“Name?”

The boy’s eyes flitted left and right as he sunk into the wooden chair, his eyes downcast towards the ground. It just made his already small frame seem even smaller. The man sitting across the table eventually cleared his throat, causing the boy to flinch.

“I need a name for your form. But…” He scratched at his head, looking from the form to the boy with a sigh. “If you’re that skittish, maybe you should go home.”

“I’m—” the boy’s voice cracked. “Mirsisi Beaucoup. And I do want to join, mister.”

“Mister? I’m only turning thirty-two this year. But I guess war really does do a number on you,” he let out a loud laugh. He owed his salt and pepper hair to all the near death encounters he experienced over the last decade to the war after all. “Anyways — Mirsisi, was it? — you can just call me Brooke.”

It took a moment, but the boy eventually nodded. His eyes were still downcast.

By all accounts, this sort of kid was a really bad fit for Hawkwood. At best, he was going to get himself killed and at worst he was going to get any squad members with him killed too. Sure, they were running recruitment campaigns more often because they were hemorrhaging men faster than they could recruit them, but it would leave a bad taste in Brooke’s mouth if he was the reason why a whole squad didn’t make it back.

“Now that we both know each other’s names, I am a bit curious about why you want to join Hawkwood.” Brooke placed the papers down on the table as he rested his arms on the table. “If you’re looking for glory or fame, those sorts of people are far and few between. The rest of us are like cattle to the slaughter.”

“I know,” Mirsisi finally looked up at Brooke, his silver eyes finally meeting Brooke’s. “Men die all the time between the skirmishes at the border to the smaller civil wars that noblemen hire groups like Hawkwood for.”

At least the kid was well-informed on how it works.

“You could earn your keep being a servant for a nobleman or by doing some labour at a dock.”

“I really need the money, mis—Brooke.”

“Enough that you’re willing to kill for it?”

The boy’s gaze didn’t waver.

“…Yes.”

“Well then,” Brooke placed his hands on the table as he slid the chair back across the rocky dirt and stood up. He rounded the table motioning for Mirsisi to follow him. “Let’s see what you’re made of, shall we?”

The otherwise normally barren field leading up to the mountains was turned into a makeshift training area now that the Hawkwood Company needed a temporary base of operations in the area. Straw dummies made up of twigs, straw and any other materials were set up as quickly as people could cut through them and small targets were being cleared of bolts and arrows. There was even a small set of what Mirsisi could only assume were supposed to be fences that some men were sparring inside of. Though they were more like logs gently rolled into place and secured with large rocks on either side to make sure they didn’t roll away.

One of the men within the sparring area was using a hatchet and a small shield while the other had a long sword. Brooke stopped, a small smile forming on his face as he watched the spar from the edge of the gathering crowd of mercenaries. Mirsisi stopped too, turning towards the sound of metal clashing.

Mirsisi jumped a few times, standing on his tip toes to try and see over the shoulders of the men cheering the combatants. But all Mirsisi could see were the backs of everyone’s heads. By the time he did finally manage to get a good view into the sparring area, the fight was over. The man who had a hatchet and shield was disarmed and sitting on the ground with a sword to his throat.

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of celebrations and cries. Some celebrated while others lamented their betting losses. As the crowd slowly began to disperse, the winner lowered his blade.

“Still wringing people out of all their well earned money, Vin?” Brooke called over the remaining mercenaries.

“It’s not my fault when they start making bets of their own volition, Brooke.” Vin replied back as he sheathed his sword and helped his opponent back to his feet. It was only when Vin approached the edge of the sparring area that he caught sight of the small figure that seemed to linger beside Brooke. “Who’s this?”

“Someone I want tested before we potentially recruit.”

Vin crossed his arms.

“Since when do we admit children to Hawkwood?”

“I’m not a kid.” Mirsisi objected, but slowly shrank into his own shadow as Vin glared at him. “I-I’m twenty…”

“Riiiiight.” Vin turned his attention back to Brooke. “So? You want us to spar?”

“Spar? You’d be liable to lop of his head with a flick of your wrist.” Brooke laughed but Mirsisi continued boring holes into the ground with his eyes. “Boy, what did you say your specialty was when you walked into my tent?”

“I used to hunt wild game… I’m good at tracking and usually don’t miss with a bow. So you should let me join.”

“Sooooo,” Brooke gave Mirsisi a nice pat on the shoulders before smiling at Vin. “You’ll stick with the kid, see how much he manages to hunt for dinner and then you can give me an assessment later.”

“You’re joking.”

Brooke gave a shrug and smirked. “It’s either that or you’re buying everyone here drinks and food from the local tavern.”

Vin let out a loud groan before turning his attention back to Mirsisi. He closed his eyes for a moment before motioning to a small tent to the side of the sparring area.

“Get kitted up, there should be something your size... or something close to it. There’s more than enough bows and arrows in there too so grab whatever you need to hunt.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” Mirsisi gave Vin a small nod before running off in the direction of the tent right through the sparring area.

Vin crossed his arms.

“You’re not actually thinking of letting that kid in, are you?”

“Nothing stopped you a few years ago.” Brooke chuckled. “Besides, I told him on the way here that we were going to test him. He passes? He gets in. He fails? He agreed that he’d head back home and I’d forget that he even asked to see me. Just see how he does. You know that the survey team needs more people and a tracker could be exactly what we need.”

Vin scratched the back of his neck. He hated it but the squad was already spread thin as it was. Some of the people from his team he hadn’t seen in weeks and others months.

“Anyways, just make sure he doesn’t die before we pass or fail him, ‘kay? That’s an order.”

Vin sighed.

“Understood, captain.”