Problem Children

Problem Children were a common occurrence, no matter where you looked. There would always be those who do not lie within the norm, who deviate from the straight path, for any host of reasons.

Barrack 12D was a breeding ground for these problem children, or rather, a cage in which to store and use them accordingly — At least that’s what Atreides told me.

There were only three, no, four members of Barrack 12D — the Beast, the Coward, and the Sailor.

“I am the sailor, Atreides. I specialize in seafaring and negotiation. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Atreides put an end to the ceaseless fighting between the Beast and the Coward just moments prior, setting up the necessary conditions for a meeting. It was a welcome party, per se, or perhaps an official orientation. I had never experienced such an event. My expectations were…not quite met?

Where were the strict military officers who’d yell in my ear until my eardrums burst? Was this a sham organization?

Disregarding my delusional ramblings, I refocused on the topic at hand: the Problem Children.

First was the beast. “The name’s Keresaspa of the Haoma People ! My crime was treason against my people and wanton destruction!”

…Why was she allowed in the military with such terrible crimes?

Keresaspa came closer, closely examining my body. “You seem like a strong guy. Let us do battle!”

“Sure, but maybe later. It’s a tad late,” I replied halfheartedly.

She was loud and unusually eager. I understood what it meant to carry a warrior’s pride, being the son of a war hero and all, but wasn’t this a bit too much?

Next up for introductions was the coward.

“H-Hello…my name…my name is Derrick . Just Derrick. As for my crime and specialty…I don’t wanna talk about it!”

This man, no, this young boy was far more meek than I had imagined. He had a persistent speech impediment that made each word harder to understand than the last. His eyes had a strange, child-like shimmer, and his skin was smooth like a toddler's. How could this boy have been a warrior?

Well, no point in dwelling on it. These people, no matter how bizarre, were now my companions.

“I am Ereth of the Eternal Twilight, a warrior of Classical Wisterian Swordsmanship. I specialize in ground combat. My crime is…well, I’m not really sure what my crime is.”

“...?”

The energy in the room shifted noticeably.

“S-Seriously? No way you don’t know…you’re lying!” Derrick’s accusatory tone wasn’t much appreciated. It’s making me dislike him even more.

“Ha! Well, your crime, affiliation, or specialty is of no matter to me. As long as we may battle, then all is well!”

See, there you go. That’s how you keep an open mind. I like this human, Keresaspa, a bit more now.

“Hm…well, it is certainly shocking to hear. Assignment to Barrack 12D usually requires some form of extraordinary circumstance, usually that of a crime, but perhaps your case is a special exception. Would you mind telling us the circumstances of your bi-”

Atreides glanced at his watch.

“Well, if you are comfortable with disclosing such information, of course.”

His words were incredibly polite, as expected of any ordinary person, yet his strange mannerisms and vocal cadence led me to believe otherwise. Something about his demeanor was just downright unsettling. I couldn’t trust this man even if I wanted to.

“It’s fine,” I replied. “I don’t mind sharing my story.”

I recalled the tale of my journey in great detail, though I left out any mention of my origins within the Eternal Twilight or any connection to Zoltin, my father. They likely wouldn’t believe me anyway, and outlandish claims would only stir up more confusion than it was worth.

For now, I’ll simply say that I’m from Saranhell, and I won’t reveal the broken Sword of Promised Victory until necessary.

“HAHAHA! You raised your hands against the king himself?! A worthy foe! Allow me to congratulate you, Ereth! To scratch the hands of our leader is no easy feat!”

“Y-Yeah…that’s seriously insane! Like, the highest crime! How did you even come back alive…? Earning the King’s favor…it’s too…flippant…”

“Now now, let us not judge him too harshly, Derrick. There is no need to be so antagonistic.”

Thank you, Atreides. At least someone here has a cool head.

“Let us throw a welcome party instead.”

No, Atreides. I definitely don’t want that either!

“I think I’ll pass on that,” I replied humbly. “It's a tad la-”

Before I could finish my sentence, Keresaspa placed her left arm over my shoulders, with her right hand pulling me inward. The warrior woman’s grip nearly snapped my clavicles like twigs. How could anyone have such natural strength…?

“Come now, Ereth! Battle on an empty stomach is a warrior’s shame! Let us eat and drink plenty, then engage in glorious battle in the coming days!”

…She seriously only thinks about fighting. This one will be tiring.

With an exasperated response, I replied, “Alright, alright, let’s have a welcome party. Though I must warn you, I’ve never attended such an event before, so my performance may be a tad underwhelming.”

We had spent the rest of the night talking over meaningless things, laughing over trivial things, and partaking in unnecessary things. I couldn’t say that I felt the most comfortable in this environment, yet it was by no means unpleasant.

Derrick was a meek coward through and through, yet occasionally revealed a craftier element to his character.

Keresaspa was loud, single-minded, and almost supernaturally obsessed with others, yet she was also competitive and oddly kind.

Altreides was calm and collected under ordinary circumstances, but could easily be flustered given the right circumstances.

They were both bad and good people; miserable people, yet lively people.

Though I certainly had my apprehensions, perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad if I lived out my days as an ordinary man, a soldier of the kingdom.