The waitress at the tavern raised her eyebrow at Omia sitting on the inside of the booth, squeezed against the wall so she wouldn’t have to touch Jamei. He was still stinky despite them all taking baths after returning home. It would take more than one to really get rid of the scent of most of the men after a full season in the forest.

  “Aren’t you a little young to be a guard?” the lady asked Omia.

  “No, I’m just next to a tall man.”

  She looked at Omia for a second longer, shrugged, and put a beer down in front of her.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Omia thought, but simply nodded at the nice lady.

  “If there’s one thing I know I can do,” Jamei started, “It’s drink more than you.”

  “No way.” Omia said, chugging her very first beer in a one go as she’d seen others do. It tasted absolutely awful, not at all how she’d expected, but she still didn’t let it show on her face. Her mental fortitude was through the roof at this point, and refusing to blanch came easily. “Whatever you can do, I’m better. That’s the rule.”

  Jamei laughed boisterously, “Not a rule, you just cheat by using Death Eater grass. I don’t see any grass around here Omia!” chugging his own.

  Across from them, Rory shrugged and sipped his beer, watching their activity with interest.

  * * *

  Omia’s eyes fluttered open. Her entire body ached and her head buzzed painfully. “Ugh.”

  “Oh? You’re up?” she heard Rory say just a bit too loudly.

  “Quieter,” she whispered, hearing a sharp exhale before she felt something placed into her hand.

  “Drink this, I’m told it’ll help.”

  Throwing it down the hatch, she very nearly threw up when she realized it was more alcohol. “What the hell man…” she whispered again, then felt another drink foisted upon her.

  “This one’s water.”

  She sipped this one, more skeptical now but pleasantly surprised at the taste- or lack thereof.

  She felt like her bones creaked as she stood up, still blearily blinking her eyes and rubbing at her face, looking around.

  Everything was destroyed.

  Looking down at where she’d just laid on the floor, she saw that she was perfectly situated in between two halves of a table. “Oops…”

  Rory chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. The tavern expected this and was compensated well for playing their part. This was easily the largest class to ever graduate in Darien, so they assumed things would get bad. When people started getting rowdy, the staff took all the glass bottles to the back and slowly changed out their sturdy tables with cheaper ones. Good thing too, because there was a table smashing competition immediately afterwards. Though… perhaps that was because the tables were now cheaper, so who is to say?”

  “Did I win?”

  “Which one, your competition with Jamei or the table smashing one?”

  “Both.”

  “Nah, Jamei beat you handily and it wasn’t even close. When you tried to participate in breaking the tables and realized you couldn’t get enough leverage, you tried to use Haden like a hammer.”

  “Haden?” she asked, confused.

  “Yea, the redhead over there. He agreed to let you try and pick him up to slam him into the table, but you could hardly even get him above your head. Weird angle and all. After that failed, you offered to switch positions and he picked you up instead. When you came down on the cheap table it, luckily, broke rather easily. You immediately passed out though.”

  She giggled for half a second before quieting down. Rory heard it though, and gave her a strong side eye. ‘Nooo, I’m ruining my persona!’

  “Ok, I’m gonna go to the fields and sit in the grass to heal up,” she said, quickly walking off.

  It was still early morning, but the glaring sun hurt to look at. Making it to the gate, the guardsman stopped her, asking “Name and occupation?”

  “Omia, Guard.”

  The person she didn’t recognize smiled at her. “Congratulations Omia, you won a few bets by coming back with the rest of the second years rather than only lasting halfway through. Why are you leaving the town?”

  “To sit in the grass.”

  “Hangover?” he asked

  “Maybe… not. I just… feel crummy.”

  He laughed, “I’m not ratting on you or anything, just small talk. Yea go for it, don’t venture far though, not without someone to watch your back. You’ll hear the official rules more at the ceremony, just stay within clear sight of the gate.”

  She shrugged, not intending to go more than a few feet out and, for the first time, actually left Darien on her own.

  Lying flat on the tall stalks, she sighed in relief when she felt the life energy flow through her. Only a handful of minutes later, she was in tip-top shape. Standing back up, she was waved back in once more and returned to the tavern to wait for Jamei to regain consciousness.

  Rory raised an eyebrow as she came back wide eyed and bushy tailed, but chuckled when he remembered she could just regenerate. Still, she felt incredibly dehydrated, even if the nausea and headache was gone, so she quickly drank down several more glasses of water.

  When everyone finally started waking up, the first thing Jamei grumbled out was “Did I beat Omia?”

  Both Rory and Omia synchronized when they said “No.”

  Jamei groaned. “Damn…”

  Rory started chuckling, then told him what actually happened. There would still be some time before the ceremony, so a lot of the cadets were bunching up to make a trip to the fields. Those still knocked out were carried by two others to wake up in the Death Eater fields, and they’d likely have much better times than the first round of people up.

  * * *

  Just a couple hours lying in the grass was enough to get them into shape, and they each parted ways to return home. They’d spend time with the families they missed, then meet up at noon at the barracks.

  ‘The barracks’ she thought to herself happily as she talked with her parents, watching Joseph babble about something or another while he crawled across the carpet.

  The barracks. Finally, she was just within reach of her dream.

  The barracks were both the place where guards met up, and where out-of-town guards would stay if Darien requested help. It looked like a small castle, and sat a short distance away from the Darien estate, the place where Lord Darien lived with his family.

  This magical place acted as their headquarters and where they’d report for monthly check-ins, debriefs, or if anyone needed to talk to the captain, the head of the local guards. This was also where they would receive their weekly schedule detailing what task they would be doing, be it town-patrol on Monday or forest-patrol on Tuesday, they could ask the secretary and find out. Usually, people would ask what they would be doing for the rest of the week on Monday, then just remember.

  It would be a long process, getting started, but she was more than happy to do so later, after the ceremony.

  * * *

  Finally graduating to fully-fledged guard wasn’t a long process, they stood in a line in front of the barracks, the Captain said a bunch of stuff, then he handed them all a badge that indicated they were royally recognized enforcers, usable anywhere in the kingdom when on official business.

  The metal badge came attached to a large leather patch, and supposedly more metals would be added to it if you decided to go up in rank or were awarded for outstanding achievements. That way, when you went elsewhere and introduced yourself to the local guards, they could immediately tell whether they were talking to someone of import or not.

  There were a bunch of policies and rules to go over about safety in numbers when leaving town, or how to act when you went to other settlements, and Omia listened intently to all of it. Still, it was unlikely any would be relevant to her for a long time, if ever.

  When everything was said and done, after they’d all received their patches and the like, a banquet was held in the mess hall for all the new guards and their families. A couple hours of chatting later, Omia, Rory, and Jamei were in line to officially be registered as a party. This would allow them to be assigned group tasks with each other rather than swapped around to a bunch of different mismatched groups.

  Reaching the front, they quickly gave their names as the secretary filled out the paperwork for them. None of them could read, but it was still required to have a small record of their induction. When Omia gave her name, the secretary saw a note in her file, reading it out to her.

  “Omia? It says here that you, and whichever party you end up in, will be assigned a fourth member whenever you have Wiltwood patrol.”

  Omia tsk’d her tongue while her two friends looked at her. “I was really hoping Francis would forget about that…”

  Two years ago, Francis said she would be given a spare member in her party until she turned fourteen because he didn’t want the death of a promising cadet on his hands. She was, frankly, surprised he kept to his word.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Aside from that, there weren’t really any complications. They were pointed to the quartermaster and stock room to get fitted and gear made to their specifications. If they had damaged armor, like Omia currently, they could leave it to have it repaired. On top of that, two sets of spare armor would soon be made, just in case, as apparently armor was damaged quite frequently.

  They would be responsible for blade care though, and were given a quick rundown of how to sharpen and care for their own.

  On top of that, they were told that any month-old potions should be turned in and replaced, as they would slowly lose effectiveness.

  “Sir?” Omia spoke up at hearing that, getting his attention. “I have a Glimpse that lets me absorb life energy to make myself stronger. Do you think I could get a special permission to drink the extra potions at the end of each month? I’m sure there’d be a lot of energy packed into those…”

  The quartermaster stroked his chin inquisitively for a few seconds. “You know? I’m not sure. Get back to me at the end of this month and I’ll have an answer for you. I’ll have to clear it with both the Captain for political reasons and alchemists for side-effect reasons, but if it’s safe then I can’t imagine the request being rejected. A stronger guard is always good.”

  Omia nodded, hoping she’d be allowed. She was sure it would help in the long term.

  Removing and turning in her damaged armor, the three of them were on their way to the door to start their two-week long vacation before their first official shifts before Omia saw some kind of bulletin board off to the side of the front door. Curiously, she went to look at it.

  “Whatcha see there?” Rory asked her.

  “Not sure, it seems to be some kind of announcement thing with a bunch of fliers.”

  Looking at it, each flier had a crudely drawn image and a certain number of stars below that, from one to three. Below the stars were various words but, again, none of them could read.

  Picking one at random, Rory pulled one down and took it over to the secretary, who was just finishing up with the last of the fresh guards.

  “Hey, what’s this thing?” he asked, putting the flier on the table. It had a picture of a sword-wielding undead and two stars below it.

  The secretary's eyes briefly drifted over it before answering them. “It’s a bounty. It seems there was a smart undead spotted deeper into the forest recently.”

  “What’s the board over there?” Rory asked. There were, after all, pictures of plants and scenery on it as well. Not all could be bounties.

  “Oh that? It’s the adventurers board. Adventurers are a kind of people that travel around the country looking for tasks to do. Here on the frontier, we don’t get many so we don’t even have a dedicated hall for them. Still, if you don’t have tasks for them to do, they tend to get incredibly antsy, so we keep that fresh in case some pass through. Keeping those wanderers happy has proven to avoid more than one headache, and sometimes off-duty guards or citizens take on some of the tasks. I’m gonna warn you though… not all of them will be useful to the community. They’re really just there to be filler. Still, anyone can post a job on the board, and a lot really do help if fulfilled.”

  “What about the stars?” Rory asked

  “It’s a danger rating. One star means low danger, two means danger is required but not too much, three stars is high danger to a solo traveler, four stars is high danger to a party of people, and five stars means it requires several groups working together to accomplish.”

  “I only see up to three stars on the board?” Rory asked, confused.

  The secretary laughed, “Well yea, we’re one of the smaller towns. We aren’t going to be doing anything dangerous. There’s fifteen settlements arranged in a line blocking the Wiltwood from advancing, and number eight is considered the main one. We’re only number four, far north to the main city. I heard that in settlement eight, there’s an ongoing five-star task to cut down the trees of the Wiltwood, driving the forest further back.”

  Alarmed, Jamei asked “Wait, isn’t that like… the opposite of what we want? I thought our goal was to hold the tide against the Wiltwood, never shrinking or growing it. Otherwise it lashes out, yea?”

  “Correct!” the secretary told them, “That’s why it’s such a dangerous quest and pays very well. There are supposedly frequent powerful undead that raid the city walls in an attempt to stop them. There have been some protests about this, saying the main city is throwing the fragile balance off, but the city officials haven't listened yet since they started drilling deeper into the forest around… oh, maybe six years ago?”

  “Dang…” Jamei whispered, “They must’ve really made it far in that time, yea?”

  The secretary shrugged. “Who’s to say? I’ve never been.”

  They thanked the man then returned the flier to the adventurer board. Omia decided she would like to learn how to read, as it seemed an important skill the older she got, but that was for later. When she got paid for the first time.

  Again they headed for the door, but again Omia was sidetracked when she heard someone call out “Omia!”

  Turning, she saw Francis walking over to her, a welcoming expression on his face. “Are you going three somewhere urgently right now?”

  Her friends looked at her questioningly but she shrugged at them, not knowing what this was about either. “No, not really.”

  “Would you all mind coming with me for a little?”

  “No, do you need something?”

  “Yes, come on”

  Confused, the three followed the man further into the barracks, up a flight of stairs to somewhere they hadn’t been yet.

  Here she saw things looked a bit fancier as there were some golden plaques on the doors that said words. ‘This is really cementing that I need to learn how to read.’

  When they followed him into one, Omia was greeted to a very sterile-looking room, a fancy chair behind a dark wooden desk. The walls were decorated with multiple paintings, and she saw shelves filled with metal awards.

  Sliding into the chair, Francis looked at the three of them standing arranged in front of the wooden desk

  “First I’d like to apologize, as I don’t have any chairs for the three of you, but I’ll make this short. I would like to once more apologize to you for the way I initially treated you when you asked to join the guards.”

  Understanding flashed through her mind, and questions followed it. “I already forgave you, but why are Rory and Jamei here?”

  Francis laughed, “Because they’re your party. You three should go everywhere together, especially to the offices of higher ups where you’ll likely be in trouble. Not to mention, it’s bad form for a man to go anywhere privately with a woman, no matter how young.”

  She grimaced at that, but understood.

  “Other than why they’re here though, it wasn’t just to apologize. I’m aware I’ve done this before, and don’t like repeating myself, but I see it as a necessity now as I’ve learned to recognize behaviors in cadets over the years, and can tell I made a rather large mistake by getting into your head on day one so… ask the question I’m sure you’ve ultimately kept in mind since I first called you pathetic.”

  Rory and Jamei stayed quiet, and Omia frowned.

  Since day one, she’d driven herself forward in part to prove Francis wrong. True, she wanted to be a guard too, but no small part of her motivation was the smug satisfaction of being right.

  Below that though, she found herself vying to prove him wrong even after he’d apologized. Found herself pushing past what could be called healthy, for fear of being just another one of the female guards. She remembered Francis talking about the history they had in the force, always having to be recalled from the Wiltwood because they couldn’t handle fighting undead in the long term.

  When she proved him wrong, it was satisfying for a few weeks but past that, she realized something.

  He was correct.

  Omia, as a woman, wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her male counterparts if not for her Glimpse. It increased her strength to the point that battling them would be viable, when she should have failed.

  If she didn’t have magical abilities backing her, she would’ve just been another in the number. She found the satisfaction of being right fade, in its place a realization that she was an anomaly, not proof that Francis’ rule was incorrect. She was a unique exception.

  “...You were right, weren’t you? Correct to assume I’d fail, because outside of my Glimpse, I would have. If I wasn’t born with magic, I would’ve fallen into the exact caste you expected me to.”

  Francis nodded, acknowledging her question, leaving it to hang for a moment before responding. “That’s what I was afraid you’d think, the doubt I’d sewn into you. I called you here to clear this up, as I want you to know that you’re thinking bigger than the average person, but not quite by enough to get the full picture. Tell me, does your Glimpse affect your mind? Give you supernatural mental fortitude?”

  Omia shook her head, confused on where he was going with this.

  “Well, there’s your answer. My issue with women in the guard was never about their physical capabilities, but their mental ones. I hated, I hate, how they’re given special treatment to avoid the Wiltwood because fighting the undead is mentally scarring. If they couldn’t handle the full brunt of the responsibility, they should be forced out of their position. True, women will never be able to match their male counterparts pound for pound, but they don’t need to. Fighting undead isn’t about strength, nine times out of ten it’s a lesson in tedium.

  “You see your magical abilities as the reason you survived, but that’s not true. I see in you what I haven’t in the other female cadets. Not strength, not magic, nor skill. What I see in you which proves me wrong is decisiveness. You don’t flinch at their rotting teeth, you don’t freeze up when covered in guts. You don’t even gag when the blood gets in your mouth, I’ve seen it. You spit out the disease, purge your mouth, and keep fighting.

  “What I wanted to clear up now was that your magic would mean jack shit to me; If it was given to any other woman, I’d still have rejected them from the force. It’s your mind that’s impressed me, and that is something you need to be proud of, not ashamed of what may have been.

  “So no, I was not right. I am glad to say I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  She could only stare at Francis, scattered thoughts bouncing around in her head, unable to say anything.

  ‘Huh… I didn’t see it like that.’

  She felt herself relax, some of the tension leaving her body when she finally found closure. In place of that doubt she’d felt, she found a seed of something else.

  Ego.

  Smirking, she crossed her arms and struck her smuggest pose, raising one eyebrow at Francis.

  The man burst out laughing, and Omia joined him in chuckling. Jamei and Rory were confused though, as they were not there the first time Francis had apologized and she’d done the exact same thing

  “Alright, alright, I get it. I kind of deserve that. On to better news, as I know apologies are good as shadows, only actions can tangibly show I’m sorry. To make it up to you, I’d like to shorten the time I intend to have one of the more veteran guards babysit your group from three years, when you’d turn fourteen, to only one year. When you turn twelve, your group is in the clear.”

  She wanted to protest it down to being free right now, but something told her he was solid on this. He really did not want her to die because of his word, and wasn’t going to risk more than necessary.

  “On top of that,” he continued, “I’ll advocate for you to gain access to the potions that lose their potency, as I overheard you asking about earlier. I want you to know though, unlimited access to the potions going out isn’t going to happen.”

  “Huh? Why? Does the guard use them?”

  “No,” Francis sighed. “Much more annoying. There are many contracted Glimpse users in the town that would get jealous of your building power, and will likely be furious you have access to such a resource perfect for your growth. If it was just up to the quartermaster, it's unlikely you’d get any leftover potions at all as the Captain tries to appease them.”

  “That’s stupid” she said directly.

  “I agree, but that’s how it is. Without contracted Glimpse users, the guard would be in quite the bind. Still, we throw out hundreds of potions every month. I think I can squeeze a few out of Henry, we’re old friends. Don’t get your hopes too high, but I think three potions a week would be more than possible.”

  ‘Three per week!’ she thought, ecstatic. That was an incredible amount of mana from what she tasted of the few times she’d used them, and it would save her a lot of time gathering life energy.

  Something else occurred to her though. “One more question though, how did our potions stay useful through all of winter? The quartermaster said they lose potency after a month, but we stayed there for four.”

  He waved his hand, “It’s not complicated. The winter potions are of far higher quality and can last much longer than the standard issue potions.”

  ‘Makes sense.’

  “Alright kiddo, any other questions?” he asked, and she shook her head. “In that case, you’re free to go. I see good potential in you Omia, and I’m positive I won’t be disappointed with how far you go. Now get out of my hair, I have some paperwork to do,” he said, shooing them out. They followed the hall back to the exit, Rory and Jamei congratulating her and patting her on the back for having impressed Francis, before they finally left the barracks and headed their separate ways.