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The village square basked in midsummer as the usual bustle calmed to gentle shuffling of storekeepers lounging in the shade. The quiet was only broken by the rhythmic hammering outside the carpenters shop where a large coach stood up on stocks.

"Eric!" An aged wolf yelled from the stricken coaches side. "Are you ready with that wheel?"

"Yes Pa!" The call echoed from the shop as a strapping young wolf emerged with a cart wheel in tow. Together they set to work heaving the wheel into place and after some time the coach was whole again.

As they finished and checked their work a burly tiger in fine leather armour strode towards them, a massive greatbow and quiver squeaking against his leathered back in the heat,

"Ah Eric my good man!" the tiger addressed the elder wolf.

Baldric! How fortunate you have come by. The boy and I have just finished your repair, only the finest work for a silver shield of course."

"Finished?" Exclaimed Baldric, "Why we only dragged the wretched thing to your door this morning! And here was I expecting to be here for days, or at least hoping our layover would last out for another hunting trip. But enough of that talk or I might insult your fine craftsmanship by crashing it into yet another tree. Now you simply must introduce me to your boy, particularly if he had any hand in getting my coach fixed in record time."

"Of course my friend," He said, waving his son closer, "Son meet Baldric Far-eye of the sentinels, he's an old friend of mine."

"Well met good Baldric, I'm Eric the younger." He said, trying to ignore the crushing as they shook paws. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Well the pleasure is all mine friend," Baldric said through his toothy grin. "Nice to see your father taught you some manners, not to mention your magnificent craftsmanship. Though I imagine the old mutt taught you more besides."

"Surely I have no idea what you're talking about." Eric's father said, "Now Eric has his own work to take care of and we really must catch up."

"Of course!" Baldric replied heartily, "But firstly, what do I owe for the repairs?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Scoffed Eric's father. "How could I take coin from such an old ally?"

"Well at the very least you must both join my companions and I at the inn tonight, it's the very least we could do." Baldric said.

"How could we refuse?" Eric's father replied.

"Excellent," Baldric said, his persistent smile widening at the reply. "I'll see you this evening!"

Eric and his father began to close shop for the day. Floors were swept, tools tidied and the dozen or so minor daily chores completed as routine.

"So Pa?" Eric asked as he pushed the broom. "How do you come to know a Sentinel? I've never heard you mention it before."

"Baldric?" Father replied. "I've known him since my days in the regiments; back when I thought running around with a sword in my hand was the only way to live. We served in the Louis Rangers together before he was asked to join the Sentinels. The invitation was no less of an honour back then; they have only ever asked the best to join their ranks. I don't mind saying that I was green with envy at the time, the buffoon could barely hold a blade and they offered him the silver shield!"

"Hold on," Eric interrupted. "Barely hold a blade? What happened to only asking the best?"

"Well Son I don't suppose you noticed that greatbow?" father teased, "The blonde ash one as tall as me which baldric is so fond of? If you ever get the chance ask him to show you his aim; then you can ask me that question again."

They finished closing shop and ventured home, leaving the town square reached their house in mere minutes. As they arrived the shrill chime of the chapel bell rang out. Eric turned with a start; his heart skipped a beat as the bells song rang in threes, the militia signal. His moment's reverie was broken as father pulled him inside.

"Look sharp Eric! You know what to do!" Father rushed to the old chest by the door, tossing Eric his gambeson, the lumpen garment was thick with padding and adorned in tough leather so despite the heat he gladly struggled into it. No sooner had he pulled the gambeson past his ears then father was buckling a helmet on to him.

"Oi gerrof," Eric mumbled through Father's ministrations, "I'm fine Pa get off me."

Batting Father off, he set to arms; spear, shield, dagger, all present and correct. He turned to find Father pulling his old sword and buckler from over the hearth, such souvenirs from his youth still held their fearsome purpose.

"Ready?" Eric asked, only to have father pull him into an embrace.

"Good luck son, stay alive for me will you?"

They ran for the town square to meet the other militiamen, quickening their pace as the cries of battle echoed from the town gates. Passing the Inn they heard a yell from above,

"Eric is that you?" The elder and younger both looked up to see Baldric standing on the roof, loosing arrows as fast as he could load them. "Bandit raid, caught the gates open but the barricade is up and they've fallen into skirmishing. My comrades leapt the walls and are charging to their flank but the gates need support until they push through so get moving!."

Joining the press of men they charged for the gates. Eric's heart was racing as they approached the melee, he had never faced a challenge like this before, training was one thing but this was different.

As the got closer the sensations of battle began to take hold; each sight, sound and smell intensified as blood and steel flooded all perception.

Suddenly the skirmish was shattered with a terrible crash. A group of warriors riding war lizards charged the line as friend and foe alike were brutally bowled aside. Some fell in the charge, dismounted by the desperate efforts of those caught in the fray. Some more still fell under the eye of Baldric and the other archers nearby. In spite of that several of the monstrous beasts, barely controlled by their riders, thundered towards Eric's unit.

The leader of the charge, a wretched beast of mouldering scale and eyes of fire veered straight towards him. His only instinct was to duck under his shield as the beast struck him. With a tremendous crash he tumbled ears over tail, the air a blur of limbs and noise as he fell. Landing hard he blindly grasped for a weapon and swung wildly at the chaos around him. Feeling his shoulder wrench as he struck something he scrambled to his feet to see another rider before him, staring down with contempt as he raised his spear.

In what seemed like an era Eric was paralysed by fear, at first all he could envision was his demise at that bloody spear-point. As the spear was in motion, so slowly it seemed, Eric's fear evolved into something more. His pulse raced faster still as he suddenly became aware of all around him. The weapon he had seized in such panic he now noticed was a sword, sharp and deadly; he was aware of the battle around him but it seemed so distant. The calm of his terror passed into something else, his body shook with rage he leapt at his aggressor. The blade lanced through the bandits throat before he tumbled to the ground once more.

He gradually came to his senses in the dirt, his shoulder throbbing intensely. Sitting up he saw three lizards crumpled around him. The first lay some distance away, with some surprise Eric noticed his own spear protruding from its breast. The second sprawled, still twitching in a pool of blood gushing from its severed leg, its rider lying twisted and broken on the ground before it. The third lay still, stopped dead by the arrow in its eye socket while its rider still sat in the saddle, his neck cleaved through. It seemed quiet; looking around the battle was clearly over. He struggled to look around, breathing a little easier once he pulled off his helmet. The town seemed to have fared well here, he only saw bandits among the fallen. As he staggered around the carnage he saw the men limp in through the gates. As most carried the injured towards the centre of town he saw two figures break off towards him. As they neared he saw it was Father and Baldric.

"Eric!" Father ran towards him. "You're alive! We were so afraid we'd lost you. Come here." Father helped him to his feet.

"What happened?" Eric asked. "All I remember was the beast riders charging us; I must have been out cold."

"We feared you were colder still my boy," Baldric said as he drew near. "As you met the charge all the men could do was push through and hope for the best. When you felled the first the others were drawn up your flank and the unit passed through to the battle unhindered. I'd have never believed it if I hadn't seen, a spearman defeating three cavalrymen single handed! But then I saw you fall with the third and assumed the worst, soldiers bad habit I'm afraid. The battle was won and we retuned, your father saw movement this way as we passed and here we are."

"It was chance I swear. I tripped, fell, panicked, I don't know what happened myself." Eric stammered.

"Don't sell yourself short son," Father chuckled. "Chance counts for plenty but as Baldric tells me you should be very proud. Now let's get that arm looked at."

They made for the healing house, finding it a hive of activity following the battle they could only wait until the more gravely injured were given aid. Eric eventually convinced Baldric and Father that there was much more important things to do then worry about him and that he was more than capable of discussing his injuries with the lovely young nurses by himself. With the knowing chuckle he saved for when he caught him being coy, Father led Baldric away. Eric was glad of the peace and quiet, perhaps they were concerned but he kept catching them exchanging looks over him which were starting to make him nervous.

Leaving the healer some time later with a sling and the charming advice to avoid barbarian hordes wherever possible, he decided that it was time to go home. Reaching the cottage, the door still ajar from when he left, he took the chance of a moments pause. He struggled out of his armour, the last traces of sawdust from his days work still clinging to his fur. As he finally took the chance to brush himself down and find a clean tunic he realised that in spite of the hour he wasn't the least bit tired. After a moments thought he decided if he was to have a sleepless night he might as well have company so he fetched his purse and headed for the tavern.

"Insomnia must be catching" he thought, as he heard the ruckus of the crowd in full swing. He was just reaching for the door as a clutch of men staggered out, each reeking of whiskey and ale and so drunk that as they held on to each other for balance the whole group swayed and stumbled in perfect unison. Algis the smithy, the great bear quite literally holding the group together, waved him over in passing.

"Erric! The man who shaved my Life!" he slurred. "What're ya doin' still sober? Get in there soldger!" As he spoke he lurched up to him and shoved him through the door.

Stumbling inside he found the tavern full to the rafters and whether in celebration or mourning there wasn't a dry flagon in the house. He kept his head down as he weaved through the crowd, not that he was much of an introvert but he didn't want to get thrown around by any more drunks until he at least had a drink himself. Eventually he managed to shoulder his way to the bar and after a moment he caught Miles the barkeeps eye.

"Well if it isn't the talk of the town." The handsome young ferret leaned across the bar, "If I knew that you could slay a dozen men I'd have hired you as a guard."

"A dozen?" Eric snapped. "You should know better than to listen to the rumour mill around here, especially when your own beer is greasing the wheels. Speaking of which..."

"Of course, of course." with a wave of the hand the barkeep scurried to the kegs and poured a hearty stein. "Have this one on me, dozen or not I'm sure you deserve it. Oh and while I remember, those Sentinels have been cooped up in the back room since the battle getting wasted. The tiger pulled your father back there a couple of hours ago so you might want to drag him home sometime soon"

"Dearest Father ankle deep in mead?" Eric replied "That's always a pretty sight, thanks for the warning."

He stood a while, listening to the bard crooning ancient war songs to the braying crowd as he drank. He had never been the biggest music lover but tonight, as his tail gently twitched to the songs familiar meter he reflected that there might be some appeal in the old ballads after all.

Having quietly drained his ale he decided to see if father needed carrying home. Ducking into the back room, he saw him sitting across from Baldric and two others; he noticed that Baldric and the strangers each wore fine amulets, the silver shields they were named for, around their necks. The elder stranger looked more like a farmer than a fighter, the ageing shepherd dog dressed in a plain tunic with no weapons beyond a simple hatchet. The young lynx at his side piqued his interest slightly more, his clothes were of fine make and well tailored to his lithe figure but his weapon seemed to be a simple quarterstaff.

"Ah young Eric," Baldric spoke up as he entered. " Let me introduce you to my comrades, that old bumpkin is Ibsen the cleaver while pretty boy there answers to Arvin the fleet. Do sit down, we were discussing this evenings battle and I'm sure you'll find the conversation most interesting."

As he sat down Eric noticed father was looking uneasy, rubbing the scar from his mercenary days. Baldric poured him some mead before refilling the others, drinking deeply before he continued.

"We have been discussing your role in the battle, how you stood firm under a cavalry charge and felled three mounted warriors single handedly. There are veterans who couldn't dream of managing such a feat. What do you have to say to that?"

"Stood firm?" Eric replied in bemusement. "I woke up in a puddle of blood! I panicked, pulled a fluke and was lucky to escape with my life!"

"Let me ask you something," Ibsen spoke up hoarsely. "Do you know what a cavalry charge can do to infantry? Particularly the rabble of militia who fought today. Suffice it to say that it can be a horrific sight, you didn't just escape with your life boy. Half the men in your unit owe their lives to you and whether by patience or panic such bravery isn't something to take lightly."

"While I admit that I hadn't thought of it that way, what does that mean for me?" Eric replied, "Besides a few pints at their expense I suppose."

"Believe me Eric, one way or another nothing is more meaningful than the lives we save." Baldric said. "Such deeds define us, and the rewards are a good deal more significant than our round at the bar."

Gazing around the room, Eric saw father still looked nervous while the others looked over him with interest. He was beginning to get tired of Baldric and his companion speaking in circles around him.

"Baldric," he said. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"Very well," said Baldric. "Today you shown yourself to be highly skilled, incredibly brave and if you insist, rather fortunate. In light of these good qualities we ask that you; Eric the younger, defender of Kirkwall receive our invitation into the Sentinels."

"I...I don't know what to say." Eric mumbled dumbstruck.

"Then say nothing." Father said earnestly, turning to face him. "It's getting late and there isn't a sober soul among us, but I'd drag these three to hell rather than have you feel pressured to decide too soon."

"Your father is, as usual, quite right." Baldric said. "We have no right to expect your decision on the spot nor would we desire it. But before we rest we would like to offer you a small token for your efforts this day."

Reaching behind his seat Baldric found a large object wrapped in cloth and passed it to Eric. Putting his hands on it he knew at once what he had been given, and his eyes widened as he untied the wrapping and found a fine longsword resting in his paws.

Eric woke with the sun glaring in his eyes; cursing the ale, the sun and whichever dark, evil gods unleashed the hangover onto the world. Rubbing his throbbing shoulder he rose, tied his breechcloth and opened the door onto the living room. He found a scrap of parchment lying at his feet. Unfolding the paper, which on inspection appeared to be an old missive from the dukes household, he found a message on the back in fathers careful hand.

"My dear Eric,

You seemed so tired I felt it was wiser to let you lie in for once. I'm out taking care of some repairs left by the battle, fortunately it's mostly little things so I shouldn't be too long. I would feel better if you stayed at home for the time being. You must have a lot to think about and if the "Defender of Kirkwall" doesn't deserve a day off who does? Besides, the healer spoke to me this morning and politely reminded me that if I let you work with your arm in a sling he would break one of mine on general principles.

With love,

Father."

"Day off?" Eric thought as he stifled a yawn, "You won't hear me complaining."

He went about his usual morning business and soon enough he was washed, dressed, fed and bored. Before long he turned his attention to the sword he had received the night before and the invitation that came with it. He had never thought of himself as much of a warrior before, though he had never thought of himself as much of a carpenter before ether and it hadn't stopped him so far. True he spent more of his time training with the militia than was strictly expected of him but was that really what he wanted from life? Father had never rose tinted his mercenary days and spoke volumes on marching, sleeping under canvas and the many horrors of army food.

"But what about the other part?" he thought, The heartbeat, the fear, seeing things so clearly through the chaos. Father had never mentioned anything like that and playing the moment over in his head he had to admit that it was a very powerful feeling. To face the challenge of life and death only to rise in one piece afterwards. To put your very life on the line in the name of something other than yourself? If he joined the Sentinels he would face even greater challenges, he could push himself beyond what he even thought possible and be one of the best there was. He had to admit it was an alluring concept.

He wandered around absent mindedly, attending to whatever household trivialities passed his notice.

"Baldric and the others will want an answer today," he thought, "But Pa probably needs a hand regardless. If I happen to meet Baldric or the others I'll talk to them but otherwise I'm sure my decision can wait until tonight."

His mind made up he purposefully went outside only to stall as he stepped out onto the porch. Lingering for a moment, he seemed unable to take another step. "Damn." he swore aloud before turning back inside. "Sorry Pa." he said to himself, thrusting the sword into his belt and running for the door.