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“Count on it,” Fraser sighed.

“So when the Tarsons attacked again we routed them and drove them back to their town. Took the town, burned the ringleaders in their ‘stronghold’ and I put a few of the better of the laborers in charge in Tarson. The people of the town were mostly glad as hell to be liberated. The guild guys tried to make like it was their town but we told them where to stuff it. I worked out a charter for Tarson, got their application in to the UFS, waited until the election — which was as cold and stacked as I could make it — was over and just afterwards got the word to head home. Mission accomplished.”

“In spades,” Fraser said. “What are you getting for this one?”

“Another mission,” Herzer laughed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Herrick,” a soft voice said from over his shoulder.

He looked around and was faced by a tiny tuft of pubic hair. Looking farther up he was stunned by the vision. If the girl standing over him wasn’t absolutely perfect in every way she could see it on a clear day. Brunette, about a meter and a half, perfectly rounded breasts, high and incredibly firm, flat belly, rounded mons. He realized he was staring.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice ending in a squeak.

The girl slid into the water to his left and smiled at him.

“My name’s Sheena. I don’t think you know me.”

“I don’t think so either,” Herzer replied, all charm out the window. Three hundred fifty-seven times four… down boy!

“Back before the attack on the town, you went out with a cavalry patrol,” she said in a soft little-girl voice that practically drove arithmetic out of his brain.

“Yes?” Carry the two…

“My brother was one of the guys on the patrol,” she said, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. “I want to talk to you, but I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he croaked, then turned back to the group in the bath, all of whom were smiling and trying not to laugh.

“How old do you think she is?” Fraser asked, trying not to be smug.

“Seventeen?” Herzer said.

“Try twelve,” David replied.

“No fisking way!”

“Way,” Shilan replied. “Way, way, way.”

“What the hell is she doing naked in the public baths!” Accosting perfect strangers and ruining their whole day.

“They’re public baths,” Shilan replied with a shrug. “I guess her parents decided she was old enough.”

“They need to have their heads examined!”

Sheena suddenly slid back into the water next to him and laid her hand on his arm.

“I’m really glad to finally meet you,” she said, huskily.

Down, down, down, down, DOWN! Twelve! TWELVE!

“Me, too,” Herzer replied. “So are you going to school now?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sheena frowned. “I didn’t have much before the Fall, you know? So I’m in the little kid classes…”

Okay, I’m clearly not going to get laid tonight, thank God…

CHAPTER SIX

Herzer fell out the next morning at first call in PT gear. It felt good to have nothing in front of him but some simple physical training. He ran the Hill once, then picked up a pack and rucked it four more times, each at increasing speed. He was out of shape and knew it, but he did a credible imitation of Blood Lord speeds on the Hill. After that he moved over to the salle area for the permanent party. None of his class was present but he found someone who was a close match and got in a solid two hours of sword and shield work. He might be light on wind but he hadn’t lost his touch with sword and shield and his opponent damned well knew he had been kissed, even through the padded armor.

“Very nice, Herzer. I never figured you for beating up on the babies.”

He turned around and slapped Bue Pedersen on the arm.

“Bue! Damn, where the hell have you been?”

“We’re forming a legion in Washan,” Bue said. “I’ve been ‘assisting’ in that endeavor.”

“Wish I had been,” Herzer said. “Spar?”

“If you think you’re up to it.” Bue grinned. They had both been in the first Blood Lord class, and at the defense of Raven’s Mill. But their careers had seldom crossed paths since. Bue was a triari sergeant while Herzer had been “promoted” to lieutenant. The Blood Lord had few formed units; they tended to be the cadre for other forces and the first class had found itself scattered up and down the eastern seaboard. Herzer had picked up that some were even as far away as the central plains.

Bue donned padded armor and found a practice sword to his liking. The Blood Lord technique was not precisely suited to one-on-one dueling, but both of them were trained in individual fighting as well.

The rules of the game were that they could not move to either side, but had to act as if they were in a unit, moving forward or backwards only slightly. Herzer centered himself and started the battle with an attempted shield bash which Bue turned to the side deftly and then they began hammering.

With no ability to move around it was just that, the swords licking out to jab and chop relentlessly. The shields stayed in front of the body and could be moved up and down, or, slightly, to either side. And they did move, fast, the two fighters wielding the heavy shields as if they were made of balsa wood instead of oak and iron. Blows slipped past repeatedly, though, slamming into shoulders and arms, but none of them would have been disabling so the fighters drove on, each attempting to either get in a crippling blow or force the other to give up from sheer fatigue.

Herzer noticed that most of the other fighting had died down as the two continued to hammer at each other. He had already had a good solid two hours of mock combat and his wind was not what it had been before the Harzburg mission. Bue, on the other hand, seemed to be made of iron. No matter what he tried he couldn’t get in a crippling blow nor did the NCO seem to be tiring.

“You’re getting soft, Herzer.” Bue grinned.

“All that easy living up in Harzburg,” Herzer admitted, gritting his teeth. He knew one blow that might work, but it was chancy and right on the edge of illegal in competition. When he realized he was about to die or drop he hooked Bue’s shield with his and lifted both of them, an almost impossible maneuver. Then he dropped to one knee and drove his practice sword upward into the NCO’s unprotected stomach, doubling him over retching.

“I’m still… better than… you…” Herzer gasped, bending over and panting.

“Cristo, I’m unmanned,” Bue said, clutching at his stomach.

“And now you see why we keep Class One as far apart as possible,” Gunny said to a background of applause.

Herzer didn’t know how long the NCO had been watching but he managed to struggle to his feet.

“And I thought it was because we were the best of the best,” Herzer said, grinning despite his fatigue.

“You’re pretty good,” Gunny admitted grudgingly. “But you want to try that maneuver on me?”

“Not in a long lifetime,” Herzer admitted. He walked over to the armor rack and hung up his shield, helmet and sword, then stripped out of the sweat-soaked armor. “You okay, Bue?”

“I’ll be okay,” the NCO admitted, walking over to rack his own gear. “Where in hell did you learn that little trick?”

“Tarson,” Herzer said. “Desperation is the best teacher.”

* * *

After showering off, he had breakfast with Bue and Gunny. The mess hall was neutral ground and Blood Lords did not maintain strict separation between enlisted and officers so several other officers were having breakfast with the “troops.” They caught up on what had been happening and talked about the “old times,” just a couple of years before, when the Blood Lords were being formed.