Reed couldn’t sleep. Even though the day had been stressful and exhausting, he kept getting flashbacks of his life on Earth.

He tried to think of other things, but in a world without radio, internet, or other forms of easy entertainment, finding a distraction that wasn't Lily Marx's ass in wet pants was very difficult.

But every time he thought of Lily Marx, he also thought of what she'd said. But... what could he do about it? He had no power. The picture he was getting of the Western Barracks was that this was where the commoners and noble rejects got sent. Even as a knight of the Western Barracks, Reed would have no clout to enact the necessary changes to help those people. Durshand didn't have social programs to support the poor.

Timmons was wheezing in his bed, and fed up with the noise, Reed went to the window that looked out on the training yard.

Opening it, Reed prepared to slip out, only to stop as he realized one of the other squires was there already. It was past time for night shift to be at their posts, so the yard should have been empty.

Lily Marx, the only female squire he’d seen so far, was aggressively swinging her practice blade. The wooden sword ripped the air in quick snaps. She had good form, but she was being driven out by misogyny. Every time Captain Bass had them spar, the men either refused to take her seriously and wouldn’t fight or would smash her into the ground like a tent peg. Watching her practice reminded him again that their training was lacking.

There seemed to be two schools of swordfighting in Durshand. Either there was a lot of unnecessary movement that would've looked better onstage, or a lot of intent telegraphing. Neither style seemed to consider guarding or dodging important. It made the ex-Guild easy to spot. But why hadn't they made any effort to change how squires were trained? Did that mean he would get ignored if he brought up the issue?

It was disheartening.

In the year before he'd come to Lockton, Baron Owen gave him a crash course in history, reading, writing, and theology. There, he'd learned that magic used to be a thing, but it had been stamped out when the priests of the evil god were defeated and Durshand united. When he'd first awoke on Mythiric, he'd been excited about killing monsters. Then, he'd been entered into the squire competition by Guildmaster Amber, and he'd been excited by the idea of getting to be a knight.

But in reality, knights were just decorations, and the caste system made sure to keep everyone in their places. Sure, there were Life Peers, like Baron Owen, but they were appointed to their titles because they were guard captains of a higher-level noble.

Leaning on the sill, Reed watched Lily Marx silently, lost in thought.

Marx swung her sword again and stopped, breathing heavily. Bowing her head, she turned and chucked the sword across the yard. Folding down, she sobbed into her knees.

Feeling like now that he’d seen this, he couldn’t just leave it alone, Reed rolled out his window. Walking past her, he picked up the sword. “You’re goin about it all wrong.”

Lifting her head, she gave him an ugly glare. “Now you’re telling me to quit?”

“Woah, honey. Don’t go puttin words in my mouth. I just said you’re goin about it all wrong.” Reed lifted his hands in a shrug.

“And what am I doing wrong?”

“You’re playing by their rules. You ain’t gonna win in a strength contest. Stand up.” He flipped the sword around, holding the hilt out to her. “I ain’t good with words, so I’ll just show you. Come at me. Like you mean it.”

Marx worked her jaw before shoving to her feet. Snatching the sword out of his hand, she didn’t wait for him to indicate he was ready. She took a wild swing.

Reed ducked back, then rushed in, pushing her over-extended arm to her chest. He shoved her back a few steps so she understood that he’d easily pinned her. Retreating, he gestured for her to try again.

This time, she set her feet and came at him for real, using all her skills. She was skilled. Her sword slashed and jabbed at him.

She was fast. She gave him no room to come at her from the front again.

Reed stepped around her instead and poked her in the ribs.

Marx yelped and swung at him wildly as he scooted around behind her to smack her back. She spun to catch him. He dropped and kicked her foot out from under her.

Collapsing to the dirt, sword sailing across the yard again, Marx coughed, blinking in shock. Reed crouched next to her head.

“See, if I’d played by the rules, you’d have beaten my face in.”

“That won’t work against Phil, though,” she said, staring up at him. He could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes, though.

“Bet.” He grinned, offering his hand to help her up. “I’ll challenge Phil tomorrow. If I win, you have to stay and quit fightin fair. Ain’t no one in the world gonna treat you fair. Why you givin’ them that courtesy?”

Marx took his hand and got to her feet. “Okay,” she said shyly.

“You got skills, Marx. It’d be a damn shame if you quit.”

She blushed.

Reed caught her chin, forcing her head back up. “Quit that. Be proud of what you can do. You’ve worked your ass off. You shoulda been made Knight a while ago.” He clapped her shoulder. “We’ll get you running them in circles before long.” He pointed at her nose. “I won’t take no for an answer on that, neither.”

“Why?” Marx asked, rubbing her hands together, her face still flushed. “Why do you care?”

Reed could only shrug. “I guess ‘cause I’m nice?” He admired her tenacity. She’d survived this long against the bullying. She just needed some new tools to fight back. She’d take up the fight again and prove herself all on her own. He grinned at her. “G’night.” Heading back to his window, Reed found Timmons leaning in it with a smirk.

“Hittin on Marx, huh?” Timmons teased.

Reed shook his head.

“Guess you like em’ older?” Timmons tried again.

“Move it, stink-ass.” Reed gripped the sill. It was a bit taller now that he was on the ground.

“Not until you admit you like her,” Timmons teased.

Reed glanced back to see that Marx had already left. “Okay. She’s cute,” Reed admitted easily.

Timmons deflated. “You’re really no fun.” He moved aside finally.

Hoisting himself through the window, Reed rolled to his feet. “You’re just bein’ childish. I ain’t got nothin to be ashamed of.” He closed the window.

“So you wouldn’t care if I told her?” Timmons leaned in, poking Reed in the shoulder.

Flicking a deadpan look at the boy, Reed shrugged again. “Go ahead.”

“You know she isn’t going to like you back.”

“I’m aware.” Reed dropped onto his bed. “She’s got bigger issues to deal with. Go to bed, Timmons.”

Grumpy, Timmons dropped onto his bed. “I don’t fart in my sleep.”

Reed snorted and covered his mouth with his arm to stifle his laughter.

***

“Alright, pair up for sparring,” Bass said after initial sword drills.

Reed caught Marx’s gaze, grinned at her, and went straight for Phil. “You an me, let’s go.”

Phil stared down at Reed. They had a half-meter height difference. The unexpected challenge brought the yard to silence as everyone turned to stare.

“Kid—”

“Pussy,” Reed said, looking up at Phil.

Phil closed his eyes and took a breath, searching for patience.

It was clear that Phil wasn’t going to go for it on his own. Reed glanced around, then smirked as he spotted Sir Davis. “Vice-Captain, I disrespected you yesterday. Ain’t it fair that I should get my ass beat for that?”

Captain Bass, standing next to Davis turned to look at the man. For a moment, the pair had a whispered conversation. Davis gestured vaguely with an uncertain look at Reed again.

“Go ahead,” Bass said, making the decision to see what Reed was up to, since Davis was clearly hesitating over it. As he should’ve. Reed was asking for this as his punishment. He wouldn’t have trusted it either.

Phil scowled down at Reed. “I am not going to go easy on you,” he rumbled.

“Aite,” Reed grinned. He stepped back and saluted with his sword. The yard cleared, giving them space. Reed knew Phil was ex-Hunter’s Guild. He also knew Phil’s dad was the City Guard Captain, and Ex-Guild, too. But Reed hadn’t come into Lockton as Guild. Even though he'd been required to give the Lockton Guild branch his file, he’d come in as a backwaters squire recruit only a few weeks before. That meant that his reputation hadn’t gotten around yet.

Phil had no idea.

“I’m gonna wipe that grin off your face,” Phil told him. “Disrespectful little shit.”

“Start,” Bass ordered.

Phil swung. His sword stopped precisely where he meant it to. But Reed wasn’t there to receive it.

He looked down at his gut, where Reed's wooden sword pressed against it. Reed grinned up at him. Phil’s expression twisted into irritation. That would be Reed’s only free strike. It was on now.

Darting away, Reed slashed the back of Phil’s thigh with a bruising strike.

Phil got his other leg away, but staggered in pain a few steps as he turned to meet Reed. “Fuck! You fight like a goblin!”

Reed laughed and slid under Phil’s next swing.

Phil got his sword around to block, then turned, catching Reed’s blade to push.

Dancing along like a leaf caught in the wind, Reed redirected Phil’s attacks, pushing them aside instead of trying to meet them. He knew he couldn’t win a strength match with the man. It was the entire reason why he’d chosen to challenge Phil.

Phil changed tactics, moving like he truly was trying to kill a goblin. Crouching lower to protect his vitals, his wooden sword ripped the air at a dangerous speed. If Reed got caught, he would be seriously hurt.

“Enough!” Bass called, apparently realizing that this was getting out of hand. Reed slid to a stop and dropped his guard immediately. Phil did the same. “Squire. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Reed turned to the captain and saluted. “Molton Hunter’s Guild, Sir. They called me Fish over there.”

Phil gasped. “You?” He looked Reed over in horror. “You’re Fish?”

“What?” Bass demanded.

Shock ran through the gathered knights and squires. They knew earning an animal name in the Guild took a lot. Reed hadn’t realized the significance until well after he’d been dubbed and marked. He’d been learning to read and write from the guildmaster’s books when he’d come across the book of names and tattoos.

“No. Prove it!” Phil snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Reed dropped his sword and pulled his shirt off, turning to show Phil the tattoo on his left shoulder.

“Saintess Tears,” someone whispered. Reed looked to find Xander, another ex-Guild, covering his mouth.

Figuring everyone had gotten their fill, Reed pulled his shirt back on and tossed his hair behind again.

Bass sighed. He was done with Reed’s shit for the day. “Squire Owen. Laps. Until I tell you to stop.”

Reed saluted and trotted off. He knew why, and he wasn’t going to argue. He’d made a scene for a reason Bass didn’t know or understand. He was being a problem and needed to be made an example of. Getting the men back in order after that was difficult. Everyone half-assed their way through the rest of their training, eyes on Reed as he trotted the edge of the training yard.

Frustrated with it all, Bass eventually sent them all to join the laps.

Marx caught up to him. Her jaw was set. “You lied.”

“How?” Reed grinned at her.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a Named Hunter.”

He laughed. “How’s it make any difference?”

“I can’t—”

“Aw, shut up,” Reed interrupted. “You gonna back out now?”

“I’m—”

“Bull. Shit,” Reed interrupted again. “You been at it for how long? An you’re gonna give up now? When someone’s finally seen your worth? Bullshit. See you tonight.”

Marx flushed and dropped back.