Liam found the eastern barracks easily enough—it was a three-story building lined with small windows. Its utilitarian exterior and multitude of small windows signaled it could be nothing other than accommodations for soldiers. He ventured in, looking for the office of Sergeant Edwin, and found it at the end of the first floor. Liam lightly knocked on the open door, waiting to be invited in.
Sergeant Edwin glanced up from the papers on his desk, barely taking the time to motion him in before going back to his work.
“Private Liam Fulton reporting for duty, sir!” Liam made a face. He’d said it with more enthusiasm than intended.
The sergeant squinted at him. It was clear Liam was a greenie and overly eager—just what he didn’t want.
“Fulton, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
Edwin riffled through the papers littering his desk before pulling one out with Liam’s name on the top. The sergeant read it over before handing it to Liam. “Your first assignment will be to the city guard. You’ll report to Sergeant Major Cooper in the morning to be assigned a unit. Take the rest of the day off, Private, and welcome to the Anatalian army.”
Liam grinned, one cheek dimpling. “Thank you, sir.”
Handing him the remainder of the paperwork, Sergeant Edwin waved him out of the room. “That’s all, Private.”
Excitement bounced around Liam’s stomach—he was ready for his first assignment and didn’t know if he would sleep that night. Liam looked over the paperwork as he walked down the hallway. His name should be on a plaque with his room number over a slot with which to receive their correspondence. He scanned the names until he lighted on his, tapping it with his finger. “Room two-eighteen.”
He climbed the stairs to the left of the mailboxes and searched for his new room. Liam found it halfway down the hall and to the right. Four beds occupied the space, and nothing adorned the walls. The beds were unoccupied, but it was obvious which ones were in use. They had all been made, rather than topped with neatly folded sheets for Liam to make the bed himself.
Setting his things down, Liam made quick work of putting the bed together. At its end sat a chest for storage. Opening it, Liam found it was full. Confused, he looked around for another one. On the opposite end was another chest, which he discovered was empty. Liam put his things away, changing into civilian clothes. He might as well enjoy the rest of his day wandering the city he was to protect and serve. They were so rarely allowed outside of the barracks while they trained; this would be a nice luxury for him.
Dressed in his basic uniform of jockey boots, tan trousers, and a white shirt and vest under a dark blue woolen coat, Liam went in search of Sergeant Major Cooper. He had never seen the city guardsmen in any ceremonial garb while they made their patrols. The fanciest thing about his uniform was the cape, and that was only to be worn when it rained. He found the sergeant major in the courtyard, already surrounded by other newly-inducted soldiers. Liam waited his turn, fidgeting with his tricorn hat under his arm and cursing himself for not getting there earlier.
When finally he reached the front of the line, Liam stated his name and stayed at attention while he received his placement. He would be with the Third Guard Brigade, which would patrol the inner city. Pride welled in Liam’s chest. There were only four Guard Brigades, the first at the gates of the city, and the fourth and most prestigious settling in around the palace itself, with the second and third stationed within the city. The Fourth Guard Brigade were the elite of the Guard Brigades, usually reserved for the nobility who joined, and as a nobody, Liam was placed right below them.
“Report to the guard house on Fasch Street, and you will be brought to your unit,” Sergeant Major Cooper commanded.
“Thank you, sir.” Liam turned and sprinted from the courtyard. When the light hit him, he placed his tricorn on his head.
Liam slowed once he reached the palace gates. He wanted to show decorum as a soldier—to show that he was not green and could comport himself as well as any of the more experienced men. Ants crawled through his stomach, the muscles tightening the closer he got to Fasch Street. By the time he did reach the guard house, Liam felt ready to piss himself if another soldier spoke to him.
He scolded himself. There was nothing to worry over. He would be among the experienced, and there would be nothing strenuous for him to do his first day. They would simply patrol the streets and ensure no one was committing a crime. It would be simple.
Liam knocked on the door to the guard house, jumping back when it opened quickly. “Private Fulton reporting for duty,” he squeaked. Liam resisted the urge to slink off and never come back. What a first impression.
The man who had opened the door let out a raucous laugh. “Sent us another greenie, did they?”
Liam shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to answer.
“You can wait here, Fulton. The Third will be making their way back around in a short while.” With that, the man shut the door.
Pursing his lips, Liam settled himself against the wall of the guard house. He hadn’t gotten the man’s name, but he figured the man residing in the building would not appreciate being disturbed again.
True to the man’s word, Liam heard footsteps approaching. Once he pushed himself away from the wall, he saw the unit he would be working with. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but Liam was disappointed that the unit was not full of legendary-looking warriors ready to snap the heads off any threat that came near. They were all ordinary-looking men. None of them were even particularly tall. Liam stood half a head above all of them, though he mentally conceded that he was unusually tall.
“Ho to the house!” the leader called.
The man Liam had met earlier exited, standing at attention. “Report, sir.”
The leader of the unit told him all they had seen on their circle of the city, concluding they had found nothing out of the ordinary. Once he had finished reporting, his eyes landed on Liam. “And who is this?”
Snapping to attention, Liam proudly—and with no squeaking—told them, “Private Liam Fulton reporting for duty, sir.”
“Welcome to the Third, Fulton. I’m Borodin; these are Nadelman, Cropsey, Peale, and Bierstadt.” Borodin pointed to each man in turn, the names quickly said. “Each team—there are five—is composed of six members. You’ll be our sixth.”
Liam nodded to each man, trying to remember each name with the face so he would not make any mistakes later. He began walking with them as they started their next round of their section of the city. “What should I be looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. A vendor looking to sell illegal wares, someone stealing—anything you think shouldn’t be happening.” Borodin’s eyes roved the streets as he spoke. “You’ll only be observing for the first few days, so watch what we do, and you’ll be fine.”
Simple enough, Liam supposed. “How often do you find those sorts of things?”
“Not very, which means either the First or Second Guard Brigade has done their job, or people are minding us as they should.”
“So they bear the brunt of it?”
Borodin nodded. “Makes our job much easier.”
Eyes scanning the street, Liam puckered his lips. He wondered if the prestige actually lay with the Third and Fourth Brigades, or with the First. It seemed to him he would be doing much more important work in the first wave of the city.
“I see that look on your face, Fulton.” Peale stopped Liam where he stood. “You should feel honored to be part of the Third. We are one of the last defenses for the king in the city, and he trusts us enough to be that barrier. We’re less disposable to him, and if you think you’d like to be fodder, we’re more than happy to ask for your transfer.”
Liam cleared his throat before speaking. “I’d like to stay here.”
“Good. Show some pride, then.” Peale turned away from Liam and led the group on their next round.
Collapsing on his bed, Liam let out a heavy sigh. Exhaustion pulled at him as he tried to kick off his boots. He hoped he would soon adjust to the amount of walking he was doing each day. His feet were covered in blisters, and his lower back ached after a week of walking the city in an endless circle. He had yet to see any of his roommates since moving into his barracks room. They were, he assumed, away on an assignment as their clothes still occupied the chests at the heads and feet of the beds.
He lay on his bed, not even bothering to take off his coat, and threw his arm over his eyes. He just wanted to get some sleep and stop walking.
When a throat cleared next to him, Liam bolted upright, nearly hitting his head on the bunk above him. Another man occupied the room, placing things on his bed.
He stood. “I’m your new roommate, Private Liam Fulton.”
The man on the other side of the room held out his hand. “Private First Class Jorren Vojvo.”
“Liam Fulton,” he responded automatically, shaking Jorren’s hand. Jorren’s laugh brought color to Liam’s cheeks. He’d already given his name and showed just how nervous he was to meet new people. Liam wanted to retreat to anywhere else.
“You settling in well?” Jorren ignored Liam’s embarrassment.
“Well enough.”
Jorren quirked his head slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you made any friends yet, Liam?”
The color on Liam’s cheeks deepened. “No,” he confided, “but not from lack of trying.”
Giving him a small grin, Jorren clapped Liam on the shoulder. “There are always trials at first, and if you give up in the beginning, you’ll never accomplish anything.”
Liam cast his gaze in the direction of Jorren’s hand. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
Jorren waved a hand, walking out of their room. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Liam hesitantly followed.
“You’ll see!”
Jorren introduced Liam to every man on their floor and invited them to join himself and Liam at the Whistling Squire. They went to the favorite local watering hole to have a celebratory drink for Liam’s first assignment in the Anatalian army.
“A round of ale!” Jorren called to whichever serving wench was listening as they sat at a large table.
Only four of the men Liam had met agreed to come to drinks with them. It was not many, but it was more than Liam had expected. Liam took a long drink of his tankard when it was set in front of him.
“To our new friend.” Jorren held up his own cup, foam sliding down the side.
“To Liam,” the other men repeated, taking drags of their ale.
Jorren clapped Liam on the shoulder. “I think we are going to be very good friends, Liam.”