"Sarge is leavin'?"
"Just for a month. He's going to negotiate possible Dwarvish reinforcements in Ironforge," Greenweld replied, blinking slowly back at all of the troops.
"What in the blue blazes're we s'posed to do without Sarge?" Wilkes called out. "Where's Sarge now? He skip out on us already??"
The formation of guards that stood outside of the barracks had erupted in outrage when the Corporal had announced Sergeant Dean's temporary departure. Greenweld struggled for a moment, calling for silence before someone let out an ear-splitting whistle. Mariella cringed at the high-pitched sound as a man, dressed in the same tabard as Laerick had been earlier, marched to the front of the crowd.
"Listen up, you pack o' brats!" he yelled. Silence fell across the group. The man's head was completely shaven but a thick, red moustache adorned his upper lip and a highly visible scar ran diagonally from his left ear to the bottom of his chin. "I am Sergeant Major Brackwell! This here is Corporal Andover!" he motioned to Laerick who had also moved up to stand slightly behind Brackwell. Mariella noticed that his face was shaven now and his hair was clean and pulled back. "We have been transferred here from Theramore and will remain here as needed! I am to take over for your Sergeant until his return! He leaves in three days, which means all o' you sissies have three days to prance around like foppy, tree-huggin' elves like ya been doin', before I start whippin' yer asses like a pack o' mules, got it?!" he bellowed.
Glancing around, Mariella could tell her fellow guardsman were just as reluctant to take orders from this man as she was. However, they all hollered back a uniform,
"Aye, sergeant major, sir!"
"Well, well, looks like you sorry bunch o' ugly tin-heads got some potential after all!!" he said, with a harsh bark of laughter. "Y'know, your sarge is awful nice to you kids! And your sarge and I," he said, smirking gleefully. "Are nothin' alike! So tough up, boys! I'm gonna run you to the bones this comin' month!"
Staring smugly out over the crowd of troops, his gaze fell on Mariella in the first row.
"And what do we have here??" he asked loudly, marching up to stand before her. He wasn't that tall, actually. He was only several inches taller than Mariella, as opposed to the average foot most were. "We got a skirt workin' for us."
He grinned and stared down his nose at her. Mariella wanted to smack the look off his face. However, she had grown used to discrimination by now. She had put up with much abuse about her gender back in her basic training days.
There were some quiet snickers from the section of new recruits. A glare from the Sergeant Major shot them down quick.
"Well, fair maiden, how old are ya?"
"I turn twenty and two this winter, sergeant major, sir," she replied.
"You're awfully young and a mite skinny to be playin' with swords, missy."
Mariella didn't reply but stared straight ahead, determined to prove to the Theramore superior that she was a respectable member of the guard.
"Where'd you train at, little girl? The Refuge? Menethil? All the way in Redridge, maybe?" he asked, almost mockingly.
"No, sir."
"Where, then?"
"Stormwind, sergeant major, sir," she said straightening up a little more as to appear more impressive.
He raised his eyebrows at her, looking mildly shocked for a moment.
"We've got some Stormwind recruits among us, do we?" he called out, gazing across the rows of soldiers. "I wasn't informed of this," he said, turning to look at Corporal Greenweld. Greenweld withered slightly under the general's glare.
"Just her, sir," he mumbled. Brackwell made a sound of displeasure at the dozy-eyed Corporal who winced. Returning his gaze to Mariella, he asked,
"What's your name, girl?"
"Private Mariella Wendell, sir."
"Alright, Wendell, don't think you'll be gettin' an easy pass on work just 'cause you're a pair o' tits from the Stormwind brigade," he growled, jabbing a finger at her shoulder. "Though I'm sure you've got some pretty good tricks up your sleeve to graduate from their ranks... You're hard up to earn my respect just like the rest o' the boys," he said before moving off to harass his next victim. However, his tone didn't hold the same condescendence it had moments ago.
Mariella caught Laerick's eye briefly. He gave her a half-smile and an encouraging nod. She smiled to herself. She knew it, too. The sergeant major was impressed by her training roots.