Inch by Inch

“One hit!”

As much as she liked the recognition, Ana was growing to hate having those two words shouted at her. Still, she smiled at everyone sitting at the table where the nickname had come from.

“Hey.”

Lisa moved over, freeing a space for Ana between her and Sofia. It placed Ana in the middle of the two Marching Order recruits, instead of beside Monika, a Heritage recruit.

That wasn’t unexpected. Lisa and Monika were close friends. You wouldn’t know it from their appearance, but they were. Monika was slim and willowy, with soft skin that was at odds with her profession. She wore a silky chiton, the fabric smooth enough to the eye that you could feel the price of it from a distance.

Lisa, on the other hand, was from a stone harvesting family and was half a year older. While she would have never harvested the stone herself, families from the northwest part of the city were not against a bit of extra help to make ends meet. Lisa’s frame was built from labor, not training. Her clothes were new and stylish, the Marching Orders paid well, but the simple weave and thicker fabric proved some sensibilities were hard to escape.

Both were archers. Their shared interest in the bow was worth more than the clothes on their back.

“I love your dress,” Cassandra, the fourth woman at the table and second Heritage recruit, said, leaning forward to inspect the skirt.

“Thanks.” Ana smoothed down the ends of her sash. The dress was a piece she’d worked on with her mother. Not their finest work, but an experiment with new fibers that had succeeded. It was a honey-gray color with a cross hatch texture, undyed, as that was another stage of the experimentation that they had yet to reach. The fabric felt soft against her skin and breathable. It would be a success. The girdle underneath was another experiment, made from a stretchy material that did well to draw the dress in above the waist, but it liked to twist at the edges.

The style of the dress itself wasn’t anything special, a simple sheath with the bodice and skirt darts combined into one and that fold hidden behind her sash, but wealthy as the Heritage recruits were, they weren’t all that knowledgeable about fashion outside of Lauchia. Kavakar, with all its caravans, was a lot more current and volatile with trends. Apparently, the city did not import any clothing from her hometown.

Yet. A letter back home and a word with one of the more ‘exclusive’ shopfronts around the city could go a long way.

Ana smiled across the table from her at Cassandra. The olive-skinned woman wore a sleeveless peplos silkier than Monika’s chiton. Given that peplos were made from a single large swath of cloth, that was a statement in itself. Cassandra — Cassandra Stenner to new acquaintances — would be the perfect person to tell her about which shopfront. She just needed to find a moment to ask, when it wouldn’t seem like she was pandering to the compliment. It would be easy enough. Cassandra was very interested in fashion, and open enough about it to be running her eyes up and down Ana’s form at a near indecent speed.

“Abby, Daina and Iris aren’t here today?” Ana asked.

Lisa shook her head. No one seemed too interested in the question. It had already been discussed then. “They got caught up in all the mess today. Didn’t want to come out or are too tired.”

“We were just talking-“ Gossiping, Ana corrected in her mind. “-about Darius,” Sofia said, waving her hand at the table as if to ward away a bad smell. As always, her gestures were excessive. Ana moved an empty tankard in the danger zone out of reach by rote. It was too early to have to move tables.

Darius was another Marching Order recruit. One that had become quite unbearable, according to his teammates’ stories, as he grew more successful in training.

“The flexing again?”

Lisa nodded bitterly. “It’s like he never realized what muscles were before. He can’t do anything without trying to squeeze his arms for fruit juice.”

Ana snickered before she could help herself. She wasn’t alone. Monika snorted mid sip of her wine, a dribble spilling out of her nose. It was the most human thing Ana had ever seen her do. She was usually too sophisticated to let basic bodily functions interfere with her image.

As Monika coughed out laughter, Cassandra ran a hand down her forearm slowly, sensually. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be against some muscles if he tasted that sweet.”

Everyone groaned in pained amusement.

“Don’t you start,” Lisa said. “If he heard you say that, we’d never hear the end of it.”

Cassandra smirked at her. She’d always been beautiful, according to Monika, but her Word had raised that to new heights. Cassandra’s confidence had soared with it. And why wouldn’t it? If the Three themselves decided that you deserved to be healthier and even more beautiful, what could anyone else say about that?

“What about you, Ana? How is your team?” Monika asked, tracing the designs on her crystal glass.

It was an honest question, possibly seizing the opportunity to change the subject. She spent a lot more time around Cassandra than anyone else here, and that ego could wear on you, but she’d misread the table. The predators were circling. Adding more bait to the trap would only encourage them.

“Yes,” Cassandra purred. “Speaking of muscles, has Taylor managed to release some of that tightness? I don’t see either of the two here today?”

There wasn’t a rivalry as such between Marching Orders, Bedrock and Heritage, but with two of the players at the table, the missing guild had to lose out. Taylor was simply the easiest target for that tension right now. They all smirked, but not cruelly.

Unfortunately, unlike Darius, everyone else at the table was eager to learn more about this subject. Fashion wasn’t the only export from Kavakar that had drawn the eye of this table.

Ana crossed her arms. “Same old. Lots of fretting about the news, training and spars.”

They leaned in, waiting for her to carry on, to detail indiscretions and scandal.

She shrugged. “I don’t know anything. Kane is tight-lipped when it’s not about his relationships. I can barely get a blush out of him anymore.”

They retreated.

“Shame,” Cassandra said, though with an ease of her features that said this wasn’t quite the case. If anything, she looked pleased. “We should have known she’d Spring right on that.”

The pun was met by groans, and everyone settled. Ana left to get herself a drink, and when she got back, they were already on another subject.

“Harlen has us cleaning and taking inventory of everything. We spent all day yesterday moving moldy brackets around and scouring old weapons and armor,” Monika said, flicking her wrist as if she was shaking off the memory.

“Zita’s doing the same. She has everyone running drills — everyone from all ranks, even my parents. They keep waving! It’s embarrassing.“ Sofia hissed, hammering her stone tankard into the table.

“Zita?” Ana asked, placing a drink down for herself and Lisa, whose cup was near empty. She knew that name. It was linked to an... unfond memory.

The air had been suffocating.

She stood there, drenched and shaking. Her arms wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t still as they all stared. The ridiculously heavy stick they’d given her lay on the ground at her side. Ana couldn’t have held on to it if she’d tried. Not that she needed to. The top section of the training dummy had fallen to the ground on her other side. She wanted a clean line down the middle, but they’d given her that stupidly heavy stick. The Cut across the straw man was wobbly, but it was clean.

Unlike her.

She wore fine wool, woven from the undercoat of special Oddities from the coast. Oddities that hadn’t been tamed, that raged at the sight of a human, yet were raised anyway for their luxurious hair. The outfit had been lovingly crafted by her mother over the course of a year, always hidden from her sight until yesterday, when she tried it on for the first time. It’d been beautiful then. Now it was a soggy mess that pressed against her skin, that bunched in the wrong areas and hung flat in others. The wool didn’t itch, but it didn’t need to when the heat tore at her skin all the same.

Sweat dripped down her forehead, passed over the matted hair to drip into her eyes.

All the guild recruiters looked at her, scanning her like a customer would finger the cloth. Measuring and judging. Most were taking a second look, having dismissed her at first sight and only turned back when the dummy fell to the ground with a thump.

Ana stalked towards one of the few who hadn’t looked away. She made it halfway before she noticed that the woman had a scar across her brow. That was unique enough to pierce her tired mind. This was the woman that Jay had approached first, skipping the Word demonstration like the arrogant prick he was. Her steps faltered, but with so many eyes on her, changing her path was out of the question. She pressed on.

“What’s your name?” The recruiter asked.

She had more scars than the one across her brow. They were scattered across her arms and led up under her armor. One was red and wriggly, like one of those bugs you found out in the field. Another was fine enough to be thread and ran from the woman’s elbow to her armpit. It didn’t stop there. The scar that drew Ana’s attention was less prominent than either of those. It was a jagged blotch with little dots on either side. Stitches. Stitches no seamstress would let leave their shop.

Ana’s stomach rebelled, heaving in a way she thought impossible after emptying it less than thirty minutes before. Stitches. Speaking was a struggle. “Ana.”

“I’m Zita.” The scarred woman gestured at a small bench behind her. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Her legs trembled, and Ana eyed the bench and recruiter with a hint of trepidation. If she sat, she wasn’t sure if she could sit up again. Was this another test of some kind?

As much as she searched the recruiter’s face, Zita gave nothing away. Her face was set into a pleasant welcome.

“Come.” Zita sat down first, expression changing not at all.

“Thanks.” Ana tried to sit, but her legs gave out under her at the first hint of a dip. She grabbed for the edge of the bench, seizing it with a death grip. She refused to fall further. There was enough dirt on her clothes already.

“You did good out there,” Zita said. She didn’t look at Ana, staring instead at the next hopeful on the field.

The lack of attention wasn’t a good sign. Ana’s sagging limbs straightened, a cold fire fueling them. “I’m hearing a but.”

She didn’t want pity or excuses. Those she’d heard by the dozens over the years. That wasn’t what she was here for.

“Yes.” Zita turned that pleasant smile to her. “You did your best, but you aren’t ready. That was your first run out there, wasn’t it? For several years, at the least.”

Ana refused to answer. The recruiter didn’t seem to mind.

It was exactly as she’d expected, what she knew she’d find when she came here. They didn’t see her, even now.

“I’m guessing you got your Word and came here without putting much thought into it,” Zita continued. “That is a mistake. You need to think this through. Figure out what you want, and prepare for it.”

The woman with the scar across her brow looked away from Ana, dismissing her. “Go home. Recover. Start training with the guards. Do that, and next year I will have a place for you, Ana.”

“If I’m still here, then,” Ana hissed. She didn’t want commiserations, weak promises, or pity.

Zita did not reply. The recruiter sat with her in a stewing silence until Ana’s legs had recovered enough to support her again. They stood together and Ana stomped off.

She visited the other recruiters, receiving many enquiries about her Word, training, height, parentage and even her dating life. The only offers she received amounted to invitations to visit the guild’s cities or came with clauses that were as good as slavery.

It was an unfond memory.

That was the day she learned she wasn’t good enough, even with the Gods behind her.

It felt different over a month later. The pain and anger hadn’t faded, but her head was clearer now, and it was easier to question her impressions.

“Zita’s our-“ Sofia made two fists in the air by her head, her elbows sweeping through the space that the tankard used to be in. It was a weird Lauchia gesture, something to do with stone-heads or emptiness. Ana didn’t think she’d be using it anytime soon. “-acting development leader. She’s let it get to her head. The position didn’t exist a few weeks ago!”

“At least that’s all she is,” Monika said, her shoulders shaking in a mock shiver. “For now, Harlen is our acting guild leader.”

“For now?” Sofia asked, eyebrow raising. “Have you heard anything about the task?”

Cassandra shook her head. “No news. People are just unhappy with what he’s been doing. There are plenty of master ranks in the guild to take over from him.”

Sofia groaned. “I wish we could have that. Zita’s part of a council of sorts. Much harder to get rid of her.”

Ana noticed that Lisa was noticeably quiet on the subject.

“What do you mean acting?” she asked. “And what task?”

Sofia shrugged. “A big task came in around the solstice. Something hush-hush. Both our Guild leader’s team and the Heritage’s were called in for it. Some of Bedrock too. There was a huge shuffling of contracts and people around for it, though Bedrock got off easy.”

“With all the leaders gone, we got stuck with administrators...” Monika said the word like it was a curse.

Ana was still learning about tasks, but two of the strongest teams in the city were needed for this? That sounded strange. “What task takes two guild leaders?”

Cassandra shrugged, swirling her wine around. “We don’t know. Probably a city killer wandering around somewhere.”

Ana choked on her drink. Lisa fared no better.

“What?” Lisa squeaked, the pitch uncharacteristic for the muscular woman.

“It is odd,” Monika agreed, missing the point of the question entirely. “We should have heard about a village or town going missing by now.”

Ana’s blood turned to stone. She would have run to the nearest messenger’s office if she didn’t know it would be closed. Her lips felt chapped when she opened it. “City killer?”

“Oh.” Sofia winced. She pulled back, tucking her hands under the table. “It’s just a theory. Grandmaster adventurers don’t get called up for nothing. I’m sure it’s wrong, though. We would have heard something by now, right?”

Monika and Cassandra agreed quickly, but Lisa was still a little green and her hands stayed far from her cup.

Ana’s blood began a sluggish circulation. She zoned out for a bit, running the conversation through her mind and trying not to fret about home.

Someone would have said something. Loads of caravans passed through Kavakar. It was one of the busiest stops between cities. Some news would have come. It was okay. Her home was okay. Her mother was fine.

As she searched for reassurance, picking the information apart, an anomaly made itself clear.

“Wait, your leaders aren’t here?”

Cassandra looked peeved, Ana had interrupted her mid speech, but she nodded.

“How come you didn’t get bumped? I thought every guild without a grandmaster in the city got their tasks bumped.”

Cassandra, Monika and Sofia looked at her in puzzlement.

“Why would we?” Sofia asked. “It was only the substandard guilds that were affected.”

Ana looked at their faces and saw no deception. It was bizarre. How could they know so much but see so little?

“Right,” she said, leaning back against the stiff stone seat. Maybe she’d had too much to drink, or not enough at all. This whole conversation was too serious for her. The buzz was gone.

Lisa seemed similar, holding her tankard close and clenching her hands till they were pale. It was only the two heritage members and Sofia that were unaffected. Was that because they were from adventuring families and heard about city killers more often? Did their families discuss them at the dinner table, like Ana’s mother might a new trend in fashion?

Adventurers deal with city killers. Huh.

Ana had never connected that before. She was an adventurer now. Was that going to be her task someday? Her pulse pounded even as her hand trembled.

Cassandra resumed whatever she’d been saying before, shouting Ana a dirty look for the interruption. Ana tried to listen, but she couldn’t focus. She remained silent until she was pulled back in.

“Ana, how do you know Zita?” Lisa asked.

Sofia turned curiously to face Ana, trapping her between the two Marching Order recruits.

Ana weighed the consequences of talking about her trials with the four fit women and decided to keep it simple. “I think I might have met her in Kavakar.”

Sofia gasped. “Zita was a recruiter! She went to Kavakar?”

So much for keeping it simple. Thankfully for Ana, the conversation didn’t turn to the details of her recruitment, just judgment of it.

“Ridiculous how she didn’t recruit you. I mean, Abby is great and all, but she can do a lot, but...” Cassandra waved her hand at Ana. “She’s not ‘one-shot’ material, is she?”

Ana felt offended for both herself and Abby. It was a sign that she needed to get away now before she said anything she’d regret.

“Hey!” Lisa said, crossing her arms and displaying enough corded muscle to end any argument. Sofia was right behind her in glaring at the slight to their teammate.

Cassandra held her hands up. “You know what I mean. Replace isn’t your usual fare for an adventurer. I’m just saying Zita’s judgment isn’t the best.”

“Abby is as good as any Heritage member, if not better,” Sofia stated, tapping her finger against the stone.

Monika cleared her throat and cut off any follow up argument from Cassandra.

Everyone subsided, not wanting to start a fight. Ana held her tongue, too. Marching Orders may have sided with Heritage against Bedrock earlier, but according to Jay, Bedrock and Marching Orders didn’t compete for tasks often. Heritage, on the other shuttle, competed with both, yet was the smallest of the three. Their table had an uneasy truce, possibly only because Bedrock was seen to get ahead at the recent solstice.

“Actually,” Sofia shot an uneasy look at Lisa across the table. “There is some talk in the guild, Ana.”

“Hmm?”

“The guild leader’s team left some instructions behind. With all the confusion some were missed, but... there’s talk of having more recruitment.” Sofia came out with it in a burst, shooting another nervous glance at her teammate.

Lisa’s arms tensed. She slid them under the table.

“What?”

Instead of getting an answer, the two across the table threw more confusion into the mess.

“Heritage received similar instructions,” Cassandra said slowly. The playful beauty was gone. In her seat was a calculating heiress.

Sofia shrugged, dismissing Cassandra’s change. “Nothing certain yet, just... think about it, Ana. Some stories about you have been going around the guild.”

Cassandra sniffed but said no more. Heritage was somewhat of a family guild, after all. How they were going to increase recruitment was something Ana didn’t want to consider right now.

They drank their drinks in silence for a minute. Ana wished Abby, Daina and Iris had made it today. This wouldn’t have turned out half as serious with more people, guilds and talk at the table.

“Cassandra, where did you get your dress?” she asked when she thought it safe, steering the conversation back to easier ground.

As Cassandra began to extoll the virtues of a shop in the center-west of the city, Ana took note, but her thoughts wandered.

She would have to tell Jay and Kane some of what she’d learned tonight. There was too high a chance it would affect them. Or their families.

But how much to tell?