- Local time
- Today 7:17 PM
- Messages
- 323
- Age
- 29
- Pronouns
- she/her
"Allison Faulkner?"
"Yes sir!"
"Take a seat." The woman before him went from a crisp, saluting stance to slumped in a chair almost instantly. Apparently even her "at ease" had benefitted from military training. "Looking to join the Royals eh?"
"Absolutely."
"Why's that?"
"Why not?" Her answer gave him pause. In over six years it was the first time he'd heard it. Then again, it was also his first time interviewing a woman.
"It's harder than the militias, and there's less freedom than the army proper." Looking over her recommendation letter, and the list of accomplishments, his challenge didn't sound so daunting. She'd apparently seen and done damn near everything. "We train daily, and don't leave the castle, let alone the city without explicit orders from the crown."
"That's what I want."
"Care to explain?"
"Ever since I first held a blade, I've been fascinated with them. At first I was just playing pretend. I was a brave knight fighting the dragons and demons in my imagination. Then, around the time I was twelve, we went to the capital for a festival. I saw all kinds of performers there and couldn't wait to get home so I could try to teach myself the incredible acts I'd witnessed. Learned pretty quick that juggling isn't my strong suit." Rolling her arm to the side, she showed a three inch long laceration scar down the forearm. The kind of wound that would hardly be fatal, but likely made a bitch of a mess and hurt like hell. "I loved the kinds of patterns I could draw in the air with subtle bends of my elbow and flicks of my wrist. There's nothing I've wanted to get better at than this. If the Royal Guard is where soldiers get the best gear and train the hardest, then one of them is what I want to be."
"I see." It was barely an acceptable response to the personal story she'd just told, but again, he found himself speechless. She'd managed to gingerly walk the line between the two extremes he dealt with most often. She was talking the Guard up, but also wasn't kissing its ass. She made it clear her love of weaponry and the art of using it, but didn't seem to give off any kind of bloodlust. "Something in here about a pretty serious injury."
"My neck." To demonstrate, she craned her neck from side to side and rolled her shoulders. Several pops and cracks sounded in response and even he found himself wincing a little. "Few years back when we finally took the fight to the Dissenters I caught a mace to the shoulder. Rattled me pretty good." He remembered those days. No nation in any age was free of unrest and unhappy citizens, thankfully the ones here had been scattered across several groups. A few self proclaimed bandits here and there, some farmers who always made a hassle of selling their crops, and of course the poachers who claimed owning land was criminal. Individually they were all annoying, but as long as they were individuals they weren't a threat. Then, some militia deserters joined their causes and quickly organized them. They made quick progress and others joined their ranks even faster. If the fighting had gone on any longer, it would likely have gone into history as a civil war.
"Didn't have a shield?"
"Lost it. Some big motherfucker slammed his shoulder into me and sent me flying. I dropped my shield but put my sword through his chest, so I called it a win. After I got up there were too many in front of me to turn around and look for it. Figured that if I could keep killing them before they did any damage to me, I didn't need one." Her candor was clear proof that she'd taken several lives, but that wasn't a surprise. No one climbed this high without notches in their belt.
"Still good to fight though?"
"Yes sir. I was put on bedrest and light duty for a month after the doctors looked me over."
"You didn't listen."
"Fuck no I didn't! We'd damn near won that thing. I was finishing the fight if it killed me."
"Think they could have managed without you?" He wasn't upset by her answer, a readiness to lay down one's life was a necessity when it came to protecting the royal family. However it had to be in the right way, and for the right reasons.
"Probably." He cocked an eyebrow at that. "Definitely."
"So why go re-injure yourself? For the glory?"
"For the women." Her fire from a moment ago was gone, a dead serious expression now painted across her face. "I was the only woman in my local militia, and the only one who joined the offensive. If I went down near the end and didn't see the pivotal battle to its conclusion, then the jeers would never stop. Any young woman after me who thought of taking up a blade and fighting for her town would be laughed back to her homestead for generations to come. That's why I nearly paralyzed myself, and why I'd have been fine to die on that hill."
There was a tense silence between them for a moment. He'd rarely been robbed of his words, and never more than once in the same sitting. He never broke composure, but after her last statement, he knew he was sitting across from the real deal. She'd been born a commoner, the daughter and only child to a poor farmer. Her lot in life should have been short and sad, yet she'd fought tooth and nail to climb any ladder she could find. If she couldn't then she built one, out of the bones of her enemies if need be. One last look at the parchment on his lap, and his eyes once more fell to the signature at the bottom. That name alone practically guaranteed her acceptance.
"You ever spar with Hendrik?" The old trainer would have crested fifty years by now and was likely still beating new recruits into the dirt.
"Several times."
"Ever win?"
"Few times."
"Even if I ask him?"
"Once."
"Hah!" A genuine laugh, if only the one. Another rarity in this room. "There's a young man with short blonde hair in the yard outside. Kick his ass and you've got the job." She shot to her feet and rolled one last crack out of her neck. "I'm going to put money on you so at least make a show of it."
"I don't play with my food." She closed the door swiftly behind her and there was a muffled call from outside. "Yo! Shortstack! Get over here so I can go find my bunk!"
"Ahhh." He finally let a smile form and leaned back with a long exhale. "These boys are in for a world of trouble."
"Yes sir!"
"Take a seat." The woman before him went from a crisp, saluting stance to slumped in a chair almost instantly. Apparently even her "at ease" had benefitted from military training. "Looking to join the Royals eh?"
"Absolutely."
"Why's that?"
"Why not?" Her answer gave him pause. In over six years it was the first time he'd heard it. Then again, it was also his first time interviewing a woman.
"It's harder than the militias, and there's less freedom than the army proper." Looking over her recommendation letter, and the list of accomplishments, his challenge didn't sound so daunting. She'd apparently seen and done damn near everything. "We train daily, and don't leave the castle, let alone the city without explicit orders from the crown."
"That's what I want."
"Care to explain?"
"Ever since I first held a blade, I've been fascinated with them. At first I was just playing pretend. I was a brave knight fighting the dragons and demons in my imagination. Then, around the time I was twelve, we went to the capital for a festival. I saw all kinds of performers there and couldn't wait to get home so I could try to teach myself the incredible acts I'd witnessed. Learned pretty quick that juggling isn't my strong suit." Rolling her arm to the side, she showed a three inch long laceration scar down the forearm. The kind of wound that would hardly be fatal, but likely made a bitch of a mess and hurt like hell. "I loved the kinds of patterns I could draw in the air with subtle bends of my elbow and flicks of my wrist. There's nothing I've wanted to get better at than this. If the Royal Guard is where soldiers get the best gear and train the hardest, then one of them is what I want to be."
"I see." It was barely an acceptable response to the personal story she'd just told, but again, he found himself speechless. She'd managed to gingerly walk the line between the two extremes he dealt with most often. She was talking the Guard up, but also wasn't kissing its ass. She made it clear her love of weaponry and the art of using it, but didn't seem to give off any kind of bloodlust. "Something in here about a pretty serious injury."
"My neck." To demonstrate, she craned her neck from side to side and rolled her shoulders. Several pops and cracks sounded in response and even he found himself wincing a little. "Few years back when we finally took the fight to the Dissenters I caught a mace to the shoulder. Rattled me pretty good." He remembered those days. No nation in any age was free of unrest and unhappy citizens, thankfully the ones here had been scattered across several groups. A few self proclaimed bandits here and there, some farmers who always made a hassle of selling their crops, and of course the poachers who claimed owning land was criminal. Individually they were all annoying, but as long as they were individuals they weren't a threat. Then, some militia deserters joined their causes and quickly organized them. They made quick progress and others joined their ranks even faster. If the fighting had gone on any longer, it would likely have gone into history as a civil war.
"Didn't have a shield?"
"Lost it. Some big motherfucker slammed his shoulder into me and sent me flying. I dropped my shield but put my sword through his chest, so I called it a win. After I got up there were too many in front of me to turn around and look for it. Figured that if I could keep killing them before they did any damage to me, I didn't need one." Her candor was clear proof that she'd taken several lives, but that wasn't a surprise. No one climbed this high without notches in their belt.
"Still good to fight though?"
"Yes sir. I was put on bedrest and light duty for a month after the doctors looked me over."
"You didn't listen."
"Fuck no I didn't! We'd damn near won that thing. I was finishing the fight if it killed me."
"Think they could have managed without you?" He wasn't upset by her answer, a readiness to lay down one's life was a necessity when it came to protecting the royal family. However it had to be in the right way, and for the right reasons.
"Probably." He cocked an eyebrow at that. "Definitely."
"So why go re-injure yourself? For the glory?"
"For the women." Her fire from a moment ago was gone, a dead serious expression now painted across her face. "I was the only woman in my local militia, and the only one who joined the offensive. If I went down near the end and didn't see the pivotal battle to its conclusion, then the jeers would never stop. Any young woman after me who thought of taking up a blade and fighting for her town would be laughed back to her homestead for generations to come. That's why I nearly paralyzed myself, and why I'd have been fine to die on that hill."
There was a tense silence between them for a moment. He'd rarely been robbed of his words, and never more than once in the same sitting. He never broke composure, but after her last statement, he knew he was sitting across from the real deal. She'd been born a commoner, the daughter and only child to a poor farmer. Her lot in life should have been short and sad, yet she'd fought tooth and nail to climb any ladder she could find. If she couldn't then she built one, out of the bones of her enemies if need be. One last look at the parchment on his lap, and his eyes once more fell to the signature at the bottom. That name alone practically guaranteed her acceptance.
"You ever spar with Hendrik?" The old trainer would have crested fifty years by now and was likely still beating new recruits into the dirt.
"Several times."
"Ever win?"
"Few times."
"Even if I ask him?"
"Once."
"Hah!" A genuine laugh, if only the one. Another rarity in this room. "There's a young man with short blonde hair in the yard outside. Kick his ass and you've got the job." She shot to her feet and rolled one last crack out of her neck. "I'm going to put money on you so at least make a show of it."
"I don't play with my food." She closed the door swiftly behind her and there was a muffled call from outside. "Yo! Shortstack! Get over here so I can go find my bunk!"
"Ahhh." He finally let a smile form and leaned back with a long exhale. "These boys are in for a world of trouble."
Last edited: