7 in 3

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Jet

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The current situation is a wee bit tense. The Count is sitting in an armchair, swigging from a large bottle. Since we arrived at the manor, the Count has been at the bedsides of his two unconscious children nonstop. For the past few hours we’ve been standing in Lady Zenith’s room, waiting for her to wake up, presumably. For some reason the Count wanted me specifically to stay with him, which I of course agreed to… as much as I want to be sleeping in my bunk right now.

The armchair suddenly falls backwards, thudding against the floor, as Count Holdings gets to his feet. The drunken man spins towards me, a wild look in his eyes. 

“C-Captain… Jet!” The Count points an accusatory finger at me. “I have some… words for you!” He totters over to me, eventually toppling over. I reach down and catch him by the armpits before lifting him to his feet again. “Jet!” The Count speaks in a horrid drunken slur, but his eyes remain strangely clear. “Didja know, Captain? That I have… seven kids!” He leans his weight on my arm.

“Sir, you have eight children,” I gently correct him with a smile, hoping he pulls it together at least a little. 

The drunken fool shakes his head. “No, you stupid boy, I only have seven!” The Count smiles at me, as if he’s revealed a massive secret. Of course I have next to no interest in which of his children are illegitimate, seeing as none of them resemble him at all. I concede and nod at the confused man.

The Count’s drunken escapades are interrupted by the sounds of stirring from the bed. Both of our gazes shoot over to the sleeping girl. Slowly the muscular teen sits up in her bed, face dominated by clear confusion. 

“Dad? How did I get here?” Zenith stares at her father. The older man immediately rushes to her side, somehow not falling over.

“Zenith! Are you okay? What happened?” The Count talks clearly, all traces of intoxication gone. How the hell? 

The girl shakes her head at her father. “I don’t know, Dad, I remember the carriage, and then waking up here.” She looks between myself and her kneeling parent with a somewhat cold gaze. 

The Count grabs her hands. “Zenith, where else are you right now?” I guess the Count is still drunk, what in the hell is he asking? Apparently his daughter is just as lost as I am, judging by her expression. 

“What do you mean, Dad?” The girl tilts her head slightly.

“I mean your other body, Zenith, is it okay, too?” Now I’m worried for the Count, what is he on about? Zenith just shakes her head at her father, confused. The Count stands up and takes a half step back. “You aren’t Zenith. Who are you?” 

Before I can even register what the Count just said, the girl laying in bed becomes a blur. I swing my sword, blocking the punch she’s aimed at the Count’s face. I hear the metal of my sword squeal as her fist slides across it. A deep groove is carved into the steel where her attack passed. I jump between the Count and his Daughter, mechanically blocking the hits flying from the girl. Each hit puts another dent, another groove, into my blade. I’m on the losing end of this fight: even though her skills are extremely crude, eventually my weapon will give.

With a roar, the wall to our left explodes. Chunks of stone and lumber fly into the room, shredding the bed that Zenith is standing on. Something large and hard slams into the side of my head, bulldozing me into the floor. 

The sound of debris falling fills my ears as I lay on my side, partially buried into the floorboards. I wait for the black to fade from the edges of my vision before attempting to stand up. Pulling myself to my feet, I extract the heavy thing wrapped around my head. 

Looking at the damn thing, I see a small boy. The kid is around five, with small horns showing from under his fiery hair. I notice scales spattered on his face, and two fangs glinting in his excited grin. He’s looking at the Count, who's sitting on the floor. 

“Dad!” The child squirms around, trying to get out of my grasp. After a minute his face scrunches and he looks at me. “Leggo!” The kid whines at me. Gold lights flicker around his form, repulsing my hand from his arm. The now glowing kid runs at the Count, and I swing my sword. The metal bites into the wooden floor, cutting off the tyke's path to the Count. The little bastard doesn’t stop, instead continuing to run. The sound of metal tearing fills the room as the kid runs through my sword, shattering it instantly. 

The small boy stops next to the Count and sits down. “Dad, I’m okay! And my scales are back! Look!” He points at the glittering golden material on his elbow. “They’re just there now! No lights or nothing.” The kid's voice vibrates with excitement. As I lean down to scoop him up, I notice a tail wagging behind the kid. The scaly extra limb is snaking out of the top of his shorts. 

I finally pick up the brat, holding him in my arms. This time he doesn’t squirm, instead continuing to ramble to the still unconscious Count. I look back to where Zenith went flying earlier and see that she has once again been knocked out and is now embedded into the surviving wall. I look down at the Count, who is finally waking up.

“My Lord, please control your kids.”

 

【〓〓〓〓】

 

It's been a week since I carried an unconscious girl into the manor, and I’m so close to snapping. After the incident that night Count Holdings decided that I’m the only knight under him physically strong enough to handle the little Lord. And so, I was appointed the young Lord’s personal knight, otherwise known as his armored nanny. 

I’ve spent the last six days chasing a small dragon child around a multi-story mansion. Through walls, floors, windows, the kid just plows ahead without hesitation. He only behaves himself whenever we run into the Count, and is back at it as soon as his father is out of earshot. I have no idea who was taking care of this kid up until now, but they probably quit.

The pseudo-dragon, after hours of rampaging, is finally asleep, so I quickly sneak out to the knight’s quarters. After searching for a bit I find my target swinging his sword near some trees. 

I loudly clear my throat. “Trying to get away with excessive training again, Porter?” My voice startles the younger man, not that anyone besides me would notice. He turns around and gives a salute. 

“Captain Jet! I felt like my current training regiment was lacking, sir!” My subordinate stands straight as a board. Officer Porter is one of the only members of my squad not from the street gang of my youth. Porter was given to me as a whelp by the Count after he showed up on the manor steps asking for a job. Little bastard waited until the Count was leaving to run up and ask him, and the Count was so amused he threw the brat to me. 

“Porter, do you know who made the training regiment?” I circle my prey, waiting for a response.

“No, sir!” To the kids' credit, his stony face doesn’t give away any emotions. I come to a stop in front of him, giving him a friendly smile.

“I did, Porter! I made the regiment our entire unit adheres to. So what, exactly, do you find lacking in my perfect planning?” I smile wider, leaning over the guy a bit.

After letting out a deep breath, the officer replies, “I thought the regiment was perfect, sir! I just felt that the time allotted was insufficient, sir!” 

I walk behind Porter and stand directly behind him.“Well, Porter, I’m here because of your insane lust for training. I have a special regiment just for you, lad.” I put my hands on his shoulders, giving a squeeze. “You’re the only one I know who has the endurance for this.” My smile becomes sinister as I think about all the walls I’ve been climbing through recently. “I think you’ll find this program sufficient.” 

 

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For the next few days, whenever the golden snot falls asleep I hightail it to wherever Porter is hiding. Each time I train him, I describe the horrific monster he’ll be dealing with, and impress upon him the need to not harm it. Despite his confusion, he listens without complaint. Then for the rest of my free time I throw aura blasts from my sword for him to block. A few bruised ribs and broken fingers later and my youngest officer is parrying my shots like a pro. 

A week after starting this training with Porter, I decide to give him one final test. Porter stands on the opposite end of the dirt training field, squaring up with his weapon of choice: a greataxe. This time I’m holding my signature spear instead of a training sword. 

“Porter, block one hit from me and you pass!” I give the kid a smile, and then without warning, charge at him. I raise my spear to swing down on his head, but the kid swings his axe up, blocking my hit with the flat of the head. My spearhead strikes with a loud crash, pushing the kid down. After a second I can tell that his block isn’t going to falter, so I pull back.

My chest vibrates as I laugh. “Porter, you did good!” I reach down and pull him out of the two-inch indent his feet are sunk into. 

A rare smile cracks his usually stoney expression. “Thanks, sir!” Man, the kid’s handsome when he actually shows an expression. Before the Count brought his children from who knows where, Porter was somewhat famous for having the lightest skin in the area. His skin is a light tan instead of the typical darker shades of the Gemshell kingdom. His hair is also unusually silky, so he’s well-known with the local girls. Too bad his good looks are going to be wasted watching a five-year-old monster. 

“C’mon, Officer Porter, you’re getting a promotion.”

 

】〓〓〓〓【

Porter

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I follow the Captain as quickly as I can but struggle to match his massive strides. How the hell am I supposed to keep up with the stilts he calls his legs?! As I walk behind the massive man, I feel excitement well up in my chest. He said a promotion! First he lets me train even more, then he gives me special training, and now a promotion? I feel like I’m dreaming. I can feel my blank face crack the smallest grin before going back to an inert state. 

Captain suddenly stops, causing me to almost smack into his rear. Luckily my reflexes are fast enough to save me from that embarrassment. The Captain stands in front of a thick wooden door and turns to face me.

“Officer Porter, I’m promoting you to the personal knight of the person in this room. You must keep them from hurting othe— getting hurt at all costs!” The Captain’s usual smile has a tinge of manic glee behind it. “Good luck, Sir Porter!” Before I can react Captain knocks on the door behind him and sprints down the hall. Within seconds he’s out of sight. What the hell?!

For a moment I stand motionless, staring at the large door with a blank stare. Why did I do all that training just to be someone’s bodyguard? The usual knight training would be enough for — I sense a large amount of energy rushing me from within the room, and pull my greataxe out, holding it defensively. Luckily I pull out my weapon just in time as the center of the door explodes into dust, and a large glowing golden mass shoots through the new opening. I brace myself as the bright object slams into my axe, pushing me backwards almost a foot. 

What in the hell?! This thing is stronger than the Captain’s full strength hit? What the  hell was in that room? After another moment, the object runs out of momentum, dislodging it from my axe and sending it falling to the ground. With a loud crash the thing lands on the wooden floor. 

“Oww…” The object makes a noise, drawing my eyes. Sitting on the floor below my still-raised weapon is a small child, rubbing his head. The kid looks strange, with small horns poking through his bright red hair and long, pointed ears sticking out behind him. Is that - Is that a tail? This kid has a tail? The small form looks up at me, revealing a cute face speckled with golden scales. This kid is paler than me! 

I stare down at the child, my mouth slightly open in shock. Eventually the kid waves at me. “Hello? Who are you, mister? Why’d you hit my door? I thought you were an enemy and attacked!” He grins wickedly, revealing a pair of fangs. What the hell is this creature? 

“I-I’m Officer Porter. Who are you?” 

The kid rubs his head some more before answering. “I’m Wight Holdings! That’s my room.” He points to the door with a boy-sized hole in it. “Do you work for my dad?” His large golden eyes look up at me with curiosity. 

“Is your dad the Count?” Exasperation fills my voice. There is no way this kid is the Count’s child. This pale lizard kid is the child of the intimidating Count? The kid nods, however, smiling widely. I stand in silence as I digest this insane information. What did Captain get me into, why me?! 

I focus on my new charge again just in time to see him start carving stick figures into the hardwood floor with his fingers.

 

【〓〓〓〓】

 

I’ve been following this kid — I mean, the young Lord, for three hours. Three. Hours. Those three hours have easily been more stressful than my entire time as a knight put together. Currently I’m standing in the dining room, watching the young Lord eat a meal with the Count. Shockingly, the intimidating and stone-faced Count is smiling warmly at this monster - I mean, boy. The obvious affection in his eyes puts confusion deep within my soul. 

Eventually the Count’s eyes drift over to me, standing behind his child. He frowns, all signs of warmth vanishing from his face. “Son, why are you here?” His powerful voice makes my ears shake. 

“I was assigned to Lord Wight, my Lord.” No stutters, nice! The Count stares at me some more, ignoring the glass breaking sounds from the chair in front of me. 

“That Captain of yours passed the buck, then?” Count Holdings grunts in amusement. “I expected it, but I thought he’d last longer than this…” His dark eyes make contact with mine. 

He mulls something over as he chews his lunch. “Alright, son, you’re still in one piece after watching Wight for a while so I’m appointing you, officially, as the personal knight of my daughters Luna, Pim, and Scarlet, as well as my sons, Wight, Iota, and Coil.” The Count nods in satisfaction, a small smirk sneaking into his expression.

I try to keep my mouth from falling open in shock. He wants me to be the personal knight… of six different people? How?! What? My confusion must show in my eyes, because the Count starts to laugh. 

“Don’t worry, lad, they’ll only need you. You’ll figure out why soon enough.” His chuckles peter out as he stands. “I’m leaving now, so take good care of my kids.” He looks at his son in front of me, his face softening instantly. “You should also probably put out that fire.” The portly noble points at a small fire that has somehow started on young Lord Wight’s plate.

I quickly smack the small flames out, causing my scaled charge to whine in disappointment.