Today was a special day for the Rimmington militia, a group that, by mere mention of its name, struck fear into the hearts of its allies.
"Attention, and straighten your backs, privates!"
The rag-tag group of soldiers did their best to look disciplined as they got into rank. There were five of them standing in five different ways, and yet the captain of the small squad looked pleased at the result, as though he somehow expected worse.
"Now, today is a special day," he said, as he started pacing back and forth in front of them. "Today, we'll get a combat lesson from the greatest human fighter alive. The hero of, uh, places, and the guardian of… Guthix? Did I get that one right, I heard that was a snake."
He paused, looking with great thought at his boots.
"Uh, hey, sir?"
"What is it, private?"
"Will it just be us?"
"We'll be joining up with another squad for the day. They'll arrive shortly. In fact, they should've been here already. Just goes to show that we're the best team around, doesn't it?"
A mumble of ayes and yeahs greeted him, and once again he preened as though it really was something to be proud of.
"Sir?"
"What is it now?"
"What'll we be doing?"
The captain scratched his chin. "I suppose we'll get some tips and tricks, maybe a few powerful group attacks. 'Five man death punch', yes, that sounds cool."
A running figure approached them. She wore armor that the captain didn't immediately recognize, though her posture and haste were both picture perfect for a soldier. When she got close, the captain saluted, resulting in a slightly bewildered look on her face. She probably wasn't expecting such stalwart discipline.
"Soldier, good to see you. I presume you're here for your squad. Apologizing for their lateness, is it?" he nodded, smiling to himself as the pieces fell into place in his mind. "You needn't worry at all, now, tell me your name."
"Meat."
"Private Meat, is it?"
A few of his squad snickered.
"Uh…"
"Strikes me as an odd name. Who named you such?"
"It's my family name, actually."
"The Meat family?"
"Sir?"
"Tsk, what is it now, private? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Well," one of the privates stepped forward. "It's just, you know, private meat, sir, or is it just me?"
The captain shook his head. His squad were a little silly sometimes, but perhaps it was just the allergies acting up. After all, it was mid-spring and the willows were weeping their… pollen – did willows have pollen? – like a king spreads… butter?
"Allergies really are a problem, aren't they?"
"What?"
"No, what is your name, private," he said, once more directing his gaze to the newcomer.
"Meat, as you'll recall."
"Don't be silly, private Meat," once again the snickering. "I meant your given name, of course."
"Sweet."
"Right, well, anyway, Sweet private Meat, or whatever, where's your squad at? Why are they late?"
She looked a little confused, but perhaps she had allergies of her own. Damned allergies.
"Wait, sir?"
"Goddamn it, private, what's the deal?"
"Sweet private Meat doesn't sound quite right, I think the title goes first or last, never in the middle."
"Right," another private chimed in. "Because you can't have, say, Erik private Sharpner. It ain't right."
"Well it's your fault, isn't it," the captain said. "You were unhappy with private Meat, so I added Sweet, it can't possibly be that hard to understand. What kind of job is a sharpener anyway?"
"No, sir, Sharpner's just my name. It would be like putting two titles if it was the job, you see, the title is a title, right, so it would be Sweet the Private, or private Meat, yeah? Like, you'd never have 'Ali private the Smith', not even in Pollnivneach, sir."
"You're an idiot, Erik, an idiot."
While the two were arguing, Brian, one of the other privates put his impeccable charm to good use. With honeyed words, as it were.
"So, you're Sweet Meat, eh? Well, I do think your meat looks rather sweet, if you catch my drift," he said, adding a wink that'd make any dagannoth mother swoon.
"Right…?"
"So, your squad any good? Ours once took down a whole horde of, uh, elves, when they invaded."
"Elves in Rimmington?"
"Was a wild summer, know what I mean? We musta killed hundreds, or was that just my killcount?" he chuckled. "Well, we all know who the real boss of the team is, hah!"
"Some of my best friends are elves," she said.
"Ah, right. Well I mean, we didn't kill them, just, you know, drove them off when they tried to steal our, uh, acorns. Yeah. Drove them off good."
"They'll probably be happier away from Rimmington anyway," she said.
"I know right? Wild summer I tell y- oof!"
His efforts were ended in short order when the captain lashed out to slap the first private, Erik, with his sheathed sword, but Erik, being the brighter one of the lot, ducked underneath it, causing the captain to follow through with his momentum, somehow smashing right into the smooth-talker of the group. Brian never stood a chance.
"Oh, right," said the captain, seemingly unperturbed by his grounded, moaning private. "You're still here," he said, turning to Sweet. "What were you doing here, again?"
"I was asked to train you by Sir Tiffy Cashien; in fact, I thought that was why you were out here, standing at, well, attention I guess."
"Oh, is that right? I thought you were a snake."
"Pardon? Did sir Tiffy tell you that a snake would be training you? More to the point, did you really gather here to be trained by a snake?"
"Captain," Erik chimed in. "She's supposed to be the World Guardian, not the guardian of Guthix."
"What? Why didn't you say so to begin with, then? You're an idiot, Erik."
Brian, who had initially stayed on the ground, hoping that the newcomer would help him up, thus giving him a chance to romantically stumble into her arms, perhaps causing them both to tumble onto the ground, face to face, close enough to feel each other's breaths, just like in the novels, had decided to get up by his own power, seeing as no one even glanced at him since he fell.
"You're an idiot, Erik," he said. "An idiot."
"What's a World Guardian do anyway? I suppose it's a lot like guarding the Falador gates, but with the world, maybe?" the captain seemed happy enough with his own explanation, so no one responded.
"As long as you don't call her Sweet World Guardian Meat," Erik muttered.
"Right, well, private Meat, uh, are you even a private," the captain started. "I was told there'd be another group here to train with us, though it was supposed to be just over an hour ago."
"Yeah, about that."
Erik almost facepalmed. Surely the captain hadn't…
"Well, the meeting location was actually south of Falador, near the pig farm, not north, near the goblins. Not quite sure…"
"Ahem, oh, was that so? Pesky maps, am I right? Well, I suppose we should get going then, we don't want the other group to be waiting for too long."
"No, that won't be necessary. Actually, the other group died."
"What? To your training?!"
"No, goodness, no! They were Falador guards, hopeful ones at that, but some adventurer just went right up and killed them all, all the while saying something about a misclick. Probably had some vendetta against them, maybe a lost love?"
The captain didn't quite know what to say to that, so he just changed the subject. "Wonderful," he said, not quite realizing the implications. "That makes us special today, I suppose."
"Special, yes."
"Indeed, now, shall we get started? My men are all primed and ready, as am I. Armor fitting perfectly, no itchy places today, fresh underwear, you know the drill."
Sweet hesitated. "No, I, uh, the exercises were intended for…" she stopped, completely at a loss for words. "I just don't think I can train you lot. You, I think you're already at your peak."
The captained stood a little taller at that.
"Lord have mercy," said Erik.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.