Rank Fifteen Fisherman

Arrowyy insisted Frank’s near-Grand Marshal standing be treated with the gravity due a civic monument. Blaedy and I allowed it, which was generous. Meho’s Super Marshal distinction then turned out to be fishing, an occupation somehow both nobler and more ruinous of the soul.

Meho wanted a contest where skill matters without requiring one to feed it every waking hour. Sensible, naturally, which made the discussion immediately difficult. Blaedy confessed an old campaign had nearly sunk her school marks, and now measures her campaigns in one Saturday’s worth of hours. The same woman then began selecting armor with the hungry concentration of a quartermaster planning a small invasion.

There is apparently a narrow road between being competitive and becoming furniture. They all wish to find it. I expect they will instead obtain shoulder plates.