“Atten-tion!” Wiccer’s voice rang out across the large squad of young soldiers out on the parade field. Each elf snapped straight, their heels clicked together, and their arms fell flat against their sides.
“Listen up, men! I’m Sergeant Wiccer Newsun. A former White Cloak and current instructor of you Long Whisper lot!” Wiccer walked slowly, but intimidatingly, in front of each soldier before falling back next to Elucard.
“This is Elucard Freewind. He’ll be instructing those of you who decide to join us.” Wiccer finished by motioning to Elucard to take over.
Elucard was quiet for a moment. He walked up to each soldier, inspecting their arms, testing out their balance, and checking the strength of their backs. He was pleased. These elves would prove to be excellent recruits. Marcus did promise that he would find the best recruits for them. Sadly, Marcus would not be able to see his idea come to fruition from his outpost in Varis.
“Sergeant, permission to ask a question!” shouted out a soldier on the far end. He waited for Wiccer to nod before continuing, “Sergeant, we were told that you would be putting together a special unit that was specifically designed to combat the Black Rabbits.”
“That’s correct,” Wiccer replied. He could already tell where this line of questioning was going.
“Sergeant, this soldier’s question is: Who is this elf that is inspecting us and what are his qualifications?”
Wiccer smirked, these soldiers were, indeed, well trained, “Men, Elucard Freewind is not some random mercenary we picked up off the road. He is a high ranking Ex-Black Rabbit.”
A wave of sneers crashed over the squad, another soldier piped up, “Sergeant, permission to speak freely?”
“Speak freely, Private,” replied Wiccer.
“You expect us to take orders from a Black Rabbit? The scum of Cypress? He’s probably killed more of our people than we’ve killed of his kind! What if he was related to the killing of Jaelyn?”
Several members of the squad rumbled in agreement.
Elucard walked up to him, staring him dead in the eyes, “You will listen to me, because I am the only one that can teach you to kill those like me!”
“We’ll never take orders from you,” the soldier jeered, walking away. All but one followed him.
“Well, damn,” Wiccer cursed, “I guess that went over better than I thought it would.”
Elucard glanced at the one remaining soldier. He was a thin elf. He had messy platinum hair, vibrant sky blue eyes, and a slightly pointed nose. He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth.
“Do you actually know the Rabbit who killed Jaelyn?” the lone soldier asked.
“I killed Jaelyn,” Elucard said flatly, giving him his full attention now.
“Well, then I would like to join your unit. Training under a Rabbit isn’t as interesting as training under the Rabbit.”
Wiccer waved him away, “There isn’t going to be a unit.”
The soldier raised an eyebrow, “I’m guessing you need a few more bodies. Perhaps I can be of service.”
Wiccer looked at Elucard, then back at the soldier, “What is your name, Private?”
“I am Calsoon. I will lead you to your new squad.”
***
Calsoon led Wiccer and Elucard into the deepest reaches of the Roots to find his first recruit. Keeping one hand on his coin purse and the other on his sword hilt, Wiccer thought back to his last venture into the Roots. The Roots seemed have decayed even more and more as the years passed by. Elucard looked unfazed by the state of the city, but all the same, he kept his wits about him as he followed their guide.
They stopped at a dilapidated tavern. Several apartments were stacked on top of it in a precarious manner. A maze of fire escapes and gutters framed the structure. Calsoon rapped on the front door. A peephole opened up before a gruff voice called out behind the heavy door.
“Password.”
“Shadows in the wind weep silently,” Calsoon whispered.
The peep hole closed and a sound of chains sliding and locks turning clattered from behind the door. Soon the door opened, and a large black furred Kanis stepped aside. His arms were folded across his chest as he eyed Wiccer and Elucard suspiciously.
“What is this place, Calsoon?” Wiccer asked with worry blanketed on his face.
“Welcome to the Drain. Try not to make direct eye contact with anyone. It’s seen as a threat,” Calsoon said with a cheerful tune.
Inside the Drain, the air was heavy with a musky smell that was mixed with the thick smell of burning tobacco. The window had a film of grime letting only sparse light through. The tavern was loud with the sounds of patrons throttling each other in harsh scuffles and cat calling of the bar wenches for a refill of ale. Calsoon, Wiccer, and Elucard had to watch their step as they avoided broken glass and puddles of vomit still dripping over the tables from collapsed drunks.
“I thought you were leading us to new recruits. Why are we here?” Wiccer asked, his frustration slowly getting the best of him.
“How much money do you have on you, sergeant?” Calsoon asked as he led the two to the back of the pub.
“Thirty dawn-face. Why?” Wiccer asked as he grew more and more anxious. The patrons of the Drain leered at his clean, pressed clothes and straight, trimmed hair.
Calsoon stopped at another wolf-folk bouncer, “We’re here to see Basilisk.”
The bouncer moved aside and Calsoon beckoned for Wiccer and Elucard to follow him into a small room that served as an office. There, sitting behind a desk was a sharply dressed, rather heavy set human. He had olive skin and was balding. He was dressed in red nobleman’s attire. A teal kerchief sat in his front pocket. He smiled once he saw Calsoon, standing up with his stomach slightly pushing his desk away.
“Calsoon, my favorite runner. Do you have my fifty-seven trit?”
“Ah, Basilisk, afraid I could only rummage up thirty,” Calsoon said while bowing down graciously.
“What do you suppose you are to do about the twenty-seven trit you owe me?”
Calsoon grabbed Wiccer’s sword and tossed it onto the desk, “A finely crafted sword is at least worth another forty knotted-leaves, consider the extra a bonus for your patience.”
Wiccer snatched his sword back and sheathed it, now livid, “Calsoon, I order you to tell me who this man is and what we are doing here.”
Calsoon smiled and bowed, “Of course, of course. You see our mutual friend Blayvaar has a small debt to pay Mr. Basilisk here. If I can’t find the money to pay it, he will take Blayvaar’s hands as payment. Blayvaar would be a tad bit useless to us if he were to lose his hands.”
“Who is Blayvaar?” Wiccer roared, still fuming.
“He is your soon to be recruit. A skilled thief and master of the throwing knife.”
Elucard tossed a sizable purse of silver trit onto the desk, coins spilling off onto the floor.
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Wiccer leaned over to Elucard’s ear and whispered, “Where did you find that money?”
Elucard spoke from the side of his mouth, “When Calsoon asked you how much money you had, I assumed having some would be important. So I swiped some from a drunk.”
Basilisk finished counting, looking quite pleased, “This will do nicely,” he said, snapping his fingers. A door opened up behind him and two goons tossed a wily looking elf on the ground. His hands were tied and he was gagged with a dirty rag.
Calsoon helped him up, brushed him off, and removed his gag, “Blayvaar, my friend. I think it would be best if we made our exit.”
Outside on the streets, Blayvaar vigorously shook Calsoon’s hand, “I can’t thank you enough Calsoon! I owe you my life!”
“My friend, as much as I’d love for you to owe me your life, it was these fine gentlemen that deserve your thanks. And they don’t need your life…well, not entirely,” Calsoon quipped as he slipped his hand free from the vice-grip of the ever grateful Blayvaar.
Blayvaar blinked at Elucard and Wiccer, “How can I thank you two?”
Wiccer looked at Elucard, who nodded, before looking back at Blayvaar, “We would like to recruit you to use your services to hunt Black Rabbits.”
Blayvaar smirked, “Not my usual thing, but I’ll join you.”
***
Trek knelt down to study the the mud and stones on the path. His brother stood over him, blocking out what little light Trek had in the thicket.
“Which way?” Rulan said, clearly impatient.
Trek brushed his fingers over the wet mud while muttering to himself.
“I think you’re distracting him, Rulan,” A smaller elf said. Like her two brothers, her hair was a dark shade of red. She wore it tied up in a twisted bun. She sat down with one leg curled under the other on a boulder while inspecting the medicinal supplies in her haversack.
“Well I think some of that mud is stuffed in his ear. I said, ‘Which way?’” Rulan flicked the tip of his brother’s elven ear.
“Hey, quit it! He went this way,” Trek shouted, “Essie, maybe you should stitch Rulan’s mouth shut so I can concentrate better.”
Trek and Rulan dashed down the path and across the brook. As the triplets darted through the woods, Trek stopped suddenly. Rulan and Essie bumped into the back of their halted brother, nearly toppling him over.
“Trek, what is it this time? We’re going to be the last ones to finish!” Rulan huffed.
Trek stared into the deep brush, squinting his eyes and going over various details in his mind, “There something amiss. We’re being watched.”
Essie peered at the direction Trek was looking in, “I don’t see anything.”
“Guys, the finish line is just over there, I can hear everyone. We’re going to be the laughingstock of the scouts if we're last again!”
Trek turned to look beyond the forest border. He listened to the cheers of celebration as another team of scouts passed the finish line. He turned back to the brush, but the feeling that he was being watched had subsided, “Let’s go.”
Trek, Rulan, and Essie reached the finish line with their peers chuckling at them.
“Well, well. The Windfoot Triplets are the last ones again,” chided their platoon leader. He turned to a group of men, “Sergeant Wiccer, you’ve seen them work. Any scouts catch your fancy?”
Wiccer turned to Calsoon, “You’re sure we want the Windfoot siblings? They performed the worst.”
Calsoon grinned delightfully as he watched Elucard emerge from the woods.
“They were the only ones that knew I was watching,” Elucard said as he walked up to Trek, “You knew I was there. How?”
Trek blushed, not used to receiving compliments, “There were two set of tracks. The first was from our platoon leader. The other was there, but it was very faint; I’m guessing you wanted to be tracked, but only by a scout with true skill.”
“You have that skill,” Elucard said simply.
“I – I suppose,” Trek said modestly.
Wiccer turned to the platoon leader who was surprised by Trek’s skills, “We’ll take the triplets.”
***
Lear laid about sluggishly on a swinging hammock. The sun was setting and a nice breeze rushed through his shady retreat by the creek. He gnawed on a long blade of grass between his teeth. His long whiskers bounced slightly as a gnat buzzed on top of them. His long tail swayed back and forth, dangling off of the hammock. His ears twitched as he noticed a small group of people gathering around him.
“A cat folk? In Lost Dawns?” Wiccer asked befuddled.
Lear opened one eye and retorted with the grass still clenched in his teeth, “This yikahti doesn’t like to be called ‘cat folk’!”
Calsoon bowed to Lear, “Forgive Wiccer. Despite his own origins, he is not used to the more exotic visitors of Lost Dawns.”
Lear rested his eyes once more, “This yikahti is forgiving. Be on your way.”
Calsoon bowed again, “Actually, my friend, they are here to see you. To test your talent and perhaps offer you something you’ve always wished for.”
Lear snapped his eyes open and leaped out of the hammock, drawing his saber, “Who wishes to test This yikahti’s talent? He who dares test the talent of Lear Crescenteye better bring his own.”
Calsoon smiled smugly at Wiccer, “Go ahead, Sergeant, test his talent.”
“He wants to duel me?” Wiccer asked, slowly drawing his own sword.
“Isn’t that why you are here?” Lear growled, annoyed by his challenger’s hesitance, “Perhaps you are not worth This yikahti’s time.”
“My dear Lear, haven’t you always wished that a true challenge would present itself to you in Lost Dawns? You once heard of the great warrior clans of Long Whisper. Did you not wish that they would accept you as one of their own? Well, you may know that they are gone, but instead there is an army,” Calsoon explained.
“Bah, this army is full of talentless hacks,” Lear said as he leapt back into his hammock. He waved Wiccer off and ignored him.
“You just haven’t been looking in the right places. Duel me and I will show you that my talent is greater. When I defeat you, you will have a chance to fight for us and find the challenges you seek,” Wiccer stepped in, seeing where Calsoon was leading Lear.
Lear twirled his saber in an expert display of swordsmanship before pointing his blade in Wiccer’s face, “You say you have more talent than This yikahti? Then show us!” he demanded as he moved once more out of his hammock.
Wiccer thwacked the blade away and dashed in close, slashing diagonally upwards. Lear back flipped on top of the hammock, balancing himself effortlessly. He smiled cockily, then somersaulted over Wiccer, smacking the back of his head.
Wiccer waited for him to land before lunging at him with a thrusting advance. Lear attempted to parry, but Wiccer anticipated the technique and spun, countering with a skillful disarm of Lear’s saber. The blade clattered on the ground. Wiccer pressed his sword on the yikahti’s chest.
“Such talent!” Lear said in awe.
“The Black Rabbits possess more talent than I. If you join us, we will teach you to combat that talent and you will win,” Wiccer said, sheathing his weapon.
Lear grinned a wide and toothy grin, “You have a recruit. This yikahti shall join you.”
***
Wiccer and Elucard stood in the tall grass of a wide field. A single wooden silhouette of an upper torso stood above the grass next to them. Calsoon wore his typical silly grin that the two men had become accustomed to.
“I’ll bite first. Calsoon, what are we out here for?” Elucard spoke up.
“Wait for it,” Calsoon said quietly.
“For wha–” Elucard started, but ducked as an arrow whizzed past him and stuck into the wooden target with a loud ‘thunk’”
Wiccer dropped down for cover, “Calsoon, what’s going on here!?”
“Your unit could use a crafty marksman. I’m here to get you one.”
Elucard poked his head above the grass, another arrow whipped through the air, landing with another solid ‘thunk’ into the target.
“I think you convinced them enough, Timber. Why don’t you come over here and join us?” Calsoon called across the field.
Wiccer and Elucard watched, stunned as the grass slowly grew and morphed into a standing mound. Tossing off the grassy gillie suit, a black cloaked, golden furred Kanis made her way to the small group. She brushed a long fur braid that was slung over her shoulder to her back. Her thin smile wiped away when she grew closer.
“This is Timber. She is one of the better archers you will find in this army,” Calsoon said, introducing her to Wiccer and Elucard.
“Calsoon tells me you two are putting together a special unit to deal with the Black Rabbits,” Timber said. Her voice was smooth and quiet, like a whisper.
“Welcome to our team,” Elucard said, still shaken from his recent encounter with her deadly aim.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
***
The new squad lined up on the parade field. Wiccer moved in front of the squad, doing his best to instruct them how to stand at attention before addressing them.
“You seven are the first of a new unit called the Anti-Rogue Operatives, or ‘ARO.’ You will be trained to think and fight like a Black Rabbit in order to better combat and counter a Black Rabbit! Your training will be tough! You might not like it, but you will like what you become! You will enter a soldier and emerge a new type of hunter! Are you prepared for this transformation?”
“Yes, sir!” the squad shouted in unison.
“Anything else, Elucard?” Wiccer said, pleased with the new squad.
“Yes, fall in, Wiccer,” Elucard said sternly, his arms folded against his chest.
Wiccer looked at him baffled.
“You were always our first recruit,” explained Elucard.
Wiccer smirked and fell into the formation.
“Recruits, let’s get to work!” Elucard commanded.