"Gather round, gather round!" A chief's servant yelled through the streets. It had been two days since Ostara had arrived and then left Purerest when the adults had taken action against this threat.

  Corrin’s father had dragged him to the market that day and was one of the first to hear the call. He grabbed his son by the collar, pushing them both to the front, yelling at everyone as he went.

  “Move! Out of the way, Debra! Sr. Grant, get your faggot son away from me. Oh, fuck off, Sr. Clair!”

  Corrin followed each of his father’s yells with an apology. “I’m so sorry, miss. Forgive him, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Sorry. Again.”

  “Settle down, settle down.” the servant called to the bustling crowd. “Your chief is here for an announcement.”

  Another servant sighed and placed his wand over his own neck, muttering the spell to amplify his voice. “SILENCE!”

  The crowd quieted instantly and Corrin’s father had finally gotten him to the front of the crowd, holding him still as the chief stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you all for gathering here today. A few days ago, we were brutally attacked by a group of Witches that declared murder and suffering against our beautiful town. Me and some friends have driven them out, but that’s not to say that they won’t return.”

  This didn’t fucking happen. Corrin thought. He's the one that threatened them.

  He cleared his throat twice more. “In the meantime, we have decided to send our men to war. A conscription tent will be set up in this market for the month, and I will have men scoping out the town to recruit all men under sixty-three to the war. No excuses. And no nightwalks, either. We’ll know.”

  He stepped away, surrounded by servants, as the crowd cheered for him. Corrin could barely take it in before his father pulled him towards the table at the first sight, noticing the growing line before it.

  “We’re going to sign you up, boy.” he said as he pushed three other people out of the way to secure their spots in line. “Remon’s father’s been blabbing, saying you haven’t thrown a punch since you came back from Charles’ camp. I don’t know what the fuck they did to you there, but they better not have turned you into a fucking pussy. No son of mine will have that reputation if he doesn’t want to get…” He squeezed his shoulder, making him flinch. “replaced.”

  The trio in front of them walked away with smiles and Corrin’s father pushed him forward. Corrin grabbed the end of the table to avoid smashing into it.

  His father smiled at the man with the list, who recognized them instantly. “Sr. Julius and Sr. Corrin! A wonder to see you here. Are you joining as well, Sir?”

  His father laughed. “Of course. Our ages are forty-one and twenty.”

  The man did the work as fast as he could and looked visibly uncomfortable. “Ah. Of course, sirs. Go right in.”

  “Sr. Corrin.” The other man leaned towards them as they walked around the table towards a back entrance, where two more servants kept them open with ropes. “Bring your friends and their fathers, won’t you? They’re brave young men that will be glad to join, I’m sure.”

  “I will, sir.” Corrin nodded before they were dismissed.

  They stepped through the back entrance towards a camp. There were stations made of wood or stone set up along the main path, with a few stone buildings spread out across the rest of the space. Men mingled around, talking with the shop-owners as the younger ones sat on the ground, discussing the future.

  “Corrin!” One of the young men called, waving enthusiastically.

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  “Go to them, son.” his father snapped, letting go of his shoulder. His eyes were full of anger as they narrowed at a man talking with the swordsman. He pulled out his wand, sparks coming from it, as Corrin found his friends.

  Tori had noticed him first, quickly standing, and ran forward. He pulled him into a one-armed hug and led him towards the others, where he saw Tugan and Remon waiting. Tugan waved politely while Remon fiddled with his box of sap, hiding it under his leg whenever an elder man passed.

  Tori let go of Corrin and saw someone in the line ahead. “Is that Erwin?”

  Remon noticed as well. “Weird. We’ve never met his father.”

  Corrin saw that Erwin was quite stiff next to his father, barely moving as the four of them waved to him excitedly, but Corrin pulled Tori’s arm back, telling him to ignore him.

  “He’s clearly already signing up. You can wait.” Corrin explained.

  He scanned the rest of the line and picked out Argat, Gillot, but couldn’t find Ulric or his father among the groups of men entering the camp. That thought was answered with a message that boomed in their heads minutes later: Behind you, dumbasses.

  “Ulric!” Tori yelled, excited.

  “Ulric!” Tugan cried at the same time, horrified. “Don’t scare us like that!” he whined while Tori shoved him out of the way, shaking Ulric’s other hand as he put his wand away.

  “Nice to see you.” Corrin grinned. “How was signing up?”

  He blinked at them. “For what?”

  “For what?” Tori mocked in a whine. “Are you kidding me?”

  Remon kept looking around the streets, still looking for the perfect moment to chew his sap. “The chief said that Witches started a war against us a few nights ago. Every man is to sign up for war.”

  “Really?” Ulric cried. “My grandfather's been waiting for this!”

  “You dalcop, there’s an age limit.” Remon finally snapped a piece of sap between his teeth and sighed in relief, tucking the pack away quickly. “All men under sixty-three rotations of age.”

  “Wha- well that’s incredible! Is everyone else in line?”

  “Yeah, we’ve seen. Oh, here’s Argat.” Corrin said, waving him towards them.

  “And Gillot behind him.” Ulric added in a serious manner, but he waved it away.

  “Give me some." Tori asked Remon, putting out his hand for a bit of sap, but it was slapped away.

  “You can get some when you can pay for it.” Remon argued as the two joined their group, exchanging greetings as Tori and Remon put their heads together to finish the trade.

  “How much?” Tori asked, trying to hide the packet from their elders with his body.

  “Twenty coins.”

  “Rip-off,” he muttered, handing him the money for the bit, which he immediately snapped between his teeth.

  “Glad to be here, friends.” Argat grinned, wrapping his arms around Tugan and Corrin’s necks. “Who hasn’t shown up yet?”

  “Just Erwin, but he hasn’t joined us yet.” Corrin explained.

  “That’s standard. What’s the limit again? Sixty-two?”

  “It’s sixty-three rotations.” Remon said, snapping his sap at him.

  “You’re always nicer when chewing that drug.”

  Tori jabbed him in the ribs when he tried to move. "Why do you say rotations? It’s old-fashioned.”

  “Yeah, only the elders use it.” Tugan chuckled.

  “Get in there, ye wench.” a man laughed, shoving a younger one into the camp ahead of him. Corrin recognized him as Erwin, but he looked around before joining them.

  “Boys!” the swordsman called to them as they hit Erwin with a myriad of greetings. “Assist your elders, won’t you? Tents need setting up. Shops to be built. Go, go on, then!”

  “Of course, sir!” Corrin called, pulling himself out of Argat’s grip and grabbing Tori by his little ponytail before pulling him towards a few men their fathers’ age who were setting up tents on the lawn. The other boys were given their directions, and they spent the hours until sunset assisting as much as they could; helping older men with tasks they struggled with, such as cooking, building, and spellcasting.

  “What of those buildings there?” Corrin asked the swordsman, carrying a bag of metal over his shoulder collected by an Earth Manipulator.

  “At the end?” he asked, snapping his sap as he covered his eyes over the dying sunlight. “Ah, some big plan Chief’s got. Don’t know much besides.” He patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Probably nothing horrible. Housing, possibly.”

  “But no one’s been let in.”

  “I don't know what to tell you, kid.” he said, hitting another scrap of iron to fix a dent. “They were the first buildings made here. He must have big plans for it.”

  “I presume.” he bowed deeply towards him. “Thank you, sir. Forgive me for my rash comments.”

  The swordsman ruffled his curls teasingly. “Not to worry, kid. Only ask the Deities for forgiveness, yah? Now, are you going to give me tha’ metal or nah?”