Valen

Urgency put strength into Valen's run as he answered the distant call of a crisis.

Hendricks' shouts, terse commands, and the quiet rasp of a sword being drawn. All of which had Valen's boots pounding the stone, but when Lieutenant Volenski called her troops to the ready, fear carried Valen forward with a speed he didn't know he possessed.

He barely slowed before he threw himself through a wide circle of people. He didn't even look back to see if the woman he hit with his shoulder managed to keep her feet, and only slowed when he breached the crowd.

Hendricks had his sword out, pointing it at the foremost of several members of the Military Police, all of whom had their hands on their own weapons. And in a wider circle around them, the rangers were on their feet, hands on either sheathed swords or with salamanders pointing down at their feet. Mildred was on her feet, her left hand tilting her sword just enough to make it easier to draw. Fauth was doing his best to imitate Mildred's stance.Roderick had his hands up, like he was expecting a fist fight.

"You're not burning taking me home." Hendricks gestured with a short jab of his sword as he spoke. Two of the MP's unsheathed their own weapons, which brought a twitch to Valen's right hand.

"Son, your father asked the Lord Captain, who agreed. You can go home. Be with your family, away from this," the lead man said.

"I'm not going back to him," Hendricks responded. But his voice lacked the conviction he had a moment ago, and the point of his sword fell. "He didn't think I'd do anything as a soldier. But I fought. I've killed Gloamtaken."

"Have you?" the leader asked. His smirk was derisive, his tone patronizing. His stance shifted as he straightened, seemed to grow taller as he stood a small step forward. And the effect that dismissive indignity had on Hendricks was profound.

Hendricks' shoulders slumped, and his sword point touched the stone. "I, I did."

"Hendricks," Valen called out as he drew closer. Every eye among the MP's turned his way, but he only watched his squadmate, who straightened and took a step backwards. "Sheathe your sword. You know what our enemy looks like."

Hendricks nodded, and slid his sword back into its scabbard.

"Well said, corporal." Lieutenant Volenski nodded in appreciation. She turned to her rangers, and waved her hand, palm down. All around the table, the rangers shifted into a more relaxed stance, though they kept to their feet.  "Now-"

The Lieutenant's next words were cut off as the sergeant leading the MP's yanked his truncheon out of his belt and threw himself into a wide swing, aimed for Hendrick's turned head.

*****

"Every strike you make should be to kill."

Valen had said this to Hendricks almost a month ago, on a Spire-illumined night so bright it cast their shadows towards the Gloam.

"Every strike? But..." Hendricks asked, while he groped in the waist-high wheat for his training sword.

"Every move you make should be meant to kill your enemy," Valen had explained. "Swords are meant to kill. You might try to disarm someone by hitting them in the hand with the flat of the blade, but your blade could easily skip and cut open their wrist. Or you miss entirely, and they get a chance to do you in. So if you draw a sword on someone, I expect you to mean to kill them."

Hendricks found his training weapon, and readied himself. Once again, he had instinctively taken a dueller's posture, one hand extended with the point aimed at Valen's chest. This had lasted just long enough for Hendricks to take a good look at the expression on his corporal's face, before he shifted his stance into a proper guard for the weapon he carried,

Hendricks still imagined he was duelling, rather than fighting.

"And if I don't want to kill someone?" Hendricks had asked. There was something strangely earnest in his tone, and it made Valen uneasy.

"Then don't draw your sword."

*****

Wide, vicious, windmill arc. There was enough force in the Sergeant's truncheon to crack a skull. But the blow never landed.

Hendricks' first jabbed hard, and struck the sergeant's exposed throat hard. The truncheon slipped from limp fingers, and struck the floor just as the sergeant collapsed on Hendricks' shoulder.

Chaos erupted. The MP's charged, Hendricks shoved the Sergeant into the crowd and drew his sword. Steel flashed in the firelight, red stains sprayed the air, men screamed. Valen sprinted towards the table, knowing the dozen seconds he'd need would be too long.

The dozen MP's shrank away from Hendricks' sword, as it whirled through the air. But the moment a gap appeared the Rangers swept into it. With hard looks and a single rifle butt into a stomach, the conflict was smothered just as quickly as it had blazed up.

Valen's squad had formed up around him, even as the Rangers drove a wedge into the conflict. Mildred had a hand on her own sword, Roderick had to be pulled off one of the MP's, and Fauth had found a Salamander. Surprisingly, the shadow Cameron was on his feet beside Hendricks.

"My squad, this side of the table!" Valen bellowed as he slowed. All of them, including Cameron, clambered across. "Mildred, what the burning hell just happened?"

"Not sure, sir," Mildred responded, as she stepped over a bowl. She was the last one over, having made sure the others crossed first. "That goon squad there told Hendricks he needed to come with them. Hendricks refused, things went sideways."

"Hendricks, what did the MP's want with you? Did they charge you with anything?" Valen asked.

"No sir," Hendricks said. He stood at attention, but he still had his sword in his hand. Seeing it, Hendricks quickly moved to wipe the blade off, and sheathe it. "I was just told that I was being taken home."

"Understood. Keep your distance from the MP's for now," Valen said, and he climbed over the table to stand near Lieutenant Volenski. She was in a quiet but tense conversation with a corporal, since her Sergeant was still sitting on the ground with his head tilted up, trying to breathe.

"Soldier, the next time you forget to address me as Lieutenant, or ma'am, I'm going to have one of the Rangers come over and break your legs," Neveah Volenski interrupted with a snap of her finger and a gesture towards the white-scarfed solders around her. "If you're here to arrest that soldier on some sort of charge, I'll clap him in iron for you. But if you're honestly here servicing a request from some well-connected bureaucrat in High Central, I might have you shot. Your sergeant tried to break that boy's head open, then you charged him with swords."

"He wounded three of us! Wilfred lost both his burning hands to that kid's assault."

"You attacked him," Lieutenant Volenski said, quietly but firmly. "With swords, while his was sheathed. And you did it outside of your lawful role, since he wasn't being detained or summoned. Take your people to the medical suites, I'll send a report to Colonel Dremora. And I'll take the communique you were acting on."

"This isn't the end of this. Kid can't just go carving people apart like that. I'll take this to the Lord Captain."

"You do that." Lieutenant Volenski said. She leaned forward and smirked. "Go ahead and anger whoever the Lord Captain is doing personal favours for."

Wordlessly, the soldier handed a small piece of paper to Neveah Volenski and lead his squad towards the hospice. Valen watched them depart, while Volenski read the small missive in her hand. After a moment, she handed it to Valen, with a disgusted shake of her head.

SCOM, Direct from Lord Captain. Private Hendricks Lamar, 1Army 2bat 3cmpy 3plt 1sqd, granted leave to return home. Allowed priority transit.

"Granted leave to return home," Valen read aloud, his eyes widening in surprise. "But why Hendricks?"

"You don't know?" the Lieutenant asked.

"I know he grew up in High Central. You can still hear it in his voice," Valen admitted. "But so important that the Lord Captain would intervene to grant him leave, during an invasion?"

"Reginald Lamar is the Deputy Bureau Chief of Civil Development. You're squad mate is the scion of one of the most powerful people in the City. Which means that you're now in the middle of a very nasty family squabble," Lieutenant Volenski explained.

She looked over at Hendricks, and sighed. "You're only a corporal, Valen. So after a certain point, discipline isn't your fault. And he was badly pressed by an act that was illegal, and threatened his life. Under normal circumstances, I'd tell him what she should have done differently and leave it at that, but..."

Valen waited, as Neveah Volenski considered her words. "But he's extremely good with that sword. He's had training, the kind of training that should have come with discipline and restraint. Given his skill, it almost looks like he deliberately maimed those men. I don't like it, but I can't prove it."

Neveah smiled, and rubbed her head. "But what has you back here so soon, Corporal?"

"Ma'am," Valen snapped to attention, forcing himself to refocus on his mission. "We've been given the Crafter's train engine, and three cars. Captain Dremora has ordered us to collect demolition charges, ammo, and foodstuffs. We are to prepare for departure."

"We?" the lieutenant asked.

"It seems that my group and I," Valen hesitated, unsure of himself or how to present the news. "It seems we've been transferred to Captain Dremora's command."

"I see," the lieutenant said. She looked over at Hendricks, and scowled. "I see."