“Stop! Who goes there?” The words echoed through the crisp morning air, emanating from a gargantuan, ancient tree that loomed twenty yards ahead. Emerging from the shadows was a vigilant guardsman, his figure silhouetted against the dappled light filtering through the canopy.
“I am Earth,” he called back, rising up to his full height.
“Enlisting?” The soldier's bow was taut, arrow notched as he scrutinized Earth head to toe.
“Yes.”
“Northeast, five hundred paces,” the guardsman gestured with a nod, “beyond that hill, you'll find the quartermaster's tent. Register with him.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, boy,” he grunted, already turning away to resume his hidden post. “This is no charity. We all go to die.”
“Next? Name?” The sergeant's gruff voice boomed as he barked out. Earth stepped forward, heart pounding with anticipation.
“Earth,” he said, steady.
“Of age?”
“Yes.”
“War skills and training?”
“None, sir,” he admitted.
He was curt. “There is no pay for the untrained. You fight for the lives of your loved ones. Food and basic outfitting will be supplied.”
He handed Earth a mark. “Go to the third and fourth stalls, then to the yellow penant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Next? Name? What? A woman? This is war. Go exercise your vote in the town council and...”
After acquiring a dented helm, a light-mail jerkin, some leather gloves, a heavy cloak, and a canteen, Earth made his way to the yellow pennant on the far side of the marshaling field, the sergeant's voice trailing off into a distant buzz. His two weapons were basic but serviceable - a short infantryman's gladius without a sheath and a decent dagger. Yet he couldn't help but notice that his cloak, woven from rugged black wool, was not nearly as impressive as those worn by the Shadowsun Guard.
The procession pushed him forward, one hundred or so men arriving with him. Each face he saw looked confused and alone. Most were strangers, though he caught a glimpse of someone resembling Barbus, the butcher, disappearing into the shuffle. Most of these men were not locals, but rather visitors drawn to the Festival, merchants and travelers, and perhaps even nobles.
A goldenrod pennant hung listless against the windless sky. Beyond it, the sun crept timid on the horizon, revealing the Shadowsun’s camp. The sheer number of men gathered here was staggering. In the midst of it all, their new captain rushed about, barking orders and manhandling them till they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in some semblance of a line.
“Stand straight! Be firm! Hold your weapon like so. Thrust, don’t slash, unless you want to maim yourself for a fool. If you die you die. The Forgotten knows your time. So at least die proud. Strength is in the arm beside you. You there! Don’t be a lazy hide! Scratching crotches is for a dog's snout. Let it itch. Look to your betters or you’ll feel the wrath. Feet planted now. Chin center. Talk when you sleep. Rest when you're dead. Listen up while you still have the chance. We march today, and there will be no picnic. This is war.”
The story of Earth continues…
What's hard to believe in the Christian Bible? Please comment at https://acts15church.substack.com/p/hard-to-believe
Thank you. G'Day