The Regiment Of The Woods

The Commander led Severus through a maze of alleys and side streets, as if throwing off some unseen stalker. Or to confuse Severus as to where they were going. /f it was the second, the Olander was sorely mistaken. Severus may not know what street they were on, but any Third or Fourth District resident worth their sweat knew what First District finery looked like. The plain buildings blended to white-washed walls with elaborate designs carved into them. The twinkle of gold and silver flitted about the tops of columns to accentuate the wealth of some of the tenants. Even though they moved fast and between the main streets, Severus still caught a glimpse of more than a few family crests. Several he recognized as lesser nobility. A couple were higher nobles. He swallowed hard. He felt unclean or out-of-place. Alien.

"In here," the Commander ordered. Severus had never been so happy to obey, and he ducked through the gate the Olander held open to slip into a spacious courtyard. He blinked. Now he definitely knew he was in the First District. The courtyard alone almost smelled of money. It had a marble patio that lined the walk to the house, each square gleaming a polished white. On the near side by Severus, there was a garden flowing with greenery. A clear stream bubbled by a path outlined by flowery shrubs, rustling trees, and hanging vines. On the other side, a pool of blue water splashed cheerily. Everything looked well-maintained and, to be frank, expensive. Then he looked at the house.

It was tall. Standing at nearly five stories in height, it was more of a mansion than just a house. Rows of windows glinted at him beset by painted gray stone. The roof peaked in a strange fashion, one Severus hadn't seen in Olander City. He guessed it was some foreign design the Commander's family had seen and rebuilt for their own home. There was a large, communal balcony off the second floor and smaller, private ones off the third and fourth floors. Flags fluttered off the balconies, with fields of purple, blue, and green. There was a clang as the iron gate shut behind him, making him jump. The Commander sighed deeply, clapping Severus's shoulder.

"Welcome to my home!" he said cheerily. He kept pressure on Severus's shoulder, basically pushing him forward at a stumble. As they came up the stairs and onto the porch, the front doors slid open without so much asa creak. Two servants--a male and female Olander--bowed in greeting.

"Welcome home, Master," they said. The Commander handed the male his cloak as he returned the greeting. Severus glanced at the female. He thought for a moment that she was very cute and swallowed hard. She saw that he was staring at her, and a gleam of disgust and contempt shot through her professional facade. His stomach dropped, and he felt his ears wilt. Of course you have no chance, he scolded himself. Besides that's not even why you're here! Focus, moron!

"Severus!" His name woke him from his thoughts. The Commander beckoned him through another door, and Severus trotted over obediently. Even his brief glance around, though, as he walked to catch up to the Commander made his eyes nearly pop from his head. The ceiling was vaulted and spacious, everything a crisp or creamy white. Golden trimmings chased everything: the columns, the trim, the decor, everything! it was all so lofty and noble it made Severus feel even more insignificant and bumbling. He would have bet his next paycheck even the lowest servant in this house made more than he did in a week. He shook himself free of his stupor and entered the room the Commander was in. It was an office, and here Severus felt more at peace. Though the paneling was maple instead of plain cedar and the huge desk in the center of the room was rare mahogany instead of oak, it was still just an office covered with all sorts of papers, parchments, maps, and pens. The Commander didn't sit behind the desk; instead, he took the two guest seats and turned them to face one another.

"Sit!" he said invitingly. Severus stared at the seat. The cushion was probably satin or silk or some other super expensive fabric. He glanced warily at the Commander, who had already plopped down and was looking at him expectantly. Gingerly, he sat. It was cotton. He relaxed, unconsciously letting out the breath he had been holding.

"Can | get you something?" the Commander asked. He snapped his fingers, and the female Olander appeared as quickly as if she had teleported.

"Water? Juice? Some rotgut, perhaps?"

"Water,' Severus said quickly, slightly unnerved to hear his childhood slang talk for alcohol coming from an Olander Commander. The servant nodded to him before turning to the Commander.

"Chilled apple juice," he ordered. She bowed to him and swept out of the room. The Commander sighed and leaned back, relaxing completely in his chair.

"This is my grandfather's office," he explained suddenly. When Severus cocked his head in confusion, he went on, "It's why I don't use the desk. He has a bunch of letters and documents that aren't for me to read, particularly since he's also in the Imperial Army."

"Higher ranking than you?" Severus asked softly.

"Much," the Commander said briefly as the servant returned with a tray. He took a glass with golden liquid and took a long draught of it. Severus took the other glass with clear water and sipped it.

"What exactly do you want from me?" he asked abruptly. He realized that was a little too blunt and opened his mouth to apologize when the commander cut him off.

"To business then! | like it," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"First, introductions: | am John, Commander of the imperial Olander Army. And | would like for you to join the unit | command." Severus nearly spit out his water.

"Excuse me, what?!" he spluttered, coughing up water. He wiped his mouth on his tunic before it could dribble down his chin.

"What kind of unit do you command? Centum? Electi?" John shrugged.

"| guess you could consider it Electi,' the Olander said in an amused tone, "but it's something bigger than that." Severus cocked his head again. John took another drink of his juice before explaining.

"I am putting together a special unit of extremely talented individuals. Our unit will be all highly elite, specially trained shock troops. I'm working with my grandfather to grant each of them the rank of Lieutenant Commander or something similar, which will allow them to take charge of any Centum or platoon of regular troops in the field. Each member will be taught strategy, leadership, and fighting. A unit were each member is essentially a one-man army and commanding officer wrapped into one! And | want you as a part of it.

Severus stared at John as the Olander leaned back, grinning. He was being completely genuine about the offer: his eyes were alight with promise and hope, and he spoke eagerly like a little kid enthralled by their new favorite hero. But it also made Severus ask hard questions. He hesitated.

"Well?" John asked.

"What do you say?" Severus sighed as he stared at John. The Olander's grin faded. "You have questions?"

"| have questions," Severus confirmed. "Ask away. I'll answer anything | have cleared."

Severus stared at him, still uneasy. No noble liked to be questioned too hard. He'd start light. He took a sip of water.

"What's the pay like?"

"Two hundred gold imperials a month. Bonuses to be awarded for daring and bravery at my discretion."

Severus actually spit out his water. The servant clicked her tongue in irritation, but he didn't care. Two hundred golds?! That was more money than he'd probably ever see in his life! One month with John, and Severus could live out the rest of his days in peace! Part of him wanted to take John by the hand and agree on the spot. But a darker, more cynical side whispered: Much reward, much risk. He hated when his own head made sense.

"That's a lot of gold to fight," he mused. John shrugged.

"My men will be the best. | pay what | think they deserve."

"| have no previous army employment. All the fighting | know is from the streets, and that's not even enough to be a City Guard. Is that enough for you?"

"All members will be given basic training before the group is formally inducted and deployed. | will also require that all my members continue their training indefinitely. But | don't mind that you know street fighting. In fact, it would serve you well in the kind of missions we'll be going on."

"And your best survival stats?" John hesitated. Severus felt dread pool in his stomach. That's couldn't be a good sign.

"Our best chances are fifteen percent survival," John said slowly.

"Meaning only fifteen percent of starting members will survive longer than a year." Severus swallowed hard.

"It's a suicide group," he whispered. "A taint-of-a-Wolf, gods-cursed berserker club."

"Not quite that," John insisted quickly, but Severus was on a roll.

"Then am | just the other eighty-five?" he snapped, slamming his glass down with a bang.

"Just some fodder for the War God's grinder while your Olander buddies are safe?! 'Cause if so, then to the Shadow One's torture dungeon with you and your damn group!"

"That's enough!" John barked, standing immediately. Severus felt his spine straighten on reflex, to which he shook himself angrily. The Olander continued.

"The group | have planned will have one, maybe two Olanders, in it, and I'm one of them! The group is going to be made up of all creatures: Dogs, Cats, even a few Bears, for gods' sake! No one is fodder! In fact, the reason | wanted you is specifically for your tenacity!!" Severus blinked awkwardly at him.

"My what?" he said blankly. John snorted.

"Your guts!" the Olander said impatiently.

"Any other creature would've never been able to stand up from that Guard absolutely destroying them like they did to you! But you did!! You stood up and went right back to the fight!! And that's exactly what | need!"

"A Dog too stubborn to give up for his own good?" Severus said sarcastically, chuckling. John grabbed the arms to his chair and put his nose right in front of Severus's.

"Yes!" he shouted, blue eyes blazing.

Severus's embarrassed smile slid away. He stared at the Olander who pushed away in frustration and sat back down. He really does want a Dog like me, he thought. He thought of all the times he'd wanted to give up and sink into the darkness of his own mind. All the times he'd considered wasting the rest of his coin on cheap rotgut and let the alcohol poison him into oblivion. Of all the creatures who'd scoffed at his boasts of getting out of the slums and Fourth District and laughed at him for getting up over and over again when nothing ever panned out. He could see their faces now, hear the laughter of his old gangmates.

"You hear that? Snooper wants to live like the gold-blooded!" "Hahahahaha! What's next? He gonna turn up all soapy?!" "Hahahahahahahahaha!"

"Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

Severus blinked hard, his eyes suddenly watering. John peered at him, curious. He dashed his arm across his eyes, wiping away the moisture.

"You really want me for your suicide group?" he asked. John drew himself up.

"It'd be an honor to have you," the Olander replied and stuck out his hand. Severus stared at it fora moment. All you have to do is reach and grab it, he said to himself. Reach out, and you can change your life. He felt his hand move up, reaching, reaching....

Of course, you could also end up a rotting corpse in three months, just like your father. After all, you couldn't cut it to be in the army to begin with, and he was.... His hand froze. He sighed and let it fall back to his side.

"While | appreciate it, Commander John," he said as he stood, "I'm afraid | have to decline." John's smile fell away to disappointment.

"You're sure?" the Olander pushed gently. Severus nodded and drained his glass, suddenly wishing it was rotgut.

"Unfortunately," he said. "| just don't think | have what it takes to make it in your group." John sniffed but said nothing more. Instead, he plucked a strip of parchment and a quill and scribbled on it fora moment. He blew on the ink to dry it before handing it to Severus. Severus read:

"This is Severus, who has a free invitation to join the Regiment under the Command of John Digson, a Commander in the Imperial Army of the Olander Empire. He is to be given all due respect and care as afforded to his position and sent to the training camp where he will be inducted. -Signed, John Digson, Cmmdr."

"Just in case you change your mind," John said with a shrug. Severus nodded without much thought and tucked it into his tunic. John led him back into the glorious waiting room and the front door. The Olander hesitated before opening the door.

"Should you change your mind," he said softly, "take that to the barracks in First District. They'll show you where to go." He held out his hand again, and this time Severus took it.

"Thanks," Severus said, and he meant it. And then he stepped out and began the long walk home.