Chapter 3: Travel

It came about that choosing to be a shield was the easy step. The other professions all had established masters at the academy who conducted further training for their chosen students. A Shield had no place to go. I knew this already of course, but met with a confused student leader who hesitantly directed me to the Instructor, and as I entered, the man, old but still spry, was sitting at a table, writing a note.

“Utore, yes,” he said. “Sit down.”

He glanced at me as I took a seat and then asked, quite pointedly. “So you are set in this course?”

“Yes sir!” I replied. The academy didn’t quite encourage military formality between teachers and students, but I liked its preciseness and closure.

“For how long have you been planning this?”

“Sir?” I replied, maintaining a poker face.

“Please, Utore. Be frank, at ease as they say. You perhaps do not know this, and I never wanted to bring it up, but even getting you admitted here was a challenge. Your father’s name helped, of course, and it’s not the first ... challenged candidate we’ve ever admitted: and I think you know that. What is unusual though, is how excellently you have performed. Within your limitations.”

“Sir. Thank you, sir.” I replied.

The Instructor sighed and leaned back. The position of the Instructor I knew was one of the few with enough prestige to rival even a General. The first Kings of Chera had drilled that custom almost into law: Teachers are to be respected, and the Instructor of the most prestigious Academy in the Chera kingdom had prestige and clout. I did not want to alienate this man.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.” I started, and he nodded.

“I have been planning this since I joined. It was the reason I joined. My limitations, as you put it do not afford me any other honorable vocation.”

“Honorable,” he replied, his voice flat. “Do you know Utore, that honorable has meant different things in different times? It is now written into law, yes, but the law itself has been amended...”

“Seventeen times sir, in recorded history,” I interrupted, managing to surprise him. “But the law is the law. And I’m determined to have an honorable vocation.”

“That is your right,” he replied, with an air of finality. He handed me the letter on his desk after making an intricate sign and sealing it.

“This is a letter to the Shield Station at Konthriput. It’s a long journey, at least two weeks of travel before you reach there, even by carriage.”

And then he looked up sharply. “And you may not wear the black until you are accepted as a Shield, do you hear?”

I nodded. That bit of theatre at the graduation had been immensely satisfying, but a bit of a risk. A little bit of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy day.

“I will give you a blue badge.” A messenger. “You are in fact, carrying yourself and the letter to the Station, so there is no breach in law or custom.”

I nodded again.

“That is it, Utore. Dismissed. And may you live a long, fruitful life.”

The last greeting was traditional, but it surprised me. I wanted to see if he was mocking me, but he’d turned his attention to the next stack of papers on his desk already.

Of course he knew what the average life expectancy of a Shield was, didn’t he?

Finding a caravan master was easy when you wore a blue robe. Even the weakest of the Academy students made a good guard. Not that a guard was essential nowadays, but attacks by bandits and thieves still happened, and insured caravans still demanded guards.