A Housewife in Combat Training: Part Two

The Willinghams had spent the night in the lap of a type of luxury they had never thought possible. The guest quarters in the royal palace had been opulent and huge, providing them with enough bedrooms for each child to have their own space.

“No sharing bedrooms?! I can scream and burp and whatever and nobody can yell at me?!” Daisy shouted as she ran to one of the bedrooms, the bed nearly as big as her entire attic space at home.

“Why does your mind immediately go to burping?” Samara asked wearily.

Dinner had been delivered promptly to them, a titanic roast turkey with vegetables and exotic fruit juices to drink. Violet took to it all quickly.

“This is what I deserve,” she murmured as Hunter carried her to bed.

“Careful, gremlin. People don’t always get to keep what they deserve,” he said softly to her.

Samara still heard it.

She thought of it as she sat up on the balcony of her and Alec's room, the moon high above, the fragrant courtyard garden stretching below her. In her hand was Mutterklinge, faintly glowing, not as brightly as normal, as if sensing her hesitancy.

“Why didn’t you go to him? This would all be so much easier. I’d be terrified, but at least he would have been happy. This way…”

She sighed, leaning against the column on the balcony.

“I don’t know why, but I expect you to actually talk back. Are you sure there isn’t some kind of instructions you could give me? A hint as to why I’m the one holding you?”

The sword, as always, said nothing.

“Perfect. I’m letting you know right now, you’re living in the closet.”

The sun rose after a fitful night’s sleep for Samara, and following another lavish meal of bacon and eggs and ham and fruit the family was led through the castle and out into the training courtyard where the high knights of the crown usually practiced.

There were two things which made the family gasp there.

The first was a massive magitech battle tank, steel plates gleaming in the early morning light, large mana battery glowing in the back as the cannon pointed at them.

The second was the king and princess sitting off to the side on a raised platform, watching them enter.

The Willinghams immediately bowed, getting onto their knees, but the king leapt up, waving his hands.

“No, stop, don’t do…you do not have to bow to me. I know it is customary for civilians to bow, but at this moment you are not civilians. Please, get up. Step forward.”

They hesitantly rose, walking slowly towards the two royals.

“Your majesty,” Samara said softly, bowing her head briefly.

“Samara Willingham. The supposed new Hero. May I see it?”

She held up her blade, the sword laying flat on both her palms. As soon as the king picked it up the blue light went out. He let out a brief laugh.

“I don’t think it likes me. Still…I’ve heard my entire life the king would know the Hero’s Blade when he saw it. Mirabelle, what do you think?”

The princess stood and walked to her father’s side, her dark green dress swaying around her. Her fingers gently caressed the blade, as if she were stroking a baby’s cheek.

“I think…I want to see her kill the tank,” Mirabelle said.

“You want me to what the what?” Samara stuttered.

“Kill the tank,” Mirabelle said, her steel blue eyes targeting Samara.

“Whoa…” Hunter said, a slight smile edging on the corners of his mouth.

“An excellent idea!” a slightly slurred voice called out. Riktar walked confidently onto the training field, waving to them. “Sorry I’m late. I got incredibly drunk last night. Now, the tank. This baby is one of my pride and joys. A Mark II Rex, with a double capacity mana tank battery, high speed propulsion system for the treads and a gamma level plasma cannon. It is the best of the best. Less than a hundred exist.”

“Were most of those real words?” Samara asked.

“Indeed they were! Now, I’m gonna have the auto gun aim at you. Your test is to stop the tank from firing.”

“You want my wife to WHAT?!” Alec shouted, stepping forward and putting his arm around Samara.

“It’ll be a non-lethal round, don’t worry. Still…” Riktar got right in Alec’s face. “What do you think Heroes do, desk boy? Why do you think she is here?”

“He’s right,” Samara said with a sigh. “Alec, if I’m meant to help people, I have to do this.”

Alec rubbed his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

“Fine. But remember what you said on the train. If this feels wrong…”

“The first train back home. I promise.”

The family, king, princess and Riktar walked back to the raised platform the royalty had been sitting on. They sat reluctantly, gazing down at their mother standing before the mechanical behemoth, her sword in hand.

“Go mom! Kick the tank's ass!” Rose shouted.

“Don’t say ass in front of the king and princess,” Alec scolded.

“I hope she kicks its ass,” Mirabelle whispered to her father. He smiled and nodded.

The tank’s cannon aimed directly at Samara. It began to rumble as the battery in the back glowed and charged.

“Tank power at ten percent! It’ll knock you on your ass for the rest of the day! And I hope you have no shame about bowel control! Firing in five, four, three, two…”

Samara ran up to the tank, her dress kicking up around her feet. Mutterklinge glowed brightly as she swung. For a moment all anyone could hear was a faint ticking in the tank. Then it slid apart, cut clean in half diagonally. The back mana battery exploded outwards, shards of glowing crystal flying at the back wall.

She stood up straight, dusting her dress off and leaning on her sword as she plunged it into the ground.

“I killed the tank!” Samara called out.

The king and princess stood immediately and began clapping. Her family mostly sat in stunned silence, their mouths open, all except for Hunter.

“Yeah, she pretty much did the same thing in the woods,” Hunter said.

“Mom is able to kill a tank!” Daisy shouted enthusiastically.

“Mom did the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. How do I call her lame ever again…” Rose bemoaned.

Riktar stood up and leapt off the platform. He approached Samara with a neutral look on his face, sizing her up as he neared. When he reached her he motioned towards her hands.

“Put them up like you’re about to fight,” he said.

“Oh. Okay. I suppose I can,” Samara said, awkwardly raising her fists.

“Punch me.”

“I don’t…but I can’t…”

“I can take it, woman. Punch me.”

She sighed and shot her fist out. Riktar dodged easily and buried his fist in her gut. She cried out, the air punched out of her, as she fell to the ground. A kick to her side followed, sending her rolling away.

“The real flaw here is you. I believe you’re the Hero. But a fancy sword is useless if you can get around it. You, to be frank, suck as a hero.”

“Hey!”

Hunter leapt down and ran towards his mother and Riktar. The surly man walked over to meet the boy. Through pain filled eyes, Samara saw her son getting into the face of the older knight. Then Riktar grinned a wicked grin, nodded, and backhanded the boy.

“How dare you talk to me like I’m your underling, you little stain!” Riktar growled.

Samara saw red.

She stood faster than she could think, Mutterklinge leaping to her hand, and she ran at Riktar. Her fist lashed out, grabbing him and dragging him over the dirt before slamming him against the wall of the platform everyone sat on.

“YOU DARE STRIKE MY SON, VILLAIN?! NEVER AGAIN SHALL YOU RAISE YOUR HAND TO…”

“There she is,” Riktar rasped out. “Also, ow.”

“What?” Samara asked, the strength flowing out of her, confusion taking its place.

“I told him to hit me, mom,” Hunter said. “I figured after the woods, you needed…motivation to kick ass.”

“I’d say I can work with you,” Riktar said, extracting himself from her grip. “Welcome to the knight corps, recruit.”

“I can’t deal with all this…” Alec said, leaning back in his chair.