63 An Old Friend

The Northern Gate was no different than when he had left Steelshade at the beginning of the previous summer. In a span of months, this was the only aspect of the city, of his life prior to the Fourth Infantry, that remained constant. It was interesting; he had spent almost an equal time as a city guardsman as a soldier, but the latter was far more eventful. It had the effect of stretching out his service, something Jacob wasn't quite sure he was happy about.

A few familiar faces traveled the streets as a part of their patrols. In a rather destitute part of the city such as this, there were no servants on the street. Only Jacob had the iron reminder of his station. It conflicted with the authority his uniform radiated, leading to many confused expressions on the faces of passersby.

The guardhouse was much the same as Jacob remembered it. The lobby was just as pristine as when he had last entered it to apply for his job. Though Jacob didn't have much of a relationship with the guard captain, he knew that the man was a stickler for cleanliness. Lieutenant Edward shared his superior officer's sentiments, the two of them running a tight ship despite their underlings' complaints.

Approaching the unfamiliar man at the desk, Jacob shook himself free of the memories. "I'm looking for Lieutenant Edward. Is he in?"

The husky voice of the heavy-set man answered him. "Lieutenant Edward? You must mean Captain Edward. You mustn't have been around the station for long, then," the man reasoned, adjusting the small glasses sitting on his face.

"It's been a while since I've last visited," Jacob agreed, watching the man across the desk come to a decision. It was a very visible process. Any break in the monotony was a blessing he would take, Jacob was sure. His faith in the man's need for something new was rewarded. Lieutenant – no, Captain – Edward walked out from his office behind the wall following the request of the receptionist.

"Jacob? What's happened to you?" Edward asked, approaching his former junior. The two men clasped each other's hands in a tight handshake. While Jacob's time at the guardhouse hadn't been exactly pleasant because of how his comrades had treated him for his inexperience, the then-Lieutenant had provided much opportunity for Jacob to grow his skill as a swordsman.

"It's a long story. I'd rather share it over a drink, if you have the time to spare." Jacob watched as the Captain ordered the receptionist to find his lieutenant, a guard by the name of Alan. The name was unfamiliar – maybe a transfer from another sector?

Placing his lieutenant in the office in his stead, Edward led Jacob out of the guardhouse and to a local tavern. It was one of those the men had favored, at least when Jacob was still among them. Once an unenergetic waitress served them, Jacob launched into his retelling of his fate. He hid specific portions of his story. No one knew that he was growing stronger in the amount of mana he could hold, and that fact would remain a secret until he was strong enough to remove the collar. For another, none knew of his treasonous hatred for Benjamin, though Edward was interested as to why the collar reacted to Jacob's retelling of his experience in King Benjamin's throne room.

"You're a mage?" was the first question Edward asked after Jacob finished. By this point, both of them had gone through a mug of ale each and were going for the next. Training wouldn't be all the productive later, but Jacob felt that the alcohol was much better than going for the tainted water he'd be served in an establishment like this. He needed to learn fire magic, if only to boil his own water.

"I'm something akin to one. It's complicated, so I won't bore you with the details, but I can use magic." Jacob forestalled the next question that he guessed was coming. "I specialize in wind magic, so I won't be making you any fancy things or fixing back pain or anything like that."

Edward's face dropped a tiny bit. Only earth mages with the ability to utilize the sub-element of metal could enchant, as the act of engraving runes on metal required one to have an innate connection with the material they were manipulating. Healers were less difficult to come by, for it only relied on the major element of water. That being said, most healers didn't have the proper medical know-how to repair anything much more complicated than a surface cut. Jacob had seen the Fourth Infantry's attached healer at work; it was a grim business.

"I was about to ask about that," he admitted. "One of my men broke his leg the other day and I wanted to get him back in action; his family needs the money he earns. I can't really afford to pay an additional guardsman with the pittance the city gives us," Edward sighed. Jacob felt for the guard captain. The government was tragically unjust in their distribution of money. This poor district wasn't able to field a large guard force, thus keeping the region constantly in the iron grip of the numerous crime syndicates.

Jacob had once cared, learning to identify members of the organized crime by their mannerisms, but he had quickly been told off. Interfering in their business would get all the guardsmen in trouble; the local forces had no chance of winning an armed engagement with the vast underground networks. No longer sheltered from the cruel systems enforced by the nobility and the king, Jacob had no hope that the situation would be rectified.

"I'm sorry about the whole servant thing; you don't deserve that kind of fate. A good man like you is hard to come by," Edward said, draining the last few drops in his mug.

"I'm not so sure about the good part, but I'll agree that I shouldn't be in this collar," Jacob copied Edward, ignoring the discomfort the slightly heated metal around his neck provided. Apparently his words were mildly treasonous.

Jacob escorted Edward back to the guardhouse, regretting their inability to have a proper duel with the alcohol in their system. "Will I see you in the tournament, Edward?" Jacob asked, hoping the older man would participate as he once had.

"Public officials like city guardsmen are not allowed to participate, I'm afraid. Those days are long past for me," Edward replied in the negative, shattering Jacob's hope.

"Another day, then," Jacob said as he walked away, passing by a few familiar faces who at least had the sense to look embarrassed as he passed by. No doubt their treatment of him and his ascension to a Sergeant of the Fourth brought about mixed emotions. Or was it his collar? Either way, Jacob enjoyed strolling out of the guard complex.

He had an evening of training to look forward to, after all. Hopefully the ale's minor effects would pass by then.