The knock on the door got louder each rap.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

The voice became more impatient.

“Jazlo! C’mon, get up!”

Jazlo Kipling turned his head on his pillow. His long curly hair obscured his youthful facial features and tickled his nose. He pushed the annoying locks out of his face and groaned, a tired but resolute sound.

“Let’s go! We been waitin’ all morning for you.”

He rose and put on his simple brown robe and leather saddles. The door opened and he had to duck the fist that had been posed to thunk it again.

“Whoa! Sorry Jazlo,” the bearded man standing in the hallway said.

“Lucky for me you aren’t known for your speed, Armen,” Jazlo said.

The man laughed and slapped Jazlo on the shoulder.

“Nope, just my good looks and my bad aim.”

Jazlo yawned and lead the way down the hallway. They reached the doorway leading outside.

“Well, you are half right, Armen,” Jazlo said and elbowed the larger man in the ribs. Outside the church, the sun was bright and the day clear.

“Oof! Which half did I get right you little punk?”

“I’ll let you figure it out. Bulthus waiting for us?” Jazlo asked.

“Yep, already started he has.”

They found their friend down by the river sitting in the warm sun. He was a big man, not as tall as Armen but wider. Jazlo had never seen him pass up a chance to eat. And he excelled at fishing. There were many nights he was thankful for that. The church Father Mathis was the parson of believed in minimal living. Jazlo believed in feeding his growing body.

Bulthus and Armen kept telling him he was done growing. A year past growing at least. But he was always hungry and never gained weight no matter how much he ate anyway so what did it matter?

Jazlo was becoming an apt fisherman but liked skipping stones across the calm, clear water more. His two friends sat down on either side of him and went to work catching the day’s haul. Jazlo skipped a few stones-one going for seven bounces!-and went back to sleep.

A thick leather boot nudged him in the side.

“Hey Jaz,” Bulthus said. “Whaddya’ think?”

“Think about what exactly?” Jazlo sat up and looked at his well-rounded friend.

“Think about signin’ up with us.”

“Oh, that.”

Bulthus took off his helmet, Jazlo never saw him without it on or in his hands, and scratched his balding head.

“Yeah, that. What you think?”

Jazlo shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Bulthus smiled and jabbed Armen with the end of his pole.

“Better than a ‘no’, eh Armen? Told you he wouldn’t turn us down!”

“Damn it, Bulthus! Put that damn smelly helmet back on or the flies will swarm us all.” Armen covered his mouth with his free hand and started splashing Bulthus with water.

“Stop it you bastard!” Bulthus said. He grabbed the other man’s hands and they started wrestling on the ground.

Jazlo was stuck in between them. He begged for mercy put the two men kept at it.

“Alright, alright! I’ll join you!” Jazlo said and the two men stopped rolling on top of him.

Bulthus was breathing heavy, Armen was smiling. They looked at each other and than smothered Jazlo underneath their combined bulk.

Jazlo mumbled mercy and tried to push them off but they were quite large and heavy.

“Get off him you slob,” Armen said and dragged Bulthus up and to his feet.

Bulthus reached down and picked up an exasperated Jazlo. He smoothed the priest’s robes and dusted him off.

“Thanks, you big lout,” Jazlo said. Bulthus smiled.

“Listen. I know you two mean well. I know this army thing means a lot to you.” Jazlo looked back up at the church just a couple of dozen yards away. “But the priesthood means a lot to me. And so does Father Mathis.”

“Jazlo, this unholy blight should be what matters,” Armen said. “You can’t imagine the things we’ve seen! Creatures out of nightmares. I dream about ‘em. I wake up screaming. This is something your entire order should be doing something about.”

“It ain’t pretty out there, Jaz,” Bulthus said.

Jazlo felt torn. He knew his life-long friends were trying their best to do something for all of humanity. They meant well, always did no matter the final consequences. But this latest escapade was different, more dramatic. Things were getting out of control already. Men were being drawn up together from all over the land. They were not professional soldiers but rather farmers and furriers.

Jazlo knew his friends were neither. They were just big, strong, enthusiastic fellows that could fight. He was afraid they were being taken advantage of. Once again, it might be up to him to look after them.

“Okay then,” he said. “I will go with you. Who else will be there to keep you out of trouble?”

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