Otto has been through a lot in his short 19 years of life.
He was there when Ophelia’s ‘wonder potion’ gave him rainbow colored hair and violent shits for a month.
He was there when Everest set his mind to learning the drums and they all thought they were going to permanently lose their hearing.
He was there when Bruno broke the innkeeper’s window when he was throwing a ball around, and he had to find a way to make the money to pay for it.
But nothing his family has ever put him through could compare to this.
“There must be some mistake, officer,” he said, trying to keep a cheerful tone to not alarm his nosy siblings.
The military man gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s not up to me. Every man over the age of 17,”
Otto felt the familiar sensation of sticky fingers at his ankles and looked down. Maia and Gaia had waddled over and were trying to get his attention. Their little faces reflected his unease.
‘Maybe I can use this,’ he thought.
He scooped them up into his arms, then gave the officer a distraught look that wasn't entirely fake.
“I would love nothing more than to help my country in this time of need, but you see, if I go my siblings will have no one to look after them,”
As if on cue, Bruno, Everest, and Isobel came crashing into the foyer chasing a stray cat he'd begrudgingly agreed to let Ophelia keep when she found it wounded by the side of the road.
The cat screeched past the open door and disappeared. The three siblings, hot on its tail, nearly knocked the girls out of his arms when they bumped into him.
He turned to give them a stern look, not that it did much. Isobel rarely accepted anyone’s authority and Bruno was as always somewhere else entirely - vibrating with pent up energy.
“Everest, take these two back to their room. You can play later,”
Everest was the youngest of the three, being only seven years old, but he was also the most mature.
“But Ophelia will be so sad if she found out we scared away her cat, why can't we go look for it?”
His younger brother was on the verge of tears, so Otto kneeled down to his eye level, still holding the twins. He hoisted Maia into her favorite spot; on his back with her fingers wrapped around his neck.
With his now free hand, he brushed through Everest's golden hair.
“Hey, if it can run it means you guys did a good job taking care of it. It needs to return to its own family now. Ophelia will understand,”
Everest sniffled, but nodded.
Otto watched as the other two shuffled back upstairs with some encouragement from their brother, then he stood back up again.
The officer looked at him with clear pity in his eyes, and Otto stopped himself from getting angry - this was what he was hoping for, after all.
“I wish I could do something to help you lad, but the best I can do is arrange for you to have your enrollment pushed to the latest date,”
“And when is the latest enrollment date?”
The officer looked apologetic. “A week from now,”
Otto felt his world crashing down around him.
“But I can't even wield a sword,” he tried, weakly.
“You'll learn. It'll feel like an extension of your hand by the time Bootcamp is over,”
‘Bootcamp,’ he thought.
One of his lovers had enrolled a year or so ago, and he'd come back to brag about how well he did before promptly announcing that he can’t be staying with a lowly bard from some shithole village when he can be bagging bigger fish.
The man couldn’t show his face in any tavern in the area after Otto was done composing a particularly scathing song about him, and that was only the start of it. It had spread like wildfire to the neighboring villages. His mother still liked singing it to herself while tending to her gardens.
Still, Otto had to admit that even though his ex was a bag of dicks, he did have abnormally big muscles and stupid high pain tolerance. Otto couldn't imagine going through the whole ordeal himself. Ophelia had always joked he had the coordination of a newborn fowl, and he still made a fuss when he cut his fingers peeling potatoes.
“What's the pay? Is it gonna be enough to support them when I'm gone? What happens if I,” he wandered off, trying to think of words to replace ‘wind up speared in half on someone's sword’.
“The Crown puts aside funds for every man that enlists. If something… happens, well, the families get compensated.”
‘At least there’s that.’ He thought bitterly. His mother would know how to properly make use of it.
“And annual pay?”
The officer gave him an uncomfortable smile. “Well, we pay soldiers on a weekly basis, since, you know…”
‘Right.’
Xxx
His mother didn't take the news well, and neither did Ophelia. They didn't tell the rest of his siblings yet, but they were gonna have to sooner rather than later.
“Did you tell him your 10 year old sister once beat you in an arm wrestling competition?”
Ophelia tried her best to not let her emotions slip to the surface, but she was shaking. Otto pulled her into a tight hug.
Being closest to him in age, they had always shared a closer bond than the one he had with the rest of his siblings. He couldn’t bear to think of her sick with worry with no one to talk to about it. She wasn’t as close to their mom as he was, and the rest of their siblings were too young to understand.
The worst part about this was that he couldn’t tell her that everything was going to be okay like he normally did. The only thing he could do was rest his chin on top of her head and try his best to keep his cool.
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“Is there really nothing that can be done?” His mother asked.
Otto straightened up, trying to push thoughts of his impending death aside. When Opheila met his eyes he gave her a reassuring smile.
“Maybe I'll find out I have a hidden talent. I mean, I've heard some people say that sword fighting is like a dance. I'm good at dancing,”
If he had a hidden talent, it hadn't manifested quite yet. At least not in the week leading to enrollment.
He'd figured he might as well try to prepare himself, give himself better chances of survival. So everyday after he was done with his morning chores he would practice.
Well, practice might be an exaggeration.
He spent one morning engrossed in giving the training dummy a fashionable hairstyle made of straw - and when he was done, he couldn’t even bring himself to hit it.
The following day, he let Bruno talk him into a match using his collection of toy wooden swords. But by the end of their practice, he managed to hit the air more than he did his smug little brother. On one memorable occasion, he even managed to hit the ground behind him - a feat that even Isobel, who was watching them with feigned disinterest, couldn’t help but gawk at.
When it was clear he had no talent for the sword, he moved on to archery.
To his surprise, he wasn't absolutely garbage at it. At first Ophelia had drawn targets in red paint on some of the trees in the forest near their hut, and he'd hit eight out of ten of them. It was when they moved on to animals that he'd started to really struggle.
“But look at his cute little ears!” He whispered to his sister as the two watched a rabbit from behind some bushes.
“Otto, I cook rabbit at least twice a week, stop being a baby!”
Otto pulled the string back as he was taught, but the closer he was getting to letting it go the harder it was to keep his eyes open. He didn't want to see it all mangled and bleeding, making desperate little noises until it died.
“Let's find something else to kill, rabbits are too cute,”
Ophelia sighed.
In the end nothing in the forest was ugly enough to kill, and his sister looked like she wanted to strangle him.
They'd made it halfway back home when she'd stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Otto, maybe you should just desert?” she asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
“You know I can't do that. You guys would be ostracized from society, and if they found me I'd be dead anyways.”
Ophelia's face was scrunched up in thought, the way it usually was when she was working on one of her potions.
“Besides,” Otto started, trying to lighten the mood. “This way I could get you that set of cauldrons you wanted,”
“I'd rather keep my brother, thank you very much,”
“I would've left you guys when I became a world-renowned bard anyways. You can’t keep a gem like me locked in a cage,”
Ophelia punched his arm. “Ow, that hurt you little shit!”
The look she gave him was a mix of defeat and utter helplessness, and he quickly pulled his hand away from rubbing his skin.
“I mean, I was being dramatic, it didn’t actually hurt that much.”
He was lying.
It did.
Xxx
A week passed by faster than he was prepared for, and Otto found himself rigidly walking towards the mass of tents the army had set up on a hillside near the village.
Ophelia had her arm interlocked with his, and she was bravely keeping herself from breaking down in front of their siblings.
His mother was fussing about with the backpack she’d packed for him a few steps behind, muttering to herself. She always did that when she was anxious.
“When are we going to see you again Otto?” Everest asked, tugging at Otto’s shirt and his heart strings simultaneously. He was glad he could give him a concrete answer. This time.
“Bootcamp ends two months from now,” he said.
“But who’s gonna take Isobel to see her dancing teacher?” his brother shot back.
“Ophelia will, don’t worry,”
“What about Maia and Gaia? Who’s gonna watch them when mom is at the market?”
Ophelia left Otto’s side to kneel in front of Everest. “It’s gonna be ok. We thought of everything, I promise.”
The boy looked unconvinced.
Otto couldn’t blame him. They were already struggling as it was. Their bastard of a father had left without leaving them so much as a measly copper coin.
At least that aspect of their lives was going to get better for a while, though there was no knowing how long that would last for. He was told that your run of the mill soldier made one gold coin a day, but Otto had decided that if he was going to be dead soon the least he could do was milk it.
Apparently there was a special unit that received three times as much, and what’s more; they spent most of their time training and were only deployed for special missions. He figured as soon as he could work out who’s pants he needed to slip into he might stand a fighting chance.
Of course that option wasn’t exactly risk-free, or all that likely if he was being honest with himself. First he’d need to find a man who even bent that way, and he’s guessed wrong in the past. He wasn’t all that keen on getting beat up over his own dumb decisions when there was already plenty of pain in his near future.
Still, he had to try.
As they neared the campground Otto found himself becoming more and more resolute. He even managed to keep himself from flinching when a particularly burly fellow bumped into him on the way to the forming line.
“Well, that’s me,” he announced, turning to face his family.
The sight of them was gut-wrenching, but he was determined to not let it get to him. They were strong. He was strong.
“Isobel made you a good luck charm,” Everest said, pushing his embarrassed sister forward.
Otto looked at the colorful bracelet she placed in his palm. It was made out of dyed yarn and sloppily-painted wooden beads. He could tell she put her heart and soul into it.
“Aw bug, this is incredible!” He said, already slipping it over his wrist.
“Just don't die…” Isobel murmured under her breath, trying and failing to sound bored.
“Well, that’s the plan,” he confirmed.
He spent the next few minutes hugging the living shite out of each member of his family and trying not to cry. They only separated when a soldier forcefully dragged him away to join the rest of the recruits by the collar of his shirt.
His first stop was at a tiny tent that had just enough room to accommodate himself and a stern-looking scribe in it.
When asked if he knew how to read and write Otto had proudly announced that he did, only to immediately regret it. Turns out they were short-staffed, so not only did he have to fill his own forms, he now also had to help his fellow recruits fill theirs. At least it took the anxiety out of the procedure.
After that was a particularly uncomfortable medical examination, and then he was forced to change into a uniform that made him resemble a sack of potatoes - by far the worst thing that had happened to him so far.
Finally, when the sun was beginning to set, they were all made to swear allegiance to the crown - “For the glory of Robaria” type nonsense - and then were promptly led to their communal tent.
Well, ‘tent’ was being generous. It was basically just a long, rectangular canvas sheet tied to rotting wooden rods. It looked like a gust of wind could knock it over and provided no shelter whatsoever from the chilly night air.
He settled on an empty bunk, arranging his backpack under it. Then he closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back home, reading Maia and Gaia their bedtime stories. He wasn’t very successful.
He wasn’t successful at sleeping, either.
Most of the night he lay awake, his mind racing. He didn’t know how he was going to survive this, only knew that he had to.
He was mindlessly staring at a spot in front of him when he noticed two figures approaching the tent. He tensed.
It was still mostly dark out, so it was hard to distinguish their features. They were both pretty tall and the baggy military uniforms made them look even more intimidating. But they didn’t seem like they were approaching him in particular.
Instead they milled about at the front of the tent, whispering to one another.
He was surprised they risked being seen outside their beds. They were all told very sternly that any man who wandered off would face the consequences. Though to be fair, not everyone was as scared of authority as he was, and it was still only their first day.
They stayed there, silently for the most part, until the sun began to climb up from behind the mountains. With a bit of light to aid him now, Otto managed to catch a glimpse of the unique design on their pauldron - just before one of them pulled out a horn and blew it with all of his lung capacity.
Even though he was wide awake, Otto still felt his soul leave his body.
“Wake up, real men don’t need beauty sleep!” The other one shouted, expression full of amusement as he watched the men shoot up in their bunks.
“You have two minutes to get up, make your beds and stand in a straight line outside.”
Several of the recruits - Otto included, gawked at them, still disoriented.
“You heard me, on your feet, now.”
Otto jumped off his bunk, watching his fellow recruits do the same.
“I didn’t hear a ‘yes sir’,” The one who blew the horn added.
Several ‘yes sirs’ were heard throughout the tent, none of them very loud or enthusiastic.
“Louder!”
The following collective shout was deafening.
Otto quickly spread the bed linens over his mattress, tucking in the edges with practiced fingers. The rest of the men were lagging behind.
‘I may not know how to wield a sword,’ He thought bitterly. ‘But at least I can comfort myself with the knowledge that my bed-making skills are unmatched.’