The new recruits aren’t really what I expected. They huddle around fires, drinking and gambling on dice games. Women hang around the necks of men, and those women who have stricter morals are huddled together, glaring at any man who approaches them. One is balancing a dagger on her fingertip.

Upon seeing the soldiers arrive, the recruits all struggle to their feet, trying to hide their pastimes unsuccessfully. I survey them. A rag-tag bunch who look bedraggled, out of shape, careless in their movements.

I’ll be one of them soon enough.

"I present General Berit Durante, Lord of the High Stone and Head of the King's Guard!" A soldier with us shouts.

Berit surges his horse forward. He’s still covered in the grisly remains of battle, coated in dust and in desperate need of a bath. Still, it makes a fearsome sight; a battle mage fresh from the fight, staring down as though it is the eve of a great battle. Berit’s horse snorts and restlessly flicks its ears as he stares down at the recruits.

One by one, the recruits fall to their knees. Something uncomfortable races down my spine at the gesture. Respect through fear and reputation, but respect not yet earned or gained. I look away from Berit and one man in particular catches my eye.

His features are foreign, and I briefly recognized he’s an Easterner. I’ve never seen one in Vinculum before, only in books from my father's library. He looks in better shape than the others, stitching somewhat tight around his biceps and a belt holding a large pack over his large chest. He winks at me before dropping to his knees, head bowed, and face hidden in shadow.

I was so distracted that I realise I am one of the few ones left standing.

I walk across the gap between the soldiers and the new recruits, turning to face Berit again once I’ve done so. I have something to prove. That I am better and worthy.

I drop to one knee, placing a hand over my heart.

"Kit of Geudwood, at your service, my lord General," I say in a loud clear voice.

Silence. Then Berit lets out a guffaw and claps his hands. "Now, let's see what you buffoons have got to drink!"

Berit gets off his horse and a soldier quickly moves forward to take it from him. He weaves his way through the recruits, finally selecting a fire to sit at and, after a few aborted starts at conversation, soon has the recruits drinking with him and rolling dice.

The rest of the soldiers also mingle, and I am left alone to find somewhere to make my bed for the night. I choose a fire close to the edge of the camp. If I change my mind, or see something untoward, I still want the option of fleeing.

There are only a few recruits at this fire. Young men and women, quiet and subdued, unlike some rowdier parts of the camp. It suits me just fine.

“Won’t be long until morning, and the final trek to the Brown-Hair Barracks starts,” a man comments, to a chorus of vague noises of agreement.

The Northern Barracks, or the 'Brown-Hair Barracks', are only a day's walk from this camp. It is primarily a training fortress now, for those normal, non-magical people who sign up to fight in the war in the East.

“Guess this is our last night of freedom.” The man is weedy looking, with mousy hair and skin that looks like it's a little too big for his body. He’s short, maybe only just over five feet, and his arms and legs are scrawny. I try not to judge him too harshly on his appearance. It's not like I am a muscled giant myself.

"The road will turn east for a bit, but we'll be there well before nightfall tomorrow," he continues.

Does he just want to hear himself speak?

"How can you tell that’s how long it’ll take?" I ask when no one else bites for conversation.

"Oh, I'm good with information. I remember everything. If I look at a map once, I can remember it days later." The man smiles with a self-conscious tilt to his mouth. "I knew that the way the road curved a little further back had to be a certain point on the map, and I’ve been comparing it to the movement rate of the recruitment caravan. The horses shouldn't slow us overly much."

At that moment, a soldier comes over to us. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Bill's gonna be fine lad. Says that once he's better, he'd like to thank you personally for saving his skin.”

I nod and the soldier seems satisfied his message is delivered.

"What happened?" the talkative man asks bluntly. The soldier rolls his eyes and walks away, leaving me to explain.

"We were ambushed on the road. Bill was hit with an arrow in the shoulder. It missed the important bits, but it still needs time to heal.”

The man pulls a face. What does he expect when he signs up for war? That no one will ever get injured?

"My name's Eric, by the way. When we get to the Barracks, we should eat a meal together. It'll be useful to make lots of different friends, and between you and me, you look like you might be the kind of guy who's going to need a few friends," Eric says.

Eric is weirder than I am and might be in more need of friends than I in the long run, but I keep that to myself.

"Kit," I reply.

Eric holds out his hand and I lean around the fire to shake it.

I've spent so long studying mages I’d forgotten how simple it could be Brown-Hair to Brown-Hair for introductions.

"I've gotta get going. Shin's going to teach me a dirty song to help pass the time, but it's been nice talking to you." Eric stands up and dusts himself off. “Make sure you seek me out at the Barracks. People are dead interested in the person Berit recruited himself.”

I watch him go.

Truly, that was most odd.