A Cautionary Tale
The day was picturesque. Fields were alive with greenery, and the scent of flowers, bees buzzing to and fro. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless, a rich light blue. The breeze was gentle on the young traveler's face, enough to caress the skin like a lover's kiss. 'This is the sort of day that belongs on greeting cards...' the young man thought, smiling as his feet carried him further up the road.
The robbery was quite unexpected.
Six large men seemingly melted out of a nearby copse of trees, ex-military given their coordination and build. And the uniforms, of course. There was no mistaking the insignia of Dragoon Battalion infantry.
"Hello there! Good day, gents!" the young traveler called, tone at odds with the business-like expressions of the men that surrounded him, weapons ready.
"Greetings, young man," the leader of the bandits, given the stripes on his uniform, returned. "Fine day, isn't it?"
"Oh absolutely. Been waiting for a day like today for a while. Travelling to Morsberth, to visit family. Perhaps work in my uncle's business since I have a head for numbers. I'm looking for a career change."
"Oh? What line of work are you leaving?" the leader asked, gesturing for the young man to shrug off his pack.
The young traveler leaned forward, bending slightly since he stood a head taller than the men that surrounded him, laid his pack on the ground, and whispered as if sharing a secret: "Hospitality. I've worked in my father's restaurant since I was old enough to hold a bowl."
The leader laughed, even as the others exchanged discreet glances. Clearly they weren't expecting much from this score.
"Well I certainly hope your customers tipped well!"
The traveler laughed. "Sometimes. I didn't wait tables much. That was left to the girls. I was a cook, mostly. Kept the books."
The traveler's pack was rifled through with military efficiency, one of the men spreading out a blanket to keep the potential valuables clean as the loot was sorted. It was almost a polite transaction, really. When it was over, a few nice sets of clothes lay to one side, including the traveler's favorite button-up shirt, and some of his nicer kitchen ware and spices.
"I imagine that you still had to deal with quite a few nasty people, though," the leader commiserated, "Some people have no respect or decency anymore. It's a shame, really."
The traveler laughed, a bright, carefree sound. "Tell me about it. I remember this one time, I had to deal with this very old man. Nice enough sort, even if he liked t drink a little too much. It was closing time, and I was the poor sod that had to get the old guy to leave."
The leader nodded appreciably, listening intently to the young man's story, even as he rifled through his wallet, revealing a smattering of copper colored bills, some silver, and even a few that were gold. The leader's eyebrows raised appreciably as he quickly divided the loot in equal shares for his men, keeping the gold for himself.
"Yeah. I had to help the old guy out the door, since it was late. Luckily, he only lived a few houses down from the pub, so I had enough time to make sure he got home and be back in time to close. He rambled a bit, like all old folks do. Especially drunk ones."
All of the men nodded, each paying polite attention to the story now that the loot was secure.
"Well, it's the funny how wine and age loosen tongues, because the old timer said something really odd, and really profound."
"Oh? And what was that?"
"When you give your time to something, you are also giving your life."
The men were curious now, they could see that there was more to the story, and they were eager for an explanation to the cryptic statement.
"It's just like work, he had said. You go to work, toiling away at whatever it is you have to do, and you make money, which you use to buy things. But it isn't really the money you by things with. You buy things with time. When you work somewhere, you are paid a certain amount each day. That is how much value your time has."
The bandits nodded in understanding.
"So, when you do something, whether it is work or leisure, you are pouring your time into it. That means you are pouring your life into it, too. So, when you, say, buy an expensive watch, you are really deciding how much of your life that watch is worth, since it took time to earn."
Around the young traveler, many of the men nodded in agreement. The leader looked as though this were an argument he had never considered before. "Really a fascinating tale, to be sure. Older people can really be full of wisdom."
The traveler smiled. "They really can. Though, there is one last piece to the story. One final bit of advice he gave me before I left him at his door."
"Really?" the leader asked, "And what was that?"
"Because the things you invest in represent how much of your life you value them for, you really shouldn't let people rob you..."
The bandits became tense at those words, the jovial, conversational atmosphere dying like the dreams of contestants on a singing competition show. It did them little good.
The traveler used his height to his advantage, closing with the nearest bandit that wasn't the leader, and delivering several quick, open palmed strikes to his abdomen, strong enough to get through his leather armor and cause the man to bend forward like a chair.
A quick strike to the back of the neck put the man down.
The bandit next to him was just getting his sword out when the traveler closed with him, using the momentum of the bandit's draw to spin him into his fellows, while retaining the man's weapon, which he promptly threw away.
Swords weren't really his thing.
The bandit that had been reduced to a human bowling ball careened into his two fellows, who didn't even have time to get their weapons out before they were all sent to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Gravity had done most of the work for him, so it was the work of a moment for the traveler to cross the distance, and deliver a few precise kicks to the head, putting three more opponents out of the fight.
The last of the men not the leader turned to the traveler, eyes wide, stance ready. He had learned from his fellows' mistakes, and hadn't bothered trying to draw his sword, seeing how quickly his opponent moved. Instead, he had drawn his dagger, a wide, thin blade with a serrated edge that looed well cared for and quite deadly.
If the traveler would let him use it.
Instead, the traveler reached forward, using his reach to his advantage to grab his opponent's elbow and squeeze a nerve cluster, even as he used his momentum to force that arm down.
The knife landed in the dirt, and the traveler's other arm came forward, delivering two precise punches to the bandit's face, dropping him to the ground.
The entire incident had taken less than a handful of heartbeats.
The traveler strode purposefully toward the leader's horse, where his possessions had been stored, calmly beginning to load them back into his pack before turning to face the leader who was now pale and wide-eyed.
He hadn't moved from where the traveler had left him, paralyzed and wide-eyed by events.
'So, I was right then,' the traveler mused, 'Likely drafted deserters fleeing the incursions on the boarder, down on their luck, but want nothing to do with real combat. Leader especially, given his reaction. Good thing I didn't kill anyone.'
Striding forward into the leader's personal space, the traveler held out his hand expectantly, eyes and body language once again open and friendly. Wordlessly, the leader reached into his pocket, revealing the traveler's wallet, and the golden bills he had tried to keep for himself.
The leader reached forward, depositing the wallet into his would-be victim's open palm, before letting out an audible whimper as he spied the unmistakable hint of a tattoo on the underside of the traveler's wrist, almost covered by his fingerless gloves.
The Mark of the Lotus.
A delicate pale pink blossom sat still on water.
A deceptively frail symbol, whose beauty belied the strength of the warriors that bore it. It was the mark of one of the deadliest orders on the planet, elite warrior monks as known for their haikus as they were for their ability to rip the still-beating hearts from their opponents' chests. It was said that even the Thunder Maidens respected their prowess, though they fought without weapons.
The leader let out an almost inaudible whimper. They had tried to rob a monk of the Lotus Order, and they still breathed. Clearly fate was a mistress as vindictive as she was kind.
"Another piece of wisdom the old man gave me, since you have been so polite..." the traveler said.
"O-oh? And what's that, friend?" the leader was proud that his voice did not crack.
"Looks can be deceiving..." the traveler said, conversationally.
With a final smile, and a wave, the traveler adjusted his pack, turned about, and was on his way as though nothing had happened...
Behind him, the bandit leader and ex-military infantry man fell to his knees and wept in relief, that he was alive and not sitting in a pile of his own filth.
XXX
The traveler smiled as he finally reached his destination, The Dancing Pancake, a charming bed and breakfast nook that had a cottagey appeal despite the fact that it was smack bang in the middle of one of the busiest streets in a rather large town.
The traveler had barely a moment to enter, letting his pack slide to the floor, and brace himself before he was faced with yet another assault that day.
This one was a much more overwhelming offensive, stronger, too.
"REEENNNN~!"
The traveler let out a whoosh of air as his breath was knocked from his lungs, and he was promptly picked up and spun about as though he weighed nothing at all. Of course, his assailant was used to much heavier objects, given the hammer that she wielded.
"Hello, Nora." the monk replied, tone warm as he favored her with a bright smile. It had been too long since they had seen each other.
His assailant stepped back, revealing the smiling face of one of his closest companions, Nora of the Valkyrie Clan, one of the most feared of the Thunder Maidens. Which was saying something considering they boasted such as Sif, or the Branwen women within their ranks.
Truly a frightening Sisterhood of Battle.
The redheaded missile looked up at her friend, smiling brightly as she bounced on the balls of her feet, hardly able to contain her nearly boundless energy. Blowing a lock of her red hair away from her eyes, the Maiden did her best to make her bright green eyes as wide as possible.
"Will you make me pancakes, Ren? Your uncle said you were the only one with the family recipe, and that he didn't trust himself to try and make the pancakes on memory alone. The place is called The Dancing Pancake! How can there be no pancakes?! Save me from this misery!"
The young woman finished her declaration by throwing herself to the floor, clutching at her friend's legs like a clingy toddler, and dramatically weeping like same.
Ren smiled, there was only one response. "Of course, Nora."
The deadly Valkyrie smiled brightly, tears gone as though they never were, and bounced back up to her feet in one smooth motion.
"Great!" she chirped. "It's been entirely too long since we've had a Pancake Night! I'll need to go to the back gardens to get Fearless Leader and Pyrrha. With any luck they'll be in the stables finally breaking those silly vows of chastity their orders insist upon and I can finally have the niece or nephew to spoil and train that I have always wanted!"
Ren's expression was stern, though his tone was light, "Their vows are made to the gods of their faith, Nora, the most important parts of their order, and where they get many of their abilities. I hardly think the Huntress Artemis, or The Golden Saint Jeanne of the Covenant are silly."
Nora did her best to look chastised, gaze lingering on the floor. "You're right, Ren. I'm sorry, they aren't silly..."
Ren smiled, "I'm glad you can admit when you're wrong, Nora."
"Of course, Renny! They aren't silly at all...they're worse!"
Ren sighed. He knew he was going to regre this, but..."Worse?"
Nora nodded sagely. "Worse." Her face scrunched up in disgust, as though she had found a diner that did not know the joys of breakfast foods, "They're prudes!"
Ren sighed, even as he glanced around furtively, as though expecting some sort of divine retribution that very moment. "Well if you want to get them out here faster, tell Jaune he won the bet. The extra gold lien should get him moving."
Nora smiled brightly, "Great! He can use it when we convince him to take Pyrrha on a date tomorrow! We still have a few days before we have to move again, and there's a festival of some sort in the bazaar tomorrow! Maybe I'll finally get my auntie status then!"
"They take their chastity vows quite seriously, you know." Ren replied, even as his form seemed to melt on the spot, like smoke in a strong breeze. His form shifted and shrank, the haze clearing to reveal a short man of wiry muscle, and features that marked him as hailing from Anima, aside from the pink streak in his otherwise dark hair.
"That didn't stop me!" Nora declared, voice going from chirpy to low and sultry on a lien, "Didn't stop you either...!"
And with that declaration, the giggling warrior was off to collect their friends, leaving behind an exasperated, flustered, and equally deadly monk.
XXX
Military efficiency had nothing on warrior monk efficiency. In the twenty minutes it had taken for Nora to find the other half of their team (who were not violating their vows of chastity, much to her ire), Ren had unpacked, washed his hands, and started on the second batch of his family's specialty pancakes.
Once he had five healthy stacks prepared, one for himself, Jaune, and Pyrrha, the monk loaded the fruits of his labor onto a tray and carried them out to the table his friends had claimed.
"Ren, buddy, I hear you bring good news!" Jaune declared boisterously, Pyrrha and Nora giggling as Ren placed their pancakes in front of them.
The monk rolled his eyes, even as he reached into his wallet to hand Jaune five crisp golden lien notes. "You were right. You have an extremely robable face. It just screams 'mug me please. I am an innocent cinnamon roll.'."
Jaune laughed, pocketing his winnings. "Hey, you can't argue with seven older sisters, and mine made sure to tell me that just about every day since puberty. Though, to be fair, I think they meant it as a compliment, since they would always muss my hair too..."
Pyrrha giggled again, digging into her pancakes with gusto. "I've truly missed your culinary talents, Ren! None of the other Amazons have quite mastered the finer points of cooking with anything that isn't a camp fire. And the less said about baking, the better. Pretty sure Weiss nearly brought back one of the bandits she killed with her attempt at making brownies."
Jaune shuddered in sympathy. "I have good news then! Harvest went well, and we had more than enough cocoa beans for me to make Grammy Arc's famous Triple Chocolate Brownies!"
Pyrrha's fork froze part way to her mouth, before falling onto her plate with a noisy clatter. She turned to stare at him wide-eyed. "Really, Jaune? Is that true?" she whispered. "Please don't play with my emotions..."
Jaune gave her a solemn nod. "Arc's honor."
The smiles that his team sent him could have banished the dark on a moonless night.
"Oh, however will we burn off all these extra calories?!" Nora declared loudly, as though she were suffering the harshest of tortures. "Pyrrha, the boys are trying to make us fat! Clearly they must be punished!"
Nora gave her a salacious wink that caused the tips of Pyrrha's ears to match her hair, however, she was a blooded warrior and champion. She would not run from a challenge. So mustering her courage, the young woman said the first thing that came to mind: "S-spanking?"
Now it was the boys' turn to sputter and redden. No amount of training and battle-hardened mentality would save them from the embarrassment that was Nora on a mission to get her best friends to Make Her an Auntie Already Dammit!
The Thunder Maiden cackled madly, like she had just discovered a new explosive, banging her wooden cup loudly on the table she declared: "Yes! I like it! First, the spanking!"
She gave a very pointed look toward their resident warrior monk. "And then, the oral sex!"
The rest of the table's occupants valiantly resisted the urge to palm their faces in exasperation.
They were not successful.
END
