Dropping to the training yard from his window, Reed flashed a grin at Marx as she snuck around the side of the building, carrying two training swords.

“You really think I could fight like that?” Everything about her posture was already defeated.

“You’ve got skills. Just matter of training you to quit trying to meet them head-on.” Reed took the sword she held out. “Start with basic drill. You attack.”

She slid into a stance. Once he was ready, she did the first attack. Reed stepped to the side of her thrust.

“See? Easy?” Reed said.

Marx frowned at him. “Again?”

He stepped back in front of her. She swung an overhead strike. Reed moved to the side.

She frowned. “Can you try to explain what you did?”

“He shifted his weight to the left, first.”

They both turned to look at Avery as he came around from the side of the building.

“What he said,” Reed gestured.

“Do it again?” Avery asked.

Reed got into position. Marx swung.

“He put himself on your dominant side,” Avery said, coming over to watch from a different angle. “That’s what he did to Phil this morning for the gut-strike.”

“But why that side?” Marx asked. “Wouldn’t that be more dangerous?”

“You’ve got more power moving the blade from right to left,” Avery explained, having immediately seen what Reed couldn’t easily explain.

Again, he gestured at Avery. “What he said. From here, if it were a real fight, I’d move in close. Swords are long. Can’t really do much against me if I’m here.” He stepped in to demonstrate, going low to press the wooden blade against her midsection.

Reed worked through two more of his go-to moves, letting Avery watch, then explain to Marx. Then he let her practice them on him, slowly working up the speed. She was a fast learner. Since Avery was there, Reed did the same with him.

“Can’t believe you’re just telling us all your secrets,” Avery said as they took a break. He was exhausted from running all morning.

“Y’all are on my team. We’re going to be knights together. I’d rather have people who know how to fight on my side than hoard knowledge. I just ain’t good at explaining. Glad you were here to help, Avery.” Reed clapped his shoulder, then yawned. “That’s enough for tonight. G’night.” He stood and climbed into his window.

***

Patrick stood in Bass' office as the man looked over the report. He'd gone to the Hunter's Guild first thing in the morning. He knew as well as anyone that if Reed was telling the truth, he would've had to give his file to the local guild. Almost as if they'd expected to need several copies, the guildmaster had given him one from a stack on her shelf. The Hunter's Guild required members to notify their local office when they relocated. That was so the Guild would have an accurate account of assets available to pull in an emergency. This was required even if a member retired and had a different job.

"Have a seat," Bass said without looking up, thumbing through the pages.

Pulling the straight-back chair over to the side of Bass' desk, Patrick sat. Lacing his fingers together across his thighs, he waited for Bass to finish.

"Did you look this over?" Bass asked.

"No, Sir."

Bass pressed his lips together with a grunt. He handed the pages he'd already read over.

 Patrick had already read Phil and Xander's reports. Besides them, there were three other ex-mercenaries. They'd not come to the Barracks knowing formal swordwork and had made no fuss about learning it.

Not that Reed had made a fuss about learning it either, but Patrick could tell he was determined to overturn tradition if he didn't like it.

Patrick took a breath and focused his eyes on the document.

Name: Reed

Joined: Golding 2007

Description: Hannish, red hair, green eyes. Tattoo of a lotus over the heart.

Birthdate: XXXX 1996?

Alias: Fish (Awarded Picking 2008)

Guild Identification: Fish holding two bottles on left shoulder.

Accomplishments...

Patrick flipped to the next page and the next. "He... really did all this?" he asked in a shaky voice. The accomplishments started with killing an ogre in a two-man team. He'd been crucial in killing a nest of giant spiders. Helped clear several goblin infestations and extinguish the subsequent fires required to cleanse the area.

He'd earned his Name because he worked very well in teams and because he was utterly fearless. Any time there was a dangerous task, he was the one volunteering. Despite every danger he got into, he always got out of it.

"Seems we got something quite valuable. Kind of a waste to have him here in Lockton," Bass said, handing Patrick the last paper. He steepled his fingers, elbows on his desk.

"He's... Maybe fifteen? How could he have done all this in just four years?" Patrick waved the papers.

"Some people are just born talented." Bass sat back with a chuckle. "I'm putting you in charge of him." Bass turned to look at him seriously. "Any decisions you make regarding him, I won't interfere. You need to learn how to handle men like this."

Patrick's stomach churned. He'd been Bass' Vice-Captain for a year after the previous Vice-Captain's legs were broken irreparably, and he had to retire. He didn't want to be tested by Bass, too. He was already terrified of the Knight Commander noticing him. His gaze dropped to the stack of papers. I need to make sure Reed Owen knows who is in charge.

"Make sure he follows the rules. His record said he has a drinking problem."

Patrick looked through the pages again and found it near the end.

Reprimands included starting a gang war in Molton and instigating multiple tavern brawls because they wouldn't serve him alcohol.

He sighed, stacking the papers back together neatly on the desk.

"I will make one suggestion."

Patrick looked at the captain.

"I've seen men like this before; brilliant, but aimless. Find something that interests him and he won't cause problems."

***

Patrick took several deep breaths, flexing his fists as he tried to gather his courage. He's just a kid, he reminded himself, and strode into the training yard.

The squires should have been practicing drills in the yard.

Well... they were practicing something.

Squire Marx was in the air, her legs swinging around Reed's neck and torso. In seconds, he'd gone from standing to on the ground, pinned under her in a way that looked incredibly unladylike and uncomfortable for Reed.

"What is going on here?" Patrick demanded in shock.

To Patrick's surprise, Phil stepped forward. "Unarmed techniques, Sir."

Marx had released Reed, and they both stood. Reed didn't look any worse for wear; just dusty, like he'd been eating dirt for hours. He saluted.

Patrick looked around at the others. They were all a little dusty, but Reed was certainly the worst. "Given what I just saw, was that entirely safe?"

Reed lifted his hand. "Sir, if I may answer?" His accent made Patrick's cheek twitch.

"Explain," Patrick said, trying to keep his voice firm.

Linking his hands behind him, Reed said, "Sir, I was the only one they were throwing around after Sir Xander and I showed how it's done. Since I know how to land without getting hurt, we thought that was the best way to let the others practice. Sir Phil knows first aid..." Reed said the words in Ingvanic, then twitched, "Sorry. I don't know that word in Durrish."

"Emergency medical," Phil supplied.

Patrick took a quick breath and let it out. Sir Phil and Sir Xander were reliable knights, and they had been tasked with training the squires today. No one looked hurt. Patrick couldn't bring himself to contradict them in the situation. He shoved his hair back from his forehead in distress. Reed remained standing in a disciplined pose, hands behind his back, feet slightly apart. Marx was rubbing the dust off her sleeve. Other squires were shuffling in uncertainty.

"I need a word with you, Squire Owen." Patrick turned, leading the way to the hill overlooking the patio and pond.

Once at the top of the hill, Patrick turned to Reed.

"I got your file from the Guild," Patrick said without preamble. "While I find it hard to believe the things written in it, I do know one thing for certain: you're a troublemaker. The Palace Guard is not the same as the Guild. You're not an individual with the freedom to do as you please. You're part of a unit. If one of us steps out of line and gains attention, we all get punished."

Patrick watched Reed's expression. The young man's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't like what he was hearing.

"Sir. May I ask some things?"

Nodding, Patrick folded his arms. Better to clear up any uncertainty now.

"By punish, you mean actual beatings," Reed said.

"Yes. It is the Knight-Commander's discretion to call people for Disciplinary Actions," Patrick explained.

Reed sucked his teeth, nodding slowly. "And how often does that happen?"

"At least once a week."

Reed slowly nodded again. "And it don't matter what you've done. They just pick someone to beat, I'm guessin?"

Patrick's brows knit.

The young man nodded a few more times, seeming to come to a decision. He smiled slightly. "Aite. That's it for now. Please go on?"

Feeling like he was being allowed to continue his lecture, Patrick scowled. This cheeky boy! "You're to memorize the knight's guidebook by the end of the week," he said. "You will not show up to duty drunk or hungover." He gripped his arms.

Reed cleared his throat. "Got another question, Sir."

Knowing he wasn't going to like it, Patrick said, "Not even a little drunk."

"I get that, Sir. I was more wondering why the schedule's so... all over the place? You got people goin from night shift to day within the week. That's gotta be rough. And everyone only workin six hours at a time."

Patrick scowled. His hand snapped out to slap the side of Reed's head.

The boy took the blow without flinching.

"That's not for you to question. When you're the captain, you can change it. But until then, you're to follow the schedule."

"Yes, Sir," Reed said. "Though, might I suggest not hittin' people when they make you mad. Makes you no better than the bastards that call us for weekly beatings."

Struck to the core by the observation, Patrick curled his fingers into a fist. He wanted to hit Reed again. But that would just prove him right.

Reed smiled a little. "Sir, I'm aware that my ideas and ways of doin things are a bit... disruptive." Again, he said the word in Ingvanic and looked chagrinned for doing so. "I want to be here. I'll learn the guidebook. I'll try not to cause trouble. But if things ain't organized, we're just leavin ourselfs open for people who want to harm us. Seems y'all been doin things the same way for a long time and gettin nowhere with it. Are we here as decorations? Or are we knights?"

Again, Reed's words hit a very sore spot in Patrick's heart. He gritted his teeth. He'd called Reed over to assert authority, not be humbled by him.

"Y'seem like you're tryin your best, Sir. Situation ain't great, but you're tryin, and for that, I respect you," Reed continued. "I also get why you called me over. I do like to make trouble from time to time, but that's after hours. You an' I can get along just fine, so long as you see that respect goes both ways. I got a lot of skills, and I ain't gonna keep them to myself. Far as I'm concerned, the more people on the same level as me, safer we all are."

Patrick pressed his hands to his face. This had not gone how he'd imagined. This was like talking to a grown man who knew his worth and what he could do. Not some cocky half-grown boy.

"So how you want to do this? You waste your time chasin me around, bein mad about everything I do? Or accept that I'm an asset to the Western Barracks and make use of me?"

Feeling itchy inside, Patrick dropped his hands to stare at Reed. The young man had his hands by his sides, relaxed and waiting. It was clear that Reed didn't have to be here. He would be immediately welcomed back to the Guild if he left the Royal Guard. Patrick wanted to ask Bass about what to do, but Bass had already said his piece. "You report to me first. On anything you want to do. Whatever that hand gesture was, don't do it to me again. Don't curse at me. I understand that the situation at the riverbank was upsetting, but you could have told me you could swim instead of lashing out."

Reed nodded seriously. "I'm sorry for that, Sir. I was out of line. Won't happen again... on purpose. Sometimes my hands just do that." He chuckled.

Patrick stared down at the young man, then snorted. "I'll find that old woman and sic her on you. You'll learn quickly."

Reed laughed. "Oof, you fight dirty!"

"Well, if that's what it takes to keep you in line," Patrick said, smirking slightly. "Now, show me what you've been teaching the squires." He gestured back toward the training ground.

"About that. I've been working with Marx and Avery after lights out on some techniques. They're fast, so it makes no sense havin them stand there and take hits from people bigger than them," Reed said, walking beside Patrick to speak. "Also, Avery's real damn good at explainin things once he gets them. You should use that."