When she arrived, it turned out that almost no one was there yet, with the exception of Overseer Dur’var, who pointed her to a bench at the front. She noticed that five of them had been set up, one for each rank in their unit. Soon, two goblins from the forge, Kil and Ozzer, entered. She had worked with them on occasion, and they handed the overseer a bundle. She waved to them as they were leaving, and they responded with deep nods of their heads.

  Not long after, the rest began to arrive, each seated according to the position they held in the charge. A young woman with a bandaged forehead and a patch over one eye sat down behind her. Gra’sha recognized her face but couldn't attach a name to it. A man supporting himself with a sling limped over to the third bench. He was joined by two others with bandages on their torsos and arms.

  The fourth rank was in better shape, with two people who had superficial wounds and three completely unharmed recruits, including Mal’gor. And in the fifth, they were nearly a full complement: seven well-fed, well-grown youths and young men.

  Once everyone was settled, more or less comfortably, on the simple benches, the overseer began the meeting.

  "Congratulations to all of you. Your participation in the expedition has served the prosperity of the clan. I already have the reports from our goblin scouts. Exactly ninety-eight gnolls were felled during the battle. Of those, you lot defeated a little over three dozen. I will call out your names, and you will state how many you bested on your own, and how many with your companions. Gar’zak!"

  A youth from the last rank, looking proud in an expensive kaftan from the south, stood up and replied that he had slain four, on his own. The others declared one, some two. Mal’gor, three. The woman behind her, two. The last name to be called was Gra’sha's.

  "Twelve, Overseer. On my own," she replied in a confident voice.

  "Is this some kind of joke?" Gar’zak practically screamed from the back. "Are we to believe that this stunted runt from the common barracks felled three times more gnolls than I did?"

  Gra’sha tensed up, pressing her lips into a thin line, and was about to stand when Dur’var made her sit with a single firm look. He replied in a quiet but resolute tone, "Did our good chieftain forget to mention that you are the overseer now, Gar’zak, and that it is you who confirms the merits?"

  "No, Overseer," he answered, much more quietly.

  "Then did I ask for your commentary?" Dur’var pressed, leaning forward, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

  "No, Overseer," he replied, even more quietly.

  "Then shut your maw and wait for orders."

  Still furious, but brought to heel, Gar’zak slumped onto the bench and said no more.

  "The numbers add up," Dur'var continued. "After summing your tallies and those the scouts attributed to the fallen, a dozen is what remains. Gra’sha apparently has a personal grudge against those fur-pelts. It is indeed an impressive result. Step forward!" he said, and motioned for her.

  She approached Dur’var and accepted from his hands a silver cube, noticeably larger than the previous ones she had received for training. It was a sign that she belonged to the standing volunteer corps, from which it was a straight path to becoming a proper clan warrior. She now had the right, and the duty, to participate in all expeditions the corps was assigned to. She had the right to step off this path at any moment, but there was no turning back from that decision, and she had no intention of doing so.

  Showing her modest tusks in a wide grin, she threaded the new decoration onto the leather strap of her bracelet. Dur’var continued his speech. "In light of your conduct during the battle, I am moving you up to the third rank. You also receive, like everyone else, a silver coin for your participation. Take your seat."

  He cleared his throat at the end, gave her a slight smile with just the corner of his mouth, and placed a coin in her palm, the kind she had only seen a few times at the stalls of visiting merchants. He nodded for her to go to her newly assigned bench.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  She walked to her spot, and on the way, she glanced at the loudmouth from the last rank. She didn't know him personally, but she decided to remember his face well. Next, the others were recognized. Mal’gor was transferred to the fifth rank. It was from there that warriors were later nominated to join the clan's elite. The rest were collectively moved to the fourth rank, leaving the overseer with two fully staffed back ranks, Gra’sha in the third, and plenty of vacancies up front.

  They weren't filled immediately, however. Those from the lower ranks always went into the fight in the front row, partly to get a taste of real combat, and partly to give them a chance to prove themselves, but first they had to be invited on an expedition at all. Barring any exceptional circumstances, if one row of warriors went on an expedition, they were supported by an eight-person row of volunteers, starting from the highest rank. Therefore, until there was an expedition of at least three rows, Gra’sha would be waiting in reserve. The goal of this arrangement was to hone the skills of the best candidates first, ensuring that when they finally joined the warriors, they already had the maximum possible combat experience.

  After it was all over, Dur’var instructed everyone, especially the wounded, not to work for a few days if they could afford it, and then to return to their usual duties and await the next summons.

  "Don't slack off on your training!" he called out after them as they left.

  Gra’sha had never paid close attention to it, as she’d had no reason to, but the last time someone mentioned it in the bathhouse, the exchange rate for a silver coin was one hundred to one for the local iron tokens. With them, you could only buy local goods and services; all the more interesting imported items were bought with silver and gold. She also knew from the master blacksmith that their silver cubes were only thinly plated, so even if someone were foolish enough to try and cash them in, they were worth almost nothing. But a real silver coin, that was the serious capital in the stronghold of Wolf Rock! She tucked it deep into the pocket of her tunic, which was covered by her shirt, and was contemplating what to do with such a fortune when Mal’gor interrupted her thoughts.

  "Still two steps behind me, kid," he called out in a friendly manner, clapping her on the shoulder.

  "So now, when they choose someone, it’ll be from your eight?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  "Exactly, exactly. Listen, kid," he said, leaning in closer and only continuing after they had moved further down the street, where there were fewer ears. "That Gar’zak is a pile of shit, but his family is close to the chieftain. So, you know, don't damage him too badly if it comes to something." He gave her a confidential wink and turned down a side alley to see to his own affairs.

  I'll try to keep my temper in check, but if he dares to challenge my honor again... she thought, then sighed in irritation at the situation. It was just an incident. More importantly, all her merits had been counted and rewarded. She had suspected, but hadn't known for sure, that they would get a silver coin; it was undoubtedly a pleasant surprise. Not wanting to raise unnecessary questions about why she had so much energy for work the day after a battle, she decided to actually take the day off.

  She did the laundry for the few sets of clothes to her name. She cleaned her few personal tools. Finally, she waxed the string of the bow she used for hunting. After everything, she lay down for a quarter of an hour and then convinced herself, rather effectively, that hunting in the nearby forest was practically not work, more like leisure. She packed a few things in a bag, strung her bow, attached her quiver to her belt, and went to report to the hunter's camp.

  It was located about a fifteen-minute walk from the stronghold, down the stream, along a well-trodden path that followed one of its banks. The camp itself consisted of tents and temporary crafting stations. They moved it from time to time, but always kept it close to the water. Tanning hides required it. Besides her, there were only goblins there. She knew some of them, so she greeted them with a nod. They responded in kind, bowing their heads just a little lower. She wanted to ask one of the hunters about the situation when she saw him looking at something over her shoulder with a surprised expression. She turned just in time to brace her legs as the oncoming Black slammed into her with her snout. The giant she-wolf was about to start licking her face, but Gra’sha skillfully tucked the wolf's great head under her arm and scratched the animal's neck with her other hand.

  "Since you've wandered all the way over here, we'll find you a snack, you scamp," she said to her affectionately. Then, with some difficulty, she pushed her aside, turned to the goblin hunter, and explained, "I'll take her with me. When her handler eventually gets here, let him know he can wait peacefully. I'll hunt something down for her, and we'll be back."

  At these words, Black let out a few short, happy yips and nudged the girl with her nose.

  "Alright, alright, we'll go in a moment. I just need to get a few arrows." As if on cue, another goblin refilled her quiver, eager to get the she-wolf away from there. They didn't want to risk her snatching the doe they were butchering from the table, or one of the hides stretched on wooden frames.

  "Thanks, Gra’sha! Good hunting!" said the gamekeeper loudly, gesturing with his hands to hurry her on her way. The girl laughed briefly at the commotion, whistled for the she-wolf, and at a light trot, heading upwind, she moved with her into the dense forest, searching for the trail of some suitably large game.