Everybody moved quickly. Arthor had trouble keeping up. He wouldn’t give up though. Nobody was taking it easy, not even Wallace or Fineese. They still held that glow of determination they mustered during the march. But Arthor felt as if his own glow, if he even had one, was dimming. Everybody was still moving. So, on he moved. The Army was setting up camp. Well, a small part of the Army. Arthor learned he was with only a small band of the whole Army. And they would camp outside of Trough tonight.

The three were instructed to aid at the wagons. They, with five other new recruits, were instructed to unload a specific wagon and carry the load to the eastern point. And thank the Father above that they were able to leave their carry packs behind. They left those by the wagons. Our recruits had had enough of lumbering their burdens about, but it was too bad for them that they were still to haul some heavier loads. Wallace and Fineese carried a couple of thick wooden posts, Arthor and another older recruited named Deizen carried an upside-down table with an assortment of things sitting inside, such as braziers, lots of rope, some stools, and a few barrels of wine. Once Arthor saw other recruits carry huge rolls of material and other sorts, it made sense that they were to set up tents.

Other tents began to erect around where all the other soldiers were working about. There were quick at it too. Two tents had already been put up by the time the recruits had unloaded the wagon. It was hard to see since most of the night torches had just been lit, but Arthor was sure those tents were already complete.

Nobody but one recruit knew what the instructing solider meant by the eastern point, so he was allowed to just carry a torch to lead the way. That lucky crumb! Is he going to help… Just as the lot began to make their way to the eastern point, more soldiers breezed past the recruits. They quickly unloaded a wagon with the same sort of load. Just a quick moment later, these soldiers trotted past the recruits, carrying the wagon’s load to its destination. They’re so fast. Arthor saw that the soldiers still bore their mail and helmets. Were the armours even heavy? The solders didn’t seem to suffer under the weight.

“The recruits?” a solider called out to the lot. It was the instructing soldier from before. “You’re more witless than the other sacks of sud. Let’s move faster! I’m gon show you lot the ‘set-up’. Coz’ you’re all new. You might not make it into the Army, you know. But you’ll have to learn set-up while you’re with us.” The instructor took the torch off the leading recruit and sent him to help Wallace and Fineese with the posts. Fineese was struggling with the load now. Seemed the soldier noticed.

The recruits tried to hurry along while carrying their loads, but it didn’t seem to satisfy the instructor. “Faster, now! Faster!” he ordered. “If you don’t hurry, you’ll get no time to relax. You’re already taking up my time, you know.” Seeing the other soldiers trot past only further emphasized the point.

Arthor tried to hurry while bearing table load with his partner. Luckily his partner was tired the same. They both shared heavy breaths as they carried the damned ‘filled’ table. This is more tiring than the damn farm Arthor sighed. Nobody else seemed to be carrying this much weight. Couldn’t they at least slow down? Already sore, his body was reaching its limit. A whole day of marching. Now this? Arthor so badly wanted to ask his partner if they could stop. He tried his hardest not to, holding his breath in the effort to not speak. The weight in his hands turned from aches into trembling pains. He needed to stop! But they had to continued.

“Right here, you lot!” the instructor pointed to a large area in between some other tents. Arthor released the load off his arms. His body trembled, taking the chance it could to relax. His partner Deizin turned to check on the state of Arthor. Deizin still stood up straight, but his breaths revealed true exhaustion. The two gave each other a nod. It was enough. Speech was not necessary. The free space they stopped at was now clear to see. A large corner set by a path beside the other tents. Arthor found the encampment’s organization quite strict. He knew it must have been for a good cause, just as the soldiers and their solid formations were organized and strict. More tents had already erected. The soldiers about were quick on their feet. Organized and productive. Arthor turned toward the instructor.

“We’re going to set up in this corner here, you see” the solider pointed at the space between two tents. “But we’re gon leave a wagon’s length between our tent and the outer tents. We need a good sized path, you know. So traffic can make its way round’ the camp. Now, follow me and we’ll see how the other recruits have set up their lord’s tent. They’re not as fresh as you lot so they’ve learnt set-up before. Oh. And get to know each other a lil’. Coz’ you’ll all be in for the same ride, you know.”

They followed the instructor to the other tent that seemed to be set up in the same right-angled wedge as where they were to set up. Wide pathways flowed in between the tents that already had several soldiers and hooves moving about.

Set-up was tough but it was not as tiring as all the other duties called before them. The recruits learned that a team of 4 was most efficient for set up, but since there was 8 of them, the lot split into pairs and rotated through the set-up duties. Arthor was with Fineese, and Wallace with Deizin. Those two got along well enough. The instructing solder, they discovered was named Ikuran, as bossy as he was, was quite easy to follow. His instructions were clear and he ensured everybody saw and understood what was happening.

Once the tent was up and prepared inside, the recruits learned that they had prepared a lord’s tent. It was for Sir Yolk, who had gone into Trough with Sir Juisom to communicate with the lord there.

“The spot you’ll all be sharing won’t be as grand as this one. You just gotta learn these lord tents first. So your own set-up is easier, you know. And yes. You’ll be sharing. Now get your packs and find me at the cobbler’s just there at the south eastern cut.”

It was not exciting to haul the carry packs once again, but the loads seemed more bearable this time. Maybe knowing the journey was shorter helped. Deizin helped Arthor and Fineese re-strap their packs. He was a helpful one. So Arthor helped him back. Truth be told, nobody knew where the cobbler’s was, but they made their way towards where Ikuran had pointed. And luckily enough he was standing nearby, likely wondering why the recruits were taking so long.

The cobbler’s was a wide open tent. Inside was an assortment of different equipment. Arthor saw near the front were arms and shields, helms and several types of plate armour pieces. At the back were belts, pieces boots, other types leathers, piles of chainmail, surcoats, and other fabrics. It was quite the place for a cobbler.

Ikuran called out. “Recruits. This is Ternar, the cobbler. He came to Trough a bit earlier than us, so its time to get him busy!” Ternar was already busy sorting out all the mess “Give him some real respect. Because he’s taking care of all the repairs, you know. Now… Ternar.” Ikuran placed the back of his hand to his chest while facing toward the cobbler. A salute! Arthor knew. Ternar gave a salute and a smile back. The cobbler was quite old. Looked to be about Mr. Spades age, maybe younger. His greying beard hinted age. But the way he stood and approached the front said otherwise.

“Eight’ of ye?” Ternar’s voice was full of spark “Good teh see a true ready bunch nowadez’. Hope the trials n’ trainin’ don’t scare ye all off.”

“They’ll fit right in.” Ikuran gave a smile to Ternar. Ternar understood.

“Dey’ sure will. “He stretched a bearded smile. “So, dey’ll trial the new colours will dey?”

“Yeah. It’s this lot. I’ll explain it to them. So hold on.” Ikuran had everyone gather closer. A trail? Arthor grew worried. Is that the entry test? Scaplo said he wasn’t strong enough to do the entry test. Would Arthor be? Here, Arthor thought the whole time that he was already in the Army, but now he wondered. What Ikuran and Ternar had mentioned started to make sense. “You might not make it to the Army, but you’ll have to learn set-up” Ikuran had already made it obvious. They had not yet been accepted into the Army. Why did Arthor feel like he had already joined?

“Now, Recruits. We’re gon’ have your mail, boots, and surcoats fitted.” Ikuran extended a hand toward the cobbler’s tent. “Ternar can do a lot more than just the ol’ boots, you know. And you won’t find your jackets yet, either. Ternar is going to sort that little trouble out. So get out your mail, boots and coats, and line up in front of Ternar.” The lot waited for Ikuran to continue. Wrong move. “Come on, then!” Ikuran nagged. “Witless hounds! Mail, boots, and coats! Come on!”

Undoing the knot, the packs fell open. There were countless things inside their packs. Too many things. A helmet, rolled up inside was what seemed to be a thick green surcoat and a white inner shirt. Also within the pack was strange lump of chainmail that was thinner than what Arthor expected. There was a pair of leather boots that seemed to be missing their rear half. There were many other things but Arthor mostly noticed the different sized knives, a digging spade, a small hand axe, and a necklace.

Arthor searched through the numerous weird and wonderful items until he picked out the lump of chainmail, the boots missing their back half, and the rolled-up surcoat tucked into the helmet. Why did the coat feel heavier than the mail?

“Actually. You know what?” Ikuran mentioned. “You all best get used to wearing that chain and emblem you got in there. You’ll be wearing those for the rest of your days once we get them marked. But that won’t be today, of course.”

Arthor pulled out the necklace and emblem. The pendant was a triangle with stars on each corner. The Sacred Three. Arthor knew the very symbol. He had seen it so many times at Papa Cole’s chapel and every other building he had visited. But what was different about this emblem was the charge in the middle of the sacred triangle. It was a coiled slither, ready to strike. Arthor knew it was the King’s symbol, the Black Vipra of the Viridian Kingdom. The vipra was recognized everywhere in Monrosia. It was the King’s banner, the old king who used to rule Monrosia, and now his son who inherited the throne.

“Put them on!” Ikuran pulled out his pendant hanging from his chest. “This is one of the honours of joining the Viridian ranks. Only true Viridian men are licensed to wear these. Everybody else is forbidden and will be punished accordingly.” The air changed a little at that point. Ikuran’s expression was more stern. A proud green air surrounded Ikuran. You could have easily mistaken him a knight. Arthor took Ikuran’s warning as pride and marvelled at his pendant. Soon, Arthor too would join the Viridian ranks. And his mark would be proof of it.

The eight recruits lined up before Ternar. Mail, surcoats, and boots in hand. Well, half their boots, at least. They soon found where the other half of their boots had been. Ternar had each recruit take a seat before him. The cobbler took a missing half of the boots from a pile behind him and fit it to each recruit’s foot. The missing halves were the sole, counter, and heel, which he placed upon every foot’s rear. With a charcoal, he traced out each foot onto a sole, then closed off the boot with the second half, marking where he’d cut off the excess on the boot’s ramp and shaft. Arthor sat for his turn.

“Ye look a lil young.” Ternar grabbed Arthor’s foot. “Might have teh leave a lil slack for ye trots to grow.”

“I’ve just reached my transitions, sir.” Arthor told.

“Fresh? N’ right teh the Army? Dey still make a lot like you do dey?

Arthor wasn’t sure what to say. The cobbler viewed the boys feet at different angles.

“Well, yer no lil lording, are ye. Dis foot’s too strong for a prince. Wot sort of duties dey put ye in?”

“I’m usually in the fields at the…”

“The farm, huh?” Ternar viewed Arthor’s palms the same way he did his feet. “I can tell.”

“How so, sir?” It was unnerving having someone check your feet and hands. Arthor almost felt guilty.

“Sir?” Ternar laughed. “Dey wouldn’t have me down at yer feet if I was a sur. Nah. It’s how tuff yer hands and feet be, young lad. Dey bin in use, dey have. Look like a full-grown man’s pair of swipes, dey do. Not soft like a lordling. Just wot the Army needs. A prince has never walked a mile. Ye’ve walked a thousand. Clear as mud.” Arthor wasn’t sure how to respond. Ternar noticed his confusion.

“Means yer stronger than any wealthy fool, lad. Get yer mail on and line up again.” Ternar gave Arthor a gentle pat.

Fineese was next to get her boots marked.

“Well, fly me above. Wot are ye sittin’ here for, young lassie?” Ternar’s face dropped. The man clearly shocked at the sight of Fineese. The cobbler stood, seeking an explanation.

“Kran! Are ye tryin’ pull me leg here?”

“What?” Ikuran peered behind him “What happened now?”

“Yeh tell me!” Ternar gestured toward Fineese who sat there innocently. Ikuran turned around to properly see what Ternar meant.

“She’s a recruit. Get her fit!”

“Now, come on” Ternar wasn’t convinced.

“Get her fit! She’s a recruit.” Ikuran sterned.

“Was there an order? I didn’t realize we was low on soldiers” Ternar didn’t understand.

“She enlisted, you know. Along with those two” Ikuran pointed to Wallace and Arthor. “The three are our new flames.”

“But we can’t just have a young lassie join our…”

“Yolk’s orders.” Ikuran didn’t feel the need to hear him out.

“Yolk… Dat…”

“He insisted we have these three.”

“Ye know Sam. He always has too much…”

“He was different about these three”

Ternar had to hold his frustration for a second. “How so?”

“He didn’t try to convince anyone or explain anything.” Ikuran had a look over the three recruits. “He just accepted them, you know. With complete certainty. Almost as if he was sure we’d all just understand. You sure don’t.”

“I’d understand in dark times. But with so lil conflict dese’ days… Times have been quiet.” Ternar wasn’t happy. “Ye understand him, do you?”

“Not quiet.” The instructor viewed the three again. “But I think some fresh new flames will do everyone a little good. With our young King, and his change of pace and all. I’m not sure if it will be safe for her. But Yolk told me that these three have to stay together.”

The cobbler bobbed back down before Fineese. He watched Arthor and Wallace for a moment.

“Ye just reachin’ an Oath too, son?” He asked Wallace.

“Yes, Sir, Ternar…” The boy was quick to answer, just unsure of how to address the man.

After looking back and forth from Wallace, to Fineese, to Arthor, the cobbler nodded to himself and laughed.

“Ye best look after our young lassie here,” he told Arthor and Wallace. “Der be many dat would want her by der sides instead of yous two. She’ll keep ye two strong.” Arthor wasn’t sure what the man meant by that but agreed nonetheless.

“And dey’ll keep ye strong too, young lassie.” The cobbler had a look at her hands.

“How so, Sir?”

He smiled. “I’m no Sir, Lassie. And ye don’t wan’ teh lose teh dese’ two do ye? I’m sure ye’ll be more helpful dan dey’ll be”

“Oh. I don’t know. They’re sort of clumsy.”

“Dey are, are dey? Well it’s all up teh you teh stay on top o’ dat.” The cobbler vied her hands and feet. “Yer soles aren’t all worked like the tuffy before, so dats good. But yer hands have held der share. You three from the same farm?”

“Me and Wallace are.” She peered back at Wallace. “But we do different duties. I’m in the barn more.”

“Explains why yer still quiet fair.” The cobbler marked her boots for her. “Now pop yer mail on, Lassie, and I’ll fit you all soon.”

Wallace took his seat next. Ternar quickly checked the boy’s hands and feet.

“Yer out on the fields too, huh?” the man suggested.

“Yes. You can tell?” Wallace fidgeted. Having someone understand you by looking at your hands and feet was unnerving. Arthor knew. He wondered what else someone could tell by checking those areas.

“Yep. Yer darkened skin, and yer tuff swipes and trots like our boy before. Ye two not from the same farm?”

Wallace shook his head. “Arthor is from Hudhutton’s. Me and Fineese are at Wetson’s. Well, were at Wetson’s. But we’re all from the same chapel. Papa Cole’s chapel.

“I dun think I know dem farms, or yer pastor. Cole does wring a bell. But I’ve never been to chapelly myself.”

“Papa Cole was a seaman before. Before the chapel.” Arthor interrupted.

“A seasman?” Ternar finished Wallace’s boots. “I dun really know. Can’t remember. Haven’t bin teh sea much. Now, go on with the rest, lad.”

Deizin sat down next. Arthor was curious about him. Ternar said Arthor was strong, so why was Deizin paired well with Arthor when unloading the wagons. Was he a farm hand too?

“Well, yer feet aren’t as warn as our field boys here, but yer hands…” Ternar gripped tightly at Deizins hands and arms. “Dey’ve withstood real punishment, dey have.” Ternar slapped at Deizin’s palms. “Ye pley with fire, lad?” The cobbler was strangely interested in Deizin.

“Play… wit fire? No” Deizin was unsure what Ternar was getting at. “I was taught to always respect to fire.”

“But ye handle fire a lot, do ye? Yer duties, lad? Dey’ve fire behind em?” A strange persistence had come over the cobbler. “Ye can’t be an iron hand, can ye? Ye already look a few years past yer Oaths. Why raise a hand for the Army if ye manned iron? Tell me, lad! Dese hand. Dey’re true.” The cobbler flustered Deizin with the strange questions.

“Me uncle was a smith” the young man scratched his head. “so we handled the fires a lot.”

“A smith! Ahh… Yes. A smith.” Terner gripped Deizin’s arms. “Why have ye left? Why trade such an Oath for the Army?”

Deizin kept scratching his head. “I’ve not sworn meself to anythin’. Me mother and I have lived wit me uncle me whole life. So I’ve been a hand at the smitty and stable. I jus thought the army needed me now, you know.”

“Ye’ll have a purpose here, lad.” Ternar seemed certain. “I can use a true iron hand. Yer no stranger teh the hammer, are ye?”

“Beat the hammer since I could walk.”

Arthor didn’t expect that Deizin could do smithing, but it explained why he was strong. Arthor was a little jealous that Deizin seem so useful. He wanted to be appreciated like that. It’s too bad Arthor had only ever been at the farm. Would the army need him like Ternar needed Deizin? There had to be something Arthor could do well.

Ternar marked the chainmails for fitting. He added belts and straps around the upper arms and thighs to aid with the sizing. These chainmails seemed different to the regular ones. Arthor didn’t remember chainmail being so shaped to fit as Ternar continued to mark and strap around the arms and legs. He knew mail to just sit loosely from shoulder to knee, like a big tunic. These seemed as if they’d be cut to have legs and sleeve. The iron of the chains also seemed different. The metal felt lighter than what original mail seemed. Arthor wasn’t sure. He’d need some old chainmail with him to compare.

The surcoat seemed different as well. First of all, they were thicker. The colour and look were the same, but there was a metal collar braced at the neck. The protective aspect made sense, but Arthor had not seen this bracing on any of the other soldiers.

“If ye lot already couldn’t tell,” Ternar explained. “yer outfits are goin’ teh be different. Yer all me new test-dummies. For the new mail and coats I’ve put together. Dey’re for yee and all the other recruits we gathered during this recruitment march. It means it makes me duties harder, but I’m sure it will all be wort it.”

Ternar pulled Deizin out in front for display. “Ye should have all noticed the collar already.” Ternar tugged at Deizin’s surcoat collar. “Dis is one of the more noticeable differences. We hope dis can save ye life if a blow comes a lil below the helm. But dat’s not the only protection now comin’ wit yer surcoats. Ye may notice some extra pouches ‘round certain areas of the coats.” Ternar reached in the chest area of Deizin’s surcoat. Arthor felt the added pouch, as well as a small pocket behind it. “I’ll be fitting some plates in der, so ye’ll have plate guarding ye chest, ye backs, and ye legs. Ye’ll all be as plated as a knight. Well, half plated. Not full, o’ course. But dats surely a good thing. I’ve coupled the lighter chainmail to help with weight and mobility. But do not be fooled. The mail is much stronger dan regular mail. Tis a quality steel I blend for other tools. So, yer gettin the same protection, but fer half the weight n’ slack. Dat and yer plated coats. Yee lot will be the best protected infantry in all the worlds.”

The pouches all around made sense now. Arthor felt the ones upon the back and legs. By what the cobbler explained, Arthor was excited to be fitted out with the new armour.

“I’ve added some pockets n’ belts teh strap ye daggers, coin pouch, n’ other items you want teh keep ‘round. Yer all a lucky bunch if ye ask me. All the older soldiers don’t get dis new design.”

“Why don’t they get this new armour if it’s better?” Wallace asked. “Shouldn’t the whole army be better protected. We’re just recruiting.”

Ikuran spoke. “His majesty has directed plenty of coin for the army and its new generation.”

Ternar agreed, “I have a feelin ye’ll be the only recruitment march who gets fitted with this new armour before ye’ve officially joined the Viridian Army.”

“Yes” Ikuran added. “The next time a new recruitment march circles Monrosia, they won’t get to wear this new design.”

“Ay. Tis a well-deserved armour fer ‘dose who join the Army willingly. It should go teh yee lot” Ternar was nodding to himself. Arthor was as confused as the rest, so he asked.

“It ‘should’ go to us? What does that mean?”

“Well,” Ternar gave a gentle smile. “Most of yee lot are quite young. So it sits well dat young recruits get some young armour. Yee lot and the armour will grow te’gether. I’ll be adding changes when you all grow out of yer new skin. Yer all my test dummies, remember?”

Arthor was a bit unsure he liked being called a dummy, but the new armour and how it would develop was surely exciting.

“But das not all” Ternar continued. “The army don’t usually get a big reception, ‘specially when a recruitment march runs. We get the few lost souls from Hurley coming teh have a go at the trials, but ye can tell dey’re not serious. Dey’re just after the coin. Or, dey already have the coin, and wan bring talk teh der name. But yee lot. All yee joined when offered. It’s the most I’ve ever seen in a recruitment march before. Yee lot and the other two batches. I wonder if we’ll see more later.

“The Army’s had a poor look dese few years, ‘specially since we lost his highness, King Marshall. Folk don’t believe in the Army anymore. Since King Marhsall tried teh play the peace prophet all of a sudden, and lowered the promises for each soldier. Dat n’ all the peace dats actually stuck ‘round. No one has faith in Viridian arms. Too comfortable, I’d say. Think the kingdom’s already too strong with the Alliance behind it. Silly fools. The army’s gone over teh the Luthians right now to show em’ dat we can still bite. Dat Luthian King’s been running his damned tongue ‘bout our young king n’ the Army. N’ we’re supposed to be strong with dis Alliance? The Alliance has been mud slangin’ us behind our backs. Dey’ll see the might of the Viridian Forces. It’s still the same knights who won peace for the Alliance. The same knights who’ll show the Luthians dat dey’re no match.”

Everybody was quiet. Ternar had gotten into a fervour and soon realized his ranting.

“Are we at war? With the Luthians?” Arthor could only figure out so much.

“But what about the Alliance?” Wallace asked. “I thought we were together with Luthor?”

“I’m sorry, laddies…” The cobbler was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean the get all fired up like dat. It’s jus dat Luthian King. He dare speak mud of our King, after all we’ve done. I’ve lost brothers, some protectin’ dat Luthian bastard. Have he no shame.” Ternar could tell he was heating up again. He made sure not to fuel the flame.

“And no. Der won’t be a war. Der shouldn’t be. Everybody knows better dan dat. Dey’ll settle it a proper way. I know the knights will take care of dat. War is a horrible thing, laddies. War. It’s darkness. It’s the last thing dat should ever happen. I hope ye lot grow into protectors, not monsters.” The silence came again. A dark blue air hung around Ternar. Arthor could feel it wash over himself and the other recruits. It was relieving to hear that there was no war. But still, Arthor could not help but feel the gloom that had spread.

It seemed that Ikuran had just returned. When did he even leave? He rushed into the cobbler’s tent.

“You all fitted already?” The soldier then realized the sudden gloom that had overcome the tent. “What in the… What sort of curse has taken the life out of you lot? What’s happened here?

Ternar tried a smile. “Sorry, Ikuran. I told em ‘bout Luthor, and dey was wonderin ‘bout the Alliance.”

“Well, what sorta fudge you been telling them?” Ikuran bent over to check Fineese’s face. “They look like they’re about to say their mother’s eulogy. Whatta you been doing to the recruits, cobbler?”

“No. Dey was worried ‘bout war. I was tellin’ em dat war be the last thing anyone wants.”

“He’s right, you know.” Ikuran spoke up to lighten the mood. “We need everyone to be strong so that we won’t have a war. You’ll all become the protectors of peace. That’s if…” He smiled. “If you can prove your worth. Don’t be fooled by the free armour. You have to earn your right to keep it on. Because I’ll be personally taking it off the lot of yous who don’t pass.”

Ikuran wasn’t a big man. He was quite slim, and shorter than Ternar. But in that moment his presence seemed fearsome.

“Now get your coats off and grab your packs. We’ll see your ‘quarters’. Then we’ll have a bite.”

***To be continued***