Before the Dragon - 2.3

Rek’s eyes flicked nervously towards Jerica. She returned the glance, but then turned her attention back on loading her plate up with cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon, and toasted bread. They both already knew that if she tried to say anything, it would only garner scorn from Levin and Biryn. They both also knew that Rek was going to cave. May as well get it over with. She’d just watch out of the corner of her eye.

“Jerica didn’t ask you the question,” Levin snapped. “I did.”

Rek cleared his throat and shifted, then glanced back at Levin. “… Yes. I was.”

“Wow, color me shocked,” Levin said flatly. “What happened?”

Rek shifted uncomfortably again, visibly conflicted. Then he sighed. “We were at the bar.”

Jerica could feel Levin’s glare on her, but decided not to dignify him with a glance. Instead, she started shoveling the eggs into her mouth. It was generally easiest to deal with Levin’s nonsense if she wasn’t hungry. And she was starving.

“There was a… patron, there, who got a bit too drunk for his own good and started forcing himself on a young,” Rek paused for a moment, then emphasized, “young girl. Jerica intervened, thankfully before it got too bad. As she said, the victim made it home safe and we arrested the man so that he could face proper justice.”

That, and so that Jerica didn’t beat him to death. She kept the thought to herself, but she figured that’s what Rek meant. She… might have taken it a bit far. She’d been in such a fury of fists and righteous anger she’d let the adrenaline and rum get the best of her. Still, she wasn’t sorry. But… well… she supposed she was glad he’d intervened.

Levin sighed heavily. “I thought I told you to stop acting like a miscreant.”

Jerica stabbed her eggs irritably, glancing up to look at him with a stony glare. “Would you rather I had just stood there and watched a child get violated?”

“That’s not what I said,” Levin snapped, returning the glare. “I would rather you not go out and act like a schnorrer every chance you get.”

Levin knew she didn’t like that word. She looked at him coldly. “You know, you have an awful lot to say about beggars, for being the only person who could single-handedly cure poverty in this country if you actually wanted to.”

Biryn scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Levin scoffed, too. “And this is why you’re never going make anything more of yourself than we make for you. Always the dewy-eyed idealist.”

“Ah, yes, the radical idea that humans should have food and shelter.” Jerica rolled her eyes and scarfed down a piece of toast, feeling herself getting more agitated every moment.

“And who do you think is going to staff our military, Jerica.” There was an unignorable edge to his tone. “If everyone had pantries overflowing with food.”

Jerica coughed, choking on her juice. “What?”

“I-” he sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m just saying, social classes exist for a purpose. We can’t just erase them and pretend like society would continue functioning as usual.”

Jerica wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking at him incredulously. “Did you just say you are intentionally trying to starve peasants, just so they’ll keep enlisting in the military?”

Levin sighed again, looking at her tiredly. “Don’t twist what I’m saying.”

“I don’t think I am, actually.” And she was horrified. “What? Did you just say an inside thought out loud?”

“Just drop it,” Levin said.

“No.” She furrowed her brow at him, then looked over to Derik for back up. Her brow furrowed even further when she saw that Derik was wincing and looking down at his plate. She looked at him, betrayed. “Derik?”

“Derik isn’t the king,” Levin said tersely. “I am. Now drop it.”

Jerica shot him another dirty look, then looked back at Derik. “Derik? Did you know about this?” He couldn’t have. She was sure he wouldn’t stand for such a disgusting practice.

Derik took a deep breath and looked at her sympathetically. “Look, Jer. Am I happy about it? Of course not. Do I wish we could… I don’t know, give out a monthly stipend or something to all citizens so we could all have the luxury of sitting around making art and music and theater all the time? I’d do it in a heartbeat. But… as much as I hate to say it, Levin’s got a point, Jer. I—”

“That’s—” Jerica tried to interrupt, but Derik held up a hand to cut her interjection off.

“I’m not sure I’d go as far as he did,” Derik clarified. “No one should have to choose between starving and military service. Of course not. And I do think we should have more social support programs as a safety net for people down on their luck.” He sent a pointed glance at Levin, before looking back at Jerica. “But you know that most of our men are… of a poorer demographic. And that’s why we make such an effort to treat them well, Jer. Give them a leg up in life. Isn’t that why you pushed for the library?”

Jerica was silent for a moment, calming down a little. Derik brought up some good points… she guessed. She sighed and pushed the eggs around her plate. It was true, that she’d been the driving force behind installing a small collection of books in the barracks for any men who wanted to learn to read or to entertain the ones who already knew. But that felt like a tiny, meaningless gesture in the grand scheme of things. “Yeah.”

“We give them an opportunity, Jer,” Derik said, voice gentle and understanding. “No one is forcing them through a… a conscription, or something. They’re equally welcome to find an apprenticeship somewhere or learn a trade. The ones who choose to enlist do so because they think it will give them a brighter future. And there’s no shame in us incentivizing that.”

Jerica nodded, and ate some bacon, deciding that was easier than trying to think up a response. She hated this. Hated the constant reminder that she was rich and most of the country was poor. She felt so powerless to change things. And she didn’t like feeling powerless.

Her mind drifted back to the barfight. Money. Right. She’d promised to go back and pay for the damages at the bar she’d caused during the fight. It was the least she could do. The owner didn’t deserve to take a financial loss for her reckless sense of justice.

She kept munching on her food as she thought through her next steps. After she ate, she would go find her squire, Kieran. He was only twelve so he didn’t get to go out for a night of drinking with them, but she tried to include him wherever she could, since he seemed to enjoy outings with her. Should she go look for the girl, too? Check in on her? Or should she just let it be and let the girl sort everything out on her own? She wasn’t sure.

Before long, her plate was empty. She blinked, realizing that she’d zoned out and missed any conversation that might have been happening around her. Oh well. It was best that way. It rarely went well when she tried to participate in conversations including Levin or Biryn; she couldn’t remember a time it’d ever gone well when they were both there together.

She bided her time until it was acceptable to excuse herself, then went to the barracks to find Kieran. The barracks were shaped like a large ‘X’ with one wing for each of the three main branches: the swordsmen, the archers, and the calvary. The remaining wing was dedicated to the medics, cafeteria, bathing rooms, and Derik’s office.

Jerica cut down the hall to the right, going to check the cafeteria first. They usually started the morning with some physical conditioning then breakfast. She often joined his squadron on mornings that she was free and hadn’t been assaulted by alcohol the night before. She passed some soldiers in the hall, who all snapped to attention and saluted her. “Ma’am!”

She acknowledged them with a nod. “At ease.”

When she opened the door to the cafeteria, it was more of the same. Them saluting, her acknowledging and dismissing them. She spotted Kieran at the dish return and made her way over to him. “Kieran!”

He glanced towards her, then straightened his back. “Ma’am!”

“You all done with breakfast?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good, good.” Jerica nodded. “Anything pressing going on for you this morning?”

She knew there wasn’t. But she liked to give him the sense of autonomy.

“No, ma’am!” he said quickly. “We took a three-mile run this morning, then breakfast. I figured on some sparring this morning but I’m happy to do something else if there’s anything I should rank as a higher priority, ma’am!”

Jerica smiled a little. “I mean… if you want to train, that’s fine… but… I think it’d be a little more fun to go into town, don’t you?”

Kieran perked up, grinning. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed with a nod and a smirk. “C’mon, let’s go.”