. "This new building technique of yours... You're teaching this to our workers?"

S'haar nodded. "Yes, all the woodworkers are already familiar with it, though their expertise is only required for the framing. After that, anyone can mix and apply the walls as needed."

B'arthon's usual petulant face slipped again for a moment. "When will we see buildings like this in the village?"

S'haar looked at Jack, who shrugged in confusion, then turned her attention back to B'arthon. "Well, I suppose any of the workers could get started whenever they'd like, but I think they're all afraid to leave, lest they miss out on the next big project they can all learn from."

B'arthon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe we'll have to start a rotation with some of the workers in the village..."

When he realized Jack and S'haar were staring at him as though trying to understand what had happened to the B'arthon they knew, he resumed his scowl and stood. "Which way to the iron?"

Jack and S'haar shared a glance before she continued leading the way, walking in silence for a while longer. They were interrupted once more when B'arthon stopped and watched a worker drawing water from the well Em'brel had designed. Jack could tell the man wanted to ask more questions, but either his pride or something else got in the way, and he remained silent, though again, strangely thoughtful.

When they finally got to the warehouse where the iron was stored, B'arthon looked at the sizeable pile of ingots somewhat incredulously. "How in the world am I supposed to get all this back to the village?"

The pile in question was about four feet cubed and growing. S'haar looked at it with some consideration. "Well, I'd loan you our cart, but we need it to keep the Outpost functioning right now." Looking over at B'arthon's bodyguards and the one cart they had with them, she quickly assessed how much weight it could reasonably carry before continuing. "Though, you might want to bring more people and carts with you next time. I suspect this will take you a few trips."

B'arthough didn't look pleased with the prospect of having to return again, but at least he'd stopped complaining about the amount of iron they were getting. This was nearly a year's worth for the village, by rough estimation.

Seeing Lon'thul across the yard, currently free since everyone had agreed Em'brel should stay in the ship as long as the village representatives were in the camp, S'haar waved him over. Then, turning back to B'arthon, she nodded to the nearest billet. "Once you finish loading the cart, please grab a meal before heading back to the village. Lon'thul will be your guide as long as you're here, so feel free to ask him for help, if you need anything." The unspoken warning being that he'd also be keeping an eye on B'arthon, so the noble had better keep his snout out of places where it didn't belong.

The hunter didn't seem to mind his duty any. If anything, he seemed almost amicable toward B'arthon. An attitude the noble tolerated, if not returned. "Hey, B'arthon! We haven't spoken in a while. How's another day in the life of our village's most enviable male going?"

B'arthon sighed. "Hello, hunter's son. I see you're as...energetic as usual."

S'haar nodded her farewell to their "guests." On her way out, she told Lon'thul to keep an eye on Bar'thon and stay out of trouble before finally making her escape.

-

Jack was in the woodworker's hall, taking advantage of their tools to work on his project. As he shaved off another sliver of wood to get the shape he was looking for, Angela spoke into his earpiece. "So, why are you going with a recurve bow, rather than a compound one?"

Jack kept shaving as he quietly replied, "Because I want to keep this as simple as possible, both to create and maintain. Remember, the ultimate goal for these isn't my own use. My guns hit harder, faster, and more accurately. These are one step in helping us balance the difference in numbers a little."

The AI's voice seemed more confused than before. "Then why are you making this bow for your dimensions and strength, rather than S'haar's?"

Jack chuckled as he lifted the bow and inspected it for imperfections. "Proof of concept. I know what I'm doing on paper, but in reality, I'm making it up as I go. So I figure I should successfully make a tried and true human bow, and confirm it works as intended, before I try and scale it up for an argu'n."

Fea'en came over to inspect his work, looking it over while her arms remained crossed in front of her. After a moment, she gave her verdict. "Well, if any of my people made that, I'd have them toss it and start over, but I suppose it's not bad for amateur work. What is it, anyway?"

Jack looked over and saw S'haar speaking with some of the other workers about several ongoing projects. Not wanting to interrupt, he shrugged and reached behind himself to grab the string he'd already prepared from some of the more resilient plant fibers he'd found. “It’s a bow. You’ve seen them in some of the movies you’ve watched.”

Looping one end of the string around the tip of the bow, he then braced that end against the bottom of his foot, grabbed the bow in the middle with one hand, and braced it against the top with the other to try to push and pull the bow into a bend that would allow him to loop the other end of the string around the top with the pushing hand. It took a few attempts and more than a bit of strain, but he eventually managed the task.

That done, Jack twanged the string lightly a couple times to make sure it rested properly before drawing the bow back fully. He frowned a little. While he was no expert, it seemed to draw a bit easier than he'd thought, meaning its draw strength was probably lower than he'd been hoping for.

With a smile, Jack reached for one of the headless arrows he'd made. It was decently straight and had a notch attached to the end made of bone, which was attached with dried sinew and glue. Since he hadn't been able to find anything like the feathers he would have used on earth to fletch the arrow, he instead used a parchment made of churlish hyde glued into minor grooves on the shaft.

Knocking the arrow and drawing again, Jack aimed for a section of the wall no one was standing near that was also still soft from recent patching. Then, praying to whatever gods might be watching that he wasn't about to make himself look like a complete idiot, he released his grip and let the arrow fly.

Jack was confident that any of his ancestors who'd actually used a bow would be appalled at his form, but he was too busy being happy the arrow stuck into the wall he'd been aiming for to care.

Everyone was now paying attention to this newest mad human invention. Fea'en walked over, pulled the arrow out of the wall, and looked closer at it. "Well, I suppose it's sufficient to punch a hole in a soft earth wall, but I doubt it'll be effective at much more than that..."

Jack sighed at her lack of imagination and held his hand out for the arrow. When she handed the arrow back to him, Jack held up a chisel he'd found near his workplace. Then, placing the chisel's edge just past the arrow's tip as if it was a kind of arrowhead, he held the arrow up for Fea'en to see before taking the chisel and lightly tapping on the bone plate just above Fea'en's heart.

A light seemed to go on just behind her eye as Fea'en developed a predatory grin. "Oh... I suppose that'll do the job, won't it?"

For once, Jack's grin was also predatory as the other workers gathered around, rapidly firing off questions faster than Jack could think of the answers.