“Take this,” the Madam commanded as Ezra strode down the stairs. Instead of walking towards the door, as he’d planned, he turned and walked until he stood before the Madam. Her hair was pulled back, a tight bun keeping every harsh angle of her face exposed in the light of morning. Ezra took the heavy pack from the Madam, and looking inside, he saw a good waterskin, a side knife in a tooled leather sheath, and a thick, black, knitted scarf.
“You’ll need things on the road. The march will be at least a week, and having good equipment is worth more than anything else,” she explained. “So, while I’m not in charge of you, I’d say that your biggest priority will be to take all the money you have saved and buy a new pair of boots. The best ones you can find.”
As Ezra started to nod in answer, the Madam poked him hard in the chest. “I didn’t say the prettiest. I didn’t say the most expensive. I said the best. A good pair of boots will save your life as much as a helmet will on a campaign, and if you get signed on as a soldier, you’ll live most of your life on your feet.”
“How do you know this?” Ezra asked, cocking his head to the side and looking at the shorter, severe woman. Her face could be pretty, he knew, but did she hide a past as a soldier behind those well-tailored dresses and business sense?
“I’ve been on a couple campaigns,” she said by way of answer. “How do you think I managed to afford this inn? Though it isn’t much to look at, everything inside is more expensive than anything else around here.”
“You were a soldier?” Ezra gasped, his mouth dropping open. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? What kinds of creatures have you battled?”
“No, I wasn’t a soldier,” she answered with a short laugh. “I was a prostitute. Why do you think that I know just how to squeeze the men and women who come in here of every copper? There’s plenty of auxiliaries who’re needed in war, and there’s thousands of soldiers making coin with nowhere else to spend it.”
Embarrassed, Ezra hung his head as he shouldered the pack. Instead of confronting that discomfort, he turned to distraction. “Is Adam ready?”
“He made his decision in the middle of the night,” the Madam answered with a disappointed look. “He’ll be hiding from the draft when it comes through.”
Ezra blinked heavily a couple times before he sighed.
“Alright. Tell him good luck when you happen to catch a glance, will you?”
“Of course. Be careful, listen to your superiors, and, hopefully, become the Knight you’ve always wanted to be,” she said her goodbyes, but as Ezra turned to walk away, the Madam surprised him by stepping forward and pulling him into a quick but tight hug.
“All of you little ones are like some of my own,” she whispered in his ear. “Come back safe.”
A swell of emotion filled his throat and he just nodded in response as he finally did turn and walk away. Something about the way the door closed behind him made him think that he wouldn’t be back in a long time.
You don’t need to say anything, Jormun said as he floated in front of Ezra. I already got around to figuring out where to go, just follow me.
Though he wanted to ask when and how that’d happened, Ezra instead just continued walking, fighting not to lose himself in these strange feelings. Instead of thinking, he just looked out for those muggers. After all, if he could teach them one quick lesson before he left, maybe they wouldn’t be so ready to screw someone else over the next time they tried and failed to mug them. The journey continued for a surprisingly short time as Jormun guided his path through large streets until he entered a small plaza not far from the inner city.
In the middle of the plaza stood three tables, a secretary (or whatever they were called) sitting behind each one. Two soldiers stood beside each table with a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. All six soldiers wore a chain mail shirt, nice boots that reached their mid calf, and an unadorned helmet. Just below the head of each spear hung a short pennant, fluttering in the wind just enough for the Count’s coat of arms to be seen.
As Ezra walked closer, the nine representatives from the Count noted his approach, and he strode towards the closest table.
“What’re you here for?” One of the soldiers asked, stepping forward threateningly. His ruddy cheeks seemed to flush a darker red as he confronted Ezra.
“I was told that there’s a buncha Dragonkin coming and the Count’s sending soldiers off to fight them,” Ezra explained, stopping where he stood. Even if he thought that he belonged here, years of experience screamed at him to run away from any sort of police. “I figured there’s no better time to sign up to be in the Count’s army than right now.”
The soldier who’d spoken looked him up and down before stepping back and allowing the woman sitting at the desk to speak.
“Well then, there’s a few questions I’d like to ask before we move forward with this, but come forward, no need to stand so far away!”
Steeling himself, Ezra stepped forward to stand in front of the table, right between the two soldiers. He noticed then that the other soldier standing here was a woman, and she stared at his face even more than the angry man had. She smiled reassuringly at him as he stopped in front of the table, then turned her attention back to their surroundings. Pulling his attention away from the soldiers at both sides, Ezra looked down at the… clerk? Yeah, that was the right word.
“Your name?” She asked with a soft smile.
“Ezra,” he answered.
“And do you realize that, if you sign on as a soldier under the Count’s command, you will stay working as a soldier for at least two years?”
“Yes.”
“There is no backing out,” she spoke clearly, and Ezra felt a muscle in his neck twitch at being talked down to. “If you sign up, you will be trained as one of the Count’s soldiers, and you will follow his every command for two years. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he repeated.
“Very well,” the clerk replied, writing his name down in amazingly neat handwriting. “The soldiers have the test to see if they’re willing to let you into their ranks over there, so good luck on the test.”
Only once she said it did Ezra realize that there was a small square set up nearby, where a handful of men and a single girl about his own age were holding themselves in a squatting position.
“Come with me,” the kinder-looking soldier said as she led him forward. “Most of this is just a quick test to see if you’re not in too bad of shape.”
“Thanks,” Ezra smiled back. “And your name is?”
“You’ll learn it if you’re hired,” she replied teasingly as she stepped toward one of the soldiers standing nearby that appeared to be in charge of the test. He was a taller man, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, as if he had a barrel inside of his chainmail shirt. A thick beard poked out of his helmet, and his steps seemed to shake the ground when he approached.
“Have another for you, Lieutenant,” she said as she stepped forward, her previous casualness forgotten in the presence of the man that seemed to be her immediate superior.
“Thank you, Amy,” he said, unknowingly ruining her plan to hide her name as he dismissed her back to the tables. Ezra didn’t allow a smile to creep on his face, though, as the Lieutenant walked forward and looked him up and down.
“Name?”
“Ezra.”
“You’ll need to call me, and a whole lot of other men and women, sir if you’re going to be a soldier, will that be a problem?”
“No, sir,” he answered.
“You’re more spitfire than kid, but if you can say the right words, I don’t have a problem with you,” the Lieutenant said as he squinted. “Gimme twenty pushups.”
“Yes, sir,” Ezra said as he placed his bag to the side before he dropped where he stood. The ground was half muddy, half frozen, and the cold made his fingers start complaining. Even so, he delivered the best pushups he could manage, his back straight and knees unbending for each one. Counting them aloud, he got to twenty, but before he could stand, the Lieutenant shouted, “Stop!”
He held the position, and in that moment more than anything, he was grateful for Jormun making him do all those planks. Holding the pushup position was significantly easier than a plank, and though his chest was burning just a little, he could still hold it for a long while.
Maybe thirty seconds passed before the Lieutenant said, “Alright, get up.”
Ezra rose, shaking the mud from his hands as he looked for something to wipe them off on. Seeing nothing in reach, he shook his hands and looked at the leader of the little squadron.
“You’re pretty strong,” the Lieutenant nodded approvingly. “Carry yourself pretty good. You ever get into a fight?”
“Yes, sir,” Ezra said, allowing himself a smile.
“Yeah, you think you’ve got what it takes to be a soldier, huh?” As the barrel-chested man said it, Ezra immediately saw the danger in the question. But what could he do except to step up to the challenge?
“I hope so, sir.”
“Then pick up a weapon and get over here.”
The Lieutenant gestured at a stand of quarterstaves as he grabbed one himself.
“In case it isn’t obvious,” he said as he grinned widely, “I want to see that skill of yours. If you’ve got what it takes, show me.”
Ezra looked at the array of basically identical sticks. They all seemed to be real staves, but he didn’t know anything about them. He’d only ever used the cane, and he’d brought that, but was he just supposed to pick a stick?
It’s not a bad option to pick what you’re used to, Jormun said, interrupting his thoughts. They expect you to lose this fight, but you’re more likely to do alright with the cane than with the staff, even though you’re not trained with that either, but familiarity will help some. You’re good for someone without any real training, but don’t go getting your hopes up. This is a trained, career soldier. He’s testing you, but you won’t have a chance to win. If he’s a cruel leader, he’s going to beat a lesson into you. At best, you’re going to get hit. Hard. You need to take the hits and keep going.
“How reassuring,” Ezra scoffed to himself as, despite a burning feeling of embarrassment, walked past the weapons to pick up his cane. The handle fit well in his hand, and he nervously swished it back and forth as he stepped towards the Lieutenant.
“You think you’re some kinda swordsman?” His opponent asked, though his face remained impassive.
“No, sir. This is just what I’ve used until now, and I don’t want to trip over the staff trying to use it instead.”
“Alright,” he answered, and, taking his own weapon in both hands, gestured for Ezra to get started.
Hoping for ferocity to carry him to victory, Ezra charged forward with his cane held in both hands. Swinging it down, he tried to knock the staff out of the Lieutenant’s hands, but he stepped back, out of Ezra’s reach. The cane smashed against the ground and mud splashed everywhere. Before he could recover his stance, his nose erupted in pain. A single thrust had smashed into him, and Ezra stumbled back. Tears sprung in his eyes as he tried to blink the stars out of his vision, but the Lieutenant wouldn’t give him any time to recover.
A second thrust struck him in the gut, and Ezra bent over, wheezing, but instead of trying to recover, he swept his came towards the barrel, chested man. It whipped uselessly through the air, but it did give him just enough space to stand up straight again. The staff whipped towards his head, but Ezra ducked it and stepped forward again, swinging his cane in a desperate attempt to at least make contact.
It was no use, the Lieutenant continuing to effectively maintain space between himself and Ezra. There was nothing he could do to close that distance, even when he ran forward, tried to trick, or anything else, and he felt himself growing more and more enraged. His blood thundered in his ears as he swept the cane wildly through the air towards the Lieutenant. Around him, he could hear the soldiers laughing, mocking him, he was sure. He couldn’t see anything but the Lieutenant's face, and suddenly, a burning fire deep inside. With a roar, he swung his cane down and something flew out of him. A shimmering light appeared in front of him, but his vision clouded.
“Wha…?” he asked, but the world spun around him, and then he saw nothing but darkness.