At twelve years old, Doevm finished cleaning all the books in the library for the day. Over the years he had gotten so fast to the point that all the books could be cleaned in a few hours. Reginald was studying a map of the country and outlining trade routes with his newest allies. The man’s mustache had fallen just like the corners of his mouth. His perfect posture was a little bent, but Doevm only noticed that because he had seen him for years.

He bowed to his master the way Jameson taught him to do: “I have finished for the day sir.” Reginald only nodded and kept drawing on his map. Doevm didn’t move and waited for his lord to finish – also something he learned from Jameson. When a servant wants something, it is near taboo to interrupt a noble’s duties to request, but this rule can be bent. While He was waiting, he stared. It was an ability he developed while watching the soldiers. When the soldiers noticed his stares, they would back away or even curse at him. He figured out how to manipulate his stare. If he wanted, he could stare, and nobody would notice it. If he tried, he could make people uncomfortable, just as he was doing to the lord.

It was how often one moved that determined the type of stare it was. If one were organic, and acted like a living being, people treated you as the background. If you acted like an Undead Lich and stood as an unblinking statue, people noticed. Reginald looked up, “I know your games, Doevm, as we have known each other for eight years now. What do you want?”

“To become a guard.” Doevm replied.

Reginald cocked an eyebrow, “You’re only twelve. Jameson’s youngest guard is fourteen. We do need more men, but you’re just a librarian. How can you keep up with their training?”

“Please, allow me to show you,” Doevm bowed again. Reginald put down his quill and nodded. Doevm reached behind a bookcase and took out the broomstick he had always practiced with. It used to feel like a spear, but now that he had grown in height, it was the size of a sword. Its ends were splintered and the areas where he gripped most had imprints of his fingers. The rocks he tied to the front for a weight were hanging on by threads. Layers of sweat and repeated cleanings took the color out of the once dark wood, leaving it at the color of sand. He got into the low stance and did his usual routine.

He had long since learned the basics of the two-handed heavy spear, but since he grew up, the spear was no longer adequate length. His solution was to learn the one-handed spear techniques as well. He switched to one hand to two hands, keeping himself on the balls of his feet, his weight back, and a straight posture. Each strike was aimed at an imaginary opponent’s chest. He switched from overhand stance to an underhand stance. Everything in his arsenal was released. By the end of it, he was breathing hard, but recovered by breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth.

“Very impressive,” Reginald said. “I can see this is not a whim, but something you have been looking forward to. I do, however, have some ‘complaints’ if you will call them that.” He smiled, but the clouds in his eyes remained darkened. “Why do you want to become a guard? You have skill with cleaning these books, and I know you read them daily. Why give that up for a violent life?”

“I practice the spear because I love this life,” Doevm started his rehearsed speech. “When I was a child, Jameson saved my life from Kobolds. I was weak, and because of that I almost died. I might be safe here, but that will change. When that day comes, I want to go down fighting. I want to live my life confident I can defend myself.”

Reginald nodded: “Very well, you have earned my blessing, but now you need to earn Jameson’s.” He walked to the window and peered down at the guards’ training session. “He adores you, but that means he’ll be harsher on you. He knows he has bias in his heart and will overcompensate for that without mercy. And lastly, you still need to clean the library every day, even if you become a guard.”

“Thank you, sir, I would like that very much.” Doevm wanted to ask why, but he couldn’t as a servant. It would be considered insubordination. He left the library and stepped out into broad daylight for the first time in a few years. That’s not to say he didn’t go outside, just that didn’t go out in the day by force of habit. He squinted and rubbed his eyes. The green came into focus. The front courtyard hadn’t changed. The grass was as green as ever. The flowers bloomed. The mansion loomed above everything. In its shadow, ten straight rows with ten men each moved in unison. Their spears were covered with metal balls. Their thick steel armor was more for conditioning rather than defense. Jameson had quadrupled the number of guards since Doevm arrived and raised the intensity. He stood facing the hundred men with posture as straight as ever despite the two hours’ worth of sweat in his brows.

“Raise!” Jameson boomed. A hundred and one spears rose in the air. “One!” Two hundred and two hand moved position. Four hundred and four limbs shifted. “Two!” Spears shot forth in one collective sound. He saw Doevm coming and shouted “Weapons rest!” All spears went completely vertical. “Doevm,” Jameson’s voice returned to normal volume. “What are you doing out here? What’s wrong?”

Doevm laughed, “Is it really that surprising that I’m outside the mansion?” Jameson frowned. “Ok, I got permission from Reginald to join the guards, now I just need your permission as well.”

The rest of the guards overheard and laughed. Jameson shot them a glare and they fell silent. “You got permission from Lord Reginald?” He put a hand to his shaven chin and mumbled something. “I guess you have a good reason, but I still need to test you. Frey!” the guards looked at each other, then at Doevm. From the back of the group, one man walked forth.

‘Reginald, you weren’t kidding about lack of mercy,’ Doevm thought as he looked up at his opponent. Frey’s arm was the size of Doevm’s leg. His hands were scared and blistered. His long brown hair was tied into a man-bun. He looked like a bandit who found a crate of steroids.

“Yes sir?” He asked. His voice was higher pitched than his looks but just barely.

“How old are you?” Doevm asked as he stood in his shadow to get the sun off his eyes.

“Fourteen.” The behemoth replied.

Jameson handed Doevm a short training spear. “Frey, you’re going live with Doevm, try not to kill him.”

“Come on sir, ain’t that a little too harsh on the kid?” One of the guards said.

“Yeah, he looks like the sunlight could kill him.” Another said.

“If Frey breaths too hard he’ll fly away.”

Frey looked at Jameson, as if telepathically asking for mercy, but Jameson smiled: “Who wants to bet? My money is on Doevm.” The complaints turned to laughter. “I’m serious! Twenty coppers on Doevm, who wants to challenge me? It’s easy money, right? Or do you want to bet power stones?” He went around with a sheet of paper and took down everyone’s bets.

Doevm had to stop from laughing at himself. It was just like back at Petal town. Everyone would walk past his house and look with pity, but no one would help him. The bets were proof enough. These soldiers were the same as everyone else. Frey, however, didn’t take the bet.

“Jameson, I’m against this,” he said. “I am the youngest, but I’m not the weakest in the unit. You should match him against other people.” He threw down his spear. “Give me whatever punishment you want, but this is too harsh.”

Jameson finished taking the bets and got in front of Frey’s face, “If you don’t fight him, then I will. Soldiers take orders. Doevm didn’t back down even though he knew this was hard. He’s watched us trained for every day up in that library of his. He is determined and will accept whatever I tell him to do. He has the heart of a soldier, do you? Or do you want to go pick the roses like your sister?” Frey hesitated, sighed, and picked his spear back up.

Jameson walked a good distance away and held his hand in the air: “This will be a regular spar. Both spears have protective points on them but can still break a limb if you’re not careful. The first one to score two fatal hits will be the winner. Using limbs are permitted. Breaking any limbs will result in victory but will suffer punishment later. Take a stance.”

Doevm squatted down low not more than twenty feet away from Frey, who also took a stance. He took a couple practice stabs and adjusted his stance to compensate for the difference between his own training stick and the real deal.

“Are both parties signal ready?” Both nodded. “Begin!”