Callie's Heroes

PART II - IN THE ARMY NOW

A sharp bell rang out three times in quick succession, and then three times again, drawing attention to the raised platform. All the recruits milling around began to quiet while the shorter ones moved closer to the front for a better view, and the taller edged back and made space. All the workers racing around the tents finished off their immediate task and drew to a halt. Even the Sprites found convenient perches on the walls and trees, or sitting on the various tents, where they could get a good view.

Callie and the rest shifted their attention from the delicious candies towards the stage where a burly female Dwarf rang the bell again, three times, and again repeated the ringing three more times. A tall Elf male stepped forward and began to address the crowd, but Callie couldn’t hear him, even with her sensitive Gnome hearing.

“Louder!” someone yelled out, followed by a general chorus of the same going up around the courtyard.

The Elf turned his back to the crowd to address another Elf in robes. Slapping her hand to her face in embarrassment, she quickly walked forward and drew a pattern of light, before pushing that pattern at the speaking Elf. There was a brief flash and she stepped back out of the way. Again the male Elf stepped up.

“Is this better?” called out an amplified voice. “Ahh yes. Good. Sorry for the confusion. So much for a stirring opening remark.”

The Elf cleared his throat and began again. “Good afternoon everyone. I am Legate Galin Molanar, military commander of this facility. Should you need, you may address me as Legate Galin, or Sir. In a moment, Commandant Xera, who oversees this entire camp, will address you in welcome, but before that, I want to make sure you understand one very important thing.”

Galin cleared his throat before continuing. “Some of you out there are volunteers. Some of you are Conscript. Some of you are the children of wealthy merchants. Some of you are criminals serving your time here and on the lines. Some of you are farmers, or fishers, or shopkeepers or even the son of nobility. I don’t care. Let me make that clear. I. Do not. Care. You are here now, and you are a recruit. You will be expected to act like one, and will be treated as one. If you have a problem with that, too bad. If any of you think you deserve special treatment, or if you try to claim that your noble background makes you important, I will personally write a note to your mother letting her know what a whiny crybaby she raised. Your life before passing through the gate is no longer relevant. Do you understand?”

A general murmur arose from the crowd.

“I said … Do. You. Under. Stand!”

Without knowing how or why, Callie joined the chorus of recruits all yelling “Yes, Sir!” in explosive unison. Lena, Vanis and Xin all echoed the call as well. Even Tazrok stiffened and grunted in assent. What happened? Did Legate Galin do that? Callie hadn’t planned to call out, but something just encouraged her to!

“With that, I’m going to turn things over to Commandant Xera for their words.”

Legate Galin stepped to the side and back, allowing another to come forward. The Elf in robes stepped up, repeating the amplification spell on the new person.

“She’s a Fairy, right?” Callie asked Vanis quietly, wanting to make sure she was recognizing the race correctly.

“They are. But they appear to be between genders right now, so would be ‘they’. Now shush and listen.”

Callie put her hands over her mouth, properly shushed.

Xera was indeed a Fairy. They stood around one-hundred forty centimeters tall, perhaps just over one-third taller than Callie. A black, ceremonial leather armor covered their chest and legs, polished so highly it gleamed in bright sunlight. Four semi-transparent wings, two symmetrical on each side, passed through a gap in their armor and fluttered slightly. One could see, however, that the top right wing was missing at least half of its form, a long scar showing where the rest of the wing once was. On their right hip, they carried a Fairy-sized sword in an adorned scabbard, the hilt of the sword glinting as bright as the armor in the overhead sunlight. Interestingly, Commandant Xera had only one arm, their right arm completely missing at the shoulder, the hole sewn closed where the arm should be. Callie had a feeling that, as well as the wing, must be the result of a battle injury.

Xera moved another step forward, and drew a deep breath. All eyes in the courtyard were riveted on them. None dared make a sound.

“Sixty-eight thousand three-hundred and twenty-six.”

Xera paused. And continued the long, deep, silence.

“Sixty-eight thousand three-hundred and twenty-six,” they said again, much louder this time.

Again, the commandant paused. They took a great breath.

“Sixty-eight thousand three-hundred and twenty-six!” Xera cried out, a feeling of sorrow and agony in their voice, the sounds reverberating throughout the camp, seeming to pass through Callie’s very soul, leaving a stain of loss. Many people around her took a half-step backwards, as if they had been pushed, and others instinctively snapped to attention.

And now, in a normal voice, Xera simply said, “Sixty-eight thousand three-hundred and twenty-six. That is how many Free Folk have fallen to the Demon hordes.”

Many gasped, others gulped. Callie said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

“Two-hundred sixty!” Xera called out. “That is how many Free Folk die on average every week to the Demon Hordes! Two-hundred sixty parents … grandparents … spouses … friends … lovers … people. Each a child of someone. Two-hundred sixty.”

A pause. An oppressive silence.

“Five-Hundred Forty-four! That is how many advanced class recruits have come through this camp since it was founded. Five-Hundred Forty-four!”

Xera began to pace the stage, always keeping their eyes on the recruits below.

“Eleven-hundred twenty-one!” Xera called. “That is how many engagements recruits from this camp have been part of. Eleven-hundred twenty-one!”

Commandant Xera returned to the center of the stage. They locked eyes with all of the recruits, and yet at the same, none of them.

“ZERO!” Xera howled.

“ZERO!” Xera cried again.

“ZERO!” Commandant Xera unleashed a third time, the number pounding into your being like Xera was wielding a Hammer of the Gods. “That is how many advanced-class recruits that have graduated from this camp have died on the battlefield. Zero!”

Silence.

“And that, coincidently, is exactly how much quarter we shall give the Demon horde.”

A roar erupted from the entire camp.

For a few minutes, the camp was cheering chaos. Callie and her group of friends simply looked at each other wide-eyed, none really knowing what to say. Finally, Vanis managed to regain his focus. “That certainly was something,” he said.

“Yes,” Tazrok agreed.

On the stage, Xera stiffened again, preparing to say more, and quickly the crowd quieted.

“You are all advanced classes. Hybrids and Specialists able to tap into unique and powerful skills. But all that power does no good if you are not trained. It does no good if you do not wield your skills correctly. And no Demon will spare you a moment of mercy should you make a mistake. This I know.” The Commandant gestured towards their missing arm, and took a hard beat before they continued. Callie had been right about the injury.

“Tonight, and throughout tomorrow you shall receive all of your class skills that you have not already received. You will learn to use them well, wisely, and without mercy. In only eight weeks, you shall walk back through that gate at no less than Silver Tier. You will be among the best trained soldiers the Army of the Free Folk has ever fielded. And you will help us defeat the hordes that wish for our destruction.”

There was a murmur throughout the crowd, a feeling as if a responsibility to excel had been placed on their shoulders.

“Your trainers are all class veterans, Gold Tier or higher. They know more than you might ever know. What they say will someday save your life. And you better live, because I don’t feel like changing my welcome speech.”

A chorus of light laughs leaked from the crowd of recruits.

“I have few rules, and you will follow them without exception. First, if you are caught attempting desertion, you will be given corporal punishment, here, in the courtyard. If you try a second time, you will immediately be sent to the front. This has only ever happened once. Do not make it twice. That person did not live very long.”

Xera let that sink in for a moment.

“Second, there is absolutely no hazing of recruits, by recruits, and no fighting outside of sanctioned sparring. The Free Folk of the North have invested a lot of money, more than most of you will ever see in your lifetime, to provide your training. Learning how to wield your skills is your only responsibility, and one’s ability to do that will be compromised if they are worried someone is going to jump them on the way to the bathhouse, or they are otherwise distracted. Violators will be given corporal punishment. Second violations will find you ejected and sent to the front. Your quick death will take care of the problem.”

There was another murmur among the recruits.

“Last, you are expected to obey the orders you are given by your training officer, command staff, the medical teams and any other officer. This is for your own good. We all succeed if all of you succeed. Should you break the rules and fail to obey commands, you shall be given corporal punishment.”

The crowd was silent as they looked at each other. Confusion, concern, maybe even a tiny bit of terror. All those emotions passed in waves over the faces of the recruits. The rules were simple, but the punishments were obviously harsh.

“What is corporal punishment you ask?” Xera pointed out into the crowd, landing on Tazrok. “See the Ogre in the back with the Little One on his shoulder? I am promoting him to the rank of Corporal. He will be the one punishing you! I do not recommend it.”

Tazrok jerked in surprise and pointed to himself in confusion. A few recruits chuckled nervously, while several others gulped loudly. Both Lena and Vanis looked at Tazrok skeptically, while Xin grinned in amusement.

“What is cor-per-al?” Tazrok asked, trying to sound out the word.

“It means you now outrank all of us. Congratulations!” Xin said, revealing a toothy smile.

On the stage, Xera stepped back, yielding to an Elf woman in dark, leather armor. Again, an amplify spell was applied so she could be heard.

“Recruits! I am Captain Kela. I am in charge of the Logistics and Quartermaster division, reporting to the Legate. Without me, you will not get food, or clothing, or weapons or anything. You will not know where to go, what to do, and when to do it. I am the single most important person in this camp, and even Commandant Xera will admit that.”

Behind her, the Commandant nodded their head up and down in clearly exaggerated agreement.

“Good! Now that we have that out of the way, listen as I talk briefly about what will be happening today and into tomorrow. I only want to go over this once, so you damn well better listen. If you all do this correctly and without incident, there will be alcohol at the feast celebrating the start of term tomorrow.”

A general rumble of approval rose through the crowd of recruits.

“When these opening remarks conclude shortly, you will be directed to form two lines. You will be fully evaluated by a Scryer, registered, and your class will be confirmed. Following that, you will claim your bunkhouse assignments. If you arrived with or have made friends with other recruits, you may request to be bunked together, up to six per bunkhouse. Those not with groups will be placed where there is available space.”

Callie and the rest of her group all looked at each other and had the same thought. Knowingly they all nodded. They were going to be roomies! Callie smiled, but then realized if she wasn’t Conscript Cursed, it might not matter. If she wasn’t cursed, they could send her away. She felt a little sad at that thought. She would miss her strange new friends.

“After receiving your housing assignment, you will go to the bathhouse where you will clean yourself from head to foot with alchemical soap. Twice. All of yourself. Every nook, cranny, crack and crevice. You will get someone else to scrub your back and any other place you cannot reach. Help each other, please. A recruit brought in an infestation of Firelice six months ago, and we’re not ever going to let that happen again. Trust me. Once your hair and skin start literally catching on fire, you will be begging for a swift death, so let’s not have any of that nonsense again. Your current clothing will be taken and thoroughly washed, or burned if washing can’t do the job. If anyone doesn’t get properly clean, someone will happily hold you down and do it for you out here in the courtyard.”

A few chuckles floated around, but were quickly quieted as people realized the Captain was actually being quite serious..

“Those with braided beards or hair, or with any adornments in your hair or beard, will untie them, remove those adornments and wash your hair along with everything else. Twice. This means you, Dwarves. You can re-braid them after, but no beads or other decorations are to be put back. Finally, there is an entrance for males, and an entrance for all other genders. You will go to your respective entrance; don’t test us on this.”

“I have to take my hair down?” Lena groaned. “It is such a pain to put it back up.”

“Shave off.” Tazrok suggested.

“No! I’m not going to do that. I’m a civilized woman, Tazrok,” Lena huffed snootily.

“One last word on the bath house,” Kela continued. “You will be expected to shower or bathe at least once every three days, and we hope even more often. Hygiene in this environment is important and a good habit for when you leave. With many different races in one spot, we must be respectful to the noses and cleanliness needs of everyone.”

A small groan of discontent went through some of the crowd, mostly the various cat people, but quickly abated.

“When you leave the baths, you will be measured for new clothing and a set of training armor appropriate for your class. Your clothing will be delivered by tomorrow morning, and your armor by the afternoon. In the meantime you will be provided a robe to wear and will go to your respective housing assignment to wait until you hear the courtyard bell ring. At that time, you report to your class tent to meet with your trainers.” Captain Kela gestured to the many tents around the outside of the courtyard. “Your trainer will give you instructions for this evening.”

As Callie listened, she couldn’t help but come to respect all the behind-the-scenes things that the Captain must need to manage to keep the camp functioning. There must be at least fifty or sixty recruits and many dozens of staff members that need to be supplied. Materials, weapons, supplies, all of it would need to be kept organized, inventoried and repaired. No wonder she was the most-important person here.

“Tomorrow will be an off day as you get used to your new skills,” the Captain continued. “Do not use them, please! We do not need someone burning the camp down by accident. Use the day to learn your way around camp so you know where to go if ordered to go there. There will be a feast dinner tomorrow night, and then a party. Again, if things go well, there will be plenty of ale and wine.”

A group of eight Dwarves all let loose a loud cheer.

Kela pointed to the Dwarven revelers. “They know what’s important!”

A few of the Dwarves raised their hands in acknowledgement, turned and bowed to the rest of the recruits.

Kela shook her head and sighed. With a wave, she signaled to Legate Galin, who returned to the stage front. He tapped his chest, the strange Sigil glowing for a moment. “Recruits! Focus!”

The crowd instantly settled down and eyes snapped to the front. “The next two days are going to be a lot of confusion for you all. New skills, new people, new place. Do what you are told, don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll make it through just fine. As the Commandant said, the Free Folk have invested a small fortune in each and every one of you, and we're going to do everything we can to make sure you are well trained, able to fight better than the enemy, and most-importantly, you make it home alive.”

The mood of the crowd improved and a unified feeling came over the courtyard. A sense penetrated everyone that Legate Galin and the other officers were on their side, that the rules were for the good of everyone and should be obeyed, and that yes, indeed, they would become great soldiers and make it home alive. It was just hard to doubt the sincerity of the Legate. Callie smiled happily despite part of her still being terrified. It didn’t matter, She really wasn’t sure why, but she simply knew that Legate Galin Molanar and the other officers were here and would keep them all safe.