Mariella crumpled the written orders in her palm, hot anger and humiliation pumping through her veins like a fiery poison.
Corporal Greenweld withered slightly under her glare.
"Sir," she said quietly, fighting to keep her voice low and level. "These… orders must be mistaken."
Even as she said it, she knew they were no mistake. The sergeant had truly put her in charge of watching the stables, which was an entirely ridiculous and unnecessary post within the town limits.
Slowly, the corporal shook his head.
"No mistake, Wendell. These are your new orders," he said gravely. Though Greenweld was young, he had a glum sort of demeanor about him at all times with his dozy eyes and sallow face. At the moment, his indifference made Mariella want to strike him across the face.
"Sarge did mention you might react this way…" Greenweld muttered, shifting on his feet. Mariella blinked at him.
"Sarge..? The sergeant said I would-" Mariella stopped mid-sentence, pursing her lips together. "Sir, may I ask of the whereabouts of Sergeant Dean?"
Greenweld looked unsure of himself, eying her cautiously.
"The sergeant's rather busy, Wendell…"
"Corporal Greenweld, sir, I intend to speak with the sergeant on imperative matters. I wish to know of his whereabouts," Mariella replied through gritted teeth.
Greenweld let out a long, drawn out sigh before pointing in the direction of the town hall.
"Thank you, corporal sir."
Mariella threw him a crisp salute before striding off to the town's second biggest building, aside from the military training hall and armory.
As the guardswoman approached, she saw the sergeant and another man, elderly and wearing jeweled magistrate's robes, conversing. Neither looked happy.
Several moments passed before the sergeant made a stiff inadequate bow and turned coldly away from the man. The man looked outraged and opened his mouth to call after the retreating sergeant but then thought better of it, stalking off in the opposite direction.
Sergeant Dean appeared troubled as he neared Mariella and he was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly walked straight past her.
"Greetings, sergeant," she said, quickly saluting him. He halted, looking startled for a moment. The pair stared at one another for half a second before the tense look on his face faded and he allowed her a tentative smile.
"Afternoon, Mariella," he replied politely, stepping up to face her. Mariella's anger abated slightly as she subconsciously considered their height and stature difference. "I'm very glad to see you are well."
"Sir, I-"
"Lady Roslynn is a skilled healer, I knew she'd have you patched up in no time."
"Indeed, sir, but I'm here to-"
"Are you entirely healed? It's only been a couple of days. Perhaps you should have her take a look at the injury, to be sure it's completely closed up."
"Sir, I'm quite alright. The wound wasn't that grievous. I wished to speak with you ab-"
"Nonsense, that Murloc nearly ran you straight threw with a spear! The more I think of it, the more shocked I am that you've healed so quickly."
Sergeant Dean was clearly avoiding the subject.
"Sir, if I may please bring something to your attention," Mariella said forcefully, brandishing the crumpled orders in her hand. Immediately, the sergeant's charade fell and he looked more tired than she'd ever seen him. However, her anger was quick to blot out the faint inklings of guilt.
"Sir, the stables," she stated, wincing as if the phrase stung her.
"Mariella," he began, running a hand through his hair which hung loosely for a change.
"I am capable of defending this town, sir. Protecting the horses is hardly a noble task for a select member of the Stormwind army," she said, knowing she sounded painfully arrogant but her anger coursed powerfully through her, ceasing her better judgment.
"Mariella, you're injured. I'm not about to place you back out on the beaches and I'm certainly not going to toss you into the midst of battle."
"But, sir," she whined. "Four of your men have far more severe wounds than I and I am quite certain that as soon as they're healed, you'll have them back out on the fronts! Not sitting around baling hay and feeding horses!"
"It's different with them, Mari! They're older, much more seasoned fighters! You're only a young lady who has yet to-"
The sergeant fell silent at Mariella's shriek of derisive laughter.
"That's it! That's it, isn't it?!" she asked, her voice shrill.
Sergeant Dean stared at her in bewilderment.
"You misunderstand me-"
"I misunderstand you? I find it is the other way around, sir," she hissed, her last word dripping with mockery. Mariella chose to ignore the hurt expression on his face. "I can't believe it! I was right! All this time, I was right. You think of me as just some foolish little girl who learned some swordplay from her father and enlisted in the Stormwind army for fun! Am I right?" she asked loudly.
By now, her raised voice had attracted the attention of most passersby.
Sergeant Dean began to protest.
"No! No, that's not the case at all, Mariella! I know you are skilled! Skilled beyond several of my men! I received records of each soldier that was being transferred prior to their arrival. Believe me; I know of what you have accomplished!"
"Oh, well Light forbid, you're right! Recommendations from the Captain of the Guard himself mean nothing and I should obviously be stuck in the stables instead of defending our lands! I'm absolutely worthless to your army!"
"You know that's not true! And perhaps I should remind you that you are speaking out against a superior at the moment. I'd advise you to watch your tongue, soldier," Sergeant Dean replied sternly.
Mariella had never heard her sergeant use his seniority against anyone before and she couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed of her behavior. However, she had a tendency to let her anger overtake her and she found that she couldn't control her tongue one bit.
"A superior?! Really? Hardly a worthy sergeant! Wasting useful defenders on scrubbing horses when they could be-"
"I'm warning you, Wendell-"
"And what will my punishment be? New orders to count flour sacks at the general store? As Sergeant, you don't even have reasonable judgment when handing out orders to your soldiers! Well, you know what?! I think you can take my orders and just stick 'em up y-"
"I have a damn good reason for every order I send out! I apologize deeply for not having shared my every thought with you on the subject, Wendell!"
"Well then, let's hear it now! What's your reason for sending me to the stables?!"
The sergeant was quiet for a moment, an indistinguishable emotion passing across his weary visage.
"What's your reason?!" Mariella cried desperately. "Am I being punished for something??"
"Not yet, you aren't," he replied icily. "As of right now, I'm ordering you to go the stables. You will wait there for further instructions."
In a fit of childish rage, Mariella shredded the orders with shaking fingers and cast them into the air. Silence reigned for several moments as bits of parchment fluttered around them, slowly descending to the muddy earth like freakish mid-summer snow.
"Well, if you need me for shining your shoes or perhaps cooking up a meal for your men, I'll be there shoveling hay and whatever comes out of your horse's ass," she spat acidly, before whirling around and stamping off to the eastern edge of town where the horse stables stood alone.
Mariella knew she would be punished severely for her insubordination but right now, she didn't give a damn.
The only thing she cared about at the moment was proving her worth to the citizens, the army, and the sergeant of Southshore.
And partly, her father.
However, accomplishing this didn't seem likely in her current situation.