Inch by Inch

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Jay was too distracted by manic thoughts and strange certainties popping into his mind to pay attention.

Measure. A home Word. Could it be useful for anything? His right shoe was bigger than the left by 5 mm. How did he spin this with the recruiters? All the floor tiles were exactly 30 by 30 cm except the ones around the spiral, which varied between 9 and 33 cm. Could he pretend it was a hinterland Word? His family was exactly 8.32 m away. Should he lie?

His plans – his future – crumbled before his eyes.

The ceremony finished with a brief closing note from Speaker Natasha. She knew better than anyone that a longer speech would result in people trying to slip out before it was done. It was incredibly rude, but with the way Jay’s fellow recipients were shifting, they were reaching the point of not caring.

Many Words’ effects weren’t as obvious to the recipient as his was. They wanted to know. They wanted to understand.

Speaker Natasha stepped out of the three spirals and the church descended into a cacophony of noise. Families stood up and shoved their way forward. Others who weren’t related to any recipients shoved their way out.

At the center of the church, the neat and orderly rows of recipients crumbled into small clumps or disintegrated altogether. Jay offered some weak congratulations to his friends around him, and they offered hesitant ones back. They knew as well as he did what Jay’s Word meant.

Out of the guild and guard hopefuls, only two others hadn’t received a suitable Word. And Mick was torn between the guards and working with his family anyway. The miller’s son was sitting down and chatting away to his parents unconcerned. The Word he’d been granted didn’t change much. Only Kate was in the same situation as Jay. She stood nervously on the other side of the church, speaking in hushed tones with her brother. Her dark clothes and complexion stood out all the more next to her bright and colorful sibling. Not only did Kate not want to work with her brother as a singer, there wasn’t enough work for two singers in Kavakar.

Jay’s family didn’t storm the center of the church like some of the other families. Instead, they had hung back and waited for him to come to them which in some ways was worse. He couldn’t avoid them. They had the exit covered. At least they let him lead them out of the church before they began – settling for clapping him on the back or, in his mother’s case, fixing him with a searching look.

Once they left the church, he was a fair target.

“Measure, Jiro! A fantastic Word!” His father was the first to offer congratulations, a wide smile on his face – like Jay’s world hadn’t crumpled underneath him. “The potential for it! There is profit to be earned, mark my words. Or Measure them I should say!”

Jay walked a little faster, but they seemed to take it as a sign that he wanted to get out of the crowd and sped up to match.

“Have you figured out its use, JiJi?” Mika asked softly, using a pet name that he hadn’t heard for years.

“Yes!” Adrien bellowed out happily. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sure you have some clues already, Jiro. Is it quantity or quantify? Careful choice or action? And the cost? What does it take from you?”

Jay stopped, and in his turmoil couldn’t help but blurt out all the certainties in his mind. Turning to his father he started. “5 foot 8 inches.” His mother. “6 foot.” His brother. “5 foot 1 inch.” Back at the triangular church building. “24 m away. 18.01 m tall.” Finally, he pointed a shaking hand at the tower that marked the guard’s training ground, where all the guild recruiters stood waiting. “462.25 m.”

Why did it feel so far?

Adrien laughed. “Quantify then. Incredible! We’ll make a merchant out of you yet. A perfect Word.”

“Perfect for keeping an eye on stock, verifying quality or...” Sam began then paused, seeming to reconsider as he looked at Jay. “Map making. It woul-”

It was too much. Jay spun to face them.

Sam winced at his expression and stopped making up uses for the awful Word. Jay had no need for them anyway.

“I’m heading to the training grounds," he ground out between clenched teeth. And then he set off to do just that.

“What?” His dad spluttered behind him, his cheer evaporating and voice rising as the distance grew between Jay and his family. “You can’t be serious. Measure is a home Word. You can’t still be thinking about adventuring? You’re not a Denier.”

Jay ignored his dad and kept moving. There was still time for him to catch up with the rest of the guild and guard hopefuls.

He left the protests, echo from an open hand striking cheek, and following argument behind.

There were happier smiles and louder greetings when he reached his friends. They were all relieved to see he hadn’t given up. Words or not, the day had only begun for them hopefuls. Hours of testing awaited them.

The welcome lightened his steps a little. A colder side of him whispered that they were just happy to have someone to show up, a Word comparison to make them look better. He did his best to ignore that voice.

A few people started a nervous conversation, revisiting strategies for the recruiters, but Jay begged off. He needed to plan. He started with the backup. A worst-case scenario. He didn’t like backups. A good plan shouldn’t need one. Unfortunately, experience taught him that there always needed to be a backup. His was obvious enough – join the guards. It would set him back a number of years, but it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch to adventuring. Noted, it wasn’t common for those switching to have a home Word, but guards with a home Word weren’t common either.

Briefly Jay considered lying. It wouldn’t be too hard to fake difficulty using his Word for the testing. Only briefly. Lies were never a good way to build a relationship, and it set a terrible foundation when you needed to be able to trust your guild mates with your life. Never mind the fact that there had been hundreds in the church who knew the truth.

An actual plan took longer to form. To his dislike the inspiration came from his Word.

A guard patrolling the wall in the distance was 287.23 m away and 5’10” tall. As he walked the number flickered, the certainty changing yet remaining just as steadfast. Ranged weapons. It was perfect. Jay knew exact distances. He was a walking spotter. Given enough time he was sure that he could tweak Measure to work on the wind too. He could make the art of archery into a science.

It wasn’t a perfect plan.

The idea of leaning on math and losing out on some of the art of a fight wasn’t... ideal. He also didn’t know how to use a bow. But it had potential and could show that he did too.

He didn’t have any more time to think before they arrived at the training grounds. For once, it was to his benefit that the recruiters weren’t allowed to pounce on them yet. Instead, a guard captain stepped forward and roared orders to the hopefuls. It wasn’t Koa, the captain from last night. The testing had to be impartial and Koa’s son was due a Word today. He was likely in the crowd with Jay.

Jay followed the shouted orders absently. They started with a sprint around the flattened earth hexagon, running the lines of the star formed from two triangles. Exercise was the first and most basic demonstration of ability for the recruiters. The hopefuls soon separated out in the usual order from the guard’s morning training. Stragglers quickly fell back or collapsed to the side. Just as Kate, Mick and he had received unexpected Words, so had these stragglers. It was easy to identify those who hadn’t expected a hinterland Word. They wore formal clothes, gawked at the guards, ignored the orders or arrived late and sat down instead of joining the other hopefuls on their run. They were clueless. Ill-prepared.

And yet Jay couldn’t ignore the sting of jealousy as he ran laps around them.

The exercises continued. Running was replaced by a climbing wall, then more obstacles. They were led through a series of stretches to test their flexibility. Weights were set out. Coordination was tested. Martial forms. Weapon drills. Each exercise was slightly different from the morning training but not enough to matter.

The first major difference to the morning training showed when the candidates were asked to spar. Two guards approached each candidate and asked about everyone’s Word and known abilities. It was a precaution to prevent any accidents. Two familiar faces, guard recruits from last year, failed to hide their wince at Jay’s answer. They didn’t ask any further questions and beat an awkward retreat.

His spar was quick. Uneven. Jay launched himself at Eric, his opponent, fueled by frustration and confidence. Confidence built from the fact that his opponent had messed up.

Eric tried to put up a defense, scrambling back and struggling to fend off Jay’s strikes. It wasn’t enough. He’d been caught flat-footed with his stance all wrong. Both of his feet were out of place by ten centimeters, which felt like miles to Jay, and nerves made him lean too far forward, another dozen centimeters past how he should have stood if he wanted to charge or defend.

Breath left Eric’s lungs with one jab and his back hit the ground with the next. It was a simple fight. It wouldn’t be enough.

The rest of the sparring went much the same. Not every spar ended in victory, but Jay won enough. He knew the spear forms and was familiar with the guard’s practice weapons. He was worse with the provided short blade, but the guards only trained recruits in bladed weapons. Overall, the testing went well for him. He was fit and trained. Not in the competition to be the best, but close enough. When the guard captain called an end to the testing, Jay’s hands were sweating and not from the workout. He waited for the captain’s instructions for the next phase, Word testing, to end before stepping away from the group. He had no need for the testing. He knew what his Word could do, and it was nothing to be shown off.

His breaking away from the pack caused a small stir. Many of the recruiters knew him already and were likely now getting the wrong impression of his Word. The lack of testing spoke to a known Word, one from his family’s sentence, perhaps. It spoke of confidence and understanding. It was the wrong impression, but hopefully it made an impact. He would be the first hopeful to approach the recruiters today, and he needed all the help he could get. Making himself memorable was a good start.

Jay’s footsteps took him right to Zita, a recruiter for the ‘Marching Orders’ guild. The Marching Orders were his first choice. They were established, dependable and had a reputation for providing the best training and education for recruits. That reputation came with less pay and a smaller share of salvage, but Jay was happy to sacrifice some short-term gains for long-term success.

Was. Now he’d be lucky to get an offer at all, never mind the terms.

Zita shot him a quick look with a raised eyebrow and a grin before turning back to the testing grounds. Jay may have been a potential recruit, but they knew each other already and he’d approached her first. Zita wasn’t about to ignore everyone else here today in favor of him. This was normal behavior for her, but it still made him worried. It was like she knew already.

“Confident are you Jay?” Zita asked. Her eyebrow twitched as it settled. A scar across her brow still gave her trouble. She didn’t glance at him again as he stopped by her side and joined her in watching the other hopefuls.

“No,” Jay answered truthfully. There was no point in lying or blustering past the truth. This wasn’t Zita’s first recruitment pitch. Jay may be somewhat practiced in negotiation from working at the shop, but this was a different field. “My Word can’t be demonstrated out there.”

Zita didn’t turn towards him or react in any obvious way but her eyes softened. It was a small change, almost imperceptible as her facial muscles relaxed. Millimeters of difference but well, Jay now knew exactly how many millimeters with a cold certainty. He needed to act fast. Zita may be sympathetic, but sympathy wouldn’t earn him a place in her guild.

“Measure,” Jay stated, beginning his pitch. He indicated to the hopeful currently on the field, demonstrating his Word against a dummy with a stick. The blunt weapon left holes in the dummy where it shouldn’t. “He is 6 foot 3 inches tall and 53.4 meters away. His eye is 4.17 cm from the right side of his head. With a bow I could be unstoppable.”

Zita hummed appreciatively as she considered it.

Jay’s heart caught.

Then Zita’s shoulder sank and she sighed. “Could be. Not ‘would be’ like with ‘Shot’ or ‘Aim’. I haven’t seen you use a bow before. You didn’t demonstrate it today either.”

There was a break as the hopeful on the field switched around. In the lull, Zita turned to face him. She looked tired and resigned. Jay’s heart didn’t start again. Instead, it clenched and compressed.

“I can’t recruit on a maybe. You might turn out to be an archer prodigy, but there’s more to shooting than knowing the distance to the target.”

Now it was Jay’s shoulders’ turn to sink. “I know the exact distance I draw an arrow back. The exact height I hold the bow. I can get the exact angle of the arrow. I can calculate the force.”

Zita flexed her hands. “And the wind? The flex of the arrow? Of the bow? The effect of temperature? How the target will react?”

Jay had no answer.

Zita’s final response was short and to the point. “I’m sorry Jay.” And with that she turned back to the other hopefuls.

He thanked her for her time and started to run down his list.

It was here that Jay’s previous plans and preparation backfired. The inroads he had made with the recruiters quickly turned to a weakness. He knew them. They knew him. Some might have disliked that he chose to approach a rival guild first over them. Others saw his early choices rejecting him and knew that there was a reason why. The better guilds or recruiters gave him a chance to explain. None made an offer. The best he got was advice to join the town guards and try again in another year when he was bloodied and proven. The worst laughed at him and asked why they would bother to take on an untested Denier. He even tried the guilds that had only focused on his family’s name and reputation. They barely listened to a word before turning him away.

As the Word testing for the other hopefuls ended, and they all streamed towards the recruiters, Jay was left sitting down off to one side by himself. He still had the backup. The worst-case scenario. Joining the guards.

He’d definitely burnt a few bridges going to every single guild recruiter before he approached them, but they’d take him. He was a good recruit. A local and a known bet. Family of one of the founders. Even if his bow idea didn’t work out, he’d be useful for the town’s larger defenses. And you didn’t need a good Word to patrol the wall.

For a second, Jay nearly did. He shifted, pushing his weight forward to get up and head towards the guard’s recruitment desk.

But he stopped. The familiar pain from tired muscles woke him up.

No.

A year of training as a guard recruit might not be enough to improve his skills, to make up for his Word. And what then? Another year? Another two? Three? At what point would he give up and settle into the guard, doomed by the Gods to never advance past a certain point? And even if he was recruited to a guild after a year, what was waiting for him there? He would be a Denier. A fool who ignored the path of the Gods, denying them and what they stood for.

Someone who rejected their gift.

No, Jay refused.

He pushed up from the ground, but he didn’t head towards the guard’s desk. Instead, he headed back towards the town.

To the church of three.

486 m away.