Callie's Heroes

PART III - RECOGNITIONS

Pama again returned to the podium, continuing her Mistress-of-Ceremonies responsibilities. “Utensils on your plates please.” Again, a few clinks could be heard. “This time,” Pama continued, “those on the center side of each table will change places with those across the aisle from them. Recruits on the outside shall remain. Trainers, mix yourselves up and find new seats.”

“Recruit?” Reynard said quietly to Callie, leaning across the table, as the others started to move.

“Hmm?”

“I trust you are not telling people how to unlock skills?”

Callie shook her head. “Nope. I’ve already been warned, and saw what happened with the Demon when someone didn’t know better.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Callie joined Jesca and Shul’an as they crossed the aisle to the other table, passing their opposites in the middle of the room as if they were ships in the night, as a flash of light gave away the dishes being magically bussed to wherever dirty plates magically went to. Callie briefly saw the blue hair of Pixyl, but didn’t have time to track her further and lost her in the crowd. With Jesca’s help, she took her seat again. This time, the three seated across from the Rangers were three Elves in yellow robes. Their expressions were oddly … snooty for lack of a better word.

“Hi! I’m Callie. This is Jesca and Shul’an. We’re all Rangers.” She put on the brightest smile she could.

“Charmed,” the Elf in the center said sarcastically. “I didn’t realize the Rangers had sunk to using Gnomes.”

Before either Jesca or Shul’an could respond in Callie’s defense, the chime sounded again.

“As we continue our meal,” Pama narrated out, “I bring you a rich, dark bone broth in a field of fresh edible leaves with a lovely citrus dressing and even more new friends. Please hold your glasses to make way, and eat well.”

Again the magic flashed and before them was another small plate. Centered in it was a small cup of brown broth, similar to what had been served the night before and still steaming with heat. Surrounding the broth were light, lettuce-like leaves of greens and yellows. Both a spoon as well as a fork were included this time.

The conversation during this course was virtually non-existent. The Elves responded with monosyllabic answers, and obviously had no desire to chat. It was work, but the Rangers were able to at least get the fact that two were Geomancers, who were able to manipulate stone and earth with magic, while the third was a Combat Healer, but beyond that, they were not at all social. Their attitudes were aloof and dismissive, and Callie couldn’t tell whether it was the fact they were Rangers, or that the three of them were not Elves or if the three Elves were just cranky asshats. The Rangers ate their soup in near silence, although neither Jesca or Shul’an touched their pseudo-lettuce. Luckily, Jesca was able to swap her salad with her Fairy neighbor for their broth, which she then split with Shul’an. With the Elves across the table non-talkative, they settled on listening in to the next group over talking excitedly about some kind of a coliseum game in a big city that sounded vaguely like rugby.

At some point, the Goblins came through again with refills for everyone’s drinks and Callie made the switch to wine, the lack of communication from the Elves convincing her that alcohol was now a must. It didn’t pair as well with the soup and salad as it would have with the previous courses, but was still delicious and left a little warm spot in her belly that she appreciated in the face of the Elves’ sour attitudes.

The chime of the bell signaling the next step in the feast startled Callie, as she was deeply engrossed in the rugby conversation, trying to get a sense of geography and what city life would be like, without asking any foolish or revealing questions. All eyes turned to the front, expecting Pama to come out to announce the next course. Yet, this time the Commandant was front and center.

“This is often the point,” Xera began, “where I say some inspiring words to all of you to get you all excited about the coming weeks. Luckily, that’s being delayed until after the next course.” From the front table, a mock cheer went up among the senior officers, some of whom seemed they might be getting a wee bit tipsy. “My biggest fans,” Xera said with a smile, the audience joining with a light laugh. “No, tonight, I’m going to do something that has never been done before, and in a way is something that I hope is never done again. Or at least, never done again for the same reason.”

Xera cleared their throat and took a breath, as if getting centered. “Earlier this afternoon, an incident occurred. Many of you witnessed it. Most of the rest of you have assuredly heard about it. But to clear up any rumors, I will say exactly what happened. Today, on the training field, a Warlock recruit summoned an unbound Demon. It was done through carelessness and foolishness, and in disobedience of a direct order to not do that exact thing. The guilty individual has been punished. I am not here to speak of that further.”

A wave of mutters went through the assembly.

“Two people,” Xera continued, “Two recruits, two of your fellow recruits, put themselves directly in harm's way to both contain the Demon, and finally to defeat it. They did this on instinct, and without regard to their own risk of injury or death, one even knowing she could not summon the very weapons she needed to slay the foul thing. Without their actions, some of your fellow recruits would very likely have been killed, and tonight we would have been mourning their loss, instead of celebrating the start of a new term. Recruit Vanis del Montano and Recruit Pixylataweneecina, please come forward.”

There were murmurs from the audience, punctured by the sounds of chairs scuffing, and Vanis could be seen rising farther down the table from where Callie was seated. Trainer Terrin also stood and started walking to the front. On the other side of the aisle, a Lizardkin, it was the Bladeweaver Nola, stood and pulled out a chair, revealing the blue-haired PIxie, as Trainer Olin also left his seat. Pixyl slid to the floor and started the long walk towards the front of the room, her tiny moccasin boots slapping lightly on the stone floor; her wings folded tight and drooping. She looked so very very small and you could see the nervousness on her face.

As everyone waited, a few people tried to get a round of applause started, but it quickly withered and died, tamped down by the reason for the moment. Vanis arrived first, joined quickly by the two trainers. Vanis clasped wrists with Terrin, followed by the two patting each other’s shoulders, before he likewise clasped wrists with Olin. They turned to wait as Pixyl continued her long, lonely, short-legged march to the front.

The slap slap slap of her footsteps on the cold floor seemed to grow louder in the oppressive silence as Pixyl walked, eventually arriving at the front with the other four. Trainer Olin dropped to one knee, extending his hand. Pixyl reached forth and they clasped wrists. Olin leaned forward to whisper something in his recruit’s ear, and she looked away briefly in embarrassment, before looking back and nodding. Pixyl turned, facing the rest of her fellow recruits and opened her wings wide, putting them on full display, as Vanis stepped beside her.

Xera cleared their throat again. “As this has never happened before, I don’t really think I have the best words to say for this moment. In the past, at the end of every term, I and the trainers have made a special effort to recognize those recruits who have gone above and beyond; those who have shown leadership, ingenuity, courage and who have set the best examples of what it means to fight for the Free Folk. But those honors have always been camp honors. They have been my honors and the honors of our trainers. Tonight, it is different. Tonight, the honors come not from me, but from a grateful Army, on behalf of all The Free Folk of the North.

Xera took a deep breath again, before continuing. “To begin. It is my great and humble honor to award Corporal Vanis del Montano the Free Army Medal of Distinction for his deeds in combat,” Xera placed an emphasis on the new rank being bestowed. “His actions with a just-learned and never-used spell subdued the Demon for precious seconds, allowing his fellow recruit, Pixylataweneecina, to position herself to engage the threat.”

While Xera spoke, Trainer Terrin walked in front of a suddenly quite demure Vanis, and placed a green sash over his head and around his neck, upon which hung something. Again, they clasped wrists with each other, nodding. Terrin stepped aside to retake a spot behind Vanis. At this distance, no detail could be seen on the medal, save that it glinted as it reflected the light around it. Applause rang out, with a few recruits rising to their feet and a few more whistling. Xera raised one hand and called for silence, and the din quickly stilled, those standing returning quickly to their seats.

Commandant Xera continued as Trainer Olin began to move. “For receiving life-threatening combat injuries in the direct defense of others, Recruit Pixylataweneecina is hereby awarded The Red Heartstone Star.” This time, Trainer Olin had stepped in front of the little Pixie as Xera spoke, and dropped to one knee. His huge mane and leonine form blocking everyone’s view. He nodded, saying something, stood and stepped aside. Pixyl now wore a red sash around her neck upon which hung a medal. Like Vanis’s, it was too far away to make out detail, but on her tiny body, it seemed much larger than one would expect. Thankfully, the sash had been cut to an appropriate length to assure it didn’t drag on the floor. Still, Pixyl was being crushed by the attention, and Callie could see she was doing all she could to not fold her wings back in the instinctive attempt to disappear.

Again a round of applause started up, but was quickly shushed as it was obvious Xera had more to say. Xera again cleared their throat. “For courage in rushing to the protection of her fellow recruits without regard for her own safety, for risking her life in the defense of the same, and quite honestly, for kicking that Demon’s ass, it is my great personal privilege to award Corporal-Major Pixylataweneecina The Bronze Sword of Valor.”

At once the whole tent exploded. Recruits, officers and trainers all leapt to their feet as one, cheering, whistling, clapping and whooping. Sergeant-Major Natala, who had been standing aside in the shadows, approached as Xera stepped from the podium. The Sergeant opened a small wood case she had been holding and Xera took a medal out of it, this one on a sash of dark blue or black with a stripe down its center. Xera bent, placing it around Pixyl’s neck as the applause rang forth. Vanis, Olin and Terrin all joined in the applause, having taken a respectful step aside to assure the focus was the little Pixie. Xera had private words for Pixyl as they spoke for several seconds while the roars of the tent surrounded everyone.

With a nod, Xera turned back to the podium and Natala backed away. Compared to her Heartstone Star, Pixyl’s new medal hung higher, almost at her neckline, seeming to shine with its higher significance. Maybe not everyone noticed, but Callie saw Pixyl rub her hand under each of her eyes, wiping away what surely had to be the start of tears. Xera waited patiently for a little more time while the acclamations rang out before finally raising their hand and calling for silence. Slowly, everyone retook their seats. Callie waved Jesca off, choosing to stay standing for the rest of Xera’s remarks.

“It is with a humble respect for these two when I say this, but I sincerely hope I never have to do that again as Commandant of this facility. Corporal Vanis and Corporal-Major Pixylataweneecina have set an example to you all by showing you extraordinary bravery and cunning. One, the smallest of you all, has shown that size will never be a measure of courage or skill, and she did this on day zero of her training. All of you have eight weeks ahead of you. I dare you to do better.”

Another round of applause rang out as Xera stepped away again, stopping once more to clasp wrists with Pixyl and Vanis. Together, the two recruits joined Xera and the two trainers as they walked away from the center podium. Slowly the tent shifted from the sounds of applause to the sounds of normal conversational background noise, coupled with the sounds of shifting seats as everyone sat.

“Did you know that was going to happen?” Jesca asked Callie. “Vanis probably knows how to handle the attention, given who he really is, but poor Pixyl must be mortified.”

Callie shook her head, trying to see where her Pixie friend had gone, but having lost her in the crowd of tall people. “I had no idea. And from what I could tell, neither did she. I know the Warlock trainer mentioned that she and Vanis were inspiring, but I had no idea she was going to get a medal. Two medals actually! And apparently a promotion?”

“Yeah! Promoted to Corporal-Major. I think that makes Pixyl a higher rank than Tazrok is. And Vanis now, too. I actually don’t know all the army’s ranks. Koda was saying that when we finish training we all become a Private, though.”