Bellavarn scratched his scalp. He still wasn't used to the haircut; the humid swamp breeze chilled his head.

The cut hadn't been extravagant, more like a rugged chopping. Rubbing a hand backward over the dirty blond hair caused sections to flow like carpet or felt. Bellavarn hadn't washed it in days; the accumulated grease was acting similar to hair spray. The scent was less than pleasant.

Nothing smelled nice in the army.

"Pick up the pace, light bulb."

"Hey, you want a go, freak?"

The intentional shoving was allowed. So was the name-calling. It was a woman who made that last comment, her voice as sultry as it was insulting. The soldiers were throwing names at him to see what stuck. The leading horse happened to be freak, and Bellavarn would swear on his boots that the officers could smell how much it ticked him off. And, of course, that was the worst thing a rookie could do. It was the most basic and uninventive of the lot, but he couldn't allow it to get to him.

The other candidates so far were light bulb, pretty bird, tweet-tweet, and cluckers.

The first was a play on his hair color and how he stuck out like a spotlight in the night. It may have also been a reference to his overuse of flash talismans. The others were all because of his family crest and name. A diminutive bird ready for plucking.

Kerv's nickname was something cool, like blue falcon or just blue for short.

What was the obsession with birds? And why did Kerv get the cool nickname? He seemed to despise it more than Misses Vale's crunchy Brulee and absolutely refused to tell Bellavarn what it meant.

Being of the rank and file had the benefit of learning the ropes from the ground up. No one would have respected Bellavarn if he were an officer. The soldiers wholly disregarded the fact that he held a political standing just below Duke Klein Raiden. On the contrary, it was something they preyed on. They were able to take their frustration out on the aristocracy without repercussion.

In the army, a newbie dug the latrines, monitored by a berating officer that nitpicked your grip on the shovel every thirty seconds.

"Grip it hard, pretend it's your willy. Really choke up on it. Stroke the handle as you plunge it in."

He never performed it correctly, even when he did it perfectly. Kerv had it worse. He'd been picked on, pushed around, and shoved into a dirty latrine on two occasions. It was the only time Bellavarn flipped and demanded the offenders be disciplined. Predictably, his demands were laughed off.

When the crowd dismissed them, ostracizing them further, Bellavarn had a mostly private talk with Kerv and told him that he wasn't a part of this army. He was a guard—Bellavarn's guard. Kerv had a duty to defend himself so that he could defend Bell at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing new. This is normal in the army."

"The hell it is. Letting shit bounce off you ceases being healthy when it becomes literal."

Kerv smirked solemnly and bowed. His tone was severe.

"I'll protect you, Master Bell."

Bellavarn gritted his teeth and punched Kerv hard enough that the grime splattered Bell the area like a pollock painting.

Cut the shit; he wanted to say. But Bellavarn hesitated. And then there were the watching eyes. More fucking rumors. Maybe he shouldn't have sent Henry back. Henry was a balancing weight for Kerv, and his absence showed.

That night, they were knee-deep in muck. Filthy. Hungry. Tired and down-right fed up with the slushie footing.

*Scree*

The intensity of the screech rang against Bellavarn's bones. It queued a hulking swamp armadillo barrelling straight through their marching order. It slammed those caught unaware so hard that they got stuck to the earthy bottom, drowning on thick refuse as they tried to extricate themselves. The creature screeched again, changing direction. Covered in a goopy, slimy coat that helped it roll through the sludge faster than a carriage going at top speed, it moved like a hangry submarine breaking the surface of the water.

For how sudden the attack came, Bellavarn was startled by the reaction time of the soldiers. They managed to organize and get out of the way of the lone rampaging beast briskly. The officers directed those of quickest foot to brave the tracks and pull out their downed brethren.

Then the monster came for Bellavarn.

Panicked, Bellavarn slipped as he tried to take a stance. He righted himself but was too late to pull out his weapon. Cold dread filled his veins, a shadow spelling his doom.

Kerv was there. Shield in hand, stalwart. The slimy mucus slipped away, revealing a razor-sharp scaly shell. Sparks screeched, metal grating against metal. The rotation stuttered, stopping, the beast uncurling in a moment of weakness.

"Bell!"

In action, Bellavarn rotated his baton and activated the newest function. Taking Kerv's place, he thrust the cylindrical end into the beast's exposed underbelly. Realization flashed in the beast's eyes.

*Pow*

Concussive force, pinpointed, shotgunning inward. The creature's insides writhed and reorganized as the force lifted it for the briefest, most glorious, of moments. It fell onto its back.

"Kerv."

Bellavarn drooped, depleted. Enhanced by his magics, Kerv sprang forward. He sliced his sword in a killing blow.

It failed. The beast sensed its loss and skittered to its feet. It proceeded away, aiming to barrel through a group of still rallying recruits. Kerv took a step to intercept but halted when he saw a flash.

*Boom*

The creature exploded outward, guts spraying the surroundings and mixing with the muck. A woman stood alone in the carnage.

"Aww. Ash. I wanted to kill it."

Duke Raiden appeared, fastening his belt. Ash responded dully.

"Too slow, General."

"You mean he was busy fornicating in that thicket. Please be accurate, Ash."

Jerome high kneed his way towards the group.

"I won't deny it, but must you say it like that? Maybe your jealous, Jerome."

"Hardly. I'll organize the march and acquisition of the creature's valuable materials."

"Yeah, yeah, you do you. But I get the next one, Ash. Promise?"

"As you say, Duke."

The General meandered away, disappointed, interrupted, and missing the fun. Jerome, the army coordinator, quartermaster, and left hand of Klein Raiden, addressed the inactive soldiers.

"Reorganize ranks, expand the perimeter by two dozen yards, and someone bring me the scout who let this beast slip through. You, get me a list of casualties and injuries. You, supervise the gathering of materials. That shell can save one of your comrades' lives if put in the right arms. Eyes up, where there's one, there is bound to be another."

There was more, but none of it concerned Bellavarn. The cleanup was annoying and tough on an empty battery, but it wasn't all that bad, considering he survived his first significant encounter with a monster. It would be tough if there were attacked again soon with his weapon dry, and it would take at least a day to charge it back up to full.

The first use of the new attack had been relatively successful. Though, it was supposed to have exploded the creature much in the same way Ash managed. It was still a prototype of a prototype. Unrefined. The damage it did was lucky.

Jerome made the decision to set up camp for the night before venturing deeper into the swamp. It gave Bellavarn time to tinker in his tent. The armadillo shell intrigued him as a crafting material. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed a portion.

"Kerv?"

"Hm."

"Thank you. For protecting me."

Outside the tent, continuing to stand guard, Kerv shifted his feet, acknowledging the words but not knowing the best way to respond.

"I still prefer my friend. Would you at least come inside and relax?"

"I'm afraid I must stand guard."

"If you don't rest, you'll burn out."

"..."

"Don't make me order you, please?"

Kerv's shadow flickered against the tarp. Bellavarn heard the tent flap open and gestured with a small carving tool, not looking away from his work. The inside was warm and cozy, a result of the heating rune Bellavarn set up.

"Sit."

Uncomfortably, Kerv sat. It took him three minutes to stop squirming and get adjusted, keeping his weapons within easy reach.

"Here. You can use this if you must."

Bellavarn reached behind his back and pulled out a small glass monocle. He breathed on it, causing the colored glass to become foggy before it was rubbed clean with a handkerchief.

"To ease nerves."

Kerv accepted it carefully. There was a small chain that hooked around his ear to keep it in place. The overlay of two separate visions took a moment to adjust to, but Kerv realized how Bellavarn kept spotting Henry once he did. Vague outlines could be seen outside their tent, walking around, sleeping, standing guard, and more.

"Wow."

Bellavarn smirked.

"Simple but revolutionary. Easy to use and supply with power, and it can spot any living person with mana. There are flaws, of course. If I had enough materials I could make more, and I'm positive I can make it more secure, stronger even. I'm still waiting on my delivery."

"You never cease to amaze."

"Hah! Save your amazement for what I'm cooking up. I'll use it to get us home safe, and I'll finally be able to rest easy."

Kerv had no idea what the young master was planning, but there were zero doubts in Kerv's mind that his words were fact. It made Kerv's job all the more critical.

"Hm. There's someone approaching."

Bellavarn looked up curiously.

"Anything you can tell?"

"No... The gait suggests it is a woman."

"I see your fascination with legs has tactical uses."

"Very funny."

"I am, aren't I?"

Bellavarn had been hoping for a chuckle, but the smirk he got satisfied him.

"I hope it's not another promiscuous offer because it stopped being funny. Turn them away before more rumors start, please?"

Bellavarn tilted his head in thought. He curled a hand.

"Though, I am expecting Ester any day now. If it's her, you can let her in."

Kerv doubted it. He got up, grabbing his weapon, and put aside the monocle. In that time, the woman had approached, peeking through the tent flap. Dirty brown hair hidden underneath a worn helmet. Clear brown eyes.

"Halt. Step back, or I'll take action."

The woman dismissed Kerv as an extra. Her gaze focused on Bellavarn.

"I've been meaning to see you."

Kerv was about to escort her out, but Bellavarn paused his action.

"Wait. You look familiar. I know you, don't I?"

Wracking his brain, he tried to remember. Something about her eyes. Had they shared latrine duty?

"Bell, allow me to—"

The woman opened her jacket, taking both men aback.

Flames licked the talismans lining her jacket.

"Assassin!"

"Stop!"

"For my mother."

Colors crackled, casting away the darkness.