To join the Shields one must be ready not to just die but suffer for the good of the people.
Established three hundred years ago the Shields were all that stood between humanity and complete lawlessness in the face of the Great War. Originally they acted only as a town guard but with no help from the kingdom itself the people were just happy to walk the streets safely.
However, the war eventually concluded leaving the Shields as an honor guard of sorts with the return of the regular military. This led to a brave few turning the Shields into something that resembles what we have today. A force of highly trained volunteers ready to defend a city at a moment's notice.
Like all good things this didn’t last long and soon after the first round of volunteers came a horde of less-than-friendly individuals. Creating a rift in the group could’ve spelled its doom and so an agreement was made to organize the Shields into smaller more identifiable sections. The White Shields, and the Black Shields. The White Shields would promise not to act unless absolutely necessary and never outside of their hometown, fulfilling the original goal of a guardian force when none was available. The Black Shields, however, would act abroad chasing monsters, bandits, and Nomads across the world.
Due to the extreme risk posed to Black Shields, they eventually became a force of elites dressed in their magical gear and artifacts from lost ruins. While strength isn’t required to join them, not having it typically means death as new recruits are often found dead not far from their hometowns. Investigation over these deaths being a result of hazing is so far inconclusive.
Both of these have acted solely in the name of protecting the people but in recent years a new sect of the shields has appeared one whose goals aren’t protecting but rather profit. The Blue Shields are typically groups of people who intentionally venture towards dungeons and ancient ruins in the hopes of collecting rare materials and items worth far beyond their weight in gold. While some despise these people the items they return with have improved the quality of life for almost everyone and led to numerous breakthroughs. It can even be claimed that the existence of the magical item market is the sole result of the Blue Shields.
Excerpt, ‘The Shields, Handbook, and History.’
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Xavier.
I dodge, steel careening over my head a few hairs going with the blade. My legs cry in protest and my arms are struggling to move but despite a hundred new bruises I swing.
And it connects.
Not to steel, not armor, but fresh, I watch in stunned silence as a droplet of blood rolls down the side of my sword. Arvi bursts into laughter as his cheek continues to bleed a few drops every second, he speaks but it’s too fast and I don’t understand. It takes a moment but he realizes the mistake a bashful look as if it’s his fault I’m linguistically challenged.
“Did, good, again?”
“No.”
He’s not upset or anything but I can’t magically heal unless I want to get stabbed again and I wish he’d remember that when he spars with me. Today was the deadline, a bare minimum of skill I had to reach for any of the training to be worth all this effort, and I did it. Though I was encouraged by the fact that Arvi had swapped our usual wooden swords for some unsharpened metal ones. Not sharp enough to kill but heavy and pointy enough to still draw blood.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Anna is rushing over a light cheer going, the only thing I can make out in the phrase being my name. Emma is here too desperate for entertainment since all the other children are helping with the party. Actually, a small crowd has formed around us now, I guess we were the entertainment of the night. The crowd disperses after Anna’s cheer gets a few rounds and I’m left with just Arvi and Emma who seem even more bored somehow.
“Good, skill, still, weak.”
“Know, can’t help, mana.”
He shakes his head at my go-to excuse as of late, turns out I'm literally crippled without magic when compared to them, and only recently has that revelation been passed to me courtesy of Emma. Turns out the five-year-old is stronger than me. It happened a week ago when I was helping Oliver load a cart for a shipment into town, I was carrying boxes loaded with swords, axes, spears, you name it. I struggled a bit but got the job done at a reasonable pace and even Oliver seemed content with my help, then Emma walks over and without breaking a sweat lifts the last box onto the cart.
She might be an anomaly because she and Anna’s mom was some famous mage and their dad is, Arvi, but she still did something relatively mundane according to Oliver and Anna. So yeah I bring up the fact that I’m about as strong as a toddler whenever I need to. On the plus side, it helps keep track of my progress because Emma won’t get much stronger no matter what she does and I’m still recovering.
Still depressing as all hell.
Meat is being brought out and a plethora of side dishes awaits the red gold, some sides are my little treat for the village, namely french fries. Potatoes and animal fat are always good but apparently, this community hasn’t experienced the joy of deep frying yet so I went ahead and showed them how we do it in America. Music is being played and a bonfire is lit as some massive animal slowly rotates over its roaring flames.
People talk and laugh, play games, and generally have fun. I’m sore all over and have eaten more in one sitting than I’ve done in my entire life, I find myself resting on a bench the fire a short few feet away. At some point, Anna and Emma joined me each holding a tray of food with far more than either could possibly eat.
“Fun?”
“Yes, much.”
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Unknown.
The village is holding a festival of some kind, it’s not uncommon with the end of the harvest but that’s not what concerns me. My target lies inside but even that isn’t what has me on edge. It’s the village itself, happy faces and full bellies are uncommon even in the city for an outlying village not expected to last a year. It's overly abundant.
Villages are almost always failures, farming is ridiculously hard when the land isn’t surrounded by walls and guards. But here stands a place spitting in the face of thousands if not millions of dead peasants. If I wasn’t on a mission I’d laugh at the best joke I’d heard in years.
The mana around the village resembles that of a lower-end town, wards draw away excess mana to send out unpleasant pulses that deter most monsters, and the walls, oh how nice they are showing off that this village is so deceptively weak. Any attacker who targets the walls would be obliterated regardless of power, ingeniously evil.
I’m unnoticed as I grab a plate of food from the center, no poisons, hallucinogens, and no magic. I eat it and am delighted at the simple elegance, a potato stick fried in the rendered fat of an animal, delicious.
The man is talking, but he doesn’t speak common very well, which is expected, the question is whether he’s a threat or not, I’ll let him devour the village if he is, which should be a good test of his abilities.
He is after all just some monster wearing human skin, surrounded by disposable trash.