Forging Rust

by Reserved Rodent

co-authored with AJH

Chapter Eight

I will stove your head in for your insolence

The next day, a slightly downcast Squire Rust carried his and his master's laundry to the camp communal washing site. His mind kept wandering to the previous evening and the Knight's soft reminder as his responsibilities as a warrior. It wandered again now, even as he spoke to a burly otter who had met him at the perimeter of the laundry.

“Honestly, Squire Rust, you can just leave it here with me and I'll get it back to your lord's tent. It's what me and my team do.” The otter – dressed only in a loincloth and dripping wet – held his paws out to take the basket from the rat.

“I can do this. I've done it before and becoming a Squire didn't make me forget how to clean clothes.” One of Rust's ears was halfway folded down as he shook his head. “I thought I was supposed to be taking care of these kinds of things for my lord, not just handing them off to others.”

“I hear you, and for the record I respect that attitude. It's good for you to have for those times when you and Lord Chase are not in camp and are out on the road. At that point and time you are indeed the domestic staff, because we civilians don't go on missions like that. Trust me, he'll be fortunate to have someone willing to get the work done in those times. But while you are in a fortified camp with me and my team on duty, we'll be the ones doing your laundry. We'll get wet, so you don't have to.”

“So there's nothing I can do to get you to let me clean these?” Rust asked, tail twitching.

“The only way that I will let you interfere with the job I have been given is if Lord Chase came to me and told me he was assigning you to my team. Then I'd have you stripped and washing clothes so fast your head would spin.” The otter smiled wryly, still holding his paws out to take the clothes basket from the rat.

“Stripped?”

“Well, wet clothing chafes – and when you're washing, you're going to get wet. A loincloth would be optional, of course – if you're modest.” The otter nodded, then tilted his head and wrinkled his nose. “Come to think of it, even with that level of modesty I might have to keep you separate from the rest of the crew so they pay attention to their work and not the strapping Squire getting wet with them. They're a good bunch of lads, but it would be quite a rare treat having you by their side showing off all those muscles. So I just can't allow it – unless ordered to by the nobility, of course.”

With a sigh, the rat handed over the basket. “When should I be by to pick them up?”

The otter chuckled as he shouldered the weight. “They will be delivered when finished to Lord Chase's tent. You can certainly come by whenever you want to chat, or to let us know if you've got anything specific you need done. Otherwise, I keep my crew on top of things. I'd have to look at the log to know for sure, but if you've built up this size of load, I assume the guys would have been by either today or tomorrow to pick these up. Although with all your training and that mission outside the camp the other day, you might also be going through more changes of clothes than normal. If you get worried about the build up, you can always come let us know and we'll be happy to add in an early visit. You can ask for me, Arbon, but anyone at the tent will know what to do. We're here to serve your laundry needs, Squire Rust.”

The otter's soft voice was full of pride when he spoke. It seemed to the rat that even the civilian serfs serving the Brotherhood were proud of their role – a humbling reminder.

“Well, I appreciate all the hard work you and your crew are willing to take on. I wasn't looking forward to doing it all, but I also wasn't looking to shove it off on someone else having to do it either. You all have my thanks.” The rat admitted with a grin.

“Aw that's so sweet. The boys will appreciate hearing that. I know I do. You do your house proud, Squire Rust.”

“Thank you. I hope to do my best for both my house and the Brotherhood as a whole. For now, though, I'll get out of your way and see if I can't get some extra training done, since you took away what I planned on doing.” The rodent smiled at the otter, who chuckled and waved as Rust left the tent.

The rat headed across the camp to the practice rings. If Lord Chase wanted him to work on weapons practice with other teachers, Rust figured he was in for a long, grueling workout with other Squires. As the rings came into sight, though, it was apparent there was no practice going on at the Squire's ring. A small group of tall, wide-shouldered soldiers were going through exercises with two-handed blades further along in the second ring, but just a few wolves and Squire Denil hung around near where the Squires normally practiced.

Rust wandered up to where the ocelot was watching the four wolves play cards.

Denil's ears twitched as the rodent neared. Looking over his shoulder, the feline grinned. “Hey, just the rodent I was wanting to see.”

“Wanting to see me?” Rust grinned. “I don't think I've ever had anyone who's owed me money tell me that.” The rat winked.

Chuckling, the ocelot shook his head and patted the rodent's shoulder. “I don't like owing money. It's poor form. And I also want to impress you, not aggravate you.” The feline's ears reddened a little.

“Why do you think you need to impress me, Denil? I'm just a new Squire still learning how to do laundry around here.”

“What?” The feline Squire's ears perked up. “In camp the domestic staff should pick up your dirty stuff to wash.”

“A fact Arbon made sure I understood as he took the laundry basket from me. Of course, I didn't know that until I'd dragged the laundry across the camp to wash it myself.”

The ocelot's ears twitched uncertainly for a moment. “That's the kind of...” He laughed softly as things became clear. “...thing that you probably needed to be told, since you haven't spent half your life or more being raised to be a Knight. You're new to the lifestyle. It's easy to forget what all the normal Squires learns at half your age.”

Rust nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “I've got a lot of learning to do if I hope to live up to Lord Chase's expectations. After what he's done by even giving me this opportunity, I feel like I need to push myself just to have a chance of catching up to where I need to be. I'm not sure I'll make it.”

“If even one of the many things rumored about where you came from are true, you bring a caravan full of unique life experiences into what you do.” The ocelot patted the rodent's shoulder again. “It might mean unlearning some bad habits to become a proper Knight, but that can be and has been done many a time before. It also gives you different views and different stories to tell. When you combine that with a handsome and sexy body, well, it makes you someone I want to know.”

Squire Denil leaned in closer as the wolves started squabbling over the cards. “Having found out that your first night in the stables made enough interesting sounds to draw a crowd of that size to see who was involved, well, it makes me wish I'd won the bet so I could offer you a night in the stables with me if you didn't want to pay the coin price.”

The rat blinked a few times, whiskers twitching. “You made the bet so you could...”

Holding his paws up, the ocelot shook his head. “No, not entirely. I mean, I do occasionally offer that to someone I like who owes me money. I made the bet fully expecting only money to pass hands. If something else happened... well... I'd be happy for the chance. But I can man up and ask you straight out if we seem to get along well. I'm not afraid to ask a guy if he wants a night in the stables.”

Reaching out and grabbing his opposite number's arm, one of the wolves growled lowly as a pair of aces fell from the fellow's sleeve.

The rat chuckled softly as the wolves' game dissolved into chaos. “That was another thing I didn't know about until it happened.”

“You were a virgin?”

“What? No!” Rust gave the feline a playful push. “That I could go to the stables to relieve some tension with a fellow Squire. Or... that we Squires are supposed to be celibate.”

“Oh? Did you get in trouble for what you and Sid...?”

“No. I'm just not supposed to brag about it. There's some who might take offense to the traditions being broken.” Rust rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that I was planning on bragging about it. I had not really meant for it to be as well known as it seems to be.”

“It'll be fine. The rest of us do a pretty good job of watching out for each other in that regard. Speaking of which...” Denil took a pouch from his belt that jingled. “Here's the last of your payment. You were wise to believe in your lord.”

With a twitch of his whiskers, the rat took the small bag. “He hasn't let me down yet. I don't expect he will.” While he secured his winnings, Rust looked around the circle. A pair of wolves rolled past his footpaws, growling and fighting. Neither rodent or feline stooped to help “I thought training went on here most of the day?”

“They're doing some laps around the camp right now. I'm not sure when they will be back or what the first lesson will be, but you didn't miss them by more than five minutes, so you have a little time to waste.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, the rodent shook his head. “Push to catch up, remember? I'll go watch the soldiers and see if I can't learn something that way.”

“Careful. It looks like it's new soldiers being taught over there. They look pretty, but – like you – don't always know what's going on.” Denil grinned. Behind him, the wolves slinked back to the table and fallen cards, their feud apparently resolved for now.

“With comments like that. you'll never have a night in the stables with me.” Rust chuckled and swatted the ocelot's rump as he wandered over to watch a dozen young, beefy soldiers practice with their two-handed blades.

Before being purchased and trained by Lord Chase, the rat had focused on lighter blades, using one in each paw and retaining a dagger as backup for his tail – if there wasn't anything on the ground to improvise with as needed. However, the Squire understood he would have to be able to use all kinds of weapons if he hoped to ascend to Knighthood. He figured he could at least watch the soldiers drill with the weapon his master liked to use. Rust had gained clarity of the disarming maneuver through watching his master in the duel – maybe watching the soldiers practice would be just as helpful.

As he neared the ring and heard the badger coaching the soldiers snarling at their obviously poor handling of the blades, however, Rust began to wonder if maybe this would be a waste of time.

“This is a blade, not a hammer for pounding in tent stakes!” The badger screamed as a heavily built bear's overhead swing hit the ground in front of him. “If you're busy attacking the ground, a barbarian will take your head!” The teacher's own blade tapped the bear's shoulder before the ursine could recover. Letting the two-handed sword rest there with a one-handed grip, the badger stepped up and slapped the soldier's nose. It seemed more embarrassing a reprimand than a punch would have been.

Rust decided then that maybe he could learn though watching what not to do – and it might be amusing to boot, so moved up to the edge of the ring.

“You're not a lumberjack attacking a tree!” The badger screamed at an elk, after his swing overbalanced him and he stumbled. The badger darted forward and slapped the soldier's ass with the flat of his blade. “Your opponent will be swinging back at you when you miss – and if you are so obvious about what you're going to do, you will miss.”

A bull about Rust's age who seemed to be going through the routine of practice swings well enough – although obviously not giving it serious effort – snorted. “All of us prefer using hammers and axes, what did you expect with this exercise?”

“I expect you to put some effort into learning every weapon!” The badger snarled, stomping towards the young bovine. “On the field of battle, sometimes you lose your weapon and you don't have the opportunity to be picky.” With the ease of knowing his own weapon well, the badger struck the complaining soldier's loosely-held broadsword three times from three different angles.

The bull, only starting to pay more attention when his teacher began his attack tried to counter the blows without a solid grip. Naturally, the large blade slipped from his grip mid-swing and clattered at Rust's feet as the bovine leapt back from the badger's continued attacks with the flat of his blade.

“You have to be able to use what's at hand which may not always be your favored weapon! If all you could get to on the field was a two-handed blade, at this point you are worthless! All of you young pups don't listen – too full of yourselves. Just because you're all freakishly huge and know how to swing a hammer or axe doesn't mean you're done learning how to be a soldier!”

“My axe wouldn't have slipped,” the bull muttered. The badger, exasperated, grabbed his horn and yanked on it, bringing the taller soldier's head down so his ear could be shouted directly into.

“You are full of bullshit!” A shove and swat to the rump sent the younger soldier to his knees. “What do I have to do to prove you can do this? If you pay attention, I can teach you how to fight with this weapon as well as – if not better than – your favorite.”

Rust picked up the bull's two-handed sword and stepped into the ring. “Sounds good. I'm ready to learn.”

The badger's gaze darted over to the rat, sizing the rodent up while Rust watched him in return.

“You're that new Squire Lord Chase brought in, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hasn't he taught you how to use his weapon of choice? I'd think he would be able to teach you better than a soldier like me.”

“Not yet. He's been too busy helping me overcome the bad habits I learned and polish up my own chosen weapon style. I've done my best to pay attention to his fighting style with the two-handed sword, but have not yet practiced with one myself. As for one of you teaching me better than the other, I think being exposed to both your fighting styles can only make me a better warrior, as I am less likely to get attached to one way of thinking.”

The badger nodded. “Very well. Let's see what you can do. If I can get you better able to fight than these boys, maybe that will shame them into working harder. Now grip the blade correctly.”

As the chastened bull and elk staggered from the ring, the badger and rodent slowly circled each other. Rust could feel the dirt under his bare footpaws, and let his eyes study the badger’s powerful form. He noted the one-handed grip on the creature’s broadsword – and compared it to his own, two-handed hold.

“Should you not be using two hands, sir?” The rodent asked, curious.

Still circling, the badger shook his head. “I’m no sir, Squire. You can call me Ushbek, and the rank I hold is Knight Errant.”

“Knight Errant?”

“I’m not of noble blood. It’s an honorary knighthood. Now shut it and listen!” The rodent fell silent, watching the older male.

“I can hold this broadsword in one-hand because I’m confident in its use.” He switched hands suddenly. “So confident, I can fight with my off-hand.” He switched again, to grip the sword’s broad hilt with both paws. “Or both hands.”

Rusty said nothing. He flexed his fingers on his own broadsword, feeling the heavy weight, his arms straining.

“The broadsword is not a stabbing weapon. It’s a slashing weapon. It’s as much a cudgel as it is a blade.”

From the sidelines, the bull snorted. The badger gave him a withering look. “Shut it, you. I said it’s not to be used to hammer in tent poles, but disrespect me again and I will stove your head in for your insolence.”

The rodent heard, rather than saw, the bull nod his respect. In front of him, the badger suddenly stepped in, swinging high, right-to-left. The blade whistled as it flew, clanging into Rust’s own blade as he brought it up in defense.

“Good!” The badger growled, stepping back. “Keeping a guard up with a broadsword is key. Swinging wildly will only leave you open to counter blows, trips or punches.” The badger swung in again, this time arcing his sword wildly.

Rust reacted without thinking. He blocked two blows, then stepped into the badger’s guard, pushed his sword aside with the flat of his own blade, and slapped the badger’s striped muzzle.

Laughing, the badger stepped back and nodded. “Good thing I was demonstrating bad form, or you’d of had me there. You’ve picked up more than you realized!” He laughed – and gripped the sword in both paws. Rust noted how his muscles seemed to bulge – he wasn’t playing any more.

“Remember, children.” The badger addressed the assembled soldiers. “It’s a slashing blade, but keep your movements tight and efficient. The second you’re caught off balance, you’re dead.”

With a sudden thrust, the badger closed on Rust. He brought his broadsword to bear, and the rodent found himself forced back, defending against a rain of blows. The bigger male switched back and forth between both paws, one-handed and two-handed, the broadsword whistling as it changed direction mid-strike. It took a tremendous amount of energy to fight like that, Rust noted, even as he was forced to the edge of the ring, barely holding off the larger male. He felt his respect for Lord Chase increase.

Finally, Rust’s tired arms gave out. He clumsily parried one particularly powerful swipe, then found himself disarmed as the badger rolled his wrists over Rust’s broadsword, and slapped the flat of his blade on the rodent’s forearms. The borrowed sword clattered to the dust, and the rodent found the tip of the badger’s blade pressed to his cheek. The rodent laughed softly. “I’m… not very good, it seems.”

“On the contrary,” the badger smiled, lowering his sword, “You held off for ten strokes. That’s an impressive tally. Your form is far from polished, however. You have a lot to learn. As do these useless whelps.” The badger thumbed towards the watching soldiers, and grinned. “Next time you fancy a little more training, Squire, feel free to come ask for me.”

“Thank you, Knight Errant Ushbek, I will certainly take you up on your offer as often as my arms will give me the strength to manage. Thank you again for the lesson.”

The badger nodded. “Okay soldiers, get off your asses and get back to work! You've got no excuses any more!”

Rust walked over to the bull and returned his weapon. “Thank you for letting me borrow this.”

The bull nodded. “No problem, Squire Rust. It was great seeing you slap Ushbek's muzzle.”

The rat grinned up at the taller soldier. “Just took paying attention and putting effort forth. Take every lesson seriously and you might be the one getting in his guard.”

With a hearty laugh, the soldier entered the ring with his fellows. “Now that's motivation.”

Rust chuckled and shook his head as he headed back over to the Squires' circle where it looked like a training session was getting ready to start. It was going to be a long, busy day.