22 – The Selection

"You can really see their abilities from their stance?" With her eyes almost closed and her steps unsteady, Ashe asked Trish who was walking beside her.

The female warrior shrugged. "That doesn't mean I can immediately measure their abilities, but a good stance is a sign that they have great fundamentals."

"You're not usually this serious, Trish." Lance chuckled.

"At least that's what I want to believe about myself." Trish continued. "They chose many candidates. I want to have a way to select them quickly…. Well, don't worry, I'll select them properly after I've eliminated a lot, though."

Lance was fine with that. If Trish thinks this method is effective in initial selection, then the young man will follow it.

After walking down the hall of a military base, they entered an extensive field with soldiers lined up. They kept their distance from each other, and their leader gave the order to salute.

Trish signaled to an army mage, who then amplified her voice.

The female warrior walked up to the soldiers. "Take a stance with your spear or sword, and I'll check. Focus on the front. Don't let your attention be distracted by these two beautiful women."

"Ah, I remember my time in the military regimen. I'm required to wear thin clothes like them when the air is still cold like this." Ashe checked her parka. Winter is over, but the weather is quite freezing. "I'm glad to join you, Lance. So I can wear warm clothes whenever I want."

Lance glanced at the female elf's chest. The young man doesn't understand. If she is grateful that she can wear warm clothes, why is she still exposing her cleavage like that?

"Sorry, sir. You don't fit the criteria." Trish smiled at one soldier in the front row. "Please leave."

"Eh?" The man blinked in confusion.

"You heard miss Hawke!" The squad leader snapped. "Move your ass out!"

Trish continued to select the candidates by walking between them. Sometimes he eliminates people with one glance, sometimes he observes them for quite a long time before deciding.

After eliminating half of them, she brought her face closer to a woman holding a spear. "It's rare to see a woman like you in a melee squad like this."

"Yes, ma'dam! I want to serve this country, so I joined the military!" That female soldier answered.

"Miss Hawke didn't ask you anything!" the squad leader snapped again. "Be quiet!"

"I'm considering you in this project." Trish hissed. "But there is one thing you must remember. I ask this because we are fellow women with big boobs."

Lance sighed, already able to guess the direction of the conversation. Meanwhile, Ashe averted her face to suppress the laughter.

"You will do intense physical activities. It will make your boobs move like crazy. The armor's confinement won't help. That will make your boobs hurt even more instead…. I don't know why that happened, either." Trish used a tone like someone reading a horror story. "No matter how tightly you wrap your big racks, it won't help. You have to endure the pain until you become numb to it. Do you understand?"

The female soldier gulped. "I-I understand, ma'am!"

"Good." With a smile, Trish patted that woman's shoulder. "Welcome to the big tits group on this project."

Ashe was having more difficulty holding back her laughter, and Lance let out another sigh.

Trish continued her selection session, and as she looked around, her attention was drawn to the back of the squad. "It can't be…."

"What's wrong, Trish?" Lance asked because he saw the change in expression on the female warrior's face.

Trish quickened her pace. Then, with no one expecting it, she punched a male soldier in the face so hard he fell. The people around her couldn't respond because they were so shocked.

"What are you doing, Trish…" Seeing the soldier's face, Lance understood something.

That soldier has the same hair and eye color as Trish. Not only that, his facial structure is also very similar to the female warrior, although more masculine.

"Nathaniel Rorin Hawke!" Trish glared at the soldier, who was sitting on the ground while rubbing his bruised cheek. "Why you are here!?"

"Aah..." Ashe crouched in front of Nathaniel. "Let me guess, he's your little brother, Trish?"

***

The selected soldiers gathered at the barracks and enjoyed Trish's warm soup. All of them praised the food. Apart from the delicious taste, they were grateful to eat something warm after being out in the cold.

But Nathaniel Hawke sat in a chair with his head lowered, while his big sister stood in front of him. Trish folded her arms across her chest while holding a large soup spoon.

"Please allow me to speak as I wish, Miss Hawke…"

"Just say what's on your mind." Trish sighed.

"But your position is above mine..."

"Just spit it out, you stinky rotten toes." The female warrior lost patience.

It took a moment before Nathaniel spoke again. "You don't know that dad has given up teaching me, right? You already went on an adventure before that happened."

"Do you want to prove to our dad that you are capable?" Trish massaged her forehead. "Being an adventurer is the better…. Well, in the end I joined the military, anyway. But my reasons are different. I found another, bigger passion."

Nathaniel looked down even more. "No party wants me because I can't fight well. No teacher wants to teach me because I'm too stupid."

The woman with short brown hair—the one who had received advice from Trish–approached Nathaniel. With a smile, she spoke to Trish. "Please, don't be too harsh on your little brother, Miss Hawke. He has a strong determination. He always tries hard in practice and his assignments. What he did inspired us."

Trish sighed again, got a bowl of soup, and handed it to her little brother. "Eat. It will remind you of home."

Nathaniel accepted it, but didn't eat it straight away and kept his head down.

"Nathaniel Rorin Hawke. His fighting ability is below average." Some distance away from the siblings, Ashe reads notes about Nathaniel while eating her soup. "The military accepted him because they lacked personnel, even though they had recruited a lot of elves. He is always at the bottom of everything."

"I've asked the others." Lance played with his spoon. "They called Nathaniel a lucky bastard. He can't die even though his fighting skills are low."

"Is he right for this project, Lance? I think Trish wanted to keep her little brother close by."

"We'll see."