The paper he held had been folded over a dozen times. He could only imagine how many countless hands it was passed through. He was curious as to how many men laughed and chuckled to themselves at the fact that Duke Krono’s youngest wanted to worship fully at the foot of the Iron Lord. “A girl,” Adi could mentally hear the men who read his paper work chuckle, “wants to be a man.”
It didn’t matter how many times Adi had listed male as his sex, the Kronos name bared weight. Anyone who was anyone knew that Duke Kronos ended up with two idiot sons and a girl too shrewd to be married. No one seemed to want to acknowledge that Adi had been living as a man for the past four years of his life.
He had been devoting himself to application after application since the moment he turned of age. He had tried everything, for helping the aging aunt he was taking care of write letters of recommendation, send bribes in his father’s name, even countlessly referencing his family’s long line of patrons to the Iron Lord that goes down to the roots of the family tree.
It was only near the end of Sunset when he finally received a letter addressed to “The Youngest Kronos.” He remembered leaving walking down the crooked stone steps that lead through unattended garden. He kept his cloak tightly around to prevent the chill of early Snowfall sneaking up on him.
The hedges that lined the garden were the only plants that still lived after his aunt started to become forgetful. When he went to move in with her, he had tried in the Sunset months to bring life back to to the once beautiful garden of his childhood memories. Years of rotting in the baking sun and being frozen in the snow had made any and all plant life brown, dry sticks of nothing.
Adi had preferred to walk in the evening near dinner time when most people had rushed to their homes for family meals or taverns for a stiff drink. The streets felt alone as the sun started to hide from his vision, alone was what he preferred.
He pushed open the rusty iron gate with force, shoving his shoulder to get it open. It would only get worse once the freeze came. As he walked through the gate full, there was a crunch under his foot. His eyes darted down quickly. A crumbled up envelope sat under his foot.
For a moment, he didn’t care much about it. It was possibly another letter from his concerned mother begging him to come back home. He had ripped up any letter with his family crest on it, besides no one in the family wrote to the old woman anyway.
He took the letter in both hands prepared to rip it in two, until he noticed the wax seal. The insignia embedded in the wax was a gauntlet clutching an upright sword. The point of the sword insignia had a few rays spark out of it. Adi’s heart stopped and climbed its way up his throat. His rushing heart found its stuff stuck at the middle of his throat as his small nails dug into break open the envelope.
"Applicant #03764,
We have reviews your application to enroll in the Snowfall training season for the rank of footman. After much consideration we have considered you to be allowed as a footman for a trial of two years. If your superiors see you worthy of the Iron Lord, you may remain."
His palms became wet with sweat despite the creeping chill. After all these attempts, he finally was accepted under a condition. It had to be an attempt to get him to stop applying. Yes, give the crazy “woman” a two year trial to get “her” to shut up and stop sending letters. They didn’t want to deal with the legacy of failures of the Kronos family.
"Since of your condition, you will have to live in an private lodging on the training grounds and refrain from a majority of contact with the other footmen. You will also be appointed a private practitioner since we are registering you as having a malformation."
Adi held the letter at arm’s length. First a two year trial to prove himself and then isolation from the rest of his fellow footmen? At this point he would rather taken a harsh rejection than an acceptance with guide lines. He had a dream of finally being a man among other men, but he is considered sickly, a creature less than human that must be contained from infecting others. He took a breath and continued reading the rest of the letter.
"We expect you on the first of Snowfall. We have the misfortune of addressing that you will be missing the Father’s Feast with your family, but we suffice with our own. You are welcomed to attend as our Lord would want you to praise His and the Father’s names.
If we have an agreement Kronos, then we will know that you have confirmed the agreement upon your arrival.
-Lord General Algar"
He folded the letter and slipped it into the inside pocket of his too small jacket. The rusty gate creaked behind him. The soles of his boots clicked against the cracked garden stones as he headed back into the dying, wilted ivy covered house.
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