"Easy now, Charlie, don't wiggle so much," Maggie advised as she cut through the top layer of bandages. "The skin is still healing."
"I want to see," Charlie insisted.
"It's still going to be there whether Maggie takes three minutes or five," Ben reminded her. "It took you two years to get the brand. You can wait a few more minutes before you see it."
Charlie frowned and tried to sit still. Maggie carefully unrolled each layer of herb soaked bandages. Much later—in Charlie's opinion—the last of them was peeled away to reveal a raw, angry M on her forearm. Charlie nearly squealed in delight. "Look at it," she breathed.
"Crisp, clean lines," Maggie praised. "Miles did good with you. This is some of the sharpest work I've seen."
"Can't believe you got Uncle Miles to put the brand on," Danny muttered jealously.
"I told him he was the only one I wanted doing it," Charlie said. "I didn't trust the captains. They aren't family."
Ben studied the mark. "You'll have to keep the bandages on for a few more weeks if you want it to heal properly," he advised. "But there's no doubt what that's supposed to be."
Charlie grinned at him. "I'm Militia," she whispered in awe.
Ben hugged her tight. "Congratulations, sweetie."
"Did you cry out?" Danny asked. "When they put the brand on your skin?"
"I whimpered a little," Charlie admitted. "But I made myself watch as they did it. I wasn't going to embarrass Uncle Miles by not being the best." She looked down at her brand. "A lot of people passed out."
"Does it hurt that much?"
Maggie took Charlie's arm to apply salve. "There was a white hot iron branding her skin. I'd imagine it hurts quite a bit. Fainting is not surprising."
Danny turned to his father. "How long before I can join?" he asked eagerly.
"Too soon for my liking," Ben replied grimly. "But I've learned my opinion counts for little in this family."
"Don't be like that," Charlie said. "You know we love you, daddy. We just love the Republic too."
"Which is a good thing," Maggie agreed. "But your father worries. As is his right."
The family discussion was cut short by the door being thrown open. "I hear someone is now full Militia," a voice said. Bass greeted them all with a smile. "So, Private Matheson, let's see it."
Charlie tugged her arm away from Maggie and scurried to her uncle. "Look," she said proudly, holding up her wrist for inspection. "Maggie says its some of the sharpest work she's seen. Not a single smudge."
Bass peered at the brand. "Clean and sharp," he agreed. "Remember to follow Maggie's instructions so it scars up right without getting infected."
"Promise," Charlie smiled, staring her brand. She looked back up at him with blue eyes full of hope and excitement. "I'm Militia!" she squeaked.
"And a fine soldier you'll make," Bass nodded. "I've even brought you a present to mark this occasion." He pulled out a black box and handed it to her.
Charlie took it and opened it gently. Inside was a set of custom black leather saddle bags. A gold Militia 'M' was stamped in the center with her name and the date under it. "Uncle Bass, they're beautiful," she murmured, tears forming.
"It'll be awhile before you can use Sophie in the Militia but I thought they'd be useful in everyday life until then."
"They must have cost quite a bit," Ben noted, looking over the workmanship. "You take good care of them, Charlie. They'll last you a long time."
"Only the best for family," Bass insisted.
"I'll treasure them," Charlie promised, hugging one of the bags to her chest.
"I hope they serve you well, Charlie. The way you'll serve the Republic."
"Long live the Republic!" Charlie declared loyally
