Chương 42: 41 – A Test of Character

The general's voice roared up and down the town, shaking it as if the sound alone could kill trolls. I was smiling, but I probably shouldn't have been. It was a prank, but one rooted in a genuine desire to help the army, while pissing off the man in charge.

"General Maulander?" Dobretin asked, sounding so damn innocent that even an idiot could figure out he was laughing inside.

"Do you think this is funny?" Maulander asked as he stormed into the bar. Dobretin frowned.

"No, we established quite clearly that your sense of humor involves bashing old men about their own town's watering hole."

"Cute. Tell me, Mayor. Why does every cart you've sent to me this morning smell like rotten dung! If I don't like the answer, I'll be making you eat what's in those bags."

"You asked for four parts in five of every resource. Did you not want sacks and sacks of sheared troll skins, General?" he asked.

"Troll skins!? From what trolls?" Dobretin's eyes narrowed.

"From the attack, sir. I told you when we first met. We repelled a brigade's worth of goblins and trolls. We do not have the men to tan nearly a thousand troll and goblin hides, but if anyone could use all that quality armor, it would be the army, yes?" The general looked around at the injured people, most of whom were glaring at him. He remained unaffected by their negative attention and actually seemed to draw strength from their anger.

"I asked for your harvest–!"

"No, you asked for our resources!" Dobretin interrupted.

"You got them. You'll find you brought more than enough wagons for your four parts in five, and then some! If you want to knock another of my teeth out, be my guest, but rest assured, Pemolar's Hill supports the Tacurian army. The people will know if I'm assaulted for providing more supplies than asked, General." H-Holy shit. Was the Mayor asking to get his face punched in? I leaned against a fence outside, watching through the bar's many open windows.

Half the town could've heard the conversation, and I didn't want to get any more involved with the General, but somehow I didn't think I'd be able to convince Dobretin to let him know about our gift of Pepper Paste. Not after a statement like that. To my surprise, the General seemed to approve.

"If it isn't the little carrot," came a sudden, familiar voice, drowning out the General's response. My eyes widened as I turned. I gasped, shocked to see the familiar blond hair, a mirror to my father's own.

"Marnakus!" I exclaimed before leaping at him. He grunted, caught me, and I beamed as his sturdy arms wrapped me in a hug.

"Quite the large carrot you've grown into!" he said. I pushed away from him, looking him over, shocked.

"How… how are you here!?"

"What, not excited to see me?" He asked with mock offence.

"Of course I'm excited to see you!" I replied. Dad's brother was even broader than he was, but where Dad had the sturdy body granted by long days in the fields, Marnakus Soldier might as well have been a brick wall. He had a wide face that always seemed like it was redder than it should be, as if it could barely contain his boundless energy. I'd only met him a few times, but those times stuck with me.

"I arrived with the army last night, but unfortunately, I've got these," he said, pointing at the rank insignia on his shoulders.

"Gods, you're a… uh…" I paused, flushed.

"Is… that rank good?"

"Never were going to join the army, were you?" he joked. Last time I'd seen him, I'd promised to join when I turned sixteen and come stay with him. That obviously hadn't happened, and we both knew it when I made the statement, but it was nice to know I had someone in my corner had I ever decided to go that route.

"Sorry. It just didn't seem to be the path for me. Congratulations, though, High Bannerman!" I replied as the rank came to me.

"Thank you, thank you!" he said with a bow.

"And nice save."

"It just took me a minute! Most of the kids that come back for visits haven't passed the sergeant ranks!" I said, giving the man a light shove.

"And speaking of coming back, you've been here all day yesterday, and you're only just now visiting? Does Dad even know you're here!?"

"As I said. The rank has its privileges, but also its drawbacks. I had to make sure the camps were in order. I'm an important man now! Not just a lowly cadet!" This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Well, could you tell the General to be a bit less of a dick?" I asked, lowering my voice as I turned back to the scene.

"He's already brought half an army to take our food. You'd think he'd find a way to be a little more polite about stealing from his own people." The general had lowered his voice, and he and Dobretin were now talking too quietly to hear from an entire street away. It seemed the explosion everyone was expecting wasn't going to happen.

"Some salt on your tongue these days, lass? I didn't remember you being so foul-mouthed last time I visited."

"Dad doesn't mind. He says 'better salt on the tongue than salt on the soil.'""Spoken like a true farmer. Taking up your father's name in truth, or is there a young lad who plans to change that name?" he asked. For the first time, no embarrassment filled me when I thought about Reid and me. Instead, I just felt happy. I grinned.

"There just might be."

"Good lass," he said. He sighed, looking over the town. His expression seemed to fall the more he did. We settled into a silence. We weren't the only people who'd been gawping at the fight inside the bar. The hazy grey sunlight made it hard to see within, but now that the Mayor and the General weren't shouting anymore, it seemed the fun was over. The silence turned awkward for some reason, and he kept looking at me like he was about to ruin my day.

"Markus? What's wrong?" I asked. He sighed.

"It's… well. No, it's nothing. You're still seventeen, right? Still don't have your talent yet?" I frowned.

"My nameday was a few weeks ago now. I've got an elite talent!" His eye twitched.

"Damnitall."

"What?"

"I don't suppose you've kept that a secret?"

"An elite talent? Are you kidding? I've been shouting it from the rooftops!" I exclaimed. His expression grew darker, not brighter.

"Why?" I asked.

"What's wrong?" He grimaced.

"Well… shit. We… we might be seeing more of each other going forward than you expected." A strange, creeping feeling began to rise on my spine.

"A draft. You're talking about a draft?" I said fearfully.

"Quiet!" he hissed.

"The rift break. Is it… is it so bad down there?" I asked.

"I know they broke through, but I thought the Army would be starting to close it by now." He shook his head.

"It's all shit down there, Mera. Everything's gone from bad to worse. Maulander says he plans to retake the Eastern section. Keeps talking shit about Neogon, but we all know he's a fraud. That's why he's back here. He can't safely leave the Rift. The King would hang him, but as long as he's'gathering supplies' he doesn't have to be down there with the monsters. And there are monsters, Mera. I'm just thankful I wasn't with the Eastern Army."

"So… so what should I do?"

"Hide," he insisted.

"Get out of town for a day or two. I'd see you stay here, safe. I know my brother and that fireball of a woman he married will feel the same. The general plans to announce it at noon. It would be best if you were long gone by then."

"Do you think that's even an option for me? I mean… my talent is Elite. He'll probably hear about it."

"It surely isn't combat-related, is it?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Crafter talent. Active, not passive. I make the things people need."

"That's a good talent," he said.

"I wish I could've given you more warning. Even this is probably unwise. The general was bitching about how there weren't any cattle in town for half the morning."

"You were talking to him? Directly?" I asked.

"High Bannerman," he repeated.

"I'm a little way down the list, but I'm technically in the running to command the army if the General and a few others were to fall."

"Gosh… I had no idea." I said.

"Congratulations, again! You don't write enough. I'm glad you've done so well!"

"And congratulations to you as well. Any other year I'd be overjoyed to see an elite talent in the family but… well. This is not the best of times." I frowned.

"What… what is it like down there?" He grimaced.

"The Everchore was great. This rift break and the war with Eschal? Not so much. We were caught entirely flatfooted, though no one wants to admit it. The capital is mustering armies back in Tacuria City, but it's slow. For now, Neogon and Maulander are it. Much as I hate to say it, a draft is necessary. I've managed to talk him down to only taking those who have reached eighteen and gotten their talents, but later today, you will be called. Fucking hell, if only you were just a bit younger." Drafted. I…

I would be drafted. Or I could skip the draft and tell the Guard Captain that I was the dreamer, and trust to my luck that no one in Denarla ever found out the true rank of my talent. Surely the Duchess's orders would outstrip a general's? I… didn't know. To the north or to the south. Either way, I'd be leaving Pemolar's Hill, right after discovering how very little I wanted to go. I could hide. Mom and Dad would surely support that. But now, it wasn't avoiding the danger of my rank being discovered. No.

Now it was avoiding the call of my country.

'Reid,' I thought.

'What will he do?'

"The general is somewhat pigheaded," Marnakus said.

"He has little respect for non-combat talents. He won't seek you above and beyond anyone else between eighteen and twenty-five. Hiding is an option. Just go wherever the hell you sent all of the goats and sheep. We don't have time to be away from the rift for long, and down there is no place for you." He was right, but not for the reasons he thought. Maulander. Mom was afraid of him. Afraid for me. She really thought there was a chance the man might kill me if he knew I was her daughter. I couldn't join.

Part of me wanted to. It was unfair that I should get advanced warning about the draft before anyone else, but at the same time, my Uncle might've just saved my life.

"This… feels wrong," I said.

"Why should I have preferential treatment? Why should I get out of a draft that'll claim all of my friends?"

"I… you… shit, don't get all 'Atrinaska' on me," he said.

"It's not some big fairness thing. It's an uncle wanting to keep his niece out of harm's way. Nothing more." I smiled up at him.

"You knew I'd never join the army, even back then, didn't you?"

"Knew it in my bones," he said. I stared squarely into his eyes.

"Well, so what? I'm sure none of them want to join any more than I do, else they would've at sixteen like you did! The general can't just decide to force people to join! It's been voluntary for fifteen years!"

"He can, and he will, Carrot. The King and the Duchess are mustering armies even as we speak. While those are still voluntary, I'm certain no one is going to balk at the general calling a draft when we have an invasion on two fronts. It's sheer luck that Rechin hasn't decided to fuck us from a third angle!" I flushed.

"I'm… not quite that salty, uncle." He blanched, seemingly having forgotten who he was talking to. Soldiers did tend to lose their decorum, and were forgiven more easily than others, but gods that was vulgar.

"My point is, Mera, fuck the others. You are family. If I can't keep you safe up here, then what was the point of spending half my life down there, huh?" I wanted to disagree with him. I felt guilty. I met his eyes. If not for the General and Mom's worries about him, I might've had a different attitude, but as it was, I couldn't allow myself to be drafted.

"Okay. But I'm telling every last person I can think of," I said. He winced.

"Don't let any of them be caught then, or it might be my head." I nodded solemnly.