John looked at the knife he held in his hand with uneasiness. Trembling, he held it to the hanging carcass of the slaughtered lamb and swallowed hard, doing his best to steel his resolve.

"That's it." Master Rodan said, attempting to encourage him. "Just like that. You've got to get a bit under the skin, so it comes off easy."

John felt sweat dripping down his back while he slowly skinned the animal. He never wanted to be a butcher's assistant, but he was of age now, and needed to look for a practical way to make coin. The village of Berret's Field was too small to start any enterprise. So most of the young men who lived there either left, or did what they could to survive. John silently cursed himself for agreeing to take on the profession. It had been nearly a week since his seventeenth birthday, and his Uncle all but forced him to do it.

"No no no!" Master Rodan shouted, reaching to pull John's hand away. "You're trying to saw it like a damn piece of wood! Meat is tender, if you feel the need to start hackin' away at it, just sharpen the bloody knife."

"Sorry, master." John said, trying with all his might to sound sincere. -Who the bloody hell cares how you cut it? It all ends up the same anyway.- He thought, moving with the carving knife to a stone sharpener on a table behind him.

"Maybe you've been at it for too long, John." Master Rodan said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "Perhaps you should get on home, come back in the morning once you've had time to rest."

With a not-so-subtle sigh of relief, John dropped the bloody carving knife on the table and pulled off his apron. "Thank you, master; I'll be on my way then."

Rodan shook his head and gestured for him to go, and within the blink of an eye, John sped through the door, and straight toward his Uncle's farm.

Berret's Field was a small enough village that anyone who had a bit of purpose in their movement could make it from one end to the other in less than ten minutes. John had tested that fact multiple times in the last week, as he would run home as fast as his legs could carry him. Familiar faces smiled at him or growled at him as he zipped by, narrowly dodging people.

John exited the southern gate of the village and entered his Uncle's farmland, a fair two acres of mediocre soil that was, up to this point, all that kept food on their table. As he approached the door, he attempted to catch his breath, and slowed to a walk. Glancing around, John grabbed the wooden handle and pulled the door open.

"Back so soon?" His aunt Fena said, walking over to greet him. "Look at you, all covered in sweat." She pinched his cheek, lovingly. "You're all grown up now; a workin' man."

"Thank you, auntie." John said, grimacing at the attention. She had loved him as her own child since he was given to both she and his Uncle. He knew very little of how his parent's met their end, but he felt as though her dramatic affection was in some way to make up for it.

"Since you're home so early, perhaps you could help out your uncle and cousin." Fena said, "You can find em out back, toilin' away at that hard patch of ground he calls a farm." She let out a sharp laugh. "Before long we're gonna have to move on out of here. The ground's goin' bad."

John nodded to her and after grabbing one of the bread rolls she had just finished baking, ran out the back of their little house. It didn't take him long to find his Uncle and his cousin; he just followed the curses and shouts.

"Damn, bloody soil!" Uncle Remon said, tossing a fist full of dry dirt to the ground. "We'll have to work twice as hard this season, Thomas."

Thomas, John's cousin, stifled laughter at his father's outburst but soon found the seriousness of the situation sobering. Without a decent crop this year, their family would struggle to make enough gold for the winter.

John skidded to a halt just before the two, and Remon took a moment to look at his nephew. "Home early, eh?" He said, grunting as he stood.

“Master Rodan let me off early today!” John smiled, “And I figured you could use a hand.”

"Good, you can help us out here. There's plowin' that needs doin'. Soils gone bad, so we'll need all the help we can get."

John nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Uncle."

"No worries John," Thomas said with a grin. "Soil's easier to clean off than blood."

John smiled at the statement. “True, but today I guess I’ll be cleaning off both.” He and his cousin had been as close as brothers since he was given over to his aunt and Uncle. And though they fought at times, they always seemed to be inseparable.

"Come on then, you two. Let's try and finish this while the suns still out." Remon said.

The three finished the west field in spite of the rough soil and turned in just as the sun dipped below the Western mountain range that flanked their little village. John scraped dried dirt from his hands as he waited behind his cousin and Uncle to use the water pump.

"We made good time today." Remon said, rinsing his hands and splashing water on his face. I wish we could afford to keep both of you here on the farm. Gods know we need the help."

“We’ll figure something out, Da.” Thomas elbowed John playfully.

John winced at the statement though. There weren’t many options in a village this small, but the prospect of being a butcher left some bit of hope for an, albeit tedious, but a comfortable life. “Uncle, Once I finish my apprenticeship I can start helping out. Master Rodan says it could be as early as next spring.”

Remon let out a breath, nodding as he did. “Aye, you’ll be a great help to us, John. But Gods willin’ we have a good crop next year. Then you can focus on wooin’ that lass you’ve been chasin’. A butcher makes good coin anywhere he is. Even a muddy little stain like Barret’s field.”

After washing the dirt and grime of the day's work off, they entered the small house to the smell of beef stew. Fina turned the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"There you are." She smiled gleefully. "You boys better have cleaned up, the stew is just ready."

John took a moment to admire the aroma. “It smells so good, auntie!” He grinned, then followed Thomas and Remon to the modest wooden table in their dining room. They all sat and ate while Fina handed them buttered rolls to go with the stew.

After several minutes of silent eating, Thomas finally said. "Imperial stewards came to the village today."

Though the table was silent before, this brought absolute silence as Remon looked at Thomas in surprise.

"Imperial stewards, here? When?" Remon asked, his voice cracking as he spoke the words.

"I heard it from Bernard, in the morning. Not sure when they showed up exactly." Thomas said, not expecting the attention.

Remon pointed his fork at Thomas, then to John. "Listen to me, you two. I don't know if your little friend was right, but if Akkroan stewards have indeed come, you need to stay away from them. Ever since the King turned Albus over to them they've been sending recruiters for the legion all over. I just didn't think they'd make their way all the way out here."

"Yes, father." Thomas hung his head.

"Yes, uncle." John echoed.

"Terrible business," Fena huffed. "The King givin' us all up like that."

"But Bernard says they're building us roads, and people will have proper work again." Thomas said, looking to John for support.

"Ridiculous," Remon barked. "Akkroan dogs, coming here to help us? Albus used to be their ally, and now they send their legions here and what are we now? Just another conquered territory. We'll be slaves before the end of it. Mark my words."

"Oh, stop scaring the boys, Remon." Fena chuckled. "You know your blood gets too hot when you talk politics at the table. Empire or not, we still need you to be in those fields tomorrow. Winter is right around the corner, and I won't be starvin'.

"I think it's interesting." John finally said, "I’ve never seen anyone from the Empire before.”

“Dogs, the lot of ‘em.” Remon said, after taking a long draw from his mug. “Just look at what they did to the Malkin all those years ago. They took em and ran ‘em into the ocean. Thousands slaughtered, and millions turned into refugees to the elves.”

“Better refugees than slaves, Da.” Thomas said almost under his breath.

“Better alive and well, tending your crops in peace I say. I won't have you going anywhere near those Imperials.” Remon looked sternly at both Thomas and John, using a half-eaten piece of bread to point at them. “Besides, if we’re to make it through this winter, we’ll need you both here, bringin’ in coin.”

“But, Da.” Thomas said, looking at the table, clearly trying to muster the confidence to speak his mind. “The Legions pay triple what we’d be makin’ on the farm. We’d be able to live comfortably for once. Have meat at the table, or ale that wasn’t brewed in the barn.”

Remon sighed deeply, but couldn’t find it in his heart to be too angry with his son or nephew. He knew deep down that it must be difficult for them both, seeing their friends leave the village, one by one. While they were forced to stay, out of duty to their family. “Boys…” He said, taking a moment to steady himself. “I know it’s been hard. Gods know I’ve been selfish for all I’ve put you through. But it took me my whole life. Workin’ in this village, tilling land for years to afford what we have now. And…” Emotion started to show itself him his eyes. A well of reminiscence forcing itself to the surface. “And it seems every year the farm yields less. And there are even less people here now to buy what we do grow.”

John and Thomas listened intently to Remon, their eyes wide and their ears perked at the sudden earnest response.

“All that said though… I still can’t stand by and watch either of you serve Akkroa.” He continued. “We’ll find a way to make it work… we’ll find a way to survive. All of us, together.”

=

The next morning John found his thoughts wondering again to the previous night’s conversation. He had barely slept at all, and almost didn’t make it to Rodan’s butcher shop on time for his apprentices’ training. After several hours of practice with skinning, and cutting, he was left to tend the shop while Rodan butchered several sheep in the back. He picked at a rather stubborn nail that was loose in the table, and still couldn’t get the conversation he and his family had, had the night prior. Albus was no more. Once a small but proud kingdom, they had found themselves now a part of the great Akkroan empire. The greatest symbol of power amongst the humans. I don’t see what all the fuss is about, he thought. It sure beats sitting around for the rest of my life in this place. He glanced around the small butcher’s shop and sighed. I should probably just listen to Uncle Remon and accept my fate. As John’s thoughts dawdled, he heard the distinct ring of the bell at the front of the shop.

“Welcome!” He said, a bit too enthusiastically as he was drawn from his musings. He shot his eyes up from the desk and his breath caught in his throat as recognition came to him in an instant. In the doorway, stood three men, wearing the red cloaks of the Akkroan legion. The men walked in purposefully and strode to the desk where he sat.

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“Morning.” The man in the middle said. A handsome sort, with short blond hair and striking blue eyes.

“M... morning.” John stuttered, doing his best to keep his composure. It was the first time in his young life that he had seen an Imperial, and a legionnaire no less. What are they doing here? He thought.

“Easy kid,” The man to the left said. “We’ve just come for some of your finest cut. Is your master about?”

John nodded, noting that the man to the left had the distinct accent of someone from Albus.

“Then go fetch him.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. As he did, the man’s cloak raised a bit, and John noticed a gladius blade hanging at his hip, the standard short swords issued to the Legion.

Without a word, John leapt from his chair and darted into the back room, painfully scraping the wooden table as he did.

Master Rodan jumped at the sudden intrusion. John bursting through the door with a bit more force than intended. “By the Gods, boy!” the butcher yelled. “Are you tryin’ to kill me!?”

“Sorry Master,” John said, his voice coiled with tension. “Imperial legionnaires are here... and, they’re asking for your finest cut.”

Master Rodan’s jaw tightened as he heard the news, and his eyes darted to the still open door. “Right, lad. I’ll be right out. Tell them to make themselves comfortable while they wait.”

John hesitated a moment, clearly unsure if he wanted to go back out and face them.

“Go, damn you! Don’t keep them waiting!” Rodan hissed, standing and wiping his bloody hands on his already stained apron.

John turned as fast as he could and darted back into the shop, emerging behind the counter. The middle legionnaire gave him a puzzled look, while the other two just chuckled slightly. “H... he says he’ll be right out.” John stuttered. “Please just make yourselves comfortable, sirs.” Calm down, you can do this, He thought.

“No need for all that.” The legionnaire to the left said, turning his head to face the middle man. “Well, Decanus. We might as well get comfortable.”

The Decanus grunted as he scanned the store for a place to sit. Noticing there weren’t any, he brought his attention back to John.

Please don’t talk to me… I’m not here! John’s mind raced.

“How old are you, boy?” He asked, his piercing blue eyes boring into him. The sight sent a chill up his spine and sweat immediately started to bead on his forehead.

“I’m... uh.” He started, fear and anxiety making it nearly impossible to respond. Averting his gaze, John looked down to the wooden desk and forced himself to continue. “Seventeen, sir.”

“No more of that sir nonsense. I’m a Decanus.” The legionnaire said, then appraised John for several moments. “Seventeen, huh?” He brought his arms up across his chest and leaned back a bit. “You plan on being a butcher, then?”

John paused, knowing what was coming. He had heard that Stewarts of Akkroa had come to their village. Looking for recruits for the Imperial legion. “I...” He said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Do you know why, we’re here, boy?” The Decanus asked.

“To...” John said, “to recruit for the Akkroan Legion.”

“And you’re set on your path?” The Decanus continued.

John paused, unsure of what to say. Afraid that anything he said could be perceived as insulting. He needed to stay here. To help his uncle’s already struggling household.

“Come on then, spit it out.” The Legionnaire to the left said impatiently. “Do you plan on living in this mud pile of a village your whole life? Chopping meat for the same people, day in and day out?”

John’s jaw tightened so hard he felt his teeth start to creek. He refused to look up at them. How could this be happening to him? Last night he promised his uncle he wouldn’t go anywhere near any Imperials, let alone members of the Legion. And here they were, asking him about his aspirations. Just my damned luck… He thought. The Gods must have a sense of humor. “I suppose so...” He finally croaked.

“You suppose so?” The Decanus asked, a grin forming on his handsome face. “You suppose a life of mediocrity and insignificance would suit a man like yourself?”

John noticed he referred to him as a ‘man’ now, whereas moments prior he was only a ‘boy’.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard from the people here.” The Decanus continued, but we aren’t here to recruit exactly.”

John’s ears perked, and he braved a confused glance at the Legionnaire. As he did, he saw a cruel smile on the Decanus’ face.

“No, we’re here to conscript.” He spoke.

A pit formed in John’s stomach, and fear began to claw at him. This can’t be happening, he thought, as his eyes widened.

“So, I’ll ask you again.” The Decanus leaned forward.

“I apologize, sirs,” Master Rodan burst through the door from the back room. A folded cloth in his hands containing the fresh cut for the Akkroans. “I wanted to make sure you had... the... best...” His eyes fell on John, who at this point looked as white as a ghost.

“Thank you.” The Decanus smiled, gesturing for one of his companions to take the packed meat from Rodan. “Send your bill to our lodging at the inn. Our accountant will ensure you are paid.” He looked again to John, narrowing his eyes. “And for you, I’ll ask you again. Is this what you want?”

John swallowed hard past the growing lump in his throat. Still unable to muster the courage to retort. What do I even say to them? I can’t turn them down, he thought.

“Just a bit of friendly advice.” The Decanus said, “Those who volunteer get a bonus. Those who don’t... well they get put where we need them.”

John blinked dumbly. “I...” He croaked

“Butcher.” The Decanus barked, turning to Master Rodan. “What is this boy’s name? And where does he live?”

Rodan choked on his words and gave John an apologetic look. “He’s... his name is John... and...” He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. “He lives at the far side of the village... on a small farm...”

“John?” The Legionnaire asked, “No family name?”

“No... Decanus.” John said weakly, “poorer folk have no family names in Albus...”

The Legionnaire to the left spat in disgust. “Shame.”

“In Akkroa, all citizens of the Empire are given names.” The Decanus’ face softened slightly. “All men have worth in this world, and your name is your legacy. You may be afraid now, boy. Thinking us monsters for coming here and ripping young men from their families. But in time you will realize the importance of what we’re doing. And the impact it will have on your life. You will make more gold than you would have ever seen in your entire miserable existence living in this village. And will be a far better man for it.” Reaching in his cloak, he pulled a small scroll out of a leather bag. Then produced a pen. “Signing his name on the top portion of the scroll, he filled in John’s name and made a copy on the bottom. He deftly tore the parchment in half and handed the bottom portion to John. “Welcome to the Legion.” He said, “I put you down as a volunteer. You can thank me later. Muster is tomorrow morning near our lodging. There, you will check in and get your gear. Then you will have two days to get your affairs in order with your family. After that? We march for Akkroa.”

John stared down in utter disbelief. What… just happened? He thought, his mind racing. I… I’m in the legion now? He turned the parchment around in his hands and it finally hit him. By the Gods…

=

Aunt Fina sobbed in her hands as she sat at the table in their little dining room. And Uncle Remon scanned over the parchment John had brought with him. His eyes were narrowed, and a mask of fury painted his face.

“I can’t believe it...” Thomas said, a small amount of revery in his voice. “You, in the legion.”

“It says here that you volunteered.” Remon said, angrily. Tossing the paper to the table. “How could you do this to us, John? You know how much we need you here! How much our family is counting on you to help.”

“I didn’t!” John said, tears beginning to well in his eyes. “they told me that they were here to conscript, and that I would be going anyway. He put it down to help me... said there’d be extra gold.”

“Help you!?” Remon raged, “Help you, what? Die? Round up our own people to work in mines, or fight for their Emperor? I’ve been strugglin’ my whole life. Sweatin’ and bleedin’ for you and our family. We can’t give in! You-”

“Da!” Thomas said, his frustration finally boiling over. “We’ve heard this before. How you struggled to keep this land. How you paid for it with your own gold. But we can’t be expected to live the same life you have. And what’s John gonna do? Run? The Akkroans will find him, they’ll take him away from us in chains if they have to.” Thomas paused for a moment, closing his eyes to steel himself. “And they’ll come for me too. I don’t think I have much a choice either, Da… I’ll go with John tomorrow and volunteer as well. Best to get it done with.”

Remon stared at his son, the words of reason and clarity hitting home. His eyes began to water, and he looked between the two. “But you’re my boys…” He sobbed. “They can’t just come here and take my boys away! I won’t have it! Curse the gold, curse their bloody Emperor!” Remon heaved as he buried his face in his hands.

John and Thomas shared tear-filled glances as they both walked forward and embraced Remon. Fina joined in after, and for several minutes they just held each other. Speaking no words but comforting one another as best they could.

The next morning, John and Thomas left before the sun rose. Being a dutiful farmer for most of his life, Remon was up and preparing for the day's work. He said little to them as they left, having spent most of the prior night crying and comforting one another, there wasn’t much left to say.

They made their way across the village in relative silence. The walk to the village inn where the Akkroan legionnaires had set up their temporary base of operations was only about fifteen minutes. They brought nothing with them, hearing that the Legion would provide everything from clothes and food to weapons and armor. They arrived to see several cloaked men standing outside, tending to their horses, and laughing at some unheard joke. As the two boys approached, the men grew silent. Turning toward them with appraising looks on their faces. One of the men John recognized as one of the companions to the Decanus who recruited him.

“Good morning, sirs.” John said, fraying the already battered piece of parchment in his hands. Nervous, he swallowed and continued. “I’ve come to check in with the Decanus.”

The men looked at him incredulously for several long seconds, until one finally turned and walked into the inn. After a minute or two of agonizing silence the familiar handsome face of the Decanus came through the door dawning his crimson cloak. His blue eyes fixed on John, then slowly turned toward Thomas, who up until this point had been far too intimidated to say anything.

“John, was it?” He asked, calmly.

“Yes, Decanus,” John replied, doing his best to straighten his back and look the part of a legionary.

“And who is this?” He continued.

“Thomas,” The young man said, attempting to mirror his cousin’s demeanor.

“A volunteer then?”

John nodded, “He’s, my cousin. And wishes to join the Legion with me.”

The imperial looked at the two young men appraisingly for several moments. John squirmed under his iron gaze. His skin tingled as the crisp, early morning air cooled them.

Turning to one of the other legionaries he finally spoke. “Get these two processed, Optio. Gear them up and put them with the rest.” Without so much as a second glance the Decanus turned and re-entered the inn.

John and Thomas grinned stupidly at each other. Though the night had been an emotional maelstrom for their family. John could not deny that there was a true and deep curiosity about where this path would lead them. The truth of the matter was John didn’t know much about the Akkroan Empire. All he had to go on was the extreme dislike portrayed by his Uncle. Now, at the cusp of a new stage in his young life, he could see the potential. Either way, he knew that from this day forward, he would be a new man.

The Optio sighed, letting the straps he was tightening on one of the horses fall limply. “Come on, then.” He said, his voice horse and raspy. John and Thomas fell in behind him quickly. He walked around the building to the stables and workshop in the back. His leather boots sloshing in mud. Behind the inn, there were half a dozen tents raised where bales of hay once were stacked, around them were nearly twenty young men from the village that they recognized, all in the middle of their morning routine. The Optio gestured to some wooden crates that rested against the wall of the inn. With a grunt, he opened them, one by one, and reached inside to pull out various pieces of gear. A pair of brown cloaks, red tunics, and grey trousers were removed and placed in the two boy’s waiting hands. “These should fit. If not.” He snorted and spat into the mud. “Come back later and grab something that does.” Turning to another crate he leaned in and pulled two pairs of leather boots. Again, placing them in their hands. He then proceeded to give them leather canteens, packs, and blankets. As well as several days worth of dried rations.

Pointing to the group of recruits he finally said. “Speak to them and get situated. I don’t care where you sleep, just that you are ready to move by tomorrow morning.” With a grunt, he turned his head and spat on the muddied ground. “That’s when we finally leave this damned shit hole.” John flinched at the blatant disregard for his home. He knew that it was nothing compared to even the smallest town in Akkroa. But it was where he grew up. He watched as the Optio turned to walk around the inn. Emptiness was all that remained when he turned to regard his fellow recruits. Thomas had walked over to them and started conversing. After another moment of self-reflection, John joined him.

“You can’t compare the two.” A boy, whom John recognized as Flint, said. He was a bit older than John, maybe a year or two. Had short-cropped brown hair, and a characterizing scar on his chin from when he slipped on wet rocks near the river as a child. “We aren’t being made into slaves.” He said, “I don’t know about you all, but I was offered a fair amount of gold to join. Gold my mother will need this winter.”

“Slave collar or no, we weren’t exactly asked.” Another boy said, who John recognized, but didn’t know his name. “Akkroa will do with us what they like.”

“Also,” John interjected. “They’ve taken all the young men in the village.” He paused, thinking more about it. “We will be able to send gold to our families, yes. But with none of us here, Barret’s field won't last long.”

“We don’t have a choice, John,” Thomas said. “They’re saying this is because of a war with someone.”

“A war?” John asked. The words hit him like ice water.

“My Da thinks it’s the Drummians to the West.” Flint said as he crossed his arms, “They never did like the empire, and now that they’re weak.” He shrugged, “Who knows? Either way, welcome to both of you. With you, I think that brings us to twenty.” He pointed to one of the poorly raised tents. “You can sleep there tonight. As the Optio said, we’re supposed to leave in the morning, so one night in that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I think we’re being taken out of Albion…”

John perked up. “Yesterday, the Decanus said we were going to Akkroa. I’ve never been outside of Barret’s field, let alone beyond Albion.” He paused then, his mind beginning to comprehend he and his cousin’s situation in full. As members of the legion and the danger they would surely be facing. There was a strong chance that they both would never see their small village again.

“John?” Flint asked, a bit of concern showing on his face.

John shook his head, bringing himself from his revelry. “I just...” He said, feeling his mouth begin to dry. “It doesn’t matter.” Steeling himself, he put on as confident a grin as he could muster. “Let’s just make sure we’re ready to move tomorrow.”