Chapter 4: Better Training Montage Song? Eye of the Tiger or the Final Countdown

I guess I was joining the army...

Does conscription count as joining?

A King’s order. ALL men, including me, between 16 and 30 were to become cannon fodder in some war the king was planning on fighting.

We were pretty far away from the capital and all its political intrigues. Living in our tiny little hamlet minding our own business so we weren’t the most clued in on any rumours of an upcoming war, certainly not a war large enough to warrant the use of a King’s order. Luke and some of the village elders had heard talk of a small uprising being led by a witch, but I had honestly not been paying attention. It was being led by a witch. John had said I was entering the true world, where magic was real, but I had thought he meant it in a secret underground cabal kind of way. But alas no, this was the “Dark ages” a period of time in which there was very little recorded history. It was also called something else in John’s memories.

It was called, “The age of magic”.

One of the layers of memories unlocked and the information flooded into my mind.

After the Romans left the hidden world had decided it was their time to rise up and rule the earth, witches, wizards, mages(I guess I actually fell into this group), elementals, alchemists, were-kin all came out of the shadows and vied for the throne. Surprisingly under the heavy assault of all of those powerful supernatural powers, the ones that succeeded in snatching the throne were the Pendragon clan. Humans, albeit, with the aid of dragons. Dragons were the most powerful of all creatures, big fire-breathing, lizards with massive wings. They were creatures that had existed since before the ice age and according to John’s memories were near immortal. A hundred years went by and the Pendragon clan ruled over the land peacefully, and the age of magic was in full swing.

That was true at least until 21 years ago and the black dragon’s rebellion. One of the Pendragon’s own dragons betrayed its brothers by joining forces with the witches and attempted to take over the throne. After an epic yearlong battle the Pendragons prevailed, but it was a pyrrhic victory, all but one of the dragons were dead, and the capital was burned down to the ground. Most importantly to King Uther, Queen Aetheria was dead. The King in his grief and rage outlawed magic in all its forms, punishable by death. He even executed any children of the known witches and wizards. And in a final move against magic, Uther had his own dragon, the last of his kind, bound in unbreakable chains and buried under the castle.

“Thanks for telling me so soon John” I muttered under my breath, suddenly very sober, all thoughts of a silly marriage discarded.

The villagers were visibly upset. There were even mutterings of disobedience, which were quickly quashed. Actually the impact on the village would be pretty minimal, there were only 6 men (the village only had 50 people) between the ages of 16 and 30 and 2 of those were former soldiers, so they could not be conscripted. The sense of unhappiness came from the fact that, the villages further away from the (new) capital were always the ones conscripted first.

Mark spent the day with us. Catching up with Luke and being mothered by Bess. I tried to keep out of the way as much as possible, packing what little things I had managed to accumulate over the winter into my satchel. Talking to the other villagers, saying my goodbyes to the little kids, buying things I might need, like a sewing kit and a good leather belt. So it was lunch time by time I actually spoke with Mark.

“So you are the one who’s being staying in my room?” he asked with a friendly smile on his face. He was going to be one of the soldiers in charge, so effectively he was going to be my boss. I wasn’t nervous (I was never nervous anymore, the walk had made me too apathetic), but I did want to make a good impression.

“Yes, that’s me I suppose” I said laughing, rubbing the back of my head then offering my hand for a hand shake. “I am Emris”

“Mark, although you know that already” he said shaking my hand; he had a strong grip from years of sword practice but he didn’t try to crush my hand when he shook it. “Thank you, for saving my father’s life.” He had a genuinely grateful look on his face.

“It was the least I could do, Luke and Bess have been very kind to me, taking me in as they did” I said brushing of his thanks.

Bess came into the room and squeezed my shoulder, she looked at Mark and said “you better look after him, whilst you two are off soldiering!” she kissed him on the cheek and bustled off to the kitchen area (actually the kitchen prep area, the actual cooking was done over the fireplace as that was the only place with a chimney).

I looked at Mark with a serious expression “How bad is the situation? There wouldn’t be a need for an order if it wasn’t serious”

“It is not that bad, at least not in terms of soldiers. Our soldiers will outnumber theirs 20:1. It’s the witch that is the problem, her magicks are strong and she is trying to unite the bandits under her rule. There are rumours she used her powers to enslave an entire battalion of our own soldiers. I even heard wild rumours that she resurrects corpse of those killed by her men to use against us” he said shivering slightly at the talk of magic. “But those are just the rumours, the real reason is that the king wants us to make an example of her, and kill her army to the last man as a warning against any others.”

We chatted for about half an hour, after which I let Mark catch up with the family whilst I did all of today’s tasks like feeding the cattle and tending to what little vegetable farming Luke did. I spent the evening at Ian’s; Ian was the local village brewer and brewed some of the WORST beer I have ever tasted. It was bitter and sour and all in all horrible, but his was the only public house in the whole village. Ian liked me; I had helped him improve his beer by convincing him to add dried heather and elderflowers to the wort to steep, acting as a substitute for modern hops. This helped preserve his beer for longer, and it tasted less vile; almost palatable.Ian saw me coming in and beckoned me over; Ian was actually one of the two former soldiers who were exempted from the King’s order, “here drink this” he said giving me a tankard of white liquid.

I looked at him with suspicion, and then down at the murky white liquid again. I took a tentative sniff; it smelt of grapes, but also something else. I looked up “Where did you get wine from?” wine actually wasn’t that rare in England at the time, there were vineyards in England and it was actually a bit warmer than in modern times. But there weren’t any vineyards in the neighbouring area, as it was the wrong kind of soil.

“It is special wine, have a sip” he said to me encouragingly. I looked at him suspiciously again and tentatively took a sip. It was sharp, acidic, tart, astringent and much more potent than normal wine of the time. Normal wines, before cork, were very weak, about the same as beer, this was different. This was delicious.

I looked up at him sharply “This is some exceptional stuff, it must have cost you a lot of coin” Ian was notoriously stingy with his coin. Half the reason he liked me was that I had increased his profits, by a lot. His ale was sought after now, some people came from as far as the capital to buy barrels of his new ale. But the stingy bastard still made me pay full price for every tankard of beer I had ever drunk.

“War is a bad business, friend” he said seriously. “You are a healer: healers are valuable on the battlefield. In an honourable battle a healer might be safe being in the back lines helping to save his brothers, but those you fight won’t be honourable. The witch will target the back lines with her magicks and your secrets will be revealed.”

“My secrets?” I asked curious to see how much he knew

“You are an alchemist.” He stated back calmly and quietly

I literally fell out of my chair laughing, “hahahahahahaha, me an alchemist!” I gasped laughing using the table to pick myself up from the floor. Everyone was looking at me funny; a few of them were even looking shocked at the revelation that I wasn’t an alchemist. “Seriously, does everyone really think I am an alchemist?” I looked at Ian and then around the room, a few of them turned their heads away embarrassed.

“You are too good at healing. I was a soldier, and not even the venerable doctors of the capitals can do all of the things you do. Also your use of water to heal people is too easy looking. Finally you don’t smell” he said to me as if that was conclusive proof that I was an alchemist.