The Regiment Of The Woods

Severus stared up at the ceiling of his house. It had been three days since his meeting with John, and he had spent most his time like this: restless and uneasy. He was so exhausted, yet his body refused to sleep. Instead, he thought about the Olander Commander and his Regiment. In the small snatches of sleep he got, he tossed and turned with visions of himself leading scores of roaring warriors, all armed to the teeth. He was strong and sure and commanded them all absolutely until they met with shadowy, snarling Wolves; then, all his troops disappeared, John disappeared, and he was alone to be devoured by the Wolves. Each time, he woke, gasping and sweating, before flipping over to return to restless sleep.

Madame's made this no better. Even though he was dragging, she worked him relentlessly, screaming and shouting orders and never satisfied with any of his work. Twice she had docked his pay a full silver for his "sloppiness," and each had come with a not-so-subtle hint of him losing his job. It made him feel sour and bitter, and each time made him think once more about John and his offer. But he shook his head, gritted his teeth, and moved along.

On the fourth day, Madame met him as he arrived.

"We're closed today," she snapped, more irritated than normal. "City Guard inspection of the full inventory." Severus's ears wilted. He hated inspection days; they meant no business, and no business meant no work--and no money--for him. He sighed.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow,' he said wearily. Her only response was to shoo him away, her focus more on the Guards and their scribes as they poked and prodded every last corner. He left, sullen and moody. He wondered what he should do with his now-free day. Perhaps to the Market? No, he had onlya little change left that he would have to ration for the next few days. Maybe to seek out some company? Again, no money.

Perhaps | could meet up with an old friend? The stray thought caught Severus off-guard. He hadn't thought of meeting up with his slum buddies since he had moved to the edge of the Fourth District five years ago. He hesitated. If he visited anyone, it would have to be....

Gervasius.

Even as he thought the name, his feet were already moving that way. He sacrificed two of his precious coppers for a couple of day-old loaves. One he wrapped for later; the other, he munched on ravenously. Before he knew it, he was wandering down the many confusing lanes of Fourth District, navigating them like he had just been down here yesterday and not five years ago. The worn signs and storefronts stirred nostalgic memories, both good and bad. There was Miss Lugia's washhouse, a popular place he and many other street creatures had hung around, playing games and sneaking cheap rotgut. There was Mister Rothfuss's, where he had fought off six gang members who had jumped him because he had been distracted chasing a skirt. And on and on the memories flowed until he came to his destination. it was a plain, rundown house. The paint was flaking off, and there was only the house number on its front. The windows were dark and quiet. But Severus knew this house, and a warm, fuzzy feeling filled his heart. He knocked. There was no answer. He waited a moment, then knocked again. Still nothing. He pounded on the door, rattling the oak timbers in the frame.

"CITY GUARDS!!" he bellowed. "OPEN IN THE NAME OF THE--!!"

The door flew open, revealing a huge Dog that towered over Severus. He had gray and white fur, the gray splotching on his back and the white washing his snout, paws, and underside. Streaks of silver streaked through the gray, and he had the wrinkles of the old around his jowls and eyes. But those icy-blue eyes were sharp and clever; though they darted around nervously right now.

"Shadow One take your eyes, Sev!" the Dog hissed quietly. "Don't'cha know not to shout fool stuff like that in th' middle o' th' street?!" Severus grinned.

"Nice to see you too, sir," he said happily and stepped inside. The interior was just as he remembered: plain and dusty, with only a wooden table, a few wood chairs, and a small bookcase to decorate. Gervasius shut the door quickly behind him and enfolded him into a huge hug. Severus returned it with relish. "Is Regis around?"

"Don't call me 'sir'" Gervasius warned before he released the other Dog.

"And no. He's out training right now, but | imagine he'll be back soon." Severus only smiled wider at the reflex admonishment. He was a little disappointed Gervasius's son wasn't here, but, then, his childhood protégé had always been busy with training of one form or another. Gervasius and his family were a minor nobility that had cared for Fourth District since Olander City's founding. Despite that, Severus never really looked at them as nobles, nor did they ever really act like nobles. Gervasius peered at him, holding him at arm's length.

"Lemme get a good look atcha. Hmm.... Still scrawny, but it looks like you've started to fill out at least some of those big bones."

"hardly have the money to put on some proper weight,' Severus scoffed.

Gervasius only chuckled. "Still look fine and fit to me, though," he said warmly. He sat in one of the chairs at the table. "Now, what brings you here? I've barely seen ya these last--what? Five years?" Severus's smile

slipped away. He sat as well.

"| don't rightly know," he mumbled. Quietly, he told Gervasius about his encounter with John and his offer. The old Dog was quiet through it, his eyes thoughtful, but Severus thought he could see the spark of some sort of excitement.

"| don't know what to do," Severus concluded. "It just seems so bizarre to me." He sat back. Gervasius was silent for a moment to make sure Severus was done before he began speaking.

"I think what's bizarre is you not seizing this opportunity!" Severus stared at the big Dog who continued on.

"Severus, when you lived on these streets, you were known as one of the toughest around! Whole gangs would avoid you because you were known as someone who wouldn't give up fighting until you had your fill of them. emember what they used to call you?"

Severus snorted. "Yeah, Snooper," he muttered.

Gervasius blew out an exasperated breath.

"They also called you 'the Trooper," he said, "because no matter what, you kept on troopin'. You were strong and overwhelming, but never a bully. To be honest, it sounds like you'd fit exactly in with this group John is making." Severus hesitated. He knew Gervasius and John made sense but still... .

"I don't want to be betrayed like my dad." The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. He glanced up to see Gervasius''s eyes go soft.

"What happened to your dad was a cryin' shame," he said gently. He sighed. "But John isn't one to be reckless or to abandon his troops like that. But, even if you were betrayed like him, | can tell you for certain that you would still come out the other side. You're tougher than your dad, and | don't just mean your skin." Severus gave a wry chuckle at that and stared at the table. The decision rolled harder and harder in his skull, as restless as ever. He heard Gervasius sigh.

"Well, while you think on that, there's something else you should know." He blinked and looked up as Gervasius pulled out a square of parchment and gently unfolded it. Severus stared at the writing on it. He recognized that writing. And he recognized that signature.

"You too?!" he choked. Gervasius nodded. "And Regis. And we are both accepting." "How do you even... ?!" The question died away. Gervasius chuckled.

"I've known John's family for years. (am still technically a noble, and | had my own time in the Army. John's grandfather and | grew particularly close. Regis and John used to play together and then train together when they got older. Apparently, his grandfather wants me to keep an eye on the young rascal, make sure he doesn't lose his way." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I suppose | could also spare an eye for you while you're there." He winked roguishly, which made Severus laugh.

"I know that would make me feel better,' he admitted, standing. Gervasius rose with him and followed him to the door. Severus opened it and hesitated.

"You really think | would do well?" he asked.

"| think you would be one of the best," Gervasius answered without missing a beat. Severus felt his heart swell.

"Thank you, sir,' he said.

"Don't call me 'sir, " Gervasius replied on reflex, and the two of them laughed. After that, Severus bid Gervasius farewell and made his way home as the sun declined into late afternoon. All through the evening, thoughts continued to swirl and bicker in his head. That night, he fell once more into restless sleep.

The next morning, he woke up just as irritated and uneasy as before. Something felt tense inside as he monotonously went through his morning ritual of cleaning, dressing, and grabbing something to eat. He arrived to Madame's just as the first gleam of dawn appeared. She was already looking to be in a foul mood, but his own apparenily infuriated her.

"Smarten that look up!" she snapped. Severus muttered something under his breath, but he didn't care to notice. His chest felt too tight, and his head felt too leaden. He grabbed boxes and set them were they needed to be without much thought or notice. As the day arrived and customers flitted in and out of the shop, his pain turned slowly into agony. What is wrong with me? he wondered. He shook his head, hoping to clear away the dense fog that seemed to weigh down his brain. His concentration lapsed for a moment, and he bumped into a stall, instantly toppling stacks of wrapped crackers.

"You miserable oaf!" Madame screeched. "What do you think you're doing?! Clean that up immediately!!"

"Yes, ma'am," Severus mumbled, already reaching for them. She snagged his wrist, making him wake up for a moment.

"And if there are any damaged," she hissed, "it'll be coming out of your wages!" Severus glared at her.

"Forget it," he snapped and then bit his lip. Now he'd done it. Madame's eyes bulged.

"How dare you?!" she squealed, her hand now pinching painfully on his wrist. He winced. "How dare you?!!" There was a sharp, cracking noise, and his face wrenched to the side. His cheek suddenly stung. The tension in his head snapped, and everything turned crystal clear.

That's it. Remember your oath?

Numquanmn iterum tyrannis obtemperabo. (Never again will | submit to tyrants.)

"Madame?" His voice was surprisingly calm for the rage that coursed through him. He ripped his hand out of her grasp, which seemed to startle her. He off his apron and smiled at her. "I believe | no longer need to be in your employment." He shoved the bit of cloth into her hands. She gaped at him as he stepped lightly around the stacks and towards the door.

"Wh-wh-wh-w-," she stammered, clearly off guard. He turned back to her. She was sweating and puffing and turning more and more red. He smiled brightly.

"I quit," he said more bluntly and made a vulgar hand sign. She made a noise like she'd swallowed an orange whole and turned a sickening purple. He stepped out just as she exploded with a wordless scream of outrage, the noise echoing out into the street. He walked smartly down the street, feeling into his tunic for the folded parchment with John's signature. He laughed aloud.

For the first time in a long while, his heart was light, and he was sure of what he was going to do. He was going to be John's best. And with that in mind, he headed home to pack his few belongings and make his way to the barracks.