They headed inside after the old man, Winifred’s forehead sweating as she bit her lip. The splint and the priests magic helped, but the arm was still broken and in agony. Wakesfield walked one side of her, examining her gently as they moved slowly, assuring her it was a clean break and would heal fast and well. The priest walked on the other, his long thin fingers cupped over her arm as he channelled life and healing into it. She could feel the bones knit themselves together again, each step feeling like they were scraping against each other. The flesh of the arm was swollen and purple around the break, already fading as the magic worked.

  The old man leading their procession spoke to a worker in the same uniform they had seen around, and the young woman headed off with a worried look back at them. They continued on, through a plain corridor and up some steps. She leaned on Fuath as she climbed, his solid frame keeping her steady and reducing the soft shock each step brought. Naran and Felix walked behind, she had left the buckets behind while he carried a dripping towel in either hands, reluctant to let them go in case they were still needed. They followed in silence, and passed through and impressive set of wooden double doors, engraved with the crest of the House, a Pair of H’s overlaid on each other. The carved wood had once been filled with gold leaf, but time and indifferent maintenance had left it patchy and flaking. There was a smaller symbol beside it, a small sextant and a compass set in silver. Whitplene pushed the doors open, putting his shoulder against one as it stuck slightly, and walked inside. They followed.

  The office was quite cosy despite its size. One wall was lined with books, ancient shelves sagging in places but the books themselves looking well maintained. The other wall and either side of the door were decorated with hides and fangs and mounted heads of various beasts, tusks the size of a man stood mighty on stands while snarling faces leered down from the walls. At the far wall, behind a good sized desk and exquisite looking leather chair (one of the newest models in the city they would learn later, a fancy new type that could lean back to form almost a makeshift bed) was a huge window taking up most of the wall, looking out onto the city through glass that was obviously not cleaned often enough. In the centre of the room stood 3 couches, facing the desk in a rough U pattern with a low table between them, and empty fruit bowl atop it. Winifred was lead to the centre couch, facing the desk directly, Fuath and Wakesfield sitting either side of her. Felix happily sat himself out on one to the side, and after a moment’s hesitation Naran sat beside him, taking the far end of the couch.

  Samuel Whitplene was looking through some notes on his desk, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the still open door. The worker hustled in and laid a small bottle and glass on the table silently, bowed quickly and left, pulling the door closed behind her with a slight grunt as one stuck momentarily. “Measure her out a half of that, take her mind off the pain.” Wakesfield did so, gently sniffing the contents before pouring after a small nod of approval. He handed her the glass, and she took it swift, throwing it back. It seemed to take effect almost immediately, she felt the pain fade and her head grew looser, her worries fading for a moment. She reached for the bottle to have more but Wakesfield beat her to it, sliding it out of reach with a reproachful look. “Careful with that now” said Felix, a half smile on his face. “Think I know that stuff, it’ll knock you on your ass in a good way but s’easy to get hooked.”

  Whitplene nodded, and added “He’s not wrong.” He looked over the paperwork again briefly, then to the sitting group before him. “So we’re skipping a few steps in our normal recruitment with you five. But, as much of a fiend for drink as he is, Flint’s got a good eye for talent and seldom been wrong before. So consider this a formal interview, for all of you.” He held up a folded newspaper. “This morning’s edition, they’re already treating you as a group thanks to Flint’s mouth so I’ll do the same, keeps things looking consistent. Feel free to ask any questions you like, tells me just as much as I’ll tell you.”

  “Does what the newspaper say matter that much?” asked Wakesfield, not taking his eyes off Winifred, who had fallen back loosely into the couch and was smiling slightly, her eyes darting around the room.

  “More than you think” replied Whitplene, looking at the paper in his hands. “The House is old, much older than anyone in this room. It has certain…privileges that were granted when our name was held in much higher esteem. A few of said privileges give us advantages in our field over others, and they’d love to strip us of them.” He stood, and leaned on the backrest of his chair while looking out the window. “The House is an apolitical force for good and charity. Too many think we’re taking sides where we shouldn’t, or turning into another pack of mercenaries, and it comes tumbling down.”

  “This is why you offer meals and beds for those without then, to carry public favour” said Naran in a thoughtful voice.

  Whitplene shrugged. “That and plenty folks need meals and beds. Charity with intent is still charity.” He turned, looking at them again while still standing. “The relevant part, for you lot, is you may be called on to do something seems bloody stupid, or ignore something seems important.” He sighed quietly before continuing. “Used to be we had the clout to do as we felt was best, nowadays we have to tiptoe around the big players. Hell half the people funding the guard corps want us gone because we make them look bad.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Felix was sitting forward, his chin resting in one hand. “Define ‘bloody stupid’ for us, if you don’ mind.”

  Whitplene turned his gaze on him. He was most likely older than Felix, at a guess, but was in much better condition. He was still lean and stood proud, his limbs were still strong and straight. “Like spending two weeks escorting some merchant’s shipment of paintings instead of something helps people directly, because that merchant would pay enough to put on meals for a few dozen for a few weeks.”

  “Why hire us when they can get the corps though?” sang out Winifred. She was near flat on the couch, her chin on her chest and her legs on the floor. She had a small smile on her face and was rubbing her good hand against the couch, enjoying the feeling.

  Whitplene gave her a smirk. “Cause we still got some prestige to our name. Some will hire us just to show off, ‘look at me I’m so rich and powerful I get the House of Heroes as caravan guards’ type of thing. Also we’re better than the corps, simple as.”

  Wakesfield tipped his glasses up his nose slightly. “What would our schedule look like as members of the House? I have other work I would like to attend to as well.”

  “Let’s talk about that once we know you’re in proper, yeah?”

  Whitplene bent to the desk, and picked up a paper sheet. “I’ve had each of you checked out, you all come back clean, or don’t come back at all which is good enough.” There was a bristling at that, but no real surprise.

  Fuath spoke, removing his hands at last from Winifred’s arm. “I’m afraid I will have to stop for today, any more and I will pass out. It will take another few days to properly heal.” Winifred smiled at him, seemingly not caring either way. He turned to Whitplene. “You are not concerned we may have some hidden sordidness you did not uncover?” He seemed genuinely curious, radiating innocence.

  Whitplene smirked again. “Not concerned at all. If I didn’t hear anything back no one else will either.”

  “You must have great confidence in your sources” said Wakesfield, half-muttering as he polished his glasses.

  “That I do Sir Wakesfield” came the reply. Wakesfield said nothing in return, simply donning his glasses.

  Whitplene held up the sheet of paper. “Which brings us to the practical test. You all accounted yourselves well during the attack, you all probably could have run and made it. But you didn’t, and there’s a few people alive that wouldn’t be without you. But we need to check you out formally, hopefully in a less life or death situation. Just so happens we have a suitable opportunity coming up.”

  He picked up more sheets from the desk, and walked around the table, handing them each one. “The weevils attacked your caravan are stocking up for winter, getting ready to seal the nest and spend a few months multiplying. We’ve found the rock they’re crawling under, and we’re going to clear it out.”

  Felix looked at the page, a look of incredulity on his face as he read it. “You want us to go in and clear a whole nest, just five of us?”

  Whitplene tapped the page. “Finish reading. Four squads, joint operation with the guard corps. Main team will be some of our veterans, the ones you sparred with, and a squad of the corps best taking the largest entrance. Rest of you will be looking after some side tunnels, escape tunnels, stop any of them getting away to set up a new nest. Should be a nice milk run for you, cut your teeth proper.”

  Naran read the page, peering at the words. She had studied long but was still quite slow at reading the Tradespeech writing. “This says prevent any escapes and eliminate stragglers, but nothing more. It does not say if we are expected to go inside or simply wait outside.”

  Whitplene read his own copy, back not in his chair. “It does not. As members of the House you are expected to make your own plans and decisions to fulfil your contracts, part of the test. Whatever plans and tactics used are your call, long as the job gets done.”

  They each finished reading, and looked at each other in silence. Wakesfield broke the silence. “My most pressing question regarding this one, what would be the pay?”

  Whitplene smirked again as he looked at the page. “Well its part test and an easy run, so not the best paying. Twenty five dollars in advance, get yourselves prepped, and hundred seventy five on completion. House got its share and taxes paid, so that’s all in your pockets. Sound agreeable.”

  Wakesfield stared, his mouth bobbing open as he looked for words. “Y-yes. Agreeable indeed.”

  “Anyone else?” It appeared there were no other questions. “Alright then. Be here, front yard, at dawn, three days. Take the time to prep, any gear you’ll need. That’s part of your test too. You” he pointed at Winifred” head down to the infirmary, we have enough healers to get you sorted for the day. She gave a lazy shaky salute, and needed to be helped into a stand by Fuath and Wakesfield.

  “Alright then, see you in three days, or not. Front desk will have your advance ready.” They headed out to begin preparations, carefully rereading the paper slips they had been given. Naran spoke as they headed down the stairs together. “It appears we will be working together then.”

  Felix had popped his pipe back out, and was puffing on it empty. “Worse things in the world.”

  Fuath was near hopping with excitement as he helped Winifred down the stairs. “We’re going to be real heroes!”

  Winifred half leaned, half fell onto him. “Nah we jus’ gonna be fancy guards is all!”

  Wakesfield helped her and Fuath steady themselves before they fell down the steps. “For what they’re paying I’m more than happy with that.”

  Naran looked thoughtful as they passed a window, looking out onto the city. “We need to practice and train with the time we have, I don’t believe any of us have properly worked as a group like this.”

  Felix snapped his fingers, and bounded down the steps ahead of them. “First thing’s first, l’il bondin’ time’ll have us working like a set of clockwork. Let’s go get hammered!”

  They looked at him, and he deflated. "It's still morning" said Wakesfield curtly.

  "So no drinkin' then?" Felix sounded dejected.

  "No, we go handle our business for the day, then meet back here and THEN we go drinking."

  Felix perked right back up.