[Act 1]

[Chapter 10 - Enlistment]

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen sir”

The officer raised an eyebrow, looking Ante over once more.

He was shivering in the cold but still he stood to his full height, trying best he could to take up as much space as possible.

Like everyone else behind him Ante wore nothing but the loincloth wrapped around his waist, forming a pair of shorts which offered little in terms of warmth.

On his now bare chest his brand was much more prominent, a feature that the officer eyed cautiously.

“A slave huh?” He looked back down, scribbling notes onto the papyrus laid out in front.

“Yes sir.”

“And the man behind is your owner?”

“Yes sir.”

He sighed, and then gestured to his colleagues who stood by his side.

The pair walked up, pressing Ante’s body with their hands as they began their physical examination.

He was careful not to flinch but his unease was clear.

No doubt he had went through the same as a slave. The wolf said off-handedly.

A fact I too had not forgotten.

First they held his jaw and skull, testing the firmness beneath their fingers, moving down afterwards towards the shoulders, legs and arms.

Then they spread out his eyelids, staring into pupils which darted nervously around in response.

A metal tool was used to hold down his tongue as they looked into his mouth, quickly checking his ears after they were done.

They circled around him, gently thumping his back with one hand while the other was held steady against his spine.

Satisfied with their inspection, they returned to the officer once more, nodding their approval as they walked back.

The man looked down at the words laid out before him, his indecision clear from his furrowed brows and tapping of pen.

“Normally you’d go in with the auxiliaries but…”

He trailed off as his colleague interrupted him, stepping up from where she had stood in order to whisper into his ear.

As she did so, he threw a quick glance at the queue before him. It stretched out to the entrance of the barracks, snaking its way around the training grounds in order to fully contain everyone who had arrived.

Although quite a crowd had gathered, he still sighed another resigned breath.

“We’re well below quota and you’re enough to qualify. As long as your owner and fellow slave pass, you’re welcome in the legion.”

And with that he dismissed Ante to the side, beckoning me to step up in his place.

It was fortunate that recruitment had spanned several days.

I had come yesterday to observe the process, and while I kept my distance it was not exactly hard to notice the half-naked soldiers-to-be lining up before the Atreian officials.

And so while I now stood there in the same cloth arrangement I had hastily bought, the soldiers did not find the vest or the weapons I had brought into this world. Instead they lay hidden, left by themselves in my backpack back at the inn.

Standing here now, with nothing but my loincloth, I looked the same as any of the other citizens lining up behind me.

That was, save for my black hair which marked me out to be a foreigner.

Fortunately that in itself was not particularly conspicuous.

Foreigners in Northgaard were extremely common after all, a fact reflected in the diversity of the queue itself.

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The same array of humans and non-humans stood with varying degrees of patience, while among the legionnaires standing watch over them I could make out several faces of bears and reptiles.

It seemed that for the legion, it was a rule to review anyone regardless of their race.

And of their gender.

Roxas shivered behind me, her teeth chattering as she crossed her arms for warmth.

Like the other women who had come, she had wrapped a strophium breast-cloth around herself in addition to the shorts the rest of us wore.

That too however, did little to hide the mark scorched onto her skin.

“Enkrid.” The officer looked up, reading my name aloud from the visitor’s pass I had handed him.

My examination was shorter.

A quick glance after all made it clear that I was in good shape; it was one of the few benefits I had from being in active duty for most of my life.

I found myself soon joining Ante to the side, followed by Roxas who accompanied us shortly after.

It was obvious neither twin were the age they had declared themselves to be, yet the officers had allowed them to pass without much concern.

Whether it was because they were short-staffed, or that they simply did not care, I was not so sure, but soon the three of us were taken to one of the legion tents to the side.

A soldier in full armour marched us along, stopping us by the canopy which had been propped up against the barrack walls.

Against the linen rested rectangular Atreian shields, its blue paint matching the banners which hung loose from wooden poles.

There was no armoured woman on its fabric. Instead, it boasted the emblem of a snarling wolf, above which emblazoned the words: “LEG • XCVI”.

As if matching it, a caption in the same font was sewed beneath, spelling out the letters: “ITALVS”.

A tired looking man sat out in front, pulling out a scroll from the box to his side once we stopped before him.

He unveiled the papyrus, quickly scanning its contents before he spoke.

“Proof of age and verification of identity.” he scoffed.

He glanced at the three of us, looking us one over before rolling the papyrus back up.

“You look old enough to fight, and you’d be insane to join the frontier anyway.”

We kept silent, but he did not seem to care.

He scrawled down a few words to the scroll by his side, glancing at my visitor’s pass which the guard had stepped forwards to give him.

Although it was hard to see, I made out a few words before he waved us away.

Enkrid… black hair… slaves… blue/red heterochromia…

Names and features. They must have been recorded for identification purposes, registering us into the log of soldiers for the republic.

It was almost impressive how studious they were in their administration, despite their appearance and their indifferent attitudes.

We were brought away once again, led to the side where a group of other recruits milled around aimlessly.

“Wait here.” was what we were told, spoken by the guard who quickly left to join his colleagues that stood watch over us at the ground’s perimeters.

“Think we’ve passed?” Ante asked anxiously.

Roxas shot him a puzzled look. “Isn’t that what the guy up front said?”

I nodded in response. “They wrote our names down. I doubt they’d turn us away.”

Ante looked away, his face relieved in contrast to his continued trembling.

“Wish they’d give us our clothes back at least.”

I smiled gently, and found myself ruffling his hair softly in an attempt to comfort him.

We waited for a while longer, our restless group growing more and more as time went on.

Few recruits were dismissed, the majority of the people who had volunteered came to join us. Those that were refused were people who were obviously unfit, some missing limbs while others gaunt from malnutrition.

Soon, the only ones who remained were the people who had passed; a large group of humans and non-humans all shivering in the autumn cold.

“Attention!” the soldier’s cry rang out, piercing the idle chatter that had taken the approved recruits. We all turned to look at him, and the armoured legionary stood upright with spear and shield in hand.

The recruiting officer who had reviewed us at the start was now beside him, flanked by all the guards who stood up straight on either side.

“Salute!” the soldier barked out.

It was met by the thudding of fist against chest as the recruits all complied.

As they did so they fell to one knee, holding their heads level in an unwavering stance despite shivering only moments earlier.

I quickly followed their example, my confusion at the sudden commotion swiftly transitioning to anger as I saw the reason for it.

An old man walked up to the centre, each step decisive and resolute. He bore the same full set of armour he had worn at the head of that procession, the red sagum draped lazily around his neck and falling to his side.

By his waist fastened a shortsword, but other than that he was unarmed.

And on his head, lay the laurel wreath. He had clearly put it on for the ceremony, as a display of his prestige.

Not that it was needed. It seemed that everyone in attendance knew who he was.

Italus. Consul of Atreia, and lord of this city.

“Welcome, recruits.” his smile curled his eyes, ignoring the scar which cut down across one.

Despite it, I could feel my nails digging into my palm as my fist clenched in fury.

The urge to run up and cut him down right there and then gripped every muscle, I had to physically hold myself back to resist its urge.

Do it. The wolf goaded me on. I’ll help you. I’ll give you the power to kill him.

You want me to die. I retorted. I’ll kill him soon enough, but now is impossible.

Despite his age, he was still in good shape; a giant of a man towering amongst the soldiers with his broad stature.

Regardless of what he had done, he had still been a member of the hero’s party, fighting alongside my brother throughout his long quest.

To challenge him here would lead to my instant death.

And to call him a demigod would not be an exaggeration.

The recruiting officer walked forwards, pulling out a scroll which he quickly unveiled.

“Swear that you shall faithfully execute all that the republic commands!”

“I swear it!” a chorus of voices roared back in unison.

“Swear that you shall not desert service, and that you shall not seek to avoid death for the Atreian republic!”

“I swear it!”

“Swear that you shall follow Italus, serving him loyally as his soldiers!”

“I swear it!” my hand clenched tighter, but I would not draw attention by keeping silent out of simple spite.

The officer rolled his scroll back up, holding it closed between his hands.

“From now on you are all members of the legion! I wish you glory and honour for the republic!”

“Glory and honour!”

And with that, the oath was sworn.

And then the ranking began.