Brotherly Bonding
Who: The Cain Brothers
Where: Training course
When: January 26th, 7:00 pm
What: Now that was just mean
Morgan Cain flopped to the dusty ground, panting worse than an old hound dog and feeling soaked to the bone as sweat poured off him. Every muscle he had, and some he hadn’t been aware of, burned with some twitching under the skin.
“You are an evil…” he paused to draw in a few more breaths, “diabolical fiend. I see mutiny in your future.”
Wyatt sat more easily to the ground, grinning. He was tired, and breathing hard, but not as harsh as Morgan. The heat of the day had dissipated enough to run the course safely, after the five mile run. But it was far from cool and the muggy air hadn’t evaporated. So he was just as damp as his brother, sweat dripping from his face.
“You think you can do that every morning?” Wyatt nudged his brother’s boot.
“Why the hell would I WANT to? Run five miles with a stable full of horses just down there?” Morgan raised an arm from the ground and hiked a thumb at the guard stables. “Climb things I don’t have to, scramble under things, play hopscotch with no pattern… it’s just sick, is what it is.”
“It keeps the guards ready for anything. Any guard in the palace can run five miles after an enemy, further most likely, they can handle any roadblock or natural impediment thrown at them. They also have to be dead shots. Then we have one former resistance leader and four of his people teaching some volunteers the really nasty stuff.” Wyatt looked to where the second sun was setting.
Devlin and his guards were teaching twenty guards in Wolves techniques. DG called them Army Rangers. They weren’t Army, and they hadn’t ranged anywhere. But when she explained it the idea was similar enough. Rangers was becoming the adopted name for the group.
“I’m offering you a job, Morgan.” Wyatt finally said.
“A job? I didn’t come here for charity.” Morgan pushed himself back up to a sitting position. His back now covered in dirt.
“Isn’t charity. You have to meet the same requirements as any other guard. You don’t, you’re out. Jeb has the same requirements. No one gets in without them. You’d also be taking orders from me. Insubordination on the job will get consequences, up to and including termination of employment or arrest.” Wyatt met his brother’s eyes. For a moment the two were perfect mirrors of one another.
“Again… why would I want to do that? I make enough platinums to get by.” Morgan sniffed.
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Playing poker isn’t a job, Morgan. And the folks you play with you’re just as likely to get shot as any guard. More. This is a steady job, guaranteed pay, and good pay at that, and to top it off you get room and board for free, meaning less of that pay you have to spend.”
Morgan shook his head. “You’re up to somethin’. And it isn’t just a job offer to your wayward brother. What is it?”
“Something evil and diabolical, of course. But it’s also an opportunity for you, and it’ll keep my family close.” Wyatt admitted.
“Close? Wyatt, when you and your family visited for a week, you and Adora were so thankful to leave the last day it wasn’t funny. We fight. We have different opinions on almost everything. You don’t like my smoking, find my love of a good beer or ale at least once a day distasteful, and … let me guess, all those aren’t allowed in the guard.” Morgan glared.
“Plenty of the guard smoke, as long as it doesn’t keep them from completing the course, no one cares. Just not on duty. They also drink, as long as they don’t show up drunk or hung over for duty, again, no one cares. And, you’d get your own room.” Wyatt hoped the last would make Morgan more inclined. Privacy for his dalliances.
“I thought only royal bodyguards or ranking officers got their own rooms.” Morgan knew he wasn’t officer material, as you had to work your way up to that.
Wyatt grinned. “Yup.”
Where: Training course
When: January 26th, 7:00 pm
What: Now that was just mean
Morgan Cain flopped to the dusty ground, panting worse than an old hound dog and feeling soaked to the bone as sweat poured off him. Every muscle he had, and some he hadn’t been aware of, burned with some twitching under the skin.
“You are an evil…” he paused to draw in a few more breaths, “diabolical fiend. I see mutiny in your future.”
Wyatt sat more easily to the ground, grinning. He was tired, and breathing hard, but not as harsh as Morgan. The heat of the day had dissipated enough to run the course safely, after the five mile run. But it was far from cool and the muggy air hadn’t evaporated. So he was just as damp as his brother, sweat dripping from his face.
“You think you can do that every morning?” Wyatt nudged his brother’s boot.
“Why the hell would I WANT to? Run five miles with a stable full of horses just down there?” Morgan raised an arm from the ground and hiked a thumb at the guard stables. “Climb things I don’t have to, scramble under things, play hopscotch with no pattern… it’s just sick, is what it is.”
“It keeps the guards ready for anything. Any guard in the palace can run five miles after an enemy, further most likely, they can handle any roadblock or natural impediment thrown at them. They also have to be dead shots. Then we have one former resistance leader and four of his people teaching some volunteers the really nasty stuff.” Wyatt looked to where the second sun was setting.
Devlin and his guards were teaching twenty guards in Wolves techniques. DG called them Army Rangers. They weren’t Army, and they hadn’t ranged anywhere. But when she explained it the idea was similar enough. Rangers was becoming the adopted name for the group.
“I’m offering you a job, Morgan.” Wyatt finally said.
“A job? I didn’t come here for charity.” Morgan pushed himself back up to a sitting position. His back now covered in dirt.
“Isn’t charity. You have to meet the same requirements as any other guard. You don’t, you’re out. Jeb has the same requirements. No one gets in without them. You’d also be taking orders from me. Insubordination on the job will get consequences, up to and including termination of employment or arrest.” Wyatt met his brother’s eyes. For a moment the two were perfect mirrors of one another.
“Again… why would I want to do that? I make enough platinums to get by.” Morgan sniffed.
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Playing poker isn’t a job, Morgan. And the folks you play with you’re just as likely to get shot as any guard. More. This is a steady job, guaranteed pay, and good pay at that, and to top it off you get room and board for free, meaning less of that pay you have to spend.”
Morgan shook his head. “You’re up to somethin’. And it isn’t just a job offer to your wayward brother. What is it?”
“Something evil and diabolical, of course. But it’s also an opportunity for you, and it’ll keep my family close.” Wyatt admitted.
“Close? Wyatt, when you and your family visited for a week, you and Adora were so thankful to leave the last day it wasn’t funny. We fight. We have different opinions on almost everything. You don’t like my smoking, find my love of a good beer or ale at least once a day distasteful, and … let me guess, all those aren’t allowed in the guard.” Morgan glared.
“Plenty of the guard smoke, as long as it doesn’t keep them from completing the course, no one cares. Just not on duty. They also drink, as long as they don’t show up drunk or hung over for duty, again, no one cares. And, you’d get your own room.” Wyatt hoped the last would make Morgan more inclined. Privacy for his dalliances.
“I thought only royal bodyguards or ranking officers got their own rooms.” Morgan knew he wasn’t officer material, as you had to work your way up to that.
Wyatt grinned. “Yup.”