[b]Salient Tertius[/b]

The new recruits of the day stood in a line, sweating, on the hardpan of the Eluhim desert. It was an unremarkable gathering of scalps for the Salubrian Merchant House Army, all in all, save for one detail; there was a single soldier in the new influx who was well over eight feet tall. 

He stood, sweating, in his size XXXXXL-fatigues, with about 20 other men and women, most only going up past his waist ever so slightly. The more veteran soldiers, who usually gathered on these influx days to watch the hazing of their new comrades, were instead agog at the absolute size of this latest recruit, for whom they knew nothing except that his fatigues named him as ‘A. Wode’.

The drill instructor, a small, fierce woman who looked as a child next to him, craned her neck upwards, attempting to look as intimidating as possible to someone who quite literally dwarfed her. It was a testament to her skill and reputation that she seemed to mostly be succeeding, although it was hard to tell. A. Wode, whoever he was, didn’t seem to be given to outward expressions of emotion.

In fact, the drill instructor noted, his military bearing was almost perfect. Eerily perfect. She squinted up at him, waving her riding at maximum arm extension in front of the large recruit’s face. He didn’t blink, didn’t even so much as move, even when the crop’s feathered end gently brushed his nose. She harrumphed. That was her favorite trick - get the scalps to sneeze so she could beat the piss out of them. 

Denied her easy sport, she decided to work her interrogation up a notch.

“Hey, shit for brains.” She said, testing his bearing yet again. A. Wode, damn him, didn’t even move. 

The scalp next to him was starting to crack though, a wiry little man named, according to his fatigues, ‘S. Imogen’. He was constantly looking to his left, little movements that he probably thought were slick. Scalps always thought they were slick. She sneered.

“Trooper Wode.” She bellowed, “What is your name?”

“Trooper Arnulf Wode, ma’am!” The giant scalp bellowed back. 

No hesitation, no ‘didn’t you already say my name’. This scalp was good. She felt hot anger in her breast as A. Wode had successfully dodged so many of her traps so far. Her biceps bulged, and her hands became white knuckle tight. Her riding crop, an expensive adamantine alloy implement, bent slightly in her grip, before returning to it’s straight form as she calmed down.

“Trooper Wode, why are you so goddamn tall?” She asked.

“Ma’am!” Wode shouted. “I had my growth spurt, ma’am!”

“Growth spurt?” She rasped. “How old are you trooper?”

Wode’s eyes briefly flicked up as he thought about it.

“...Six?” He said, his voice rising as he said the word. “...Ma’am.”

The entire encampment, scalps included, burst into hilarious laughter. Even the drill instructor, the hard old battle ax she was, turned around, her shoulders shaking slightly. When she turned around, however, her face was murderous. A. Wode, damn him, had stayed perfectly silent during the hilarity, and she knew it. 

“You’re a jester, Trooper Wode.” She said, finally having something to nail him with, “And this ain’t a merchant prince palace. This army has no place for shit for brains clowns like you.”

“All of you idiots who laughed!” She raised her voice. “Drop! Deck thrusts! Til I get sick of it!”

The scalps began assuming their sorry push-up positions, including Wode, who she stopped with a *whap* of her crop against his chest.

“Not you, Wode. You maintain attention while they do reps.” She growled. “Let this be a lesson. The smallest mistake can cost others much more than it costs you. Think about that before you open your stupid little mouth again.”

“Y… yes ma’am.” He said. It was the only fracture that she had managed to make in his facade, but this morning, it would do. She nodded, and began to walk up and down the line, barking ‘encouragement’ at the recruits. Wode simply stood there, straight as a ramrod, as the other scalps pushed against the hard desert earth.