1

Essette Lance

Obverse footsteps echoed toward each other through a long, dark hallway. They met in the center, affront the heavy wooden door to Sergeant Ditty’s quarters, where two privates would soon meet. Private Lance walked quickly. He felt nervous meeting his squad leader like this. He checked his watch, “Three fifty-five,” and stopped in front of his destination. The door loomed over him and he frowned. “I wish I were taller,” he grumbled. Although his commanding officer insisted this duty was not a punishment, it certainly felt like one.

“Hail, stranger” called the figure, interrupting Lance’s thoughts.

“From the States, hail!” Lance echoed. “I am Private First Class Essette Lance of the 3rd Army Ordnance Corps Neophyte’s Division, Ranked Private of Lieutenant Salley’s Platoon under Captain Fettringer, Battalion Commander Zangief and Brigade Commander Gilford, reporting to Sergeant Ditty for extra duty.”

The figure cast a mage-light about Pvt. Lance. “You and me both,” he chuckled and resumed patrol. The light of the stranger’s spell threw bright rings across the floor which bobbed and swayed as he walked away.

Lance’s eyes watered from the sudden illumination. He rubbed at them and frowned. He preferred the dark and was tempted to mumble a counterspell to the CQ Guard’s magical light. A booming knock caused him to jump, and his hands wiped the glasses from his face. He shivered as the fright settled in his bones. His glasses clattered against the floor. “Who showers at 4am,” he grumbled. “... or maybe they’re just peeing?” He stooped to retrieve his glasses. Water hissed from behind the walls and spooked him, mid-stoop, into flinching. He took a deep breath as he inspected the lenses for dirt, then returned them to his face and took the final steps toward the door. “Is it okay to knock?” His eyes wandered upwards in thought until, unwittingly, he knocked. Seconds passed, but nobody answered. He knocked again, louder this time. Then, behind the wall, something began to move.

A disheveled man in yesterday’s uniform opened the next door over. “Do what?” he called into the hallway.

“Sorry,” whispered Essette, “I’m looking for Sergeant Ditty.” He fiddled over his words, embarrassed at his earlier introduction. “He’s here, right? Unit 2A-327?” He read the soldier’s rank and nametape.

“Yeah, no worries, Neighbor,” assured Specialist Simmons.

Suddenly aware of what his arms were doing, Pvt. Lance laughed nervously and tried to relax.

Spc. Simmons frowned. “Yeah, not much comfort, is it.” He paused as if to chew on an ear of wheat. Still appearing undecided, he opened and closed his mouth a few times. “He’s not that scary- I mean, Sergeant Ditty- well, yeah he’s a bit o’erdrawn at the memory bank. But, he’s not that scary.” He looked at Essette meaningfully. “Yeah?” he said, nodding.

Essette blinked and shook his head no.

Simmons scratched his neck. Inspiration struck him, and he raised his head excitedly. “Rumors ain’t true, Neighbor! People just get the wrong impression what with his keen understandin’ o’ necromancy ‘n all. Can’t cast a spell what you don’t have the memory of. But he’s a nice guy, really. Mysterious for sure, but—”

Essette interrupted him with a shushing motion.

“Nice- he’s nice,” whispered Simmons. “Weirdly formal sometimes- kinda mysterious, but nice. … gave me an MRE once. From his rucksack. We ‘re out on patrol- out in some sticks-y place. Ditty likes to keep details short ‘n stuff. So we were out in the sticks—somewhere North, I think—an’ this crazy storm whips up! Out o’ nowhere! Just like that ‘n we ’re out—kin’ o’ fucked, too, cause we ‘re dressed for warm weather. An’ it was in a clearin’, too. No caves or natural structures just to hole up in. Had to start diggin’! ‘r we would’ve. See, Sergeant Ditty pulled a quick one! I thought he was jokin’ when he evoked Endymion’s Tiny Hut and left all us for ourselves and just ‘imself holed up in it.” He laughed, “Maybe he was jokin’, a little bit. But- so, there he was in his hut when suddenly rapid-fire over like a minute high-power spells are comin’ off o’ his hut! First, this massive wave o’ force hits ya in the gut, except it’s just a Dispel Magic abjuration! Then it’s a bunch more waves o’ force all quick like ‘bam bam bam!’” he said, firing his pretend finger-guns. “Got it from another it was precautionary stuff like anti-scrying, Dimensional Anchor, Telepathic Bond and the like. Then it was the whole snowstorm stopped in our area! ‘n it was a large area! Some’n’ like two-hunned meders!”

Lance cut in, “Isn’t all that just normal stuff? Someone’s supposed to cast all that as soon as battle starts every time, and the weather was weird so it’s not like it wasn’t normal.”

“Yeah but that’s not the best part!” said Simmons. He looked hurt.

Lance felt bad for interrupting. “Oh.”

“Yeah, well…” continued Simmons. “The best part… best part was when after all the first stuff was done and he’d already cast all this super pow’rful stuff—way more pow’rful than any others I’d seen! He started a fire in our defensive camp—we’d decided to camp there, given it was already Guards and Wards. …”

Feeling lightheaded, Essette bent his knees and assumed a comfortable leaning position against the door.

“… in the middle of the camp and drew up this massive ultra-complex ritual circle! When he activated it, the earth right shook with magical pow’r! All this goin’ off at once: all the bugs n vermin n such fell over dead and kind ‘o melted-like into the ground a bit; twenty large trees erupted from the ground in a circle ‘round the ritual and grew all this-way-and-that into cabins! The—”

Essette interrupted again with a shushing motion.

“Sorry…” he whispered. “The whole giant ritual circle went up in flames like a massive Continual Flame—big as a bonfire, I swear it. Temperature came up to a cool eighty Fahr’nheit with some kin’ o’ gentle breeze goin’ on, too. Skyline got all dusk-like. We was all ‘Soldier could get used to this!’ and dinner was even hot!”

Essette began to raise a finger to his mouth when Simmons shrunk with apologetic realization.

“Sorry” was on Simmons’ mind when unit 2A-327’s door burst open and an angry Sgt. Ditty stomped through the doorway with a bloody wide grin and heat on his face.

The door’s violent motion threw Essette to the ground. He looked up at Sgt. Ditty with wide-eyed fear and amazement. It was no wonder why people looked up to him.

Sgt. Ditty sucked the blood from his teeth and scowled. “What do you two think you’re doin standing in front of my door, talkin’.”

Spc. Simmons stood at ease and spoke up first: “Sergeant Ditty, Private Lance was reporting for—”

Sgt. Ditty locked eyes with Simmons. “Go to your room.”

“Yes Sergeant.”

Pvt. Lance scrambled awkwardly to his feet and stood at attention. Simmons’ door shut loudly. The CQ guard’s footsteps stilled. Sounds shuffled from behind closed doors.

“So,” Sgt. Ditty addressed. “Why are you here?”

Lance stammered nervously. “I… I, uh?” He gulped. “Enlisted because my family? It was the right thing to do.”

“Family, huh?” Sgt. Ditty burped. “Here, Private. Here.” He pointed downward. “Why. Are. You. Here.”

Lance’s eyes followed Sgt. Ditty’s fingers to the floor. They widened in realization. “O-o-oh! Yes! Right! In the dorms- your dorms! I’m here- here for you! Morning remedial PT!”

“PT, huh?” Sgt. Ditty palmed his stubbled face. “You the fuck-up who failed the run, Private?”

“No, Sergeant!” Private Lance beamed. “I forgot my PT cap at the Company Run!”

Sgt. Ditty chuckled. “Ah, that fuck-up. Well… .” He assessed the private’s uniform and found it excessive; the private wore three layers and even had his gaiter neck on. “Pretty cold outside, huh Private?”

“Yes, Sergeant!” Private Lance beamed.

Sgt. Ditty laughed. “Meet me on the tarmac at zero-eight.”