S5Richard
Summary: Richard had always been a pleasant young man who is much too happy for (and obsessed about) Mueller. Mueller had always seen Richard as a necessary evil because Richard was a talented sword wielding air-head. But what if the air-head was someone who's more than he seems?
Disclaimer: Suikoden series belongs to Konami and its affiliates. This short story is written purely for entertainment purposes and shall not be reproduced for profit. (As if anyone would sell this story.)
Air-Head Richards
Chapter 1 - Lindwurm Runt
"Runt," was Mueller's first word to the applicant. Mueller was a tall, overly lanky man who was all limbs and seriousness. Some people would say that he was nearly deformed with his spaghetti arms that would wrap around a person twice. However, no one dared voice that opinion as Mueller was the vice-commander of the Lindwurm Mercenary Brigade, a really mean and scary one at that.
"I'm no runt," the child standing opposite of him defended.
Mueller did not even pretend sincerity and looked at him up and down once. Then he bluntly discarded the sheet of paper before him. "You look like a completely and utterly consummate runt, like those mischevious urchins I met in Gordius. Come back when you manage to hit puberty, or should I say when it hits you?"
They were in a makeshift tent, open in the front. Mueller sat taller than the the standing person who was between child and adulthood. The Lindwurm Mercenary Brigade was openly recruiting again so they set up shop at a random town.
"But Mister Mueller!" protested the puny looking swordsman. He had a round face and a much too agreeable countenance that could make zombies melt at its mere adorableness. "I'm really good on horseback and I'm an awesome swordsman! Please let me join. You won't regret it," he urged, fidgeting as if he was in a perpetual sugar high.
"We are a mercenary brigade, not a daycare," said Mueller clearly and impatiently. Every year, something like this always happened. Some idiot kids would come, pretending they were excellent swordsman or something. Did they really think some ordinary peon could enter their honorable Brigade? What a waste of time and money. And how the hell did this shrimp know his name? "We don't accept little boys who aren't over twelve. You don't even look like you can lift a sword!"
The boy pouted. "But I'm over twenty! And I'm no boy! I'm a swordsman!" he insisted earnestly. "A really good one! Let me show you!"
"Shut your complaining and go home. The Lindwurm Mercenary Brigade does not have room for babies."
The boy's face scrunched up. His shoulder started to shake and his eyes sparkled with withheld tears and he buried his face in his hands. Soon, he emitted what was probably the most pathetic cry Mueller had ever heard in his entire life.
Others passing by the tent stopped. The men whispered to each other disapprovingly. The veiled women narrowed their eyes and began to whisper with frowns on their faces to each other. Mothers tugged their children closer and began to give them lectures about morals. One of them, wearing a lavish shroud, looked to be the lady mistress of the town mayor. She took on a self-righteous look then went off in the direction of the peacekeeper's tent.
"Stop it!" yelled Mueller as the boy's cry became progressively louder and louder. Finally, Mueller took the matter into his own hands and grabbed the boy by the shoulder and clamped the whining boy's mouth shut with long thin fingers.
The boy bit Mueller's hand hard.
"Ow!"
The boy kept on crying.
"What the hell is going on here!" cried Wilhelm, coming back into the tent. He was out scouting at the local taverns for regulars who might make it in the Brigade. They needed some levity in their prospering little brigade since Mueller had the tendency to attract the most boring and tedious men.
The boy paused to look at Wilhelm. For that one precious moment, the boy was silent, taking in Wilhelm's rough features and hot-pink hair, but then he started emitting that awful noise again.
"Shut up!" yelled Mueller to no avail. He looked to his partner in crime, his eyes livid. It it were not for his sense of honor, he would have knocked the boy senseless! "This little pest came in here, demanding to be a member of the Lindwurm Mercenaries!" said Mueller.
"I'm no pest!" said the boy between heaving breaths. "I can fight. Really!" Then he broke down again. "I just want a place to belong!"
Wilhelm took a hard look at the boy. He noticed the round face and soft sandy hair immediately. "Awww..." crooned Wilhelm. He had never met someone so adorable and pathetic looking. His heart was moved. "Is the little boy missing his mommy?"
The sob turned into a horrid, ear-drum shattering wail. "Wahhh...I don't have a mommy anymore...Wahhh!"
"By the True Earth Rune, STOP CRYING!" said Mueller, his temper rising.
"Relax!" yelled Wilhelm over the wailing. "Hey, boy! If you stop crying within ten seconds, I'll give you a chance as a Lindwurm Mercenary! What do you say?"
As if some sadistic God was exercising its cruel humor, the boy stopped crying. His tears magically disappeared and a smile plastered itself on his face again. "Okay!" he said in an overly bubbly cheerful voice.
"That's it?" growled Mueller. He could not believe how easy that was.
The boy nodded, now just as happy as he first came in.
Wilhelm's ears were still ringing hard. "By the True Water! I don't think I've heard such a sound since the Sword and Shield!" He laughed suddenly. It was a good natured laugh. "I like that. What's your name, boy?"
The boy's beaming smile was so blinding, he blinded the blind. "Richard!"
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Mueller scowled so hard that his face was about to crack from the effort. In his hand was a clipboard thick with papers. The application stage was complete. Now it was time for the most tedious part: the selection by demonstration.
Before him were some of the new recruits, whimpering and shaking in their boots before one of the veterans of the Lindwurm Mercenary. The veteran was an angry looking man with a nasty scar down his right eye. His name was Saich.
Saich wielded a mean-looking halberd. He was a stout and sturdy fellow. His neck and legs were thick like tree trunks with arms that seemed capable of snapping his own weapon into two. Of the Lindwurm, Saich was one of the rougher fellows who had only been defeated by two people.
Mueller did not like him too much for two reasons. For one, Saich was a brainless boastful fellow, listening only to his physical superiors. There were not too many a time when a job went sour because Saich decided that brawn was worth more than brains. One could only expect so much from a northerner. For the other, to be delicately described, Saich did not believe in personal hygiene.
Saich cackled happily as he hefted his halberd, striking the new recruits with the blunt end just light enough not to kill anyone, but hard enough to earn death moaning.
"Who else is good enough to face me?" sneered Saich as he looked around the dozen or so groaning bodies around him. "Get up!" he roared at one of the recruits before giving him a rough poke with his halberd. Then he smiled, a grotesque smile that could shatter mirrors. "Are there no men in this camp? Are you all little pant-wetting pussies who can't even touch a mere fellow mercenary?" he bellowed.
"I bet I can!" sang a voice that was all together too sweet.
"Then come! Face me!" said Saich. He stomped his thick legs in impatient anticipation.
Richard, with his innocent vapid smile, stepped into the ring.
"A bug?" questioned Saich, outraged. He looked to Mueller who was rubbing his temple as if suffering from an excruciating headache. "You want me to to fight a bug?"
The younger man frown as he looked up to a man who was about four heads taller than him. Then Richard's face contorted into obvious hurt. "Mister Mueller, he's calling me names."
Mueller's judgment was swift. He whipped out his steel bo and donked Saich painfully on the head. "Get to work! I didn't f#$! pay you to whine," he ordered, more in spite of Saich's arrogance than Richard's complaint.
"#$& tyrant," grumbled Saich, rubbing the back of his head. Darn that drill sergeant!
Mueller donked him again. "Shut your trap and get to work you worthless scumbag."
With that beginning tirade done, Saich took on an annoyed expression. He widened his stance, planting his foot firmly on the ground. "Don't cry home to mommy if you get hurt!" he growled irritatedly.
Richard giggled, a very devilish girly giggle. "I get accepted into the Lindwurm Mercenary if I defeat him, right?" he asked happily.
"Yes," snapped Mueller impatiently. "Get on with it. There are forty applicants after you."
"Okay!" With the same extreme happiness, Richard pulled out a rapier with his left hand. He tossed it into the air, bedazzling the onlookers with the quick intricate loops of the rapier before snatching it with his right hand. "Ready?" he asked Saich.
"Arrrrg!" yelled Saich as he raised the bladed end, thrusting it with speed toward Richard's smiling face.
Richard's counter matched Saich's speed. He swung his rapier upward just in time to parry a complete facial impalement. His eyes narrowed into merry little slits of excitement as if he were being showered with sweets.
"Take this!" growled Saich as he pulled back for another attack. He aimed for the leg, using his entire weight to build up centrifugal acceleration.
Once again, Richard deflected the attack with a light twist of his wrist. He directed the bladed end of the halberd upward, allowing it to fly harmlessly over his head.
Saich was getting madder by the minute. He tried again and again, each time, Richard parrying his attack with that needle-like toy of his. What made him even more angry was how this little bug dared to smile so disgustingly wide and innocent. There was no trace of concentration or strain as Richard twirled left and right as if he was some desert ragamuffin frolicking in the rain.
The recently beat-up recruits and rejects became interested in this little spar. Their bleary teary eyes suddenly became sparkles of hope. Saich had defeated everyone who came to him so far and insulted them as he went along. Thus, the neophytes cheered on their random young hero with vigor and vengeance.
Mueller, however, was still scowling. He tapped on his clipboard as if attempting to drill a hole through the metal board. The fight had lasted over five minutes, meaning he could only process a measly twelve applicants an hour. "Hurry up!" he yelled. "I'll have both of your heads if you don't finish this fight within the next minute!"
"Okay!" said Richard. He then lunged forward during one of Saich's recovering swings. A quick twirl of his rapier, he locked the halberd between the hand guard and blade then flipped the halberd right out of Saich's hand. The halberd flew into the air and Richard caught it easily with his left hand.
"Yield," he said with the same sing song voice, not even breaking a sweat.
There was an awed silence before a defening applause and hoot went through the trial area.
Richard's returning grin exuded a happiness that could overwhelm any onlooker like an island-annihilating tsunami. "Hey Mueller! I'm a Lindwurm Mercenary now, Right?"
Somehow, about three veins near Mueller's temple's popped and he grined his treeth as he spoke.
"Yes."
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Suikorin