"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"
My ears ring at the chorus of cheers from a crowd far too enclosed for my average comfort. Their voices bounce off the walls of the Village [Hall]. But despite the noise, the smile on my face is genuine. As is the warm fuzzy feeling in my chest. My mood is finally feeling much lighter than it did a couple of weeks ago. Finally, time feels like it has gone forward.
My eyes scan the mass of village folk and the few mercenaries crowded within the long house. The pews have been put into storage for the night so people can walk around and mingle. A long table has been set up front on the stage with chairs arranged around it for family and friends. With me in the seat of honor right in the middle. A little overwhelmed, but happy.
The fire pit roars at the center, where Mr. Gordon and Teovar are currently roasting a selection of meats of varying sizes over the fancy metal spit. And the smells coming from them are making it difficult not to vault the table. Suffice it to say, we have been eating a lot of jackalope recently. And even with the variety of cooking methods, I still think we're already thoroughly sick of it. So it's nice to smell something different. Having two [Cooks] has been a blessing from on high. And from what I've been hearing, Mr. Gordon has even leveled up to five with Teovar's help. He had been stagnant for years, and having someone more experienced give him some pointers was just the boost he needed. There are certainly bonuses to mentoring people of the same class as you, but it's usually better done for children. I'm glad he got to benefit from it.
The longhouse is packed, and a lot of chatter is going on. My birthday parties were never this big before. But apparently, a lot of my neighbors wanted to attend this time around and suggested moving it to the [Hall]. I guess I've gotten a little popular. Which is definitely not what I expected with how weird things were with me over the last few years.
Mama says it's because I fought for the village. But there were a lot of people who did that, so I feel like I shouldn't be praised that much for it. But Mama just told me to have more self-confidence. So I shut up after that.
"Everyone, listen up!" My mother calls out from beside me. "The food is almost done. If you have any gifts or well-wishes for Liore, you can come up one at a time! No crowding!" She calls out with that same commanding tone she always has when addressing the village. She's dressed up in a simple tan gown with short sleeves, which she saves for special occasions. Although this is the first time she has worn it for my birthday. And she spent hours on her hair this morning putting it into box braids that she's tied up into a tail that runs down her back.
I sort of feel bad. She wanted to braid mine too, but I kept fidgeting too much. It's not like I hate how my hair looks braided. I really like it. But as I've gotten older, it's been harder to sit still for that long. Which she hates a lot. But she didn't want to stress me out about it, so we settled for just styling it up into a loose bun. I can feel the cold air on the parts of my face that my hair usually covers. She tied it up with a white lace band with white beads. Matching that with a pale-yellow and white dress, I certainly look a lot more girly than I have in a while. Almost to the point where it feels awkward.
I jolt as a hand finds the back of my neck, snapping me out of my thoughts. My head tilts back to look up, meeting Mama's gaze. Her lips pursed curiously. "You alright, dove?" She asks, smiling lightly down at me while her hand rubs down my back.
A smile creeps back on my lips as I offer her a nod. "I'm good. Was thinking that it feels weird to be in a dress again."
She giggles, leaning down to kiss my exposed forehead. "No matter how many monsters you kill, you deserve to look pretty every once in a while."
A grunt from my other side draws our attention towards Thorpe, who has been sitting next to me. A metal tankard gripped firmly in his hand. "Especially for us combatants. Gotta find time and space to relax and enjoy the little things. Fighting all the time will turn you sour." He comments before taking a swig of his drink. His cheeks are already slightly red. He has been drinking for quite a while before this. "I've met too many mercs who don't know when to sit down and just breathe. Miserable people. And they always die the worst deaths."
I frown at that, as well as the slightly hazy look in Thorpe's eyes. He's been like this ever since he put down the jackalope den mother a couple of weeks ago. It hit him harder than I ever thought it would. And I've tried to talk to him about it several times, but he keeps avoiding the subject.
My mother's arm stretches down over my head to give a sharp flick to Old Guard's nose, causing the old man to flinch and reel back. His bushy brows furrow at her. "What the hell was that for?!"
Mama props her fists onto her hips and glares at the old man without a lick of remorse. "'Cause I'm starting to see an old, drunken arse-hole I used to drag out of the tavern on the docks!"
Thorpe's nose wrinkles, and it looks like he's about to retort, but a polite clearing of the throat draws us across the table from me to see Ser Ethel offering a pleasant, if not slightly awkward, smile in our direction. She and a few others have lined up as Mama had ordered. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
An awkward pause sets in for a brief moment before Thorpe sighs and shakes his head, rising to a stand. "Nah. I was just heading out to get some air." He remarks as he heads towards the back entrance, where the bell tower stairs are. Mama watches him go with a bit of a stink-eye.
I clear my own throat before turning back towards Ethel. I had been absentmindedly catching glances at her since the party started. Mostly because of her outfit. The [Knight] is now clad in a fine white blouse with nicely fitting black trousers and riding boots. A shortsword is sheathed and hanging from her left hip. With her armor off, I can clearly see the very well-defined muscles straining slightly against the fabric. A sight which makes my eyes widen like saucers, but I'm trying not to stare too much. "Uh—Ser Ethel. Thank you for coming. How are things going?"
I know that Ethel has been part of the talks between Thorpe and Lord Felix. They've been meeting almost every night since the jackalope invasion. And I've been kind of agonizing over what they could be talking about so much. The nobleman had said he wanted to speak to me more, but he hasn't made any effort to do so yet. It's been nerve-wracking.
Ethel chuckles and gives a passive wave with her free hand, while her other is clutching onto a long object wrapped in cloth. "Nothing stabbing or biting us. At least not at current." She shakes her head. "We'll fill everyone in on things soon. It seems his Lordship will be wanting to stay for quite a bit longer."
I nod lightly, frowning a little bit still. I don't much like being kept in the dark on stuff, especially when I was getting so used to being included. "Understood. We're happy to have you here with us."
Mama offers a nod in agreement, keeping a hand on my shoulder. "Your lot have been a great help around here. You and his Lordship are welcome to stay as long as needed."
Ethel smiles warmly at that, "Your blessing means a lot, Mrs. Perro." She states genuinely before turning her attention back to me. "But enough of that. Happy belated birthday, Liore." The [Knight] lays the cloth-wrapped object onto the table and begins unwrapping it. "Thirteen is the age when combat classes can officially join the Mercenary Guild. Usually, they start by hunting vermin-type monsters for their entrance exam. Rats of unusual size and the like." She chuckles, peeling the fabric away before sliding the object over to me.
My eyes widen as I scan over the short length of the emerald blue scabbard nestled inside the cloth. Simple bronze decorations line the sheath that match the grip of the short sword housed within it—the etched head of a stag on the center of the crossguard. Its antlers are outstretched and blend into either side of the guard that mimics their shape.
I stare at it, a bit confused about what it's even for. Finally, looking back up to Ethel's brightly smiling face. "Wh—what's this for?" I ask timidly, hoping not to sound ungrateful. But I do already have a weapon.
The [Knight] smirks and folds her arms over her chest. "Well. At least at the Academy I went to school at, it was a veteran's job to pass on their older equipment to the new initiates." She leans over to pat the scabbard lovingly. "This was the first sword I ever bought with my own money. I worked my ass off to get enough for it, and it served me well for 6 years before I switched to greatswords. I thought it would make a good sidearm for you."
I can feel my cheeks getting warm, looking back down at the ornate weapon with a new level of appreciation. "Are you sure I deserve something like that? It sounds like it's really important to you."
She shakes her head lightly. "I don't use it anymore. I gave it to Wuinn for a while, but she has far better weapons now herself. So it's just been sitting in our travel bags for god knows how long. And I'd rather it be used than rusting next to a sack of jerky." The [Knight] gestures to the weapon passively. "Go ahead. Take a look. See how it feels in the hands."
At this point, I'm blushing quite fiercely. A nice warm fuzzy feeling in my gut. This is really nice of her, and I didn't know I had made that much of an impression. But I'm sure if I said that, they'd just tell me to stop thinking so negatively about myself. So I keep my trap shut and just pick the sword up. And already I can tell it's going to be a whole different training regimen with this thing. It is comically light. At least in comparison to my broadsword's heft.
My right hand nervously grips the hilt and pulls, the sword leaving its housing smoothly. The blade almost sings as it slips free. Polished to a mirror finish with just a few noticeable imperfections. Old wounds in the steel that have been repaired to the best of one's ability. The blade is straight but tapers at the end in a nice curve to the tip. Only about a little over a foot long. Much more fit for someone my size, but as Ethel noted, more of a sidearm now than anything else.
"It's beautiful," I say absentmindedly, staring into the clear reflection of myself in it. "You're sure I can have this? It looks so expensive."
Ethel places her hands on her hips and laughs. "Not at all. Your broadsword easily dwarfs that one in cost. Only dropped a little over a third of silver on it. Very cheap."
A snort emits from the curly red head peeking over the [Knight's] shoulder. Mrs. Bennett leans out from behind the taller woman to get a better peek at the sword, dropping a load of folded items onto the table next to it. Her wife, Margo, holds tight to the belt of the burly smith's trousers as if she's driving a horse's reins. The seamstress giggles and gives me a wave as Mrs. Bennett eyeballs the weapon. "It's a nice blade, no doubt. But you definitely got overcharged. Probably slapped on extra for the useless decorations. Sure is pretty though."
Ethel chuckles and smiles a little awkwardly. "You are likely right. I mean, it was cheap for Capital standards. And I thought the decoration looked--well, cool?" She admits with a slight groan. "I was fifteen! Can you really blame me?"
My hand snaps to my mouth on reflex to stifle a giggle. "I think the decoration is very cool, actually," I assure her while rehousing the blade into its sheath. "Thank you so much, Ser Ethel. I don't know what situations I'll need it for, though."
The [Knight] purses her lips and leans over slightly to gaze down at me. "Quite a few, actually. It isn't just for casual moments like this. I wouldn't dare bring my bastard sword into a catacomb, cave, or ruin. It'd just get me killed." She states seriously. "Or in dense forests like the ones around us. More liable to get it caught during a swing and leave myself open. Or perhaps I just need a weapon more nimble for certain enemies. A greatsword certainly isn't ideal for getting in between plates on a suit of armor either. For that, I'd prefer something shorter as well."
My full attention locks in on the [Knight] as she speaks, nodding my head along slowly at each point. Even Thorpe, who is best with a spear, always has a shortsword or dagger with him. I always just figured it was a backup in case his spear was lost. But what Ethel is saying makes a lot of sense. My broadsword is pretty short already, though, so I haven't had that much of an issue yet. "I guess it would be faster to unsheath this than it would be my broadsword as well. If I need to be armed quicker."
The [Knight] cracks a grin and stands up straight. "That it would. It's all situational. More options to draw from in a fight are good." Her grin gets a bit awkward as she rubs the back of her neck. "But honestly, I think you might need to consider better armor, too."
Mama sighs next to me, her grip tightening on my shoulder. "Don't I know it. With how prone she is to taking hits to the chest, I'm afraid her breasts will grow in concave." She remarks, causing me to gasp as she and the other women laugh.
My cheeks immediately burn as my arms wrap around my chest, staring daggers up at my mother. "MAMA! Don't say things like that in front of other people!"
But my mother's grin doesn't get any smaller. Instead, she ruffles a hand through my cloud-like hair a bit roughly. "Oh, hush, I'm only just teasing, dove."
I grimace and pout at her, which just makes them laugh more. And I am just thankful everyone in the longhouse is mingling pretty loudly. So they shouldn't have heard that. Right?
Mrs. Bennett clears her throat as she pats the folded bundle of items onto the table, a wicked grin across her face. "Speaking of armor, though! I think I might have solved that issue already." The redhead unfolds the bundle and spreads it across the table, revealing several items. Some I recognize, that being my gambeson, and others that are new. The [Blacksmith] begins to gesture at the items. "Margo and I repaired your gambeson, and she's as good to go as she can be. It will definitely need to be replaced soon, though."
I nod, very appreciative of the repair, but my eyes are already far more drawn to the assortment of small to medium armor plates scattered around it. "Are those--armor?"
Mrs. Bennett rubs her hands together much like one would if they were hatching an evil plan. "Indeed, they are! I've been working on these for a while, so be grateful!" She states firmly with a point of her index finger in my direction. "Now I know you fight really agile. Thorpe's given me the full rundown on how you move, so I've kept it light. At least some plates to absorb hits for your vitals while letting you angle around still. I ain't skilled enough with armor forging to make those fancy articulated plates, and I don't have the material for it anyhow."
She taps on a few of the polished metal pieces. "Got your greaves and knee guards, thighs, cuirass, and pauldrons. Nothing fancy, thin metal, no decoration or nothing. Cuirass has a bit of a neck lip to catch things headed towards your throat. Then some simple plate gauntlets to go over your sleeves." The [Blacksmith] details, excitement apparent on her face. And with each piece she goes over, my heart feels like it gets heavier.
Mama's eyes widen with astonishment. "Philippa--you made all this for Liore? Can you really afford to use this much metal? This all looks mighty expensive..." She comments with a bit of apprehension.
The redhead answers with a dismissive wave. "Oh hell, I forged these from leftover metal from my usual work. I was saving it for months. Nothing hurting my purse whatsoever." She assures before returning her attention to me. "So dear, what do you--Liore? Why are you crying?"
Tears already started steaming down my cheeks while she was talking to Mama. My lip quivering uncontrollably, and each breath stutters in my throat. "All of this is for me?"
Mrs. Bennet, Margo, Ethel, and my mother's faces all shift from concerned to sympathetic smiles. The [Blacksmith] reaches over and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Of course it is, dear. We ain't going to let you leave our sights again without as much protection as we can give you."
Mama hugs me against her and plants a kiss on my cheek while Margo makes her way around the table to embrace me from the other side.
"Thank you..." I manage to blubber out. "I--I get hurt so much..."
Ethel and Mrs. Bennett laugh. But more chuckles from behind them lead my teary eyes to notice that quite a few people have lined up behind them. Gifts in hand.
And despite how much I feel like I don't deserve it. They all clearly think I do.
And they definitely heard the concave breast thing.