A New Combatant Arrives [Intro]

Did he have to be so quick to make his decision on what part of the Rune Knights he wanted to dedicate himself to? No, not really. Ciarran could have taken his time, slowly worked up the ranks until his superiors came and twisted his arm to make a decision. But really, it was a no brainer. He wasn't enough of a brainy individual to contribute too much to Engineering. Sure, he was good at pulling at the strings of magic that let his armor perform spells that had long since been lost to time. But that didn't mean he was good at coming up with entirely new magic whole cloth. On top of that, he wasn't exactly the most well versed in making things to begin with. That left two branches to choose from.

What about Spec Ops? It was a branch he hadn't even been aware of when he'd first joined the Rune Knights. But he supposed that made enough sense. From what little he had been informed of, the whole point of Spec Ops was to deal with more delicate, behind-the-scenes types of situation. So, how would he have fit in that particular branch? Well, given that his go-to magic was something that used a very widely known, storied suit of incredibly flashy black armor known for a wide variety of flashy elemental spells..Yeah. To say he was a bit bad at being properly stealthy and discrete..it was a definite understatement. Truth be told, he wasn't all that shocked that he hadn't known that Spec Ops existed. After all, what good would there be in having a branch dedicated to more delicate situations if your average civilian knew how to identify it's members? Either way, as responsibilities went, Spec Ops was in charge of the sort of task that he definitely felt that he was unsuited for.

That left the Combat Corps. Honestly, even if he set his thoughts on how he'd have fit in the other branches aside, it was an easy enough choice. He'd wanted to be part of the Rune Knights because it meant he could help and protect people. Sitting in a building inventing things--while certainly a good way to help--wasn't the kind of help he was hoping to be able to offer. And while dealing with more delicate situations was certainly important, that wasn't exactly the kind of story that had inspired him to enlist in the first place.

Just like the stories that inspired him as a child, he wanted to help the people around him in ways that felt more tangible, more real. So, here he was. For the past few months, he'd been in the general barracks along with all of the other new recruits who hadn't yet picked a division to operate under. Some were coming close to their last promotion before they were going to be forced to make their decision, others had only been in the general garrison for a few weeks before they had made up their mind. Then there were people like him. People who made their decision seemingly at random.

Regardless of the type of person who made their decision, each of the recruits who made their decision were eventually escorted to do some paperwork--something he had just finished on his own--and were then led to the barracks of their chosen division. There they were given an assigned space, and left to their own devices. Technically, he was considered off-duty at the moment.

He'd made his decision to do all of this on a day where he could have gone and done anything else. Some people might have chosen to ask why. Truth be told, he probably would do the same if he saw someone else coming in on a rare off-duty day. But, the chips had fallen as they may. He'd finally made up his mind on a day he'd happened to not have anything going on.

As a result, he was left to walk around the barracks and general areas of the Combat Corps, dressed primarily in civilian attire. For him, it was simple enough clothes, as he always opted for comfort over style. That meant that today's outfit was a loose fitting white shirt with an oversized black denim jacket and comfortable pants with very clearly well worn shoes. But, he was no idiot.  He'd been sure to keep the device from his standard uniform on hand, currently pinned to the very jacket he was wearing. He'd brought it with him because part of finally transferring out of the general forces into a proper branch meant that it needed recalibrated to display his chosen branch, instead of none at all.

It always amazed him how complicated something so small was. Especially since it was the only thing that was currently keeping him visually separated from just some random civilian. Regardless, for the moment he was still getting his bearings. What seemed like random wandering was really just Ciarran trying to make a mental map of where everything was. After all, he was officially a new recruit for the Combat Corps. That meant that unless he was going to get transferred out to another garrison, he was going to need to get familiar with the place.

He just hoped nobody important was hanging around right now. Off-duty or not, Civilian Attire in the areas of the headquarters that weren't publicly accessible had to be an infraction of some sort, right?

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Total Word Count: 901
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