A Housewife in Combat Training: Part One

It was two days later when the entire Willingham family found themselves on a magitech train speeding towards the capital city of Centralia, dressed in their best clothes, their nerves and patience strained. The younger two girls bounced in their seats, the older two were talkative but contemplative, the parents keeping them all in line.

Hunter sat in the row behind Samara.

Only six per row per side after all, he had rationalized.

The process of getting the knights to realize who Samara was had been straightforward yet irritating. The day following the retrieval of the sword the family walked calmly into the police station and Samara gently placed Mutterklinge on the desk of the receptionist.

“Excuse me, who do I talk to about a sword making me a legendary hero?” Samara asked politely.

The receptionist blinked at her slowly.

“Have a seat, please,” she said briskly.

“Thank you!”

Samara went to join her family on the bench nearby.

“Madam? Your sword?”

The receptionist pointed a long nailed finger at Mutterklinge.

“Oh! Silly me! I’m still not used to carrying a sword. I apologize.”

Samara took the sword and sat down swiftly with it resting in her lap.

“This is gonna be a long ass day…” Hunter sighed.

The captain of the local police force came twenty boredom filled minutes later, looking at Samara with a skeptical eye.

“What seems to be the trouble here?”

“Yes, hello! Could you get me into contact with the royal knights? I believe I have something they would be highly interested in.”

“Uh huh. And what makes you think this ornate kitchen knife is the Hero’s Blade?”

“Hey, don’t be a jerk. She killed three nightmaren with this sword,” Hunter said, standing in defense of his mom.

“Yeah, mister old and pudgy. The sword may be smaller than the usual big hero sword, but it still deserves respect!” Rose said, standing with her brother.

“Right. Nightmaren. Sure. And I suppose you can demonstrate how special this little sword is?” the captain scoffed. Samara looked to Hunter. He nodded.

“Alright,” she said, holding the sword up. The blade glowed blue through its intricate design, and she quickly lowered it. Not only did the receptionist desk in front of her split in half, but three desks behind it did as well.

The chief's jaw hung open.

The receptionist used one of her long nailed fingers to gently close it.

“Multi kill. Impressive,” Hunter said.

“Oh my. Sorry. I’m still learning how to use this thing,” Samara said, her face red.

It didn’t take long after the great desk massacre for Samara to be interviewed by the royal knights, their suits crisp and pressed, their swords by their sides. They were far more respectful of Samara and her family, asking her questions and inspecting the sword carefully.

“The hard part about this is the sword. Lots of swords have magical abilities. And the Hero’s Blade changes with each iteration,” the red headed woman with the tight bun said.

“Still, if your story is true and you killed three nightmaren with zero training, I’d say it’s worth a trip to see the king for further testing,” the older man said.

“The king…I can’t believe I’m seeing the king…” Samara said as the train rumbled onwards. She smoothed her dress for the hundred and seventh time as Alec took her hand.

“Neither can I. Last week I was happy to get a yearly bonus for improved safety statistics. Now our family is about to mingle with royals,” Alec said.

Rose let out a brief, skeptical laugh. “Mingle? They’ll probably sequester us while they poke and prod at mom. We’re not important after all.”

Samara could practically feel Hunter tense in the seat behind her.

“All of you are important. If anyone makes you feel otherwise we’ll leave.”

“We can’t leave! You’re the hero!” Daisy said, shaking her head.

“I can and I will! Nobody can force me to be the Hero,” Samara said with a shrug.

“Wow! Mommy is gonna tell the king to shove it! I’ve always dreamed of doing such in a royal court…” Violet said in awe.

“I didn’t exactly say those words, sweetheart,” Samara said wearily. Her eyes drifted to Lily’s sketch pad. She had complained before leaving about not being allowed to bring her paints, so she had settled reluctantly on drawing. The figure in her drawing was an unfinished mannequin, a figure clearly holding a sword and standing against a horde of dark shapes.

“What are you drawing, hon?” Samara asked, already having an idea.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Lily said, her pencil still flying.

“Oh.” Samara was a bit surprised her daughter hadn’t come straight out and said it was her.

“Who do you want right there?” Alec asked, tapping the figure in the center.

“Whoever makes me the most happy.”

Samara felt the shift behind her again. Hunter adjusted his seat, possibly moving his head a bit closer to hear.

“Yes…I like your thought, Lily. Let’s make sure whoever is in there makes everyone happy,” Samara said. She looked out the window as rolling hills and trees whipped by.

Soon they would be replaced by the outskirts of Centralia. Then she would know who belonged in the center of the drawing.

*

They were not greeted by a large welcoming party. Instead they found an enormous carriage drawn by two large mechanical magitech horses snorting steam as they stamped their metallic hooves. A coachman waited up top, ready to guide them, and a large man with a scraggly scar across one eye and a face like the bottom of a boot stepped forward to greet them.

“Samara Willingham, I presume?” he asked, sticking out a hand which dwarfed hers. She gently placed her hand in his.

“Indeed I am. And you are…”

“Riktar Makee. Head of the knights of something, I always forget what title the king gives me. I get moved around by the paper pushers a lot. Sorry if you expected a big welcome party.”

“I am a little surprised, yes,” Alec said, looking around and adjusting his glasses.

“Well, for one, we don’t even know if the little lady is the Hero,” Riktar said as he ushered the Willingham family into the carriage. “Two, if she is, we want to control the message. You have kids, for the sake of the gods. Don’t want some monster biting their head off upon the first whiff of destiny.”

“Let them try!” Violet said proudly as Alec lifted her into the seat.

“Ha! I like this one! Coachman! Get those horses asses in gear!”

With a snap of energy the mechanical beasts began to draw the carriage through the streets of Centralia. Riktar pulled out a flask and drank.

“Now, you domestic rabble, tell me everything.”

*

Riktar listened quietly as they recounted the fateful night, drinking from his flask as Samara kept smacking Violet’s curious hand away from what she described as the smelly juice.

“So you saw two nightmaren and your first thought was to charge at them?” Riktar asked Hunter. “You dumbass.”

“Thank you!” Rose said softly.

“With all due respect, I had to protect the sword,” Hunter said, trying to keep calm.

“And with all due respect, you’re a dumbass. But I kinda like it. You know, we run a test like what happened to you two. Quick reaction to deadly stimuli. 92% think too long and do the smart thing. They fail. The remaining 8% are accepted into the high knights. Half of them have long, eventful careers.”

“And the other half?” Samara asked hesitantly.

“They die quickly.”

The carriage remained quiet for a long, tense moment before Riktar pointed.

“Look. There’s the castle. Seat of power, tourist haven and your potential future home, lady.”

The castle rose high into the air, white spires gleaming and banners flying from the top of each one. The towers were outfitted with massive magitech energy generators with mana crystals floating through them. In the center of the courtyard they could see the twenty foot tall statue of Sed Stromm, the first Hero.

“I’m not like him…” Samara said quietly.

“You’re right. You’re like you,” Riktar said. “So let’s see what it means to be like you.”