The Regiment Of The Woods

Severus blinked groggily. What happened? Where am |? The world pitched and rolled, the sky muted in its colors. Everything seemed muffled. He almost felt like he was under water, the way sound was dull and how sluggishly he was able to move. He rolled onto his side and spat out a mouthful of blood. He blinked some more. The world focused some. Noise became words.

"--had a jaw like a rock. | think | might've broken somethin' in m' hand from that last punch." Severus blinked some more. He must've only been out fora moment. The City Guards had dusted themselves off and were about to walk away. /t's over, he thought, suddenly weary. The powerful rage that had started the whole ordeal and pushed him to this point was no more than a painful ache through his whole body. / started a fight, got a few licks in, got beaten to a promising pulp, and lost. Now, | can just go home and lick my wounds. Probably literally. Gods know | can't afford a witch or Raven. Just

stay down for a minute and don't get their attention. He lurched upright.

Startled, he stared at his right arm, which had shoved him up without him telling it to. What was going on? His left boot scraped on the ground, and he turned his head to find it trying to find its footing to stand. Confusion scrambled his thoughts. Had the last hit broken something in him? Was he no longer in control of himself? But as his right foot joined his left and lifted him up on trembling legs, grabbing the attention of the City Guards, Severus realized his head was broken.

The rage was still there, muffled but very much alive and pulsing and howling for blood. And with it was the solemn vow he had made before blacking out: "Never again will 1 submit to the will of the likes of this bully Olander."

Numquam iterum tyrannis obtemperabo.

(Never again will 1 submit to tyrants.)

"Mama always said | had a tough skull," he heard himself quip. Talking made the cut in his mouth bleed, and he spat out the fresh blood to clear his mouth. The veteran's eyes narrowed dangerously, and his hand drifted to his short sword.

"You don't know when to quit, do you, boy?" he snarled, unsheathing the blade of glittering steel. Icy fear gripped Severus's gut, but his fists rose ina fighting pose. Electricity buzzed under his skin, and he could hear the thunder of his heartbeat. His already sharp senses seemed even brighter: he could almost taste the sweat of his opponents, the saltiness making his mouth dry. Their body odor was thick, as was the smell of his own. His eyes darted between the two, missing nothing, not even the slightest twitch and glance.

"Not at all," he said, his tone surprisingly cheerful. "I could do this all day." The veteran snarled and stepped forward, his sword already moving back for astrike. Severus felt his nostrils flare, and time slowed to a moment. Every logical part of his brain screamed at him to run, to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness or, at least, mercy. The desire was so strong, so tempting. But deeper, where the rage howled and his blood boiled, another desire whispered.

In that moment, Severus found himself eagerly desiring to fight. Not only to fight, but to win.

"ENOUGHI!!"

The command, loud as a trumpet and forceful as a hammer, froze Severus and the Olanders in place. Immediately, all eyes turned to the one who had issued the order. In the brief moment Severus had to consider, he was expecting a grizzled, middle-aged Commander, though the voice was a little bright and young. The person, however, matched the voice.

It was an Olander male. He was young, younger than Severus to be sure, and shorter, but he was broad-shouldered and slim-waisted. Even beneath the loose lines of his violet tunic, Severus could tell he was well-muscled. His skin was a golden bronze, an obvious testament to the long hours of training he had done under the sun, but his bright blue eyes were clear and eager, full of the hope and passion of youth. A similar sword to the one the Guard held was strapped to the stranger's waist. A gold medallion on a leather thong hung around his neck, and a golden armlet was clasped around his right arm. Severus stared at the last item. He recognized the armlet as the badge of the Olander Imperial Army. But gold meant ...! At that moment, the youngster stepped forward, his eyes glued to the City Guards.

"Stand down! | am a Commander of the Imperial Army! Explain yourselves!!" His voice, though youthful and bright, rang with weight of one who had commanded many. Despite all appearances, Severus believed the young Olander. The young Guard, however, did not, as he instead drew his sword.

"Be on your way, pup!" he hissed, jabbing the blade dangerously close to the Commander's face. "This is City business, nothing for a wet-eared boy to interfere with!" The Commander's boyish face twisted in annoyance, and he puffed himself up, his medallion glinting from the movement. Severus squinted at it, distracted fora moment. There was a design carved into it, but he was too far to see. The veteran Guard was not, though, and he started.

"Wait, son!" he cried, his voice pitched in fear, but it was too late. There was a sharp CRACK! and the recruit was suddenly flying backwards. Severus felt like he had blinked too long as the Commander's fist was fully extended where Severus was certain it hadn't even been drawn back to strike. The young Guard slammed into the cobbled street with several clangs and thuds as he tumbled head over tail till a fruit stand caught him with a phenomenal CRASH! The Commander sniffed and dusted off his knuckles before turning to the veteran. The older Olander immediately kneeled.

"My apologies, m'lord!" he said loudly, his voice shaking in fear. "He didn' recognize yer crest! Please fergive 'im, since he's just a young pup who don't know much about the world yet!"

"He should know better than to threaten an high officer of the Imperial Army,' the Commander said, still looking annoyed. The veteran Guard

audibly swallowed.

"i'll make sure 'e learns his lesson proper," he promised. The Commander

fixed him for a moment before nodding.

"Take him to the Raven's Shrine," the Commander ordered. "And report this as an unfortunate training incident between recruits, the Guards and the Army." The Guard bowed several times, thanking the young Olander before racing over to his partner, picking up the limp body, and sprinting away. Severus stared after the quickly fading figure for a moment, not processing it. Was the fight over? At that, his legs buckled. The world swan once more, and Severus had to lean against a nearby table to catch himself. A bronze

hand caught his arm, helping him up.

"You OK?" Severus shook his head slowly to try and clear it before answering. But his words died in his throat as he looked down into a pair of

bright, blue eyes. The Commander's eyebrows scrunched almost comically.

"Man, they really gave you a 'Fourth District welcome' he chortled. "Some of those are gonna be some proper shines come this evening." The street slang loosened Severus's tongue, even as a wave of bad memories flooded in.

"Who are you?" Severus snarled, jerking back. The Olander's grip remained unyielding on his arm. "What do you want with me? Let go, Shadow One take you!" The Commander's eyes flashed at the oath, and Severus could almost swear there was a hint of fear in the Olander. But it was swiftly

replaced with merriment and a broad grin.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private to talk?" the Commander said, holding a finger up to his lips to indicate quiet. Before Severus could respond, the Commander wheeled them around and darted down a nearby alley with Severus in tow, leading the Dog away from the Market and into the bright unknown.