The soldiers escorted the hatchlings through the grand halls, finally making their way through a 20 foot high set of double doors and to a muddy courtyard. The sky was gloomy, and there was a light mist on the air. A group of light skinned men approached the hatchlings handing out heavy looking packs. One of them approached Ander and handed him a pack easily twice the size that anyone else had, along with another set of clothes distinctly larger than the ones he already had. Looking around, Ander realized that his only choice was to change within the privacy of his cloak, which he did with great awkwardness. The mud on the ground was slippery, and was even more frustrating when he had to take off his shoes to get his pants on. He had to take off his socks as well, and then scrape the mud off his feet when he was done. Add to the fact that he couldn’t see what he was doing, he was very glad that he managed not to fall over.

With the new clothes on, he realized that they were several sizes too big. Nothing he couldn’t deal with, given the rope and twine they provided, but still distinctly uncomfortable. He supposed it was for the best. If his growth today continued, he would outgrow these in a week. He checked the pack and found it full to the brim with dense breads, cured meats, and hard cheese, all cut up into small portions that would be ideal for travel. He also found what looked to be power bars of some sort, and suddenly knew it was called pemmican. It was a mixture of finely shredded and dried meat mixed with tallow. It was supposed to stay fresh nearly forever. Some people liked to add things to make it taste better, but these seemed to be the bog standard beef and tallow. Kinda gross, but it would keep you going. He also never knew that before today. Was that his new skill?

Ander was worried for a number of reasons. Apparently he was not even a day old and was being drafted. Additionally, he was given enough food to keep a fat man happy on a ten day hike and was still convinced that he would run out in only a few days. He had several inches on all the other hatchlings, and they were noticing. How long was this trip going to be?

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Ander was not allowed time to think on it as a small fleet of palanquins passed. The first one held Sir Mattheos who was not looking knightley at all as he lounged, with the other seven holding women. Three were the same mediterranean coloring that Sir Mattheos had, but the other four were fair like, well, like his own people. This confused him somewhat, as he was starting to suspect that the Exodar had a harem thing going on.

“Soldiers, assemble! Put the recruits in the middle and make sure they stay in formation. Apparently these ones are a little bit behind in their training. Let's help them learn quickly.” From anyone else, those words would have sounded nice. From Sir Mattheos, it was bad. All that said, the soldiers did help. Every time they stepped a foot out of formation, a kind punch or the butt of a spear would remind them to get back in line. Ander had three yellowing bruises by the time they reached the gates to the castle.

They didn’t stop at the gates, and they didn’t stop as they passed through the surrounding city, looking like it could have been from medieval europe. Ander would have loved to see the sights, but apparently unguided sightseeing was not on the itinerary. The one thing that he did notice however, was the conspicuous absence of women and children. The only women he saw were the ones on the palanquins. The entire city had a rather military air. He would have expected a city full of men to be bar fights all day every day. While there were some contests that he could see here and there, everything seemed quite orderly.

By the time they reached the city gates, Ander was black and blue, and puffing from the unrelenting pace set by the bearers of Sir Mattheos’ palanquin. He looked toward the knight hopefully, but his hopes were dashed as they jogged through the gates and out into open farmland. They didn’t stop. They never stopped.