(edited by Calliope.8675)
Writing Prompt #2
^^; I see we have a few reads and no replies yet. I don’t bite (much). I will be working a bit on my short story today.
Sorry, I’m going to pass but I’d strongly encourage anyone with an interest in writing to do this. It sounds fun!
I’ve got too many writing projects on my plate right now though. Best of luck!
Two days left! No takers? A new prompt will be posted on the first of December.
Well, here it is. Sorry for putting this off so long, I just really didn’t want to go first. I also think I might’ve muddled my tenses in the first paragraph. Ah well.
Saria swallowed nervously, hoping that her stance was rigid enough. She’d never been in an army before, and so had no idea if she was doing this salute thing right, but she figured she could make up for that by standing as uncomfortably as possible. Or, at least, she hoped so. Militaries put great stock in uncomfortable poses, right? If it could earn her a little goodwill here, discomfort would be a small price to pay. Goodwill would’ve been useful right about then. If she were human, she’d probably be sweating. Not that Saria understood why. Did humans equate heat with nervousness? If so, why did they also shudder? Shuddering was pretty much shivering, and shivering was what they did when it was cold out, which was just about the opposite of… the growl of the charr in front of her caused Saria to blink her way out of that line of thought.
Probably not what she should be dwelling on when her new boss was mad at her.
“So…” Saria cleared her throat tentatively, “That guy with the shiny head was…?”
“Lord Caudecus Beetlestone, head of the Chamber of Ministers, the second most powerful individual in Kryta, and above all, human. Human males consider balding embarrassing, and believe it to be rude to draw attention to those it’s happened to.”
“Yes, ma’am. My apologies, ma’am. I just don’t understand the way he reacted when I admired his face hair. All I said was that it looked like a tusk…?”
“A boar’s tusk. Pigs and their relatives a considered an icon of ugliness by humans. Their kind, especially their nobles, put great stock into their appearances, and Lord Caudecus must put careful effort into maintaining that beard- not face hair. Knowingly or not, you told him, to his face, that you thought all his effort made him repulsive.”
“Oh. So what’s going to happen now? Um, ma’am?”
The General growled at her again, glowering like the statues of the human war god in the pillars behind her. Saria fought down an indignant response. Sure, she had messed up, but she was trying so hard to make up for that, even if her body protested her manner of repentance! Her boss was overreacting. “Now, I need to make up my mind whether or not my urge to kick you off the battlements would be worth the loss of your talents. Lord Beetlestone was here as a culmination of months of painstaking, and also occasionally humiliating, diplomatic effort, in an attempt, all in an attempt to convince him to accept our order’s efforts to arbitrate and ultimately resolve his differences with Queen Jennah over the Ebonhawke truce, that they put their focus more properly on driving out the centaur hordes, bringing an end to refugee crisis we are striving to mitigate and finally freeing up the Seraph to send troops and not well-wishes to our crusade against the dragons. Whatever happens now, thanks to your blunder, it most certainly won’t be that.”
Ok. Maybe not overreacting.
“Maybe you could kick me off over the water, ma’am? That way you wouldn’t lose my talents. I don’t think the sharks would eat me.”
That offer earned her bared teeth. Were all charr this impossible to please? “ Not. The. Point. This is what is going to happen, recruit. You are going to be assigned to the refugees from Nebo Terrace and Ascalon Settlement on scrapper duty, since you’ve ensured they’re going to stay our problem. Your combat abilities are too valuable to waste indefinitely, so you are going to try to compress four months of punishment into two weeks. You are going to dig the latrines. You are going to serve the meals. You are going to load and unload supplies, pitch and repair tents, split firewood, muck out wherever it is they keep the pack bulls, and not do a single thing exciting, thrilling, or otherwise like what you’ve made a habit of enjoying. Is that clear?”
Saria winced. “Yes, ma’am. It’ll be done just as you say, ma’am.”
“And stop doing that. I’ve no use for kiss-ups.”
Huh. She thought military types liked that.
R.I.P., Old Man of Auld Red Wharf. Gone but never forgotten.
As the General marched away- it made a weird sort of sense that she wouldn’t just walk anywhere- Saria unsteadily made her way over to a rarely frequented wall of bookcases and slouched in the corner, rubbing at her sore legs and testing out a human shudder. All things considered, that could have gone worse. In fact, she considered herself somewhat lucky. To be let off so easily, she must not have been the only one to dislike Caudecus.
Quiet footsteps approached behind the bookcase. She didn’t bother looking up. There was nothing to see, and it would draw attention if she was observed seemingly talking to herself. “The Legate Minister stormed off in a huff. His delicate pride should keep him well away from the Vigil now. My boss certainly thinks so. I’ve been assigned to the Gendarren refugees on manual labor.”
“Well done. I know you might have mixed feelings about sabotaging a group that was just recently courting you, but these Vigil numbskulls are far too naïve to go head-to-head with a snake like Beetlestone. He would have manipulated them into intervening to speed things up with the centaurs, then turned around and used their involvement as ammunition, claiming Jennah needed foreign assistance to mask her weakness, and from a charr, no less. It would have been one step closer to a coup.”
“I understand, Preceptor.”
“Find an excuse to make an overnight supply run to Applenook. We have a pirate situation, and your superior has thoughtfully given you a crack at resolving it without blowing your cover. We’ll have an operative fill you in when you arrive.” The footsteps receded as quietly as they came.
Despite the risk, Saria allowed herself a tired smile. It had been harrowing, and it could have ended badly, but her improvisation paid off. It was a good first day in the Order.
Her grin grew. To top everything off, she would even get out of punishment to shoot at pirates. Somehow, everything had gone her way. Saria felt a smug satisfaction swell, buoying and undampenable.
Unless this other new boss was a charr.
Word count: 1043
R.I.P., Old Man of Auld Red Wharf. Gone but never forgotten.
(edited by Aaron Ansari.1604)
Oops, forgot to get mine posted! Oh well, time enough to perfect it then hee hee. I will post the next prompt after my class tomorrow. =)
I enjoyed your story, Aaron, perhaps you’ll write on the next one too?