The officer in green pulled out a scroll from his satchel, and continued, “According to the the Draft Clause, or, more properly, Statutory Law 912, section 7, paragraph 3, all persons, families, and communities who reside in the realm of the kingdom under the control of Ahkental Tjenkorei Hagari Krakenzar XI, long may he reign, or any of his descendants, must surrender every able bodied child to the Kenzarian Army upon the day that the child reaches the completion of the child’s 18th year of age, for three subsequent years, at which point the child will be returned to the child’s legal guardian, or, if that legal guardian is inaccessible for any reason, the child will be left where the child was found three years prior. If the child dies during the child’s tenure in the Kenzarian Army, the family, community or area will be compensated with 3 Royal Zanriths, and the child will receive 1 Rithkar per month during the child’s tenure in the Kenzarian Army.
Therefore, you must come with us.”
“Bullshit! you and your fancypants army guys can take a hike! I’ve had 4 birthdays, it’s on leap day! And why the hell are you here in the middle of the night?”
“We are here at Kestrinith Village Orphanage at,” The suited man pulled out a pocket watch, “Midnight-thirty two and a half, because you just completed your 18th year of age, and your birthday residing on the final and most ephemeral day of our grand calendar does not affect that in the slightest, Miss Hakrel Tseten’Ahk,”
The armored man stepped forth from behind him in one fluid motion, keeping the lantern he was holding in roughly the same spot, “Come on, it’ll be easier if you come quickly, I don’t want to clean up your puddle if the Sergeant decides you’re more trouble than you're worth. The pay is good, and they let us pick our own weapons.
“Fine. But that Rithkar better not be all of it, my sister is sick and I need to send her my money for medicine. If you can do that, I’ll be your best soldier, sir Sergeant whatsyername.”
“Miss Hakrel, you may refer to me as Sergeant Alskath, and the fellow behind me is Legionnaire Makren, and I can certainly send your afflicted sister 18 Kanets, half of your monthly Rithkar. Alternatively, I can arrange for you to receive no coins for your first two years, and shall personally remove two Royal Zanriths from your potential death recompense, in exchange for taking your sister to my personal healer, who will permanently clear her illness.”
“Alright, the second option please, do I need to switch to any specific class at my level 6 class up?”
“Fabulous, and no, not any specific one, just a [Soldier]-tagged one. Welcome to the team, Miss Hakrel, and address me as ‘sir,’ when you speak to me.”
“Excellent sir, thank you,” Nothing I can do to fight them, but if it’s for Nerri, I can endure it.
[Windswept Peasant] - [Peasant] - 2
Hakrel Tseten’Ahk
Health: 118/118 +0/hr. +1/day
Stamina: 114/114 +38/hr. +911/day
Mana: 30/30 +6/hr. +132/day
Stats
5 Dexterity
6 Strength
4 Perception
10 Endurance
4 Thoughtspeed
1 Magic Control
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
2 Magic Power
Skills
Passive - Night Air - 2 - You regain 2 (1*Skill Level) Stamina and 2 (1*Skill Level) Mana per minute while outside and not in direct sunlight or bright artificial light
Active - Fast as the Wind - 2 - You may, once every ten seconds, spend 4 (2*Skill Level) Stamina to move 2 (1*Skill Level) meters
The nipping wind danced among the distant trees and swirled in the patio, as the gleaming sun shone through the sunstone, high in the entry archway, casting a light on the calendar engraved in the floor – first of Slumber, the first day of the year, and 38 days until Nerri’s birthday. I hope she’s ok, and that the note explains enough. The familiar warm limestone grated on her feet, and the wind swept her hair in its unearthly grace. They aren’t here yet. Sergeant Alskath said to be here at halfway between dawn and noon, but where is he? A rhythmic rumble arrived in Hakrel's ears from the west. Finally! There he is.
“Hello Miss Hakrel, fall in line, figure it out or fall behind!” He gestured to the incomplete formation of other 18 year olds behind him, “Now that we have everyone, we march to Fort Kevnin for your introduction and training!”
Alright sir Sergeant fancy green suit. Why is he even wearing that, it's not gonna keep him warm, and it's gonna get dusty as hell. “Yes sir,” Hakrel swiftly walked to the back of the line, turned to the man to the left of her, who was wearing a set of black dyed leather clothes, and asked, “When is your birthday?”
“Not supposed to talk in formation, 5th day of Celebration.”
“Thanks.” Hakrel raised her left leg just after she saw the person in front of her do so. Then her right. Then her left. Then her right. Then her left. And so on. After a while, she anticipated the left step in front of her, and synced with it. Then her right. Then her left. Then, amidst the thundering of feet on frozen ground, amidst the soles, worn into the earth, a familiar invisible notification appeared in front of her, and she faltered.
Endurance Naturally Increased by {1}
“Oi! Keep in line, Conscript Hakrel!” yelled the Sergeant, who had somehow appeared to her right, just as she paused to look at the notification. What? How did he get there? Is that what the over 108 can do? Is he doing that to other conscripts? She quickly got back in line, and while doing so took notice of the whole formation. Sergeant Alskath was blinking in and out of existence, chastising and correcting each and every conscript, and only by luck did she make it until now without drawing his ire, and ahead on the road, now frighteningly cold under her worn soles, were rows of brown woolen tents covered in a light layer of snow.
“You lot! Each tent has a name on it! You will notice, if you have eyes, that it is your name written on a wooden block and hung upon your tent! In it, you will find your equipment! Sleep, put it on, and be in formation tomorrow at dawn! We will leave you, and you will die! Your Families will not receive compensation, as you have not formally entered the Kenzarian Army yet!” The conscripts filed in, the crisp dusk wind buffeting their various civilian garb, the bakers’ yeast stained aprons, the farmers’ dirt caked trousers, the hunters’ mottled cloaks. Hakrel soon found her tent, placed in the final row on the right, just as in the marching order. The man whose birthday was the fifth of Celebration stood to her left, solid stance icy yet welcoming. She leaned over to look at the namecard gently swaying above his tent.
“Ævin, huh?”
“Yup, Hakrel?” he said, turning to look at the namecard above her tent, “What are you wearing?”
“Well, I thought that I could get out of this stupid war with Tiengora because I was born on the sixth of Celebration, and have only had the four birthdays, so with only this morning to get ready, and preparing for a long march, I got the outfit I use for running letters from farm to farm. I may not be officially licensed, but I’m a damn good runner. What’s with your tight fitting black leather, you a nighthunter?”
“You got it in one, Runner,” He said, opening his tent with a chuckle, “see you tomorrow Hakrel, I gotta get to sleep.”
“G’night Ævin.” The thick wool set low into the ground to shake off the wind made for a warm enough interior, considering the temperature outside, which eased the Hakrel’s soreness deep in her legs. Gods Among, I hope Nerri doesn’t hate me for leaving her with only a note. Fuck. She undressed, setting her clothes on the ground in a pile next to the fur bedroll, across from the Army uniform folded neatly on a stool on the other side of her tent. A tear welled in her left eye. She put on the Army-provided nightwear, protection against dying of the cold, but itchy and not at all comforting. I just wanna be back with Nerri. Fuck this place and fuck the army. Gods damn. Ævin seems nice enough, but I’m not too sure about Sergeant Alskath. Her thoughts spun a few more circles before resting on Nerri, the tears falling for hours. I gotta stop. I need to sleep for tomorrow’s slog, which will probably be longer and harder than today.