[center][color=IndianRed]Erika Markovic, present day[/color][/center]

Erika stood observing her Mercenaries. They all showed differing emotions as they woke up from their night's rest. Some were enthusiastic and filled with vigor, while some shuffled around groggily. Mikhael stood by her, docile and lethargic, as he was woken up earlier than usual today. She gently rubbed behind his ear as they patrolled the encampment. The men knew their routine. After they had finished breakfast, they usually trained here near the barracks or in the surrounding forests. She watched some of her men switch shifts from their nightly patrols, a strenuous task indeed. Those coming back from their shift moved no slower than a slug, eager to get some rest.

Erika had already eaten, having woken up much earlier than most of the camp. However, she soon figured that rambling around the encampment did not help her in any way, so she set upon an exercise. She acquired some more comfortable shoes and went to a hike out in the wilderness, her bear behind her.

It was quite the way to pass the time, when Mikhael constantly broke into a full sprint at any sign of movement, it was tough for Erika to catch him.

[color=IndianRed]"Guess you finally woke up, eh?"[/color] Erika whispered to the bear as he gave a soft roar. The two stopped at a nearby creek. Mikhael stared longingly at the flowing water, desperately scanning it for any delicious fishes. The entirety of their trip was uneventful, but it was a calm and peaceful way to pass the time. As the two walked back, Erika found herself reminiscing about when she was first chosen to become a Mercenary, those many years ago . . .

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[center][color=IndianRed]Erika, nine years ago[/color][/center]

A girl with long, luscious blonde hair adorned in a small yet lavish white dress stared at the collection of goblets before her. She scrutinized each one that caught her eye, looking for anything that would appeal to her. Supposedly, these cups were supposed to choose her. She assumed that meant certain cups were designed to appeal to certain people with certain characteristics, but it all seemed so complicated and quixotic. THESE WERE JUST CUPS!

She was done with this silly game. Erika looked for the most overtly masculine cup, something that would, hopefully, epitomize the Mercenary way. She didn't really find anything that called out to her, until she examined a cup that seemed uneven as it sat on the table. She stared at it for what seemed like hours before she noticed something very peculiar: a blade protruding from the bottom of the goblet.

Erika almost burst out in laughter at the sight of this blade. Obviously, the blade was much too short to be of any real use in a fight, but it served a purpose at that exact time. She hurried over toward the fountain and eagerly filled the stupid hunk of metal up with some water. The suspense was palpable as she looked at it as it changed color to a nice, shiny, [color=FireBrick]Mercenary Red[/color].

She rushed out of the building to greet her family, each of whom earnestly awaited her results. Unfortunately, the truth shocked her mother and father, who stood there with an expression of both shock and disappointment, but her brother was obviously happy for her, as he always had been.

That night, the dissatisfaction at the dinner table was thick enough to cut with a knife.

[color=MediumSpringGreen]"Listen, Erika, you need to protest this. We don't want you to be killed!"[/color] her dad asserted,

[color=SpringGreen]"You know about your cousin, Alexei? The one without any legs?! He was a Mercenary too! An ardent one at that! We don't want the same happening to you! Please, do it for us!"[/color] her mom pleaded, [color=SpringGreen]"Come, be a Practitioner, or a Familiar, anything but one of those brutes!"[/color]

[color=MediumSpringGreen]"Look, you're probably not even cut out for fighting anyway, just quit that nonsense for your own good,"[/color] her dad finally stated. He had, evidently, crossed the line. Erika stormed out her house, taking only her coat with her. Luckily for her, her brother tailed right behind her.

[color=IndianRed]"Why didn't you defend me back there!?"[/color] she snapped at him when he could finally get her to stop.

[color=LightSeaGreen]"Look . . . Erika . . . I see both sides . . . but I still support you,"[/color] he panted, catching his breath, [color=LightSeaGreen]"I got someone who can help you out, at least until you speak to the Mystics again . . ."[/color] he then listed off some house where she could stay at for a while. The memory escaped her, but from then on she decided she would be stable and self-assured. Quite the time of her life.

[hr]

She was about to reminisce about her first few weeks as a Mercenary before Mikhael nudged her gently, noting that they were already back at camp. Erika regained her composure as she began to observe what was going on around her. A small conglomerate of people had amassed at the training area, looking at a fight in progress. Erika quickly went and shooed them away. After that, she was the only onlooker of the bout between Nicholas and Elliot.

Elliot won, simply due to it being a war of attrition. He could take whatever came at him and dish it back out. Erika observed him as he fought, admiring his devotion and perseverance, especially because of the fact that he was still green. He reminded her of the past, and of how devoted she was, and still is, to her craft.

As Elliot basked in the glory of victory, still relatively unfazed by the beatings he had taken, Erika walked up to him. She put her hand on his shoulder and interrupted his challenge for another opponent.

[color=IndianRed]"Listen, Elliot, is it? I think you'd better take a break, at least [b]before[/b] you pass out,"[/color]