Their encampment was placed on higher ground than the surrounding area, giving an air of audacity to the flags bearing the regalia of the Ambient Empire. A raised wooden wall surrounded much of the position, on which there were men standing at attention at regular intervals with others on patrol beneath them. Men were shouting, and responses shook the air as dozens replied in unison. Even on the outskirts of the camp, Rane could feel the ambient moving chaotically at the collective will of those within.
Rane looked up to the soldiers performing afternoon drills. Even now, the sight of the neat barracks and uniforms made him think of his father, though the sense of discomfort had long since passed. From what Rane knew of him, he probably wasn’t higher ranked than classient, perhaps not even that. Maybe I could be more, Rane thought.
He snapped his head down, mentally kicking himself for taking this long to sort out his emotions. He wasn’t built for the life he had here in Auryck. He had no passion for the forge. If he had remained in Kelston, he likely would have followed in his fathers footsteps. His thoughts drifted to dreams of adventure, fighting battles against humans, demis, and even monsters. He would become powerful, enough even to stand aside the altients of the nobility. He would be granted peerage, and choose a surname.
He thought of his mother as he walked toward the camp. She would not approve of his decision, yet it was not hers to make.
*****
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Nyalla remained calm as Rane told her of his decision.
“If that is what you wish for…” She was unable to finish the sentence, its meaning conveyed in the first segment anyways. It was more than just not her decision. It was illegal to refuse his status as a volunteer. She felt hollow as she excused herself from the room.
“I think this will be good for you,” Staal said, clamping a large hand down on Rane’s shoulder. “Plus, you get paid during the training period, which will earn us more than you produce in the forge anyways. I didn’t really see your future there either, but I never would have suggested the military anyways, on account of your mothers situation.”
Nyalla stood facing the wall just a room over, but heard nothing. A tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a trail for more to follow. She turned and sat against the wall, tucking her head down, remembering the poem she had written for Winz’ funeral.
What do you see, amind the wood
That calls to thee so strong
What lies there, around the bend
That makes your brave heart long.
What came over you, under the trees
That said, leave me alone.
What did you think, across the lake
When you knew you’d not come home.
She didn’t recite it at the service, instead putting on a brave face and writing a different one, one that remembered him happily, as if he was not lost without a trace, not even a body to give her closure. She had felt guilty for leaving Kelston for years after the move, imagining him simply popping back up, haggard and worn, but so very much alive, only to find his family gone. Now, her son might share his fate.