FSE

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The royal guard set up their banners at the edge of the town known as Saltylake. A simple people known for trading fish and salt, but not known for creative names. Most think it's a joke, but for one that has traded with the people One Mushroom Cave and Grassy Hill are their prized landmarks. Still, they were kind and fair, ignored by bandits and foreign antagonists alike, for even though they provide valuable resources, who doesn't?

"All available men are hereby conscripted into the Royal Army! Please line up promptly so that we may quickly move. War is on the horizon and it is a patriots duty to defend his home!" Women were allowed in the army as well, but a century old law kept them as volunteers.

A few young men lined up, most were terrible fishers or only good with general labor. Nothing special, though numbers are numbers. Then there was another young man, shorter than the rest and wearing a brown cloak that disguised his true frail nature, "Wagon's broke." Feline, with either gray or muted fur colors. It was hard to tell with the minor cloud cover.

"You there! Line up or stay away from our equipment!"

He pointed to a plank that had been broken for some time, "I fix things."

"Sir-"

The elder of the town approached, "These young men, can you promise their safety, recruiter?"

"Uh," He turned away from the bizarre behavior, "I can only promise they will receive a proper soldier's training. Nothing is certain in war, but with the proper skills they may very well survive healthy and in one piece." The recruiter's assistants were gathering names and other various duties.

"It ain't broke now."

"What?!"

The cloaked man pointed at the plank, which was now good as new, "It ain't broke." He began to walk off. A strange gait, with each step his body shifted just enough to be noticeable. Of course, he seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere, but for some reason he chose a direction devoid of homes or constructs.

The recruiter scratched his chin, "You, son, are now a part of the army. At attention!"

The man slowly turned, "I don't fight. I fix stuff."

"You see, Charles is a gifted individual. He can repair anything. But he's no fighter, good sir. I wouldn't recommend him as a soldier." The elder spoke softly, not like a worried parent, but more like a man who knew too much about someone.

"Too bad. We can shove you in the Siege Division. Let Margaret deal with you. Hop in the wagon after you get your clothes."

"I'm Chuck."

"Okay... Chuck... get your things."

Chuck shrugged and slowly climbed into the wagon. He had nothing to grab according to the elder. He just wanders around and fixes things unless there is a specific request. By midday, the three recruits and Chuck were on their way to the capital. For all the nervousness by the young men, Chuck didn't really seem to care either way.

.......................................

Within the week, skirmishes broke out between the royal nation of Valence and their barbarian enemies. Chuck was a special case, and though he was assigned to the Siege Division he was not given armor. His small frame meant that a custom armor would have to be made. Chuck insisted that was not necessary.

Margaret of Uli was a tall woman, imposing as she was mesmerizing. The albino tiger quickly rose in ranks and within a year of joining the army she had received too many medals to count. Uli was a tribe in the barbarian lands that disagreed with the vote to attack Valence, and rather than be slaughtered they chose to assimilate. Unfortunately for the barbarians, Uli was known for their tactics. And siege equipment was all about tactics.

"Get those trebuchets loaded and primed! Ballistas! Target the cavalry!" Her booming voice carried over the screams and clashing of steel, "Fool! What are you doing!"

"It's about to break." Chuck waddled over to a trebuchet being aimed, "Imma fix it."

"Get out of there! Now! That's an order!"

Chucked leaned over the base and waved his hand in a dismissal fashion, as slowly as he did everything, "Ma'am! Where should we aim!"

Margaret had to focus, one life was not worth a loss, "Seal the pass, you two target the left, you target the right." A singular passage allowed travel, and it was flanked on both sides by towering mountains. A proper strike would cause a rock slide, though it would no doubt had repercussions were tensions to die down. It was a decision she had to make, "On my mark!"

The soldiers aimed as fast as they could, shoving the massive war weapons into place, "Ready!"

"Damned fool... Fire!"

"Done."

The machines launched their explosive payloads and hit their marks. Within minutes the valley was filled with stone and ice, not to mention the crushed bodies of the wild barbarians. All that was left was for the ground troops to clean up, "The King can yell all he wants, but this was our last resort."

Someone tapped Margaret's shoulder, and when she turned to look she found Chuck standing there with a rusted, decayed bolt in his hand, "Found the problem."

Margaret snatched it up, "This machine hasn't been in use long enough for rust... acid? Sabotage..."

Chuck shrugged, unaware of the gravity of the situation, "I'm not a scientist." He casually strolled away with his slow sway and sat on a barrel.

"This simpleton... men! Fire ballistas when ready, we've already won the day!" The battle lasted another hour, and Valence clearly won. After a great deal of cleaning up, moving equipment, tending to the wounded, and burying the fallen, Margaret and several other captains were called before the king. Margaret, however, decided to bring Chuck along with her. Had to hold him in place by the shoulder the entire time.

The king sat upon his majestic throne with his queen standing at his side. The Honor Guard lined the main hall as his inspiring voice echoed against the stone columns and walls, "For your grand valor, I hereby bestow upon each of you a medal. Wear it with pride!"

Margaret loosened her grip for a moment while the royal pillow carrier (most knew he had an official title, but army veterans thought it was goofy that his entire job was carrying a pillow with medals and jewelry) made his rounds.

"Young... man? What are you...?"

"Broken." Chuck pointed at an ornate banner stand behind the king.

"Oh, I suppose it is." The metal was old, and no doubt over the years the stand had seen its share of bumps and accidents.

Chuck waved his hand, "I'm fixin'." This caught the eye of everyone in the room, many of the Honor Guard tightened their grips.

"Your... Your Majesty, I apologize, but that man is a bit odd. Harmless, I assure you, but odd." Margaret sighed and stepped forward as eyes returned to the king, "Charles located a sabotaged bolt in a trebuchet, and upon later inspection we fought several more throughout our equipment. As you are aware, our siege equipment is advanced beyond any nation and as such only those in our army and scholars knew about their construction. I believe a spy had access. The acid burns and rapid rusting could spell disaster if we do not investigate."

"Perhaps then Charles deserves-"

"Done." Chuck slowly swayed back to Margaret and stood just beside her.

"D-Done?" The king turned his entire body to look at the banner stand to find it nearly perfect, "How in the world..."

"I fix stuff."

The queen's eyebrow had never been higher, "I must say, skill of that caliber is rare. Who trained you young man?"

Chuck shrugged, "Nobody."

Margaret lowered herself to a knee and bowed her head, "If it would please you, I would release my charge into your service." Chuck looked at her and she whispered, "It's for your own good, idiot."

The king scratched his head, "I think I would like that very much, this old castle isn't what it used to be. Very well, Sir Margaret, I will accept your offer and immediately begin an investigation." He called over a member of his Honor Guard and whispered something into his ear, then returned to address the captains, "Politics is a dangerous game lately, though for the good of our people we must fight on."

Chuck looked around, "Imma go find somethin' to fix." And wandered off.

"Sir Margaret, how... odd is he?"

She tilted her head and restrained her outburst. Remaining calm around nervous soldiers is one thing, but Chuck is a species all his own, "If I may speak freely, I would suggest letting him fix things and pretending he isn't around. I couldn't explain his skill, but it is there."

The medal ceremony had ended in time while Chuck had already fixed several minor problems in a single hallway. It wasn't long before two young adults approached him, wolves that were clearly a prince and princess respectively, "So, what are you doing here? Commoners shouldn't be allowed without an escort." The prince sneered.

The princess raised her dainty gloved hand to partially mask her mouth while sharing the look of disgust on her brother's face, "Agreed. Perhaps I should call the guard. Though if you make it worth our while I think we could look the other way. Right, brother?"

"I think we could come to... terms..." Disgust changed to confusion. Chuck wasn't nervous. Or afraid. Or concerned. There was merely a blank stare on his face, "Are you alright, commoner?"

"Necklace is broke. Can't fix the hat." The princess' necklace had suffered some damage and was shoddily repaired. A fine golden chain was hard to repair after all. The prince's hat had suffered a cut from earlier, though he hadn't noticed, "I'll fix that."

"No you most certainly will not!" The princess stepped back. Her brother stepped in front of her and put his hand on his thin sword, "Protect me!"

Chuck shrugged, "I'm around." He wandered off with his sway, in no hurry to go anywhere.

"Brother... why is your hat torn?" The purple silk on his puffy hat was expensive to replace, "You never do anything dangerous."

"Oh, uh, right. I suppose I don't know." He had to take off his hat to examine the damage, "I suppose I should see a tailor soon."

The princess stepped around her brother and watched as Chuck idly picked at a stained glass frame, "That man is bizarre. I do hope I have few dealings with him. What was father thinking?"

...........................................................

"My Queen, we are still quite a distance though I do believe we are in Valence territory."

A beautiful woman with alabaster skin and a striking purple garb smiled from under he mask, "Thank you, squire. I knew I was right to trust you and your men." Though her skirt was long, midriff exposed, and she wore a mask that covered most of her face, Queen Iona was formerly the leader of the Templar Order, an organization from a foreign land that acted as both the police and military. Her choice of clothing came after years of training and not having a challenge. Tales came from defeated war criminals of her once fighting in the nude.

She was on a journey to greet the royal family of Valence as a part of the truce between nations. Though the king offered her treasures and even his son, she wanted none of that. Her motivations were actually simple. For one, the order of Valence and swift punishment of criminals was enticing and mirrored her own laws. In addition, the barbarians were a new enemy. Her old enemies were far too afraid now, "We will rest here for the night and continue in the morning. Will you spar with the men?"

A delicate smiled danced across her lips, "But of course, squire." She stepped from her carriage and was handed her blade and shield, both crafted from the finest metals and engraved by masters of their craft. Fifty templars gathered around and saluted with by holding a fist over their heart, "Who will be my partner for the evening?"