As Clean a Slate as One Could Ask For

The next afternoon found Brochwel standing outside the prince's council chamber, which he still thought of as 'the room with the fancy door outside and all the desks inside'. He had gotten some sleep, but it turns out that even when the enemy general surrenders, several hours are still needed for the losing side to lay down their weapons, the winning side to gather up those few thousand weapons ...

Brochwel failed to stifle a yawn as a scribe poked through the ornate door.

"Uh, Brochwel?"

"That's me."

"Which of your titles ... excuse me, your appellations, should I introduce you by?" The scribe held out a short scroll of paper. "Searching our records and the archive of Aeden Clemo's reporting on the Flaxen Order, it seems you've been 'Brochwel the half-a-dozen-things' over the years, and—"

With a gentle smile, Brochwel held up his hand for the scribe to stop. "Just my name and current rank, please. A fresh start is all I ask."

The scribe nodded and led Brochwel in, announcing him plainly as the Temporary Expeditionary Auxiliary Regiment's commander. A roomful of pack-leaders and other officials turned to look. They wore thin smiles or gave approving nods as he stepped into the center of the room, to where Tecca and Prince Kuzon were standing.

"And here is our other hero of the hour," the Prince said, inviting Brochwel to come closer with a delicate wave of his hand. "You've come full circle, haven't you? Sir Ambrose asked you and your comrades to take our fair city, years ago. Did they tell you that there used to be a Tragaronese fur trapping outpost where Cargelhan now stands?"

"Frequently. During the skirmishes they wouldn't shut up about 'retaking' it. As if a tiny trapper's shack could lay claim to a city that rose around it."

"Not tiny. Regardless, they were wrong. You can go see the foundations of that structure if you like, a few miles down the southeast road. Ah, forgive me, I'm starting to ramble again."

Prince Kuzon cleared his throat and waved to an aide standing by a wall graced by a map of the continent, on which Tragaron had been repainted to match the empire's red. The aide began picking their way through the morass of desks.

"General Haute hasn't said much in custody, yet," the prince continued. "But if what he said to Ms. Sobriquette during your prison-break operation was more than a drunken blathering, the empire is focusing on what they consider 'weak targets'. Thanks in no small part to your efforts, we may have convinced them that we're no push-overs."

The aide reached them and presented the prince his sword. Heavy black lacquer peeked through many bright sashes tied around the scabbard (one for each pack, Brochwel later learned).

"I am promoting you and inducting your unit into the standing army. General Callaway is pleased with your initiative and daring; she's eager to see what you'll do next." Then he tapped his chin and smiled at the pack-leaders. "Somehow a promotion doesn't feel like quite enough, does it? Brochwel, if you would take a knee."

Brochwel obeyed and watched the sword glide out of its scabbard. It ... was really happening? He didn't believe it until the flat of the blade had touched and then lifted off his right shoulder. His breath caught in his chest.

"Welcome to Cargelhan, Sir Brochwel. This is your home now."

"Thank you, your majesty."

Tecca led Brochwel out through the stately applause of people who had been clapping plenty already today and had sore hands by now.

A chair crashed backward. "Wait!"

Everyone turned to look at one of the pack-leaders, who had stood fast enough to upset his seat.

"Our pack was promised the next command appointment."

Brochwel glanced at the prince just in time to witness a royal eye-roll.

"We've been over this, Bentham. Your pack will get command of the next unit established by the REGULAR process. You don't seriously expect me to ask someone I just knighted to continue as a lowly mercenary, do you?"

"Well, no, but I ..."

Prince Kuzon made a little 'shoo' motion with his hand at Brochwel and Tecca. They left and let the door close on the disappointed pack-leader trying to argue some ancient precedent.

"So, how's it feel?" Tecca led Brochwel down the halls and out with a sunny spring in her step. "Being a knight?"

"I don't know. It wasn't something I could ever be in Tragaron ... does knighthood mean something different everywhere?"

"Well, you're smiling, that's a good start."

Brochwel realized she was right, he was smiling. But for now he kept to himself that the source of it had little to do with the knighthood and everything to do with being welcomed home. He wiped away the beginnings of a tear, before anyone commented on it.

Down the gravel way stood a trio of horses in the company of Olivia Callaway.

"Oh no. Brochwel let's hide or cut through the lawn."

"I'm afraid she's waving at us, Tecca. It's too late."

"Brochwel! Sobriquette! Come on!"

"Where are you going?" Tecca asked with a grumpy tinge in her voice.

"Oh ho ho ho, where I'm going, you say. As if you aren't going too."

"Never said I was, Olivia."

"But we really must introduce Brochwel to the city and vice versa. You wouldn't want our newest knight, talent you scouted, getting lost in every alley, would you?"

Grumbling, Tecca assented and got on one of the horses. They rode the short jaunt to the wall at the edge of the palace's grounds. Passing through that portal, the way turned into busy streets. Vendors called out from covered stalls and the scents of baked goods wafted and competed for Brochwel's nose. Handsome row houses perched above each storefront. So this was Cargelhan ...

"No, I mean it, Sobriquette," Olivia said. "You and your team have done exemplary work."

"Then you'll stop bullying me?"

Olivia gasped. "My dear Tecca, I never bully! Now, I may tease you and prod you from time to time, but I invite you to do the same right back. It's called vying. You and me, together forever, pushing each other to ever higher heights. It's what life's all about."

"Can't we just be strangers?"

"Nope. I knew the moment I saw your determined little frown that you were the only one who could match my ambition. Now, what do you say we go drinking this evening?"

"Oh?" Tecca's ears relaxed. "I supposed some wine would go a ways toward patching things over."

"Wine? Ha! You're in Cargelhan now. It's all about the beer."

Tecca turned a long-suffering look toward Brochwel, but he was looking upward.

"Aoda." He waved with a smile.

"Hey!"

Aoda pointed him toward a section of boardwalk that ran out over the lake. He paused at the start of the boards where her descent wouldn't scatter vendors' lightweight wares or tangle fishers' lines. Aoda landed precisely behind Brochwel on the horse.

"How was the battle?" she asked.

"It went well. Actually, it was kinda bright. The imperial side lit the place up with some ball lightning casting."

"You mean I could have fought alongside you and I missed it?"

"Maybe. But ... bright by my idea of night. Might still have been too dark for you. Next time?" Brochwel turned the horse back toward the city and looked for Tecca and Olivia in the crowd.

"Next time," Aoda agreed.

As they passed under vibrant clotheslines, Aoda asked, "Have they already made you a knight? Tecca told me—wait, has that not happened yet? Did I spoil it?"

Brochwel giggled. "You're fine. Happened just a little bit ago."

In a teasing tone, she whispered in his ear, "Well, now that you're all highfalutin and important I bet you'll have to fight off social-climbing suitors as well as the enemy."

Brochwel started to object but then had a better idea.

"You're right, I could come under attack at any time. I sure hope a cute odonaran doesn't suddenly yank me off this horse and whisk me away to some shady grove." Brochwel turned when Aoda didn't reply, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a bit of a blush around the edge of her cheek plate. "I said—"

This earned him a playful punch on the arm. "Take me on a second ... and maybe a third date first."

"I will. Might need a minute to scope out the good date spots. New city, after all."

"There you are." Olivia and Tecca rode back into sight, the latter still deflated about the no-wine decision. "Come along Brochwel. Aoda, you're welcome too. The bar isn't going to drink itself dry now is it?"

"Alright, we're coming."

So this was Brochwel's new home. Yeah, he could work with this.