When she opened her eyes again several hours later, Len had to crack a smile. At some point during her vigil, Kila had lost the battle against her own sleepiness and opted to rest her head at the foot of the bed. This scenario was all the more amusing, given that there actually was a free bed opposite Len’s, but that didn’t seem to have occurred to the Orc, who was snoring softly and earning herself quite the sore back when she woke up.
Gently untangling herself from the blanket, doing her best not to wake her friend, Len crept out of the tent. The sun had gone down at some point during her rest, and she got a chance to look up and have yet another reminder that wherever this was, it wasn’t anywhere near the planet of her birth. Not a single star in the sky was recognizable, and the twin moons hovering above her glowed with a pale green light. She knew that they were just called The Sisters, with no specific name for either one. The old Lenore had always been fascinated by them, but had never figured out why.
Stretching, she glanced around for anyone who might still be awake and caught sight of that Draconid fellow that had been at the Proving with her. She waved at him and was pleased when he returned the gesture. He didn’t head her way, but it was nice to have a non-hostile interaction with someone other than Kila after all the commotion she’d been through since waking up in someone else’s body.
“Miss Wraithwhisper?” asked a voice behind her.
“Huh?”
“Your presence is required at the command tent.”
She turned to the speaker, confusion on her face. The man who’d approached her was a dark elf, younger than her, but crisply dressed in a combat uniform with a pike held at rest beside him.
“Now? Isn’t it a bit late for anything like that?”
“My instructions were very specific. As soon as you awoke you were to be taken to be informed of your final ranking and the state of your application into the Grand Proving. I’d have taken you sooner, but your… friend, well, she was quite insistent that you be allowed to rest longer.”
Getting a better look at him, she realized that the darker patch under his eye that she’d assumed was just a sign of a long shift had the more distinctive purpling of a (likely Orc-fist-sized) bruise developing.
“Ah, sorry about that,” she winced.
He said nothing, but she thought she caught the faintest of smiles on his face.
“So… Command Tent?”
“Right,” he said crisply. “This way.”
It took about five minutes to get from the medic tent to the ‘Command Tent’, a sturdy single-pole affair with two guards posted outside. She was waved in and greeted by the face of the presenter from earlier.
“Combatant Wraithwhisper,” he said in an annoyed tone. “You’re later than expected.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she said, eye twitching just a hair. “Guess I was a bit worn out after taking down the two toughest guys in the roster.”
“Yes. That.”
He paused, looking at her coolly. It wasn’t exactly malice in his eyes, she’d seen plenty of that recently. No, this was… annoyance. By placing as she had, she’d somehow made his job harder. He didn’t appreciate that.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Congratulations are in order. You placed higher in a brawl than any Dark Elf has in years. It’s a truly impressive feat.”
She blinked. A compliment hadn’t been what she’d expected to come out of his mouth after that look.
“What this means for you is that you’ve earned automatic advancement to the Grand Proving, with all the status associated with it. You’ll be given command of your own squad to engage in the next tournament. Unfortunately, since you were unconscious for so long, the primary selection process had to be completed without you.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Warning bells were beginning to chime in her head.
“Meaning that you missed the window of opportunity for selecting your own team members from the other combatants in the proving. As such, it fell to me to select your team.”
“And what,” she fought to keep her tone even “did you end up choosing for me?”
“These three,” he said, motioning to a cage behind him.
Inside that cage was a trio of goblins. Not terribly large ones, at that.
“Goblins? Are you kidding me?”
Goblins were quite literally the least of the troops that the Demon Army had to offer. Small, relatively weak, not generally very bright, they were grown rather than born, and were basically just disposable trash used as sacrifices to protect more valuable units.
“If you don’t want them, they’re scheduled for execution, I’ll be rid of them shortly either way. You, on the other hand, would be entering a squad-based tournament with only yourself as a combatant. Be grateful that I’m giving you this much. I had high hopes for Vrek, and you’ve ended up ruining him.”
“Oh fuck off,” she spat. “If Vrek was where you were placing your hopes, it says all I need to know about your judgment. You know what? Fine, I’ll take them. Is that all?”
“You have one month until the Grand Proving. You will be notified of the location by carrier crow and expected to provide your own transportation for you and your… squad. Best of luck to you, Wraithwhisper.”
Glaring at him, she took the key he offered and freed the goblins.
“All right you three, we’re getting out of here.”
The three of them looked up at her with sullen eyes, They followed her out of the tent without much energy, seemingly resigned to their fate.
“You made an enemy there,” the dark elf soldier pointed out as she passed him.
“I didn’t,” she muttered. “He did.”
The quartet made their way back to the medic tent without any conversation, there just wasn’t much to say. That changed when they went inside.
“Len!” Kila yelled, as soon as the flap was lifted. “You left without me, how could you?”
“Hey, not my fault you fell asleep. Try not to drool on my leg next time.”
“Rude,” Kila pouted. “Who are these guys?”
“Ah, actually I don’t know. What are you guys called, anyway?”
“We don’t have names,” said the older of the three. “Never earned them.”
“Well, that won’t do,” said Len. “Gotta have something to call you while we get ready to win this next Proving. Guess I’ll just call you Moe, Larry, and Curly.”
The homage was utterly wasted on those assembled.