The Spoils of War

It had been a week since the assault on the rebels' forward operating base. After a joint Albian-Valorian offensive on several rebel-held cities, the Royalist forces had finally seized the initiative in the civil war. Nevertheless, the rebels still clung to a quarter of the country, including the capital, Avalon.

The successful operation not only liberated the local villagers but also severed a vital rebel supply route, providing the Royalists with a new strategic foothold. In the aftermath, the Shieldmaiden Legion's valor earned them the title of heroes. Naturally, they gave us—the men who had actually turned the tide of the battle—no credit whatsoever. Some of the more ignorant Albian regulars, POGs to the core, cursed us. They dubbed us 'The Green Hobos' for our field-worn uniforms and singled me out as 'That Evil Mercenary Who Tainted Their Pure Shieldmaidens.' The common folk, however, hailed us as saviors. I suppose I had a hand in that, having nudged those same Shieldmaidens into delivering some much-needed justice to a few deserving bastards.

But we weren't here to be knights in rusted armor or to play at being heroes. Our mission was reconnaissance and intelligence gathering. Albia was just a contract.

Our personal tent was a simple affair—three cots, a makeshift rack, and a footlocker for our gear. Since we were attached to the Valorian Expeditionary Force, our billet was in their section of the camp. Unlike the Albians, who clearly disdained our presence, the Valorians were courteous and friendly. It might have had something to do with the prophecy, but they never mentioned it, treating us simply as brothers-in-arms. I preferred it that way; being addressed as 'lord' with painfully formal deference always set my teeth on edge.

Putting all that aside, I was stretched out on my cot—a surprisingly comfortable bed of thatch, by my standards—typing away at my journal on a ruggedized laptop. I’d slept in worse places. Once in the mud, right next to a pile of camel shit.

On the adjacent cot, Cutter was leaning against the tent wall, engrossed in a six-month-old copy of Hustler. A damn shame they couldn't supply us with better pornography. Hey, don't give me that look. Boys will be boys.

Bard, meanwhile, was meticulously shaving his face. For reasons likely rooted in his otaku tendencies, he was one of the few SEALs I knew who despised the customary operator beard. He was humming along to some god-awful idol song as he scraped the razor across his jaw. Did I mention he was wearing a Kimi no Na wa T-shirt under his BDU?

Kabe wa! Hello! Hello! Hello! Kowaseru mono sa! Hello! Hello! Hello! Taoseru mono sa! Jibun kara! Chikara o dashite yo!

I hated to admit it, but the tune was catchy. Cutter, however, was less appreciative. He clamped his hands over his ears and bellowed.

"Shut the fuck up or you're gonna destroy my fucking eardrums!"

"What the fuck, man?!" Bard yelled back before returning to his task. "Can't you at least appreciate the artist?"

"Not when a bloody Yank is butchering it with that shitty voice of yours."

I sighed, looking over at my childhood friend. "Besides, the group that sings it, Muse, disbanded years ago."

He brandished his razor at me. "Muse never dies! Okay?"

"Yeah, whatever, you fucking weeb…"

Bard shot me the finger, his glare lingering. I just sighed and went back to my typing.

"E-excuse me, sirs."

A hesitant female voice preceded the entrance of about eight Shieldmaidens, led by Isolda and Caelia. The rest of their group hovered nervously outside the tent flap.

Cutter, with impressive speed, snapped his magazine shut and hid it behind his back. Well played, Brit. "Yes? What can we do for you, lass?"

"Um…"

I gently closed my laptop, my full attention on them. They were radiating anxiety. My sniper's intuition was screaming, a primal sense of unease that I couldn't place. Something felt wrong about this. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Cutter groaned.

"Sorry, where are my manners?" he said, gesturing to Bard's cot. "Please, have a seat."

Bard, finished with his shave, wiped his face with a towel and moved to grab his uniform shirt, finally noticing our guests. As the Shieldmaidens settled down, the American buttoned up his BDU and spoke.

"Y'all have something you want to talk about? Don't be nervous, just speak your minds."

One of the girls, Elina—the one I’d lent my rifle to—spoke first. "Well… first, my comrades and I want to thank you for saving us. I don't know what would have happened to me if I was imprisoned there any longer…" Her beautiful, long, dark-blue hair had been cruelly shorn off by her captors when she resisted. It was good to see her returning to her old self.

"Despite your heroic actions, you received nothing," Sela continued. She was a striking girl with short blond hair and heterochromia—one brown eye, one purple. "Even our own soldiers insulted and threatened you. It makes me feel sad… and angry. The commanders told us to keep our mouths shut, to preserve the Shieldmaidens' reputation…"

Elina offered a tremulous smile. "B-but, deep in our hearts, you're our heroes!" The other Shieldmaidens nodded in fervent agreement. Her eyes found mine. "Especially you, Lord Arc… You saved me, not once, but twice. You were willing to throw away your honor and pride just for me…"

She looked down, a violent blush coloring her cheeks. I was starting to feel genuinely, profoundly uncomfortable.

"Now… I think… I've fallen in love with you…"

See? Told you. I’d seen enough harem anime to know exactly where this was heading.

"Huh?!"

"Just remembering when your warm hands touched mine… my face feels so hot and…" she stammered, her cheeks turning a shade of scarlet I didn't think was humanly possible.

Sela frowned at her friend before grabbing my left arm and fixing me with a pair of adorable, pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Elina! Didn't I tell you not to confess first?!" Sela declared. "Lord Arc is mine!"

In response, Elina seized my right arm. "Screw you! He is mine and only mine!" I could feel her breasts pressing against my bicep. Damn it.

Bard just laughed as the two girls began a veritable tug-of-war with my arms. "Dude, I won't report this to Brielle… I swear."

"Lord Bard, I watched you fighting… and you're so cool when you crush your enemies! I've always wanted a strong, handsome knight as my husband!"

And karma, as they say, is a bitch.

"What the fu—"

Before he could finish his curse, the other Shieldmaidens swarmed him, clinging to him from all sides.

"Oh gosh, a young foreign hero with muscles is so hot! You're exactly my type!"

"PLEASE MARRY ME, MILORD!"

"Well," I deadpanned, as Sela and Elina continued to pull at me while snarling at each other like feral cats, "I once said a SEAL without an operator beard won't attract chicks… guess I was wrong." Ladies, I’m not a goddamn tug-of-war rope.

"Shut up, you!" Bard and I yelled in unison.

Cutter stared, bewildered, his gaze shifting between Bard and me, still trying to process the scene unfolding before him.

"Captain Cutter…" a Shieldmaiden, who looked like the youngest of the group, stammered. "I-I-I-I love you!"

"What the bloody hell?" the SAS captain yelped, flashing his wedding band. "Lass, I already have a wife! S-see?"

His protest was cut short as Caelia, the buxom one, grabbed him and shoved his face into her chest. "I don't care! HAVE MY BABIES NOW!" The Brit's muffled screams were lost in the chaos.

"Lord Arc is mine!"

"No, he's mine!"

Elina and Sela were still trying to tear my arms from their sockets. They were going to be dislocated, damn it.

"Girls, please, give me a break!" I grunted, just as another body launched itself at me.

It was Isolda. She pinned me to the cot, her face inches from mine. "Lord Arc! I know I'm not… pure anymore… but I can't help it! My heart is still a maiden's heart! When I see your face, I feel it beating so fast!"

"Oi! Isolda! Don't you dare monopolize him!"

"Damn you, cheater!"

"These lips were the same ones that inspired me when I was hopeless… I can't help but want to kiss them," she whispered, tracing my mouth with her fingertips. Her fresh breath ghosted across my face. I needed an exit strategy, or these wild girls would—wait. I saw it. Bard was holding a smoke grenade, but the girls clinging to him prevented him from pulling the pin. "Please tell me… m-may I be your bride, Lord Arc?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved my right hand toward the grenade's pin, careful not to alert her.

"I'm sorry… I can't give you an answer right now."

The moment the words left my mouth, I pulled the pin. Bard dropped the canister, and in seconds, the tent was filled with dense, gray smoke. As the girls began to cough and choke, we seized our chance.

"Pardon me!" I yelled, pushing past the Shieldmaidens blocking our path as the three of us scrambled for the exit.

"They're getting away!"

"Don't let them escape!"

I glanced back to see a crowd of Valorian soldiers staring at our smoke-filled tent, their expressions utterly perplexed as we burst out, pursued by a horde of shrieking women.

"Clear the way! Clear the bloody way!" Cutter roared, and the grunts scattered. For the oldest man in our unit, he was unbelievably fast, leaving us in his dust.

"Huff… where the hell did that Brit go?!" Bard gasped beside me.

"Don't know… don't care," I panted, forcing my legs to keep moving. Hell, this was harder than Log PT.

Finally, we put some distance between us and our pursuers. We needed to find cover.

"Nate," I wheezed, too exhausted to use his callsign, pulling at his arm. "This way!"

We ducked behind a two-meter-tall monument. It depicted some kind of super-knight in heavy plate armor, wielding a massive sledgehammer, his helmet's visor a single, glowing, eye-like circle. Who the hell puts something this monstrous in the middle of a military camp? It looked a little too lifelike for a statue, but we needed to hide.

Peeking around the base, I saw the girls skid to a halt right in front of it, gasping for air. "Where are they?" one asked.

"I don't know!"

"We must separate!" Isolda commanded. "Some to the north, others to the south! The rest of us will stay here and ask the Valorians!"

"Aye!" They finally split up. Bard and I sagged against the statue's back in relief. This was our chance.

From a distance, someone shouted, "Hey, Sigurd! Get your ass over here! We need your help!"

"Right away, guys!"

The statue replied in a high-pitched voice and then stumbled away, revealing us to the remaining girls. You idiot, Arc. It wasn't a statue.

"They're here!"

"Fuck no!" we both yelled, bolting in opposite directions. I didn't care if we got separated; I just prayed we both survived.

"Block his way!" another group of Shieldmaidens appeared ahead of me. I veered sharply left at a T-junction.

"Watch out!"

I heard a shout from directly in front of me, but it was too late. I slammed into someone.

"O-o-ouch!"

As I landed on top of her, I recognized the person. "B-Brielle?"

She opened her eyes with a low murmur. When she saw me on top of her, she screamed and kicked me hard in the abdomen.

"Kyaaa!"

The kick sent me flying backward. Even without my body armor, it felt like she’d cracked a few ribs. I staggered slowly to my knees.

"A-Arc, what are you—"

"Found you!" Oh, for fuck's sake, they were here!

"Oh, shit!" Isolda tackled me, pulling me into a crushing embrace. Her words, "Finally, we're together again! I'll never let you go, ho~ney!" were muffled against my face as she squeezed the air from my lungs. I swear to God, I thought I was going to die.

Thankfully, Brielle saved the day. "Release him now, you whore!" She shoved the Shieldmaiden aside and dragged me away, hugging me protectively like a child guarding a favorite doll.

"What are you doing? This has nothing to do with you, Pinkette!" Isolda barked, as the other girls glared.

"Hand back Lord Arc!"

"He's going to have my babies!"

Brielle glared back. "NO! I will never let you have him!" she declared. "Arc is my… my… he is my…" The words seemed to get caught in her throat, her face flushing a deeper and deeper red. I had no idea what she was about to say, but even on the verge of passing out, I can tell you it was a thousand times better being held by her than by them.

"What are you girls doing here?!"

A loud, authoritative shout cut through the chaos. Commander Morwenna le Fay stood behind the Shieldmaidens, her expression thunderous. Everyone froze.

"Y-Your Majesty! We were—"

"I don't care!" she bellowed, her voice like a drill sergeant reprimanding recruits. "I don't want you girls fraternizing! Return to your posts… NOW!"

The Shieldmaidens scurried away. I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. I think that was the biggest adrenaline dump of my entire life. Not even the insurgents in the Sandbox had managed that. Just kidding. Mostly.

"Erm, Brielle, can you… release me now?" I said, noticing she was still clinging to me.

"Eh?" she asked, looking from my face down to her arms. She instantly let go and turned away, a silent, mortified blush creeping up her neck. To be honest, so was I.

"Are you okay?" Morwenna asked me.

"Yeah. Thank you, Commander. I owe you one."

"Morwenna is fine," she said with a sly smile. She grabbed my collar and whispered in my ear, "Well, maybe you can repay me by… coming to my tent tonight… and giving me a good time."

"EHHH?!"

Of course, Morwenna was joking. Brielle, however, took it completely seriously and kept a suspicious eye on me for the rest of the night. As for my squadmates, Cutter made it back unscathed. The man was a legend. Bard also survived, though he was pale from a nosebleed. I shuddered to think what those girls had done to him.

I never thought I’d be writing about something like this, not like Kyle or Luttrell. But what the hell, it’s good for a laugh.