Corbin, age 34, City of Marin

Thank you, Bluejay, I thought for the millionth time since I had met the secretive man. His execution of my escape had been flawless, and now this? That I was offered a place in hiding so readily? It had been money well spent, even if it had been nearly all I had.

I followed the guard from the room, leaving the captivating woman behind. She was stunningly beautiful. Dark brown hair piled on her head framed a face that was sweet and harsh at the same time. Her gaze had electrified me and her lips? Dear Lord, I could kiss those lips for days. She was going to be trouble. I had to stay away from her. A year and a day, then move on. That was the plan.

When the door to her office shut, the guard snapped his fingers at a waiting man nearby. He looked like he might be all of eighteen if that. "Take the new blood down to the kitchen and see what Cook has lying about, then see that he gets to the quartermaster in the barracks," the guard barked. I rankled at the treatment, but the young man seemed eager to be of service.

"Yes, Sir," he answered before turning to me. "Follow me, please."

He led me in the opposite direction than I had come, finding a hidden stairwell to descend. "My name is Barbaras. Bobby, for short," he threw over his shoulder at me.

"Nice to meet you, Bobby. I'm Corbin." He fell silent after that, leading us down another hall and yet another staircase to finally emerge in a corridor outside of the kitchen. My stomach growled when the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted chicken hit me.

We entered a bustling kitchen with many women at various stations preparing food. Bobby approached the nearest, a portly red-faced, middle-aged woman with a scowl.

"Stacy, Mistress has instructed that our newest guard be fed. What do you have for him?"

Stacy shot me a look and rolled her eyes. "What do I look like, an inn? That I can feed just anyone who wanders in off the street? I'm trying to get these pies in the oven!"

"I'll get him something!" one of the younger girls replied. She grabbed a bowl and went to the stove, ladling up a bubbling stew. She buttered a piece of thick bread to add to it and placed it all on a tray with a glass of water. "Here," she said, shoving the tray in my direction. "You can eat over there out of the way," she said, nodding to a table in the corner. "Just leave everything when you're done."

"Hey, what about me?" Bobby whined, winking at the girl.

She, too, rolled her eyes but then smiled as she repeated the actions for him. We sat at the table out of the way and ate quickly. The food wasn't fancy, but it was good and filling. I polished everything off, including the broth, sopping it up with my bread and then tipping my bowl to drink it after seeing Bobby do the same.

"Thank you for the meal," I said, dipping my head at the young girl. She blushed brightly and looked away.

Stacy paused in her apple peeling and brandished a knife in my direction. "You! The kitchen staff is off-limits! You leave my girls alone."

"He's just being nice, Stacy!" the young girl complained.

"Nice today, gone tomorrow," Stacy replied to the woman. She gestured to the workstation where the girl had been chopping onions. "Back to work!"

I chuckled at the exchange as Bobby motioned for me to follow him out the kitchen door. The yard outside was basking in the sun and just as busy with at least two young men chopping wood and various chickens and waterfowl trailing after girls with baskets. The day was bright, crisp, and clear... perfect spring weather. I felt a twinge of homesickness and wondered what my family was doing before I caught myself and forced the thought away. I wouldn't be seeing my sister and brother again. That was the price I paid for removing myself from my father's influence. It was a harsh price but necessary.

We rounded the corner of the building and headed across the yard to a low building beside the stables. From the outside, it looked like a simple square building. Once we went in, however, I could see there was a training yard in the middle.

In it, several men and boys were working with weapons. A few men were on a platform watching over the yard, calling out orders to the paired-off fighters.

I felt right at home.

"You! Grunt!" I heard someone shout in an authoritative voice. I looked around and spied a man on the platform glaring at me.

"You the one our Mistress has sent to be the new guard?" he shouted.

The fighting in the yard ceased, and all eyes turned to me. I didn't let it bother me. We all knew I was the new guy.

"Yes, Sir!" I replied. "I am to report to the quartermaster for barracks assignment and livery."

"No need for that if you can't fight, grunt," the man replied. He nodded to the weapon's rack full of practice blades and staves. "Pick your favorite." He looked down at a bear of a man near the platform. "Delvin, run him through his paces. No need to waste the quartermaster's time if he can't fight."

I scowled. I didn't relish fighting in some of my best clothes, but I knew there was no way out of it. I shed the vest and loosened the shirt a bit before I hefted a few dull blades to find one that had a decent balance and weight. When I turned, Delvin had already situated himself in the center of a circle of fighters.

I met him in the center and extended my hand in greeting. "Corbin. Nice to meet you, Delvin."

He looked at my hand, scowling, before he took up a fighting stance. I wasn't going to be accepted easily. I wondered if I needed to beat the man or merely match him. I fell into my own stance, and we began to circle. The fighters in the crowd started encouraging Delvin to take me down. Beat it is.

I studied his movements as we moved. He was methodical in placing his feet and held the sword tip steady; he was a seasoned fighter. He slapped his blade at mine, but I didn't take the bait. Eventually, he was cajoled enough to make the first move, and the fight was on.

He was an excellent swordsman, every move calculated and quick. But I was better, if only by a fraction, and I held off all his attempts to take me out quickly before I made my own move. I maneuvered inside his guard to smack his ribs with the flat of my blade.

I saw the fury rise with the pain I'd caused and knew his anger would be his undoing. I'd seen it a thousand times before; even seasoned fighters often had issues with pride or anger. It made them take unnecessary risks and do stupid things. All I had to do was antagonize him into one, then make my move.

So I poked and prodded the bear, enraging him further each time, though he tried to fight it. He knew his weakness and, for the most part, dealt with it well. But I knew his button, and I pushed it, just to push it. I didn't press my advantage when I had it, which only made the contact I chose to make all the more embarrassing.

Eventually, he broke and came at me full force, screaming. At the last moment, I retaliated, blocking his weapon and tripping him to make him stumble, then following through to take him all the way down. We ended with him on his back and my blade at his throat.

"Done?" I asked in the quiet of the yard.

The man on the platform, whom I could only assume was the Captain, sighed. "What's your name, grunt?"

I stepped back from Delvin but maintained eye contact, as I answered. "Corbin, Sir." Delvin remained on the ground, breathing hard.

"Quartermaster, show Private Corbin to the barracks and assign him a rack. Send him up to the seamstress for livery."

Delvine spat. "Yes, Sir," he said, standing and handing his weapon off to one of the young boys. He held out his hand. "Welcome to the Household, grunt."

I gripped his hand and shook, then placed my weapon back in the rack and grabbed my vest. Delvin was already walking away. "This way, grunt! Double time!" he called out behind him.

I jogged to keep up. Being a private again was going to rankle me, but it was a necessity. And, I probably didn't want to reveal my entire arsenal of tricks. I'd keep a low profile. I would only go up in rank if I challenged, and I saw no need to do that any time soon. Besides, not having to make decisions for a while and just doing what I was told sounded like a nice vacation.

We entered another low building with rows of bunks, each with a footlocker at the end. It was pretty much standard fair for barracks; Beds in the front room, the washroom behind them in the back of the building. I noticed one bed was free in the back and headed that way, assuming it was mine. I folded the vest and placed it in the footlocker, getting out the linens and blanket to make the bed.

"You've been in the military," Delvin stated, watching me work.

"Yes, Sir. I won't give you any trouble."

"See that you don't." He inspected the bed when I was finished and grudgingly approved of my military corners. A more petty man would have pulled one loose just because he could.

"Follow me," he ordered and we passed back through the practice yard back to the kitchen's yard, winding our way through more geese and chicken, or maybe they were the same ones as before. I couldn't tell. We passed the kitchen and entered the main house again, finding stairs to head to the second floor. Knocking on a door at the head of a long hall, we waited until a young woman answered.

"We're here for a guard's livery for our new grunt," Delvin explained.

She pulled the door open and pointed to a corner in a room that was overflowing with all manner of fabric and sewing paraphernalia. "Wait there. The seamstress will be with you in a moment."

The quartermaster nodded to me. "Report back when you're done."

"Yes, Sir," I replied and he left me to my own devices.