Commander Genys stood before her new recruits. They were carefully facing her at full attention. It was time to inspire, time to make them feel something—to make them hers.
“You all were Yarvan,” her gritty voice rang out across the field. “That was the name of your country, your nation—your people. On some distant day that may be what you call yourselves again, but that is not what you now are. Today, and for however long you are with us, you are all Tinarian.
“You will speak Tinarian, you will eat Tinarian food, breathe Tinarian air, you will become Tinarian. The glory that is The Republic Militia was started not by our parents, nor our parent’s parents. It was over ten generations ago that our republic was a small island in the midst of great turbulence. Over the years it has grown to become the power that keeps that turbulence at bay.
“Our riches are without number, our technology unparalleled, our politics unquestionable. We use immense power to lift those who have fallen, to defend the defenseless, and to preserve order. This has been our aim for hundreds of years and will be for hundreds more.
“It will now be your aim as well. As members of this militia, you will be the face of Tinaria. You will be its swift and shining sword. You will execute its commands in the defense of truth and liberty. Those who are with us will receive you as a shining light. Those against us won't see you coming.”
A few of the recruits chuckled. Genys subtly noticed some recruits didn’t laugh, some didn’t move at all, and others looked around subtly, as if they weren’t sure how to react and hoped not to do the wrong thing.
“You will train hard,” Genys continued. “Harder than you ever have before, but this training will transform you from mere citizens to among the most able soldiers in the known world.
“From the Ollish Sea to the Hindle border you will be recognized as an elite force. Your actions in bringing about the will of Tinaria will not be questioned. Your hand will not be stayed by any other nation. You will be restrained only by the official word of your commanding officers. We, in turn, are subject to higher ranks, and so it will be up the line all the way to the Republic Senate itself.
“You will be Tinaria’s muscle and bone. You are the solution to its conflicts. Each of you alone is nothing, but together you will be both immovable and unstoppable.
“You are Militia!
“You are Glory!”
It took a moment after she stopped, but one by one the recruits began cheering. It wasn’t long before it grew to all of them, including those who hadn’t seemed like they knew how to react before.
Good, She thought to herself. Learn. That’s the way of it. Only full devotion will be tolerated.
“Many of you have already had a day of training,” Genys continued. “You may wake up barely able to move tomorrow, but you should be grateful. One day is one day, and sometimes that’s all that lies between failure and victory.
“You will sleep until you are called, and then you will report back here in uniform to begin heavy and light weapons training.
Dismissed.”
----------------------------------------
“So… can we say imperialist at least?”
“Oh at least, definitely.”
It was about ten minutes later and Orv and Jack were at the back of their tent conversing quietly. The tents were long, fitting maybe up to thirty or so bunks. The two of them had chosen beds as far in the back as possible, hoping to be able to have conversations like this one in English without too many people noticing.
“I think I maybe underestimated them,” The homunculus said. “I think I thought when they said it was a republic it was actually an actual republic.”
“Yes,” Jack said. “But also, military organizations do tend to focus pretty hard on the whole patriotism thing. We’re kind of getting a very specific angle here.”
“True,” Orv said, nodding. “But some of those things Genys was saying were—well concerning to say the least.”
“And you’re sure you translated for me exactly what she said?” Jack was careful to look around. They didn’t need anyone suspicious of them, not if this militia was going to be the kind Genys had been talking about.
Orvalys nodded again. “I maybe actually even softened some of it. What you said earlier about ‘expansion’ seems to be true and also the worst version of it.”
Jack sat back on his chair, and took one more look around before crossing his arms and leaning in closer. “So let’s be honest with ourselves here. Are we fascists?”
Orvalys nodded solemnly. “We potentially might be fascists.”
Jack nodded. “Don't love that.”
“Nope,” Orvalys nodded in agreement.
“So what’s the move then?” Jack whispered. “Desert and join the other side? Bring it down from within? Do something to the Senate itself?”
“We could,” Orvalys said. “Or we could do nothing.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at him. Orv shifted in its seat. “Well, if we join the other side, our chances of survival plummet. If we try to cause a major disruption from inside we risk exposing ourselves and we lose our cover.”
“Our chances of survival?” Jack asked. “The ones you calculated with chronic math?”
“They’re not very good at all,” Orvalys hadn’t caught the sarcasm. “There’s always room for unseen and unforeseen factors but. I’m afraid our best choice is to stick it out here and try our best not to commit any war crimes.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Jack looked down in deep thought and tapped his foot for a few moments. “Yeah. War crimes aren’t good. It’s a predicament isn’t it?”
“San ish ha varant, va?” a voice asked them. They turned around to see a young Yarvan recruit pointing to a chair next to theirs. Even for a Yarvan, she was short, and her skin was the most vibrant shade of teal they had yet encountered in camp. The Tinarian uniform she wore was well-worn, not stiff and new like Jack’s or Orv’s.
“Han varant,” Orv said politely, motioning for her to sit. “Ish vid Yarval ha wer vii kord.”
The woman sat down happily and began conversing. “Ish vid Tinarial ha wer vii kord, yii akon li ishan inju doman.”
Orv nodded at what she said and then turned to Jack. “Did you catch any of that?”
Jack shook his head. “You’re speaking in Yarvan?”
“We are,” Orv said. “Though, I told her I didn’t speak much of it. She said she still doesn’t speak much Tinarian but since we’re stuck here she says we’ve got to learn.”
Jack then noticed the recruit was looking very intently at them with a half-confused half-determined expression. She seemed to notice that he noticed and looked away.
“Should we be speaking English in front of her?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Might as well,” Orvalys said, exchanging words with the woman before turning back to Jack. “I told her you speak some sort of poroquial language from the other end of the Republic.”
Jack didn’t think she looked convinced. “Ask her what she thought of the speech out there,” he said.
Orv turned to the woman. “San kovin isha han akon yim wokyor Genys?”
For a split second Jack thought he saw the smallest flicker of panic in the woman’s eyes. It was almost as if she wanted to look out the door flap of the tent but stopped herself. It was only a moment though, and then it passed. The recruit smiled and pushed out a short laugh. “Ish intan som wok ikon Tinaria.”
“What did she say?”
“She says it’s a great honor to fight for Tinaria,” Orv said. He and Jack both immediately put on the same pretend smile. Orvalys briefly lifted his hand to her, as if throwing something small into the air. He and Jack had already learned it was a casual and versatile way in Tinaria to greet or acknowledge someone. The woman did it in return, and though they had done it hoping it would help relieve tension, it was also a way to say goodbye. The recruit took it as an opportunity to excuse herself.
As she was walking away, Orv called out to her. “Isha volan, ish wik isha kord Tinarial, va?”
She stopped and turned. “Va,” she said, and then turned again and left the tent.
“You think we scared her away?” Jack asked. “What did you say?”
“I told her to come back so I could teach her Tinarian.”
“You’re supposed to teach me Tinarian,” Jack said.
“Which I’m going to do,” Orv replied. “Starting tomorrow morning.” He tapped the riveted metal plate over the left side of his strange little head. “The whole fascist situation has me computing quite a bit up here. I said it’s our best best to stay and I want to triple-check that the math works out.”
“Understood, “ Jack said. “But the sooner I can talk to these people the sooner we can make some real plans,” Orv looked at him and almost winced.
“That’s the other thing,” the homunculus said. “As far as Tinarian goes, I’m afraid it’s not going to be very soon.”
“What do you mean?”
Well,” Orv began diplomatically. “You remember what it was like learning Nymic?”
“Of course,” Jack said. “It was the hardest thing I ever did. Well, everything I did during my first year in Nymia was the hardest thing I ever did. I remember pretty well the process though. It was really kind of agonizing, collecting one word at a time, and learning how to place the words in a sentence. No one was around who spoke English so I was completely alone. But, there was this sort of sense to it all, you know. The way Nymic flows off the tongue—it’s kind of unlike anything else. The words for singing and speaking are actually the same because it sounds a little different when you’re singing versus when you’re talking, but it feels the same coming out. Does that make sense?”
“Sure,” Orv said.
Jack began to lose himself in the memory. “Yeah, anyway it made sense to me, you know? After I was fluent I remember often wondering why more languages didn’t just make sense like it did. The words were in exactly the right place, and even the exceptions to the language rules usually had pretty good reasons to be exceptions. It was hard to learn, sure, but it was doable.”
“Ah, yes, well,” Orv shifted uncomfortably in its seat. “Learning Tinarian will be—not very much like that at all.”
“Huh?”
“Well,” Orv took a deep breath. The diplomacy could only go so far. “The grammar is based on mostly suffixes and prefixes. There’s a pretty extensive system of verb conjugation. Also, there are six or seven noun declensions you’ll have to learn.”
Jack nodded as if he understood, and then decided against it. “What’s a noun declension?”
“English doesn’t have them,” Orvalys explained. “I’m guessing neither did Nymic.”
“I mean, I didn’t really know any of the grammar terms when I was learning it,” Jack explained. “But nouns just seemed like nouns.”
“So yeah, that’s kind of hard to pick up,” Orvalys continued. “Not that you won’t be able to, it’ll just take more time. It’s also got a free word order. There’s no correct placement in the sentence for any of the words and where each one goes completely depends on what you’re emphasizing. That’s tricky because though the literal meaning is technically the same in the different orders, the nuance of the emphasis does technically change what you’re saying.”
“So you’re saying it’s complicated?” Jack asked.
“Also the vocabulary is a little… chaotic” Orvalys continued. “A lot of the main words are very Tinarian-specific and pretty dependent on an understanding of cultural references, but also because it’s a republic, all types of loanwords from other nations have cemented themselves in as well.”
“So it’s very complicated?”
Orv nodded. “And we haven’t even gotten into the writing system.”
“Now that I’m not as worried about,” Jack said. “I learned Rilnian runes twice as fast as normal. For some reason learning the shapes of letters came easily to me. Which is funny because I actually have dysgraphia.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” Orv said. “I wonder if the difference in your neurology actually helped you learn—perhaps an effect of being Wayfarer.”
“English letters always came out wrong when I tried to write them as a kid,” Jack said. “I’m actually still not very good at it, but runes I never had a problem with. They—well again they just sort of made sense to me. Especially because they were also the language of magic. The meaning was sort of tied right in with the shapes. That made sense.”
“Well that’s where we’ll start then,” Orv said. “Tinarian script may prove a challenge, but maybe it’ll be our access point to the rest of the language.”
“Ok,” Jack said. “It sounds challenging sure, but I’m up for it.”
“I sure hope so,” Orvalys said under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Ah, nothing!”
Jack half-nodded. He had become distracted with thoughts of their previous conversation. Something about their short conversation with the recruit had felt different—as if she had wanted them to say more than they had, or that maybe she had wanted to say something more herself. Either way, there was more going on than was immediately apparent.
Orvalys motioned to the rest of the tent and Jack noticed just then that about half the sputtering purplish lamps had been extinguished. Most of the recruits had already gone to bed.
“Seems to be time,” Orvalys said.
“I guess tomorrow starts my lessons then,” Jack said, crawling under the heavy fur blankets. The pattern was some sort of lines and spots he didn’t recognize.
“And not just the language ones,” Orvalys said, clicking out the light. “I meant to ask, how are you feeling about the glitzers?”
“Glitzers?”
“That’s what they call their guns.”