Information

Retail has a minion!

Henrietta the Country Chicken

Retail
Legacy Name: Retail

The Reborn Tigrean

Owner: Porygon

Age: 7 years, 9 months, 3 weeks

Born: July 6th, 2016

Adopted: 1 year, 1 month, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: March 3rd, 2023

Statistics

• Level: 90
   
• Strength: 101
   
• Defense: 12
   
• Speed: 12
   
• Health: 12
   
• HP: 12/12
   
• Intelligence: 30
   
• Books Read: 30
• Food Eaten: 4
• Job: Store Clerk

Every class in an army has their upsides and their drawbacks.

Fighters-- basic warriors, the jack of all trades, master of none. Amazons-- archers in training, awaiting their promotion as they learn the anatomy of their bow. Both the beginnings of a master.

Clerics, wizards, witches, dollmages-- all skilled with the manipulation of arcana. Their intellect and understanding of the tomes are superior to those of their basic counterparts and those not in the magician profession, but they still have a lot to learn to become masters. All young leaders who have enough experience to lead a group of others at their command but without the experience to do it well.

Knights, beast tamers, berserkers, ninjas, samurais, valkyries-- all skilled with a melee weapon. Some of them rise to be well versed in both arcana and physical prowess, while others rely on their agility or their uncanny ability to communicate and tame powerful creatures and beasts to have at their side. Like their upgraded magically inclined brethren, they, too, can lead, though whether or not they can do it well depends on the person.

Most of these classes are not considered masters until they reach their final promotion in their class. Clerics become shamans, then hold a complete mastery over healing magic as monks. Wizards grow more powerful with their spells as they evolve into mages, then sorcerers, and if they are lucky enough to ascend to true mastery, a lich. Witches to sorceresses; dollmages to enchanters; knights to paladins; beast tamers to beast masters, then dragon tamer, and if they are lucky, dragon master; berserkers to black knights; ninjas to ninja masters; samurais to samurai masters; valkyries to muses-- all masters of their class, the best of the best, and capable of leading their unit to victory.

But sometimes, a master is made from the start, their class merely a title, their ability a different beast entirely.

"Give it back," a young man demanded, staring across a ditch at a pair of gleaming eyes.

The glittering eyes in front of him said nothing.

A sword was waved in the beast's direction.

"I know you can understand me, you raccoon bastard, return my sandwich and nobody gets hurt!"

The raccoon continued to stare at the young man barking insults with the delicious foodstuff clutched tightly in its teeth. There was no way it was giving up that sandwich.

"If you don't give it back, I'll have no choice but to come over there and take it myself," the young man spat, now traversing the ditch.

When he arrived, he was greeted by not one pair of beady eyes, but an innumerable amount. A chill went up his spine as he attempted and failed to count how many raccoons had showed up. Still, he was notoriously stubborn, and gripped the bandaged handle of his sword tighter, a snarl now on his face.

"Let's go!"

Left to die in the ditch he fought so valiantly to protect, all for the last sandwich he could afford, Joseph lay unconscious. The raccoons had gotten the best of him purely through their number, and he had been overwhelmed. They stole his sandwich and his dignity.

At least he faded away before he knew that he was drawing his final breath.

That's the last thing he remembered thinking to himself, anyway.

His eyes opened to a well-lit room. A cold chill washed over him and he shuddered, then winced. Various stings plucked his nerves like a harpist but he forced himself to sit up to get a better judge of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was an elderly woman with long, platinum hair and the fine lines of wisdom etched on her face. She sat in a fancy dress, a staff longer than she was tall leaned against her body, her arm slung around it casually, her legs crossed with poise. She exuded authority; Joseph could tell just by looking at her that she was in charge of something.

"I'm glad to see you're awake and alert," she said, her voice aged but steady. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Joseph retorted. "Who had the pleasure of violating me when I was asleep?"

The woman glanced at his body, his chest and arms exposed to the air, bandages wrapped around his injuries. She cracked a smile.

"Trained medical professionals, I assure you," she said. "I oversaw your care myself."

Joseph narrowed his eyes at her.

"And I suppose you expect me to be grateful for that."

"I don't really expect anything from you," she said, her hand around her staff now facing up as she shrugged. "Though, your name would be nice."

He considered getting up and leaving, but the cot he was on was too comfortable for him to be defiant. With a resigned sigh, he laid back down, his eyes now rested on the ceiling.

"...Joseph. Now, what's yours?"

"My name is Mary," she said as she leaned forward to stand. She walked over to the injured man. "Nice to meet you, Joseph."

Joseph looked up at her as she stood over him. Her face was kinder than her voice had been, and he felt an air of comfort.

Mary sat down next to him, her staff now propped against her shoulder, her arms laced around it.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"I think..." he trailed off, fully remembering the events of his passing out, but not wanting to admit to Mary that it was the doing of raccoons.

Before he could continue, another soldier burst through the door of the room.

"The Empire! They're here!"

Mary stood up, her staff now clutched in her hand. The previous air of warmth she carried now turned into one of ice.

"What do you mean? Our position was hidden!"

"Not anymore, Ms. Mary," the young man said, his voice laden with concern. "We've got to retreat!"

Joseph groaned as he sat up, but managed to do so without any major pain.

"So, you're a Rebel," he hissed. "I wish you would've told me you dragged me into war torn territory earlier."

"There's no time to bicker," Mary said. "Lay back down. I'll have an evacuation unit take you to safety at once."

Joseph ignored her command.

"Sounds like you're in short supply of battle-able soldiers. Let me help."

"You're not able to--!"

Outside the room came a scream, then the clatter of a sword. It shot partially through the door, its blade clean, blood on its handle.

Mary wasted no time. She rushed toward blade and swiped it off the cobblestones before whatever had relieved its soldier of duty could get it, then used her weight to shut the thick wooden door behind her.

"We're trapped in here," she said, her eyes betraying her calm demeanor. "There's only one way out and it's through this door."

Joseph, now wearing a shirt and a sheet of chainmail he scrounged together, walked over to Mary and took the sword. He hefted it a few times in his hand.

"I'm no trained soldier, but I know my way around a blade."

Mary looked at him with darkness settled in her expression.

"There's no way to know how many numbers they have," she said. "We may be walking into our deaths."

Joseph shrugged.

"View it as payment for saving my ass."

Commotion was getting heavier. Something smacked the door and thumped Mary off of it.

"My son is out there somewhere, too," she murmured. "We have to try and regroup with him."

Rolling his shoulders, Joseph stepped in front of the door.

"You look like a magic user, which means you're probably used to being behind others for protection, right? I've not got much armor, but I'm willing to bet I'm not as squishy as you are. I'll protect you from the front as best as I can while you whale on 'em."

Mary nodded.

"My apologies for springing this on you when you're already injured, Joseph. If we make it out alive, you will be greatly rewarded for your heroism."

"Tch," he said, now waiting behind the door for its abuser to rush in. "I'll hold you to that."

Ever since I had first picked up a sword, I had been good at using it.

I'm not sure why. Where I had failed at other things, I excelled with the blade. My dad urged me to join the military when the conflict in Zenobia began because of my skill. But, at the time, I was comfortable being a farm hand at home. I made decent money, enough for myself, and that was fine with me. I didn't want responsibility that would surely come with an army job. I may have been good with a sword, and maybe I did enjoy the weight in my hand, the strength I felt when I was able to defend myself or others.

But, war?

Knights were the main class worth a damn that used swords. I didn't really want to use another weapon. Even without the looming death above my head-- not that I truly considered the risk to my life as much as I probably should have-- I wouldn't want to use another weapon. Plus, I knew I didn't have what it took to become a knight. Why try if I would only fail?

And so, I kept to myself, the farm, and stayed out of trouble.

Except now.

As I stare into the eyes of men trying to kill me despite my lack of loyalty, swinging my sword to defend Mary, a woman who I've barely known for maybe ten minutes, I feel something. Fire is stirred within me; primal; instinctual. Like I've found my purpose in life and everything has clicked. Is this keep, somewhere I don't know, with people I don't agree with, fighting to protect the woman who saved my life from a stupid injury-- is this where I belong?

My sword clashes with a full-fledged knight's. He's wearing a helmet so I can't see his face, but when I parry his attack, I know he's pissed.

He goes to stab me but I parry him again. He flinches.

"What the hell are you made of?!" he demands.

The question makes me laugh. I offer him my best shit-eating grin.

"Better material than you." I slice toward him several times in quick succession. He can't keep up with my movements and eventually falls down. I point the blade at his neck which is only barely exposed, but exposed all the same. "How does it feel to lose against some farm hand, Mr. Knight?"

He says nothing. Irritated, I go to jeer him again--

"Agh, FUCK!"

"Joseph!"

A searing pain hits my arm, my right arm nonetheless, and I'm only barely able to keep hold of my weapon. Blood soon follows the pain. I take a hesitant look. My whole arm is dripping crimson.

I barely hear Mary's shrill scream. Instead, my vision has turned red, my heart pounding against my chest, my senses all focused on one bastard out of them all. A man with a spear stands a short distance away from me, still staring at me waiting for my next move.

My surroundings melt as I feel it take over, and he is the only goddamn thing in my sights.

Birds chirped in the trees, clouds crawled overhead, and Joseph's head throbbed with each labored breath he took. He groaned and sat up once more. Deja vu hit him hard.

"Oh, thank goodness. You're awake."

Mary's voice entered his ears but sounded like a carriage crash despite its mellow volume.

"My head is killing me," he muttered.

"Be careful," Mary said, holding a pasty mixture of leaves and blood. "I just got done dressing your arm wound. You took a nasty hit."

Joseph turned to look at her as he squeezed his arm and flexed his fingers.

"...Huh?"

Mary cocked an eyebrow as she washed her hands off in a nearby stream.

"You remember, don't you? You got slashed on your right arm. After that, well-- I can't exactly explain what you did. But you killed the guy who did it and then went clear off your rocker! You must've killed fifty or so men!"

Her words sounded vaguely familiar, but in truth he couldn't discern them from fact or fiction. He remembered wondering why he felt so comfortable wielding his blade, fighting for Mary, and then he remembered knocking down the knight and taunting him, and then...

"There was... there was a guy with a spear," he said, words unsteady, feeling out the fuzzy memories like trying to feel out an unsafe floor. "He was the one who slashed me, and then, I-- I don't remember much else. I know I was pissed."

His companion stared at him, shocked that he didn't remember what he had done when she could recall it clearly.

Joseph had painted the halls of the fortification red, his sword lunged into every neck he could see. Nobody escaped the onslaught-- men and women both died at his hand. Such was simply the reality of war, but Mary saw something else in Joseph. A rage that had been unleashed and allowed to wreak havoc on everybody he could get his hands on. And when he had gotten his fair share of blood, he wobbled out of the keep on unstable legs, his sword dragged behind him, then collapsed on the grass.

Mary had never before seen such a vitriol display of aggression. But it also saved their lives, so she cared little.

"The heat of battle gets to us all," she said, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Joseph nodded but remained silent as he watched the nearby stream flow, his thoughts in disarray.

His unsuccessful attempt at remembering exactly what had happened was interrupted by another voice, one similar to Mary's but deeper and with a more noticeable southern twang.

"C'mon, Ma! Carriage is leavin' to return to Sharom!"

A beast of a man with a beard, a scar on his right side by his eye and a giant club on his back waved to Mary, who stood up in response. She held out a hand for Joseph.

"James has given us a way out of this hell. Let's get you to safety."

Bumpy and overall unpleasant, the carriage ride went about as well as Joseph could've hoped. Maybe it was because his world had been thoroughly shaken, or maybe it was because the adrenaline of battle had finally worn off, but his stomach had knotted up and unease ran through his veins. He wanted nothing more than the comfort of his bed, the ordinary monotony of the farm boring him half to death but secure all the same. In a land where war had torn any threads of safety asunder, he had been relatively unharmed, and he now found himself right in the thick of it, tired and regretful.

When he wasn't drowning in the pool of thoughts his mind had become, he made small talk with Mary and had even been introduced to her son, James. He was a berserker in the army and apparently typically protected his mom in battle. The farm hand learned briefly about Redgia, Mary's late husband, who had recently been struck down on the field trying to assure his wife and son's safety. Apparently, they all used to be in a unit together, and they were working at a family owned store when it was ambushed and Redgia insisted his family flee while he held off the Empire.

By the time Mary and James had returned with reinforcements, the store had been ransacked for anything useful and Redgia's corpse was tied up on one of the racks behind the registers.

According to Mary, that jumpstarted their fight against the Empire, the flame in their souls not sparked by patriotism but by revenge for their loved one who was humiliated for his service. Now, their unit broken and their family livelihood battered, they were seeking replacements to fill in the gaps so they may once more thrust themselves into the fray.

Joseph felt bad for them. Mary had become choked up when she brought up her husband, and James merely looked away in an attempt to discretely wipe away his tears. Perhaps, if he did join the army, joining Mary would be the best move, he thought. She seemed like a good leader and seemed like someone he could trust and respect. James he didn't know much about yet, not having interacted with him all that much, but did appreciate the jokes he made every now and again during the ride. It eased the tension and made things a little more comfortable.

"We're here," Mary said, breaking the silence. "Let's get out and situated."

With assistance from James, Joseph leapt out of the carriage. It was pouring down rain but even through the thick sheets he could see a large, grey, stone castle-like building with a draw bridge in front of it and massive security all around the outside. Most everyone looked like they had some sort of blue fabric on them somewhere. Must've been a marking of a Rebel, he figured.

"Do you have call stones here?" Joseph asked as they walked toward the bridge.

"We do," Mary nodded. "If you need one, I can get one to you."

"Yeah, I would appreciate it," he replied, his mind back to his parents. "I need to let my parents know I'm okay."

He fought to remember if his father had ever gotten the call stone in. His dad had talked about it being good for the farm if they were able to call their customers and let them know of specials going on or when certain crops would be ready for delivery, but in all the excitement he had forgotten if that happened or if it was just his dad blowing hot air.

Either way, when he was escorted to a room in the back and handed a stone, he didn't hesitate. He input the correct combination and waited.

"...Hello?"

His dad's voice made tears well up in his eyes and he didn't know why.

"Dad? Dad, it's--"

"Joseph! Oh, Joseph, Mom and I were worried sick!" his dad's thick country accent slid through even further with his upset, his voice cracking and shifting as soon as he recognized his son. "Where did you go? What happened?!"

Once again, he found himself not wanting to fully divulge the information of his unfortunate raccoon attack.

"I got attacked by wild animals," he replied. "They numbered at least a hundred-- I couldn't do anything at that point."

"Not my Joey," his mom's sudden voice entered the call, sobs evident in her voice. "What hurt you? I'll skin them alive!"

"It's not that serious, mom," Joseph replied, desperately trying both not to cry and not to fall back to his parents' embarrassing accent. "I'm okay. Some Rebels found me and patched me up."

"Rebels?" It was his dad's turn with the stone again. "You didn't get involved with their fighting, did you?"

Not what he wanted to hear. Especially when he was about to tell them that he seriously considered joining their ranks. Joseph cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head.

"Well... the place they brought me to got ambushed by the Empire and the woman who saved me desperately needed another sword-- I wasn't just going to let her die."

His parents were silent. Joseph's heart slapping against his chest was the only sound he could hear. He took a deep breath and continued.

"I think... I think I'm going to join the army," he said, voice shaky. "Dad, even you've always said I was good with a sword. I was able to help save lives today, and, well--"

"Son," his father interrupted, the emotion in his tone heavy and foreign. "Are you sure this is something you want to do?"

Not even Joseph knew the answer to that question. Yes, but maybe no? What if he didn't like it like he thought he would? What if he was never used in combat and got stuck with a boring logistics job? What if he tried to become a knight and failed? What if he didn't like his superior, what if, what if--

"Yes," he blurted. "I've given it a lot of thought."

He lied, but if he didn't force himself to say something, he would be stuck forever in limbo.

"If you've given it a lot of careful thought, Joey, then your father and I support you entirely," his mother said, her smile evident in her voice. "You had always talked about being a brave knight when you were a boy. I think it's time for you to live up to it!"

"Your mom is right," his dad replied. "Your mother and I will be sad not to have you around the house and the farm, but it's time for you to take your own path. We know you have the capability and talent it takes to become a knight."

Joseph found himself choked up. He didn't remember much about wanting to be a knight as a kid, but he did recall some memories. Getting fake swords and swinging them around, tying sacks and blankets to his neck as a cape-- as he grew into an adult, he didn't think it possible with the burden of his dad's temper embedded within him, but with his parents both encouraging him the most they had ever done, he felt like he had to try.

"Th-thanks," he managed, wiping a tear from his cheek. "I'm going to try my best to get into the army. And I'll try to call often."

"Mom would string you up if you didn't!" his dad laughed.

His mom laughed too, and Joseph fell suit. Once their laughter died down, Joseph sighed.

"I should go. I love you guys."

"My little Joey, growing up to be a big, strong knight!" his mother exclaimed, then started bawling again.

"We love you too, son," came the steady voice of his dad. "Do us proud."

Joseph watched the stone stop glowing, its communication ended, and his simple life along with it.

It was time to see about being knighted.

Mary returned to the room Joseph sat in to find him staring down at the rock, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks. Her motherly instincts took over instantly.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, voice soft. "Are your parents alright?"

The man was too wrapped up in his own thoughts and feelings, not noticing Mary until she spoke. He flinched and hastily wiped his tears away while praying she didn't notice his now reddened ears.

"Y-yeah," he replied shakily, "they're okay. Thank you for the stone."

He held it out and she grabbed it, then sat down next to him on the cot.

"Something else seems amiss," she nudged. "If you wish to indulge..."

He didn't particularly want to, but he also had a question for Mary; her answer would shape his future.

"I want to become a knight," he started, crossing his arms, his gaze set on the stone floor. "In the army-- in your unit, specifically. But I don't know if I have what it takes."

Mary smiled.

"What does a knight have that you lack, Joseph?"

"Shit, a ton of things," he said, turning to her and putting his hands on either side of him. "Chivalry, patience, good sportsmanship, and I've never seen a knight with a hot head."

This made Mary laugh. She laughed in such a genuine way that Joseph chuckled awkwardly along, feeling embarrassed and out of place. Were his questions that dumb?

"Oh, sorry," she wheezed, wiping away a spare tear. "My dear, you've described Redgia to a T. He was hot-headed, hard-headed, only had enough chivalry for his fellow army men-- he even got kicked out of cadet school when he was training to become a knight! Ho ho… knights come in all shapes, sizes, flavors, tempers. While knights are seen as a symbol of purity and righteousness in the world, you yourself killed a few today. There are undoubtedly evil knights. As long as you try your best and fight for what you believe to be right, you'll be a fine young knight."

Her words, combined with the encouragement of his parents, made him feel like he could take on the world. He cracked a small smile to Mary which soon faltered.

"I mean, that's great and all, but... will you have me for your unit? I realize how it sounds. I wouldn't want to take Sir Redgia's place."

At this, the princess cracked another laugh.

"You'll be doing him no favors by addressing him as 'Sir'. He didn't take well to honorifics." She turned serious after her chuckle and turned to Joseph. "I mean no harm by my words, but nobody could take Redgia's place within me and my son's hearts."

"Of course," Joseph quickly bowed, fearing he had offended her. "I meant no disrespect."

"Come now, don't be so worried," she said, a warm but tired smile on her face. "I said you'd never take his place, not that we wouldn't welcome you in our unit with open arms. A young knight like you is the exact ward I think Redgia would've wanted to take his place."

Ease settled into the young man's nerves and he sighed, relieved he hadn't offended her. He watched as she stood up, briefly stretched, then turned to him.

"Up with you," she motioned. "If you're to become a knight, you're going to need to see the best knight the army has to offer. He and I are good friends, so he's sure to speed up your knighting. We need to get you registered right away so you can be deployed with us."

Eager to get started, Joseph jumped up with a vigorous 'Yes ma'am!' and followed her heels out of the room.

Winding halls with similar decorations, a few soldiers who called out to Mary distracting their travels and the overall scale of the fortress they were in worked to keep Joseph completely ignorant about which way was what. Only when they stopped in front of a wooden door with a barred window in the top did he feel like there was a landmark he could recognize. A large shield sat in front of the door, rust decorating its face and corners. A piece of muddied and torn blue fabric was wrapped around it. Perhaps fabric and armor from a fallen comrade, Joseph thought.

Mary knocked on the door.

"Lans? Are you busy?"

A peppy response came from the inside and the door swung open to reveal a young, yet mature looking knight. He wore black armor with a red cape, one of the few people Joseph had seen without some motif of blue fabric on their person. The slight creases on his face from his grin betrayed his youthful glow.

"Mary," he greeted, bowing at her presence. "I was terribly concerned for you at Thornhold. I'm glad you and James have returned to us relatively unharmed."

"You can thank this young man right here for that," she said, and shoved Joseph forward.

In front of Lans, who looked like the epitome of a holy knight, the young fledgling soldier found himself frozen. The knight in front of him looked as regal as he did imposing. It didn't help that he crossed his arms and studied him up and down after Mary's words. Yet, Lans merely put his hand out toward him with a smile. Joseph quickly took his hand and did his best to give him an honorable shake.

"You have my gratitude," he started. "After Mary's husband was killed, I swore to him that I would keep Mary safe. It seems I was not able to keep my promise, but you came in my absence and kept it for me. My name is Sir Lanselot Hamilton, but most people just call me Lans. To whom do I have the pleasure of greeting?"

"Joseph," he replied, barely keeping it together. "Joseph Bucy, sir."

"Joseph! Well met, Joseph," Lans exclaimed with another firm shake. "And what brings you here with Mary?"

"He is interested in becoming a knight," Mary explained. "He is specifically interested in joining my unit, so I will need him to be approved and knighted fast. I was hoping you could aid me with such a task."

"Well, all those wanting to become a knight have to attend the usual classes and undergo the proper training, Mary," Lans said, his face full of sympathy but his words firm. "I cannot allow a greenhorn like him take to the field without training!"

Mary crossed her arms.

"Not even if I told you he fought fifty men by himself and won without so much as a scratch?"

This made Lans jolt forward.

"Really?!" He turned to Joseph who gave him a sheepish nod. "My! Well then, boy, waste no more time with talk! We meet outside for a spar!"

"What?!" Joseph blurted out, his blood cold. "You're not serious, Lans!"

"That I am," the knight grinned, retreating into his office and returning with a blade that he quickly shoved into Joseph's hands. "Fifty men by yourself, lad? I have to see it! We shall battle in the courtyard!"

Joseph gulped as he watched Lans race down the hall.

"Don't worry," Mary said as they followed the other knight. "You'll do fine."

"Fine?!" Joseph retorted, his heart racing. "Lans is a seasoned knight--one of the best, you said--I'm gonna get my ass handed to me!"

"Relax and do your best. The only way he's going to definitively beat you is if you let your nerves get in the way."

Though Joseph had no idea if she was right or not, there was no time to think on it any longer. It was time to show Lans what he was made of-- for better or for worse.

Rain still pouring on the battlefield, Joseph now stood in front of Lans who looked giddy.

"We fight until I deem the battle over," Lans said. "You may strike my armor. Even if I get a flesh wound, I will be fine, but I will try not to inflict any injuries on you."

"You can if you'd like," Joseph said, then gave Lans a grin full of fake confidence. "You won't get the chance."

Lans laughed at his remark and withdrew his sword.

"That's what I like to hear, boy! On with it then-- we fight!"

Joseph thought Lans would wait for him to make the first move, but when he saw his blade coming for him, he knew he misjudged the senior knight. His eyes widened and he yelped as he narrowly avoided being sliced.

"Good footwork!" Lans exclaimed. "With armor on, you won't have to be so nimble, but training with it on never hurt!"

Joseph didn't respond, studying Lans to try and get an attacking angle. But Lans wasted no time, quickly on him again, bringing his blade down. Joseph parried his attack, then became trapped in a match of raw strength. With his armor, Lans weighed more when he put his weight into his blade. But Joseph was no weakling. He held his own much to the knight's surprise and delight.

"You're stronger than you look," he said. "Excellent!"

Joseph grunted and shoved Lans back, sending him stumbling. There was no time to waste. Within seconds, Joseph was in front of Lans, his blade poised to strike. But as Lans readied to parry, Joseph moved to the side and used the weight on the sword's handle to smack Lans's head, then quickly moved into a slashing motion. Though his sword smacked both helmet and armor, had Lans not been wearing them, they would've been direct hits.

"Good, good!"

Lans whipped around and tried to bring his blade down upon Joseph, but the young man stopped the blade with his hilt. He then pulled his blade back to free Lans's, then attempted a slash on the knight. His move was parried, but the brazen slash wasn't his intention. Wielding his blade with one hand, he went into a frenzy of slashes.

"Have you ever seen this kind of swordplay before?!" Joseph demanded, the adrenaline in his veins bringing out his aggressiveness.

Their steel clashed together as Lans blocked to the best of his ability. But despite his experience, he had never seen a fighter like this before. With strength and the strategy to execute moves he hadn't prepared for, Joseph had proven to be a worthy foe even with his general inexperience in comparison to the senior knight.

"You handle well," Lans grimaced, his arms burning from the swift movements with his blade. "But don't forget-- where you have talent you lack experience!"

"Is that a challenge?" Joseph growled. "You really wanna taunt the guy who killed fifty by himself?"

Lans grinned. That moxie that the young carried, the fire they had rushing through their veins-- it had taken awhile to reveal it in Joseph, but he had finally been successful. That was the mark to see if one was truly worthy or not. To see if they could handle their own worst enemy: pride.

"You did not take out fifty solely because of your prowess with the blade," Lans continued. "You do have talent, but your movements are that of an inexperienced kit. There is something else you conceal that aids you in combat."

His taunts made Joseph's blood start to boil. He tried to contain his anger, but its presence made his movements sloppy. Lans nearly pierced his skin with his blade a few times too many and Joseph knew it was because trying to contain his rage was making him sloppy.

"What's the matter?" the knight asked, his previously encouraging voice now turned malicious. "Tired from fighting a real knight? There is worse than me on the battlefield, boy! You best pray we do not meet as enemies!"

Mary swore she saw something physical shift on Joseph. The look in his eyes turned just like it had when he was fighting at the keep. His aura was completely different as he stalked Lans, his breathing heavy, his sword in one hand and his other balled into a tight fist.

"You don't want this," Joseph said, his voice barely steady. "I can fucking promise you do not want this."

"Show me what lies within you, boy," Lans replied with a low tone. "Or are you too much of a coward?"

As if the word 'coward' was a trigger, Joseph lunged at Lans, his sense of restraint completely void. Lans parried his attack but only barely.

"There it is," Lans yelled. "There's the power that you hold! Let it flow into your blade! Do not contain it!"

His words were lost on Joseph, whose only goal was to continue tearing into Lans until he stopped moving-- or until he himself stopped breathing.

Sword clashed against sword, and by now the commotion had caused a crowd to gather. Mary stood in front watching the fray, fearing both Lans and Joseph's safety at this point, unsure who would emerge from the fight. From beside her, there was a loud smacking of lips, then an amused voice.

"Woah, Ma, who's fighting Lans?" James asked in between bites of a massive griffon leg.

"Joseph," she breathed, her chest tight. "They're really going at it."

"No kiddin'," James replied. "Joe looks like he's goin' insane!"

"That's the same look I saw him have at the keep," a new voice chimed in.

Mary turned around to see a youthful man with wings and red hair. He crossed his arms and grinned.

"That kid's got something special that Lans is going to hurt himself trying to see," Canopus remarked. "That's just like the bastard, too."

"I'll stop the fight myself before either of them get injured," Mary stated.

Back on the field, Joseph made another lunge for Lans, their swords once more locked in a match of strength. Lans said nothing and after a few precious seconds of being kept back by his adversary, withdrew his blade. Joseph yelped at the lack of resistance and fell slightly forward. But that was all Lans needed. He came up behind him, grabbed him by his hair and yanked him back up, his blade dangerously close to his neck. Joseph squirmed around until he felt the cold steel against his skin, then stopped, his senses seemingly knocked back into him.

"Do not forget, you don't have to win the battle of strength in such instances," Lans said. "It is sometimes beneficial to you to give them the false sense of winning."

Joseph felt exhausted. He probably shouldn't have exerted himself so soon against such a powerful foe-- not like he had any choice in the matter. He felt Lans release him and he fell forward to his knees.

"What've you done?!" Mary exclaimed as she ran up to the knight and knelt down to tend to Joseph.

Canopus and James followed right behind her, the former trying to stop her with no success.

"Aw, c'mon Mary, you know Lans didn't do nothin' to 'em!" the winged man insisted.

"I'm-- I'm okay, Mary," Joseph managed. "I told you I'd get my ass beat."

"Beat?" came Lans's voice from behind. "No, Joseph. If we were fighting for blood, you likely would've bested me."

Joseph glanced up toward Lans as if he was purple.

"Are you crazy? You would've sliced my neck right off."

"And you would've injured me quite substantially before that," Lans retorted. He held out a hand to Joseph, who accepted. "Your skill is apparent, and the anger you conceal makes you even more formidible by being utterly unpredictable. You're going to make a wonderful knight so long as you're able to keep that anger under control until necessary."

"Sometimes, that's the hard part," Joseph sighed. "I think berserker might be a better choice for me."

"You'd be wasting your talent as a berserker!" Lans exclaimed. "Your talents with a sword are impeccable for someone your age. Becoming a knight is the best route for you, lad. And with a little paperwork finesse, I can make that happen by tomorrow."

"Wait-- really? So soon?" Joseph asked, disbelief rife in his voice.

Lans nodded.

"Yep. Of course, you'll still have to attend cadet school--" his sentence was met with a groan from Joseph-- "but that's a piece of cake. You're practically a knight, Sir Joseph."

Hearing 'Sir Joseph' sent a wave of pride down Joseph's body. He couldn't help but to smile.

"Well, he ain't becomin' a knight out in this weather!" Canopus said with a laugh. "Let's get everybody out of this rain before we all catch cold."

With Mary to guide him, Joseph and the others started their trek back to the fortress, where he would find a warm feast and a dry cot awaiting him so that he may find the energy for whatever the next sunrise held.

It had been almost a year since Joseph had joined the army.

He found little success in cadet school, only able to tolerate the instructor for an hour before he became irate and left the class. His instructor left him with a taunt that he would never be able to become a knight, and Joseph challenged him to a duel, the terms of his victory being his knighting without graduating cadet school. It was an embarrassing loss for the instructor, a talented paladin, but a huge win for Joseph, who saw himself knighted by the one of the leaders of the Rebel forces.

Along with Mary and James, both of whom he quickly grew to like, they had an angel named Maria and a fairy named Kitty join their humble unit. He found fast friendship with Maria and a somewhat rocky one with Kitty, but overall enjoyed his group.

Though on the battlefield was where he thrived, he found himself equally inhabiting the family store Mary had talked about so fondly before, a place where he would rather be doing anything else than be there. 'Advance Armor Parts' was what the store was called, and upon arriving there for the first time, he recognized the branding. Turns out that when they weren't deployed out on the field or doing missions, they were usually stationed here where they made extra war funds on the side by selling armor and weapons to customers both independent of the conflict and those within its dark clutches.

Joseph himself had gotten the honor of taking Redgia's role within the store's hierarchy, much to his disdain. He couldn't exactly say no when Mary told him she thought he would be the perfect replacement for Redgia's title. Second in command at the store, he was the 'FLP' or Frontline Pro, where he dealt with major arm's dealers within the Rebel ranks and sent them parts when needed. It wasn't a thrilling job by any means, but with Mary and her company, he found it mostly bearable.

By far the best thing that came out of his army experience was Maria. At first she seemed too naïve, too cheery and a little air headed, even running in late on her first day because she had gone to the wrong store, a competitor called ArmorZone. She had even praised him for being a knight without so much as knowing him as a person, which Joseph detested, and they didn't get along too well at first. But Mary had sent them out together on their first mission and when Maria had been ambushed by angel poachers, Joseph sprang into action to help defend her from further harm.

Their friendship started after that day, Maria cheerfully greeting him when he arrived to the store and him retorting with some sarcastic remark about how the store didn't warrant her unbridled excitement. This went on for weeks. Unbeknownst to one another, feelings of romance sparked along the way but both of them kept playing the game of best friends, too afraid to admit their feelings to the other. It wasn't until Joseph had once again stood up for Maria's honor that she decided to take the plunge, her admission of feelings a chaste kiss on his cheek in the back room of the store.

Well established as a knight in the army, now paired with his beloved Girly, Joseph continues to fight for his land and for his comrades-- and his patience when it comes to dealing with the trying customers at Advance.

Pet Treasure

Ye Olde Medieval Book

Angry Knightly Faire Red Rreign Plushie

Pet Friends

Sagacious
“Mary, I don’t want to pull an extra shift at the store. I’d much rather do literally anything else.”

Ethereal
“This is MY Girly. She’s the bestest ever and I love her SO MUCH. If anybody ever threatens her in any way, they’ll have to deal with ME. And I promise, that won’t end well.”