Ladies And Sellswords

Thanks for reading my little story. I love comments, questions, and thoughts about how I can improve. Compliments are good, constructive criticism is better. Love it or hate it, I beg you tell me why.

WORD COUNT: 10,150

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Ben walked into the lunch room. Microwaves hummed and dinged. The mixed-media aroma of last night's leftovers filled the room and a dozen people chewed and talked around the circular tables. Ben poured himself coffee.

"Hey, uh, Ben," called a coworker planted at a table, "Can you come over here and settle something for us?"

The other man at the table interrupted and waved Ben away. "He doesn't want to hear about it," he said to the first man.

"Sure, he does!" the first man, James, said, "C'mon, Alan, he'll get a kick out of this."

"What don't I want to hear about?" Ben asked, pulling the chair out and plopping down. He wrapped his hands around the steaming mug ("Did you try turning it off and on again?") and focused his attention on Alan, who looked pained to have him join the table.

"I don't think it will be of any interest to you," Alan said.

"Oh?" Ben said, "I'm real curious now. What are you two talking about?"

James shook his head at Alan away and looked at Ben. "Alan's just stereotyping you. He thinks because you're, well ... you ... you won't be interested in our discussion."

Ben laughed.

"Did you know," James said, speaking to Alan, "Ben was in the Marines before he came to us? And what you're doing is also of the martial discipline. You two are linked by combat."

Alan shook his head and proffered a hand, "Well, thank you for your service. I've known you, what, three weeks now and I didn't know that."

Ben shook Alan's hand with mock formality, a smile playing across his mouth.

"It's nothing I bring up right away," Ben said in way of answering the next the question, "And it was right after I graduated high school. I wanted to get dirty and blow things up so it seemed the right step in my ... career trajectory, as it were."

"Did you do those two things?" James inquired.

"Yes, extensively. I have no holes in me, I have a few tattoos, and I have some stories. I also have an eclectic taste for learning and I'm interested in your discussion now that I'm invited."

"If you must know," Alan sighed, "I'm a part of a group of historical reenactors and we have an event every August in Pennsylvania."

Ben nodded, leaning forward. He was patient and didn't mock or laugh at Alan, who was clearly uncomfortable about the hobby and discussing it. Ben didn't blame him. Ben made a career change only a few months ago, going from running boutique fitness centers to troubleshooting IT issues. He was tired of working nights and early weekend mornings and he wanted something different. It led him to getting a job flying a desk as customer support for a software company. The difference in culture was immense. The totality of his team now were, in a word, nerds. He, on the other hand, was athletic, physically-coordinated, and comfortable in social situations. Within days he found himself on the phone with customers, speaking for his coworkers who generally disliked 'chatting.' They still hadn't figured out what to make of him. There was a level of distance people kept from him, anticipatory of him being a bully or a jerk. But Ben was slowly winning over the employees. He was polite, to say the least.

"See?" James pointed out, "He's not going to laugh. He probably wants to help. I identified Ben as having a servant's heart when we interviewed him. That's why we hired him," James said, "So, Alan, carry on."

Ben waited. Alan searched Ben's face, hunting for mockery. Finding none, he continued.

"We dress up in period clothing," Alan said, "And we live in the quarters appropriate for the time, and there are demonstrations and people put together outfits using the technology and equipment from that era and we live the life for a week."

Ben nodded and asked, "What culture? Or nationality, I guess?"

"The Flemish," Alan said.

"And what time period?" Ben asked.

"The 16th Century. 1500s, that is," Alan responded.

Ben asked several more pointed questions and Alan started warming up to what was obviously his passion. He spoke at length and quickly consumed the 30 minutes allotted for lunch, Ben interrupted and excused himself, asking to hear more later. Alan agreed, pleased, and James hit him lightly on the forearm with an "I toldja so" swat.

Ben didn't know where his opinion was required in the conversation since no actual question came up.

Alan approached him the next morning by coffee machine.

"Ben," Alan started, "I was surprised to discover the rumors of you being a nice guy are true. You listened and you paid attention to me. I believe if I were to quiz you, you would correctly answer questions about what we discussed yesterday. I apologize for being close-minded about you based on your appearance."

Ben grinned at Alan, encouraging for him to go on.

"So," Alan continued, "James believes your background with both the world of fitness and your military experience, you can go to a weekly course of swordsmanship, learn the technique, and then teach me with enough time for me to gain some skill before our event this year."

Ben turned the request over his head and parroted back to make sure he heard right, "So, you want me to go somewhere, fight strangers with swords and armor, get so good at it I can teach you, and then you'll win tournaments?"

"Not exactly, no," Alan said, "The goal is for me to be competent enough to participate, no more. I expect to win nothing. But I want to at least try."

He waited, looking expectant, hopeful, at Ben. Ben mulled it over. Why not? It wasn't like he could go wrong. He had been infantry and understood close combat. Swords, bayonets, the theory would be same. And he'd build some cache with his coworkers. Alan was a power player within the company and being in his good graces wasn't a bad thing. And Ben would get the chance to teach and instruct again. He enjoyed the process of helping people develop their skills and he loved watching them master new abilities. It'd be fun.

What was the worst that could happen?

<<PRACTICE>>

Ben turned into the First Methodist Church's parking lot off Maple Avenue. The church was proud to host the group of historical reenactors and there was a standing invitation for the public to come watch and participate. A number of cars filled the spaces despite it being more than 20 minutes before the official start time.

Ben pulled open the large wooden doors of the main entry. He wandered through the welcome area and went on a short self-guided tour. The church had a small sanctuary in the front and a hallway, lined with the Stations of the Cross, led to a large basketball court with bleachers. There were two groups of people, separated by gender.

A dozen women, and Ben wondered if 'ladyfolk' was appropriate for role-playing, sat around a long wooden table. They all wore heavy dresses and worked on stitching and sewing. Projects and outfits littered the table and material filled woven baskets on the ground.

The men stood in the opposite corner of the gym, talking and digging through odd bits of gear. Ben saw shields, swords, chest protectors, helmets, and other pieces of armor. The men strapped equipment on, testing the fit. Several shook out their arms and legs, loosening up. They could have been getting ready for a basketball game in a YMCA. All wore loose-fitting clothes, sweatpants and sweatshirts. Most of them were 40s and upward with a few exceptions, notably the one man who was obviously the instructor.

Ben quickly identified him as prior military, and recently. The guy topped over 6 feet tall, had a shock of red hair and red beard to match. His stance, upright and confident, spoke of his background. Ben guessed U.S. Army, probably combat arms.

The guy saw him and excused himself from the group of men. He strode purposefully over to Ben, arm extended, open hand out to shake.

Ben took the hand and both men firmly shook as introductions passed back and forth.

"You're Ben," the man said, "Alan told me you'd be coming. I'm anticipating you'll catch on quickly. You look like you know your way around this sort of thing. My name's Theo, by the way. Immediately following this, though, please refer to me as Lord Zeremus."

Ben laughed. Theo grinned back, acknowledging the humor. He cocked his head over his shoulder, indicating the other men gearing up.

"They," Theo continued, "enjoy taking this seriously. You and I already have the experience of ranks and titles; it's no big deal for us, huh?"

Ben nodded in agreement.

"Marines?" Theo asked.

"Yeah," Ben said.

"You mean, "RAH!" or something like that, right?" Theo teased.

Ben laughed, "Sure, that too. I'm not the kind that has all the stickers on my truck or immediately tells everyone. I have some tattoos, some stories, that's about it. And you stink of Army. I'm guessing tanks?"

Theo shook his head and pantomimed pulling a lanyard. He was artillery, a kindred spirit. Both men had lived hard and shared the same mindset, not one to brag about the units he served with or the dusty, sandy places he had been. They both understood that one spoke less about the more he saw.

"Well, you need a name for this," Theo continued.

"Easy," Ben responded, "Lord Gannon."

Theo shook his head. "You're not a Lord yet, young padawan. There's a whole process here. I accept Gannon as your name, though. You can be the danger in "It's dangerous to go alone." Hopefully you track chaotic evil just for kicks. Everyone around here is wrapped up on good and honor and titles. We don't have any free swords or mercenary types. I do recommend you think about a personality for yourself. You don't need 20 pages of back-story, just a little something to wrap yourself in. These guys prefer playing out the roles as much, if not more, than they do the actual fighting ... but I'll bet you're here to hit people with swords."

"I can act a bit, too," Ben said, "And if that's part of this show, that's fine. I'll be a sellsword. It's my style, anyway." He stepped back and bowed, "My Lord, let us begin."

An hour passed by and practice was what Ben expected. The basics came first, footwork, how to wear the protective gear, how to hold the sword. There were options: falchions and sabers and Ben took his time deciding, watching the other men do mock-battle. They seemed slow and gentle with each other. Two of them were obviously superior than the others and moved gracefully. Swords clanged, Ben imagined sparks flying as they worked to score hits and kills. Several men came over to show him some techniques and Ben quickly improved his swordplay.

Theo wandered over to him after a while and spoke quietly.

"I was watching your footwork. You'll be proficient with this before today is done. I'm going to provide you some experience now. You'll square up with Robbie. He's your best bet."

Then, in a command voice that boomed off the walls, Theo cried out, "There has been a challenge! Our freesword, Gannon, offers insult to Murivan. Step lively and clear the space! Battle will commence hither in moments!"

A hurrah went up and every man moved to create a space for the two to fight. Ben watched as one man, presumably Murivan, detached himself from the group and walked to the table of women. He knelt in front of one, a pretty girl with dark hair, spoke to her, and she laughed and clapped her hands. She undid a ribbon from her hair and tied it around the hilt of Murivan's sword. He bowed deeply and stood.

Theo nudged Ben, eyes shining. "Now, go over there and pick a woman, beg she offer you a favor to bring you luck in battle. This is the fun part."

Ben eyed the group of ladies who were brazenly eyeballing him back. He leaned back to Theo and asked, "Do any of them never get asked?"

Theo considered it before nodding.

"Yeah," he said, "And you're a good man to wonder about that. The girl in the back, red-hair, her name is Maggie, she gets left out. I can't tell you why because she's nice enough and I heard she can sing well but this group," Theo motioned toward the men, "Seem to skip her. They have their favorites and she's newest to the group so she misses out. Our version of cliques are basically set. She's also painfully shy."

Ben nodded and strode confidently over to the group. He laughed on the inside as the group watched with interest to see whom he would pick. They all struck subtle poses and made eye contact to attract his attention. Ben was unaffected, used to women smiling at him, and he didn't pretend to consider. He went directly to Maggie who shrank back as he knelt on both knees. His eyes locked on the ground at her feet and he proclaimed his desire for her support.

"Lovely miss! I am called Gannon and I beg a favor from you to protect me in mortal combat! I offer my heart and soul and sword-arm to you. My one desire on this day is to bring you glory through victory!"

The other women murmured and whispered amongst themselves. Ben waited ... seconds ticked by. He glanced up. Maggie's face was as red as her hair and her fingers shook as she tried to undo the ribbon in her hair. Another woman, a pretty blonde, stepped over and undid it for her.

"Like this, Andarra," the blonde said to Maggie and leaned over to tie the ribbon around the hilt of Ben's sword. Ben glanced up at the pretty girl. She mouthed 'me next time' to him before straightening up and smiling at Maggie. Ben rose, bowed deeply, and returned to the circle formed from odd bits of equipment and pads.

"HURRAH!" Theo shouted. The men in a half-circle cheered around him. The ladies made their way over and completed the other side of the circle. Ben stepped in and looked at the ribbon. It was light blue and white. He glanced at Maggie who still looked shaken up from being singled out and tipped her a wink. It was probably not protocol but Ben was here for fun.

"BEGIN!" Theo shouted. Another cheer went up and Murivan ... Ben could only think of him as Robbie, advanced, shield up, sword held high. Ben stood still, allowing Robbie to advance. Ben watched him during practice, enough to know Robbie swung a hard sword but wouldn't last long. The guy had no endurance and needed frequent water breaks.

CLANG!

Robbie's sword swung down from on high, like an axe splitting wood. Ben barely moved to raise his shield high enough to block the attack. Robbie attacked in earnest now, swinging left, right, and always from above shoulder-level. Ben waited patiently for an opening, letting Robbie hack away to exhaustion. It didn't take long. Within minutes, Robbie's foot faltered as he over-stepped a feint. Ben knocked the outthrust sword aside with his shield, forcing Robbie's stance wide open. Ben executed one quick slash, accurate and smooth, to Robbie's helmet. Robbie couldn't control his body and crashed to the ground, sword and shield flying.

"A KILL!" Theo shouted. A cheer went up, less enthusiastic than before. The group hadn't expected their regular to lose to the new guy. Ben didn't care one way or another. He leaned forward and offered a hand to haul Robbie up off the gym floor.

Theo announced the next combatants and the process continued. Ben stepped back behind the circled crowd and removed his protective equipment. It was nice to win but simply being in the environment was fun. He knelt to unstrap the shin guards when a pair of feet stepped towards him. He looked up. Maggie.

"Um," she started, "No one's asked me to do that before. I'm sorry if I didn't know what was happening."

Ben stood and smiled. "Hey, me neither. I figured you had a more handsome, battle-tested champion already and I would have to answer to insulting the both of you."

Maggie blushed, looking down, and shook her head. Ben guessed she blushed a lot. He took a moment to really look at her and he liked what he saw. Her red hair, and we're talking carrot top, framed a very plain face. A smear of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. Her dress was the same blue and white color as the ribbon tied on his sword. As withdrawn as her posture was, she looked genuine. She wasn't conventionally beautiful but there was not an ounce of guile in her and that appealed to Ben.

Ben undid the knot of the ribbon with a single pull. That blonde knew her knots, he thought and he held the ribbon in his hand. He didn't offer it back.

"This brought me tremendous luck. May I keep it?" he asked.

She nodded, eyes still cast downward. Ben could tell she was mildly uncomfortable and he guessed it was more the social situation and not just asking for her ribbon.

"Do you want me to move over there, away from you?" he asked gently.

She shook her head and quietly stood next to him.

"Let's go watch," he offered her his arm. She hesitated before taking it, touching as little of him as possible, and they walked back to the group. Ben could see the eyes of the group, mostly the ladies, observing the two of them. He could see them filing away the sight for gossip later on. He guessed this group was good for gossip.

He led Maggie to the gap in the circle that separated the men and women. He dropped his arm and continued standing next to her, saying nothing but simply being with her. She did not say a word during the rest of practice, only clapping lightly when one victor or another emerged from the contests.

The evening ended and a big round of applause went up for Theo. He bowed, thanked everyone, confirmed they'd be at it again next week, and headed to the big closet doors to undo the combination lock. Ben stayed to clean up. He noticed very few others did. Maggie was one of the first out the door.

Theo came over to Ben, grin on his face.

"Fun, huh?" he asked Ben. Ben nodded. He had a good time; training is always enjoyable and learning a new method of faux-killing people was relevant to his interests.

"I have never seen Maggie leave like that before," Theo said, nodding toward the door, "She's one the last ones here at the end of the night, pushing a broom or otherwise helping. You scared her!"

"You think?" Ben asked, "I wonder why?"

"I tried talking to her on several occasions and she always seemed suspicious of the attention," Theo went on, "And if I had my guess, I'd bet she thinks you're either teasing her or being mean somehow. Don't ask me why she's leery ... or defensive, maybe?"

"Well," Ben said, "I guess I'll try again next week. Robbie wasn't bad at fighting. He just wore himself out."

Theo nodded, "The two best are Budyonny and Kahzee. The problem is that they've been fighting only each other the past twenty years and they easily beat these other guys. It's like two guys playing chess against each other for three decades. Sure they have experience but they haven't seen anything different. They don't compete in the Tournament Outing in August or any of the melees or competitions. They like being big fish in a small pond. At some point, you'll get to take on one or the other and we'll see how it goes," he paused, "You are coming back, right?"

Ben nodded, "Yeah, you'll see me next week."

Theo held his hand out, "Solid. Next week."

<<YET MORE PRACTICE>>

Ben made friends quickly at practice. The second time he was there, he offered observations and suggestions. He showed two men his footwork and how he avoided tripping by never crossing his feet. Theo was athletic enough to make fighting look like dance but the rest of these guys weren't. Ben found he didn't need to solicit help to anyone. They came to him. He found learning, then teaching, helped to solidify the lessons for his own benefit. Kahzee and Budyonny watched with mounting irritating. It evolved, within two weeks, into poorly-concealed jealousy.