The Rose

Wellspring Square was packed with a variety of people, each queuing up to hand in their vote. His legs were aching and he kept shifting from one foot to the other, craning his neck every once in a while to check whether Rayla had arrived yet. She had not.

"Name?" he asked the next in line.

"Tyriok Beckenworth," answered an elderly gnome, looking up at him over a pair of golden pince-nez.

"Do you have your filled out and signed voter's form with you?"

Beckenworth nodded curtly and held up a tattered piece of parchment. He stepped aside and let the gnome pass, fiddling with the fastenings on his breastplate. As much as he enjoyed working for the city guard, the armour was terribly heavy and uncomfortable.

"Name?"

"Filkas Smorah, pleasure to meet you," said an elf, slightly taller than him, with a wide smile. His skin was slightly tanned and he was dressed in a beautifully embroidered brown doublet. Almost instinctively he smiled back.

"Oh, yes," he muttered before remembering the reason he was there. "Do you have your—"

The elf was already holding up a piece of paper, embellished with a slender signature. "All prepared," he laughed, "can I ask your name?"

He glanced at the queue, sighed, then said: "People just call me the Rose."

"Hmm, an interesting name for a soldier. How did it come about?"

"It's a long and complicated story, I'd rather not..."

"Of course, of course, I understand. Politics come first, especially when it's about electing our new representative, no? How about you tell me over a drink, then?"

He blinked at the elf, then cleared his throat. "I... I don't know whether—" he paused—"Actually, that would be nice, yes."

Filkas smirked and ran his fingers through long, light brown curls. "Today at sunset by the well?"

He nodded. "That's alr—"

"Oi! That's my spot now!" He turned to see Rayla, hair tousled, jogging towards him. She smiled and playfully pushed him to the side. He sighed with relief. Finally, he was free. She adjusted her weapon, and clapped her hands together. "Oh, by the way, they want to talk to you at the barracks, don't know why."

He groaned. "Nine hells. That can't be good." He walked off towards the barracks, only remembering too late to say goodbye to Filkas.

He jogged uphill, passed through the gates to the Wellspring and marched up to a small stone door. Inside the barracks, he passed by fellow guards shooting bows or fighting with wooden swords, then a small group discussing battle strategies. 

After all this time guarding Ironstar's streets, he was still unsure why they were taught about large-scale combat. Syoll was a peaceful world, they had no enemies other than petty criminals and rogue monsters. Even pirates weren't a problem, the Miennan capital being located hundreds of miles from the coast. He shook his head. It's probably fear, he thought, and an unwillingness to let go of the idea of war.

The door to the captain's office was ajar, so he softly knocked and walked in. Captain Zenra Carbonhill, a human nearing her later years, with short-cropped blonde hair and a strange scar on her cheek, smiled at him from her desk. "Ah yes, the Rose. How are you?"

He cleared his throat. "Whatever my sister did, it had nothing to do with—"

She laughed. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. And neither is your sister, for once. No, this is regarding my retirement, and the matter of succession."

He frowned. "Your what?"

She smiled sadly. "My niece is once again running for triad representative. It's one of the worst-kept secrets among the people that our democracy here is tainted by my family's dynasty, and I can no longer support that. But that isn't important. What I care about is that Ironstar, although I never want to set foot in it again, is in safe hands. You seem surprised. Were my sentiments never clear to you?"

He stood still, speechless. He knew that the captain had some disagreements with her family, but he never thought her feelings were so extreme. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but no. At least not to such an extent."

"Hm, yes, I've done a good job in remaining civil and diplomatic." She reached towards a scroll lying on her desk. "But, like I said, it's not important. What I really wanted to talk about is you."

"Me?"

"Yes. Well, your future. I have heard many good things about you, you know, and the people like you too. Which is why I want you to succeed me as Captain of the Guard. Yes, yes, don't look so surprised. You're rather perfect for the position, ignoring your sister. We'll have to make sure that doesn't become common knowledge."

He nodded. Zariah had taken a recent interest in the Silent Shepherds, the country's largest thieves' guild, and was apparently rapidly climbing the ranks. If people found out that she was his sister and that he still had frequent contact with her, both of their reputations would suffer.

"So, the Rose of Ironstar, are you willing to accept this position?"

He swallowed dryly. Did he deserve this? Regardless, he couldn't possibly turn down the offer, not after working so hard. In the few seconds after she finished her question, he evaluated whether directly accepting would make him seem arrogant or confident, or whether feigning modesty would lose him the offer. He had to pick quickly, his mind jumping from one option to the other. He wanted it. Badly. He took a deep breath.

"Yes."

She clapped her hands together, beaming at him. "Wonderful! I've got everything prepared. Now we just need to handle all the paperwork and I'll be gone. How about we do that tonight?"

"Sorry," he said, remembering the grin on Filkas Smorah's face as he held up his voter's form. A smile crept across his lips. "I can't tonight. I have a date."