Golden light bathed the barracks as it shone through the cramped window, highlighting motes of dust floating in the air. Trayce would have to rush if he wanted to get the floor swept before the inspection that night. Just inside was the common area, where he saw a few fellow soldiers were already crowded around a table, playing cards, but it seemed the majority still hadn’t arrived. More importantly, his commanding officer hadn’t arrived. Before he could begin cleaning, he needed to put away his new purchases, though. He walked down one of the two hallways leading from the room. He passed an adorned wooden wall with matching wooden doors placed every few feet. After a moment, he reached his door, one of the ten on the right side of the hall belonging to his platoon. The room was admittedly incredibly cramped, small enough that he could stand in the center and touch either wall if he leaned any, but it was home. He put the spices and tea he bought on the top of his dresser, which he treated as a shelf. All that was left was to figure out what to do with his new lily. After some time, Trayce found an old canteen he could use as a pot. He took it to the water barrel in the foyer and used that to fill it halfway before setting the flower inside. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

  Trayce left his room and retrieved the broom from the corner. As he did this, he looked through an open window to see the sun setting farther and farther in the distance and knew he was running short on time. He frantically began to sweep the hallway in front of him. He swept and swept, and it was looking like he wouldn’t be able to finish in time. As his fellow soldiers streamed in, they only tracked in more dust, and Trayce still had much of the floor left. Sweating, Trayce opened a nearby window to air out the room. It was then that a breeze came through the open window and pushed the dust he had missed from the corners and under furniture, and even one pile left at the far end of the hall, toward the door. Appreciating this turn of events, he worked to get the last of the room and hall finished before the sergeant arrived. That breeze had come just in the nick of time, because as Trayce was dumping the last bit of dirt outside, he saw his sergeant approaching. He quickly leaned the broom against the wall and moved to stand at attention. Sergeant Hagan addressed the barracks.

  “Form up, men!”

  The rest of the soldiers quickly fell in line beside Trayce at attention.

  “At ease, soldier.”

  Trayce dropped his arms at his sides to rest. “The barracks have been fully swept, just as you asked, Sir,” he said.

  “Good, because right now I need to speak with you. I have received information from my superiors to discuss.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Come with me, this is the kind of conversation to have in private, Private.”

  Sergeant Hagan nodded for Trayce to follow and began walking out of the barracks. Trayce fell in step behind him and soon found his sergeant stopping beside an empty alleyway not far from the barracks. It was clean and relatively empty, unlike the alleys at the market. More proof that Tyrie’s best and fighting force was being kept busy sweeping. Some crates were stacked on the right side of the alley, and on the left, a couple of barrels for collecting rainwater. The Seargant waved forward, signalling Trayce to enter the alley. He did so, listening to his commanding officer. After a few steps, he turned and stood at attention again, waiting for Sergeant Hagan. He didn’t follow Trayce, but instead stood at the entrance. He pulled a wooden pipe out of his pocket.

  “Y’know, I like you, Trayce. I really do.” Sergeant Hagan said

  “Thank you, sir.” Trayce replied.

  Sergeant Hagan put the pipe in his mouth and held it there, freeing his hands to search his pockets. The pipe was a simple design, just a mottled wooden bowl connected to a long, straight stem. Trayce never partook himself, but it was the same kind of pipe the other soldiers smoked, not the ornate kind higher officers carried. In search of something, Sergeant Hagan continued to rifle through his pockets. Waiting, Trayce shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He continued to wait, and the sergeant continued his search. Then, he looked up at Trayce and mumbled something around his pipe. When Trayce simply looked at him quizically, he stopped his search and took the pipe from his mouth.

  “I’m having trouble finding some things. Give me a moment. You don’t have to stand at attention, Trayce. This is just a conversation between the two of us. Make yourself comfortable.” Sergeant Hagan said.

  Trayce nodded. Alleyways were not where he normally relaxed, but he made due with the crates stacked by the wall. To sit down, he had to move a familiar flyer from the top of the crate. It was one of the many fliers posted around the city, warning that your neighbors may be heretics and urging you to report your suspicions. Spreading these notices was a response to rumors that the common folk in some villages were rejecting the word of Delion and threatening the Diocese of Tyrie. To Trayce, it seemed like an overreaction. While many people in the military were Disciples of Delion, it was not a religious organization by any means, and they were the strength behind the Tyrie government. As Trayce finally sat down, Sergeant Hagan gave up on his search with a groan.

  “You don’t happen to have a light, do you? I seem to have lost mine,” Sergeant Hagan asked.

  “I do, sir,” Trayce said, and pulled out a small flint and steel.

  Sergeant Hagan took the flint and steel and used it to light his pipe. He put the pipe to his mouth and took a deep drag. Letting out a contented sigh, he handed the flint and steel back to Trayce. The smoke drifted to Trayce, and he took in the distinct smell of tobacco. When he was a child, only the extremely rich were able to afford tobacco, but it was only becoming more common after the civilizing of the Tyrian Frontier. After a few more puffs of his pipe, the sergeant spoke again.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Well, let’s get down to business,” Sergeant Hagan said. “My superiors have informed me that you had a bit of a run-in with some officers in training.”

  Trayce began to fidget with the flint and steel in his hands.

  “Due to the nature of your transgression, I fear I must punish you.”

  “Sir, I understand, but I didn’t do anything! Really! Ask Major Hwrathorn, he was there!” Trayce said, before Sergeant Hagan silenced him.

  “I don’t believe you antagonized three superior officers intentionally, that would be suicide. It doesn’t matter what I think, though. This order has come down from the top.” Sergeant Hagan shook his head. “Before you get angry they did give me some wiggle room, and I will be using that to show you grace. You will only be assigned to night watch, and not latrine duty.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Trayce said.

  “You will still have to perform your normal duties during the day, and you will be on laundry during some days.”

  Trayce looked at his sergeant questioningly.

  “Yes, I know that it’s an odd assignment, but it was the one thing they were very specific about. You are to report to Major Hwrathorn’s office five days a week. I suggest you get a move on, your watch starts soon. Dismissed, private,”

  “Sir, yes sir,” Trayce replied, getting up from the crate to salute.

  Sergeant Hagan nodded at the salute, turning to leave the alleyway. He stopped for a moment, as if remembering something.

  “And Trayce, it’s probably best for a man of low stock like yourself to stay away from the Stripes.” Sergeant Hagan said over his shoulder, before walking away.

  The sergeant was long gone, yet Trayce still stood alone in the alley. Bastard. The treasonous thought leapt to his mind. Part of him wanted to yell it out, for all to hear. Another part wanted to sprint across the packed earth in the direction his sergeant went, to say it to his face. As Trayce stewed a breeze began to pick up. It whipped around him, stirring up dust and flinging the flier up and over the neighboring building. The wind blew against his fact and the anger he felt threatening to boil over inside him began to cool. He let out a breathe he didn’t know he was holding, and moved to get ready for his new assignment.

  Coyotes howled and bayed past the dark horizon. Shivering, Trayce pulled his coat tighter across his shoulders. The watch post was open on all sides, allowing a 360-degree view, at the cost of protection against the wind. While it lacked walls, there was a roof at the very least. It seems the military engineers didn’t expect any threats passing above the raised wooden watchtower. The roof proved its worth, illustrated by the soft pitter-patter of a light rain overhead. To try and regain feeling in his limp fingers, he rubbed his hands together, but it didn’t seem to help.

  He looked toward the first moon for what must be the hundredth time as it inched ever closer to the horizon. Only once the first moon set was Trayce allowed to start a small cookfire for food and heat, and he could only keep it lit for a short period of time. Just keeping the fire up for long enough to boil water for tea or heating stew from a jug would completely destroy his ability to see in the dark. It would take over half an hour of near complete darkness for his eyes to fully adjust back. By Delion I am bringing something more than my uniform coat tomorrow night. This is terrible. Trayce rubbed his palms together again and blew on them, trying to breathe some lige back into them. He sat back and consigned himself to the cold night ahead.

  The first moon, Evia, couldn’t have made her exit sooner. Trayce took a piece of firewood from the stack and placed it in the small copper bucket used to contain the fire. He arranged kindling around the base of the firewood and struck his flint. The wind carried the first few sparks away, but they winked out almost immediately. After a few more attempts, the kindling caught, and juvenile flames began to lick at the firewood. Once sure the wood was starting to catch fire, he put the little metal rack on top of the fire pit. While only made up of only a few flimsy pieces of metal, it served its purpose well enough. He placed his drinking cup on top of the rack and filled it with his waterskin, along with a biscuit and a strip of salted meat to warm up. With the fire being too small to light the area, after his eyes adjusted to it, he could scarcely see ten yards out from the post.

  Trayce warmed his hands over the fire and waited. It didn’t take long for the meat and biscuit to heat, and when they did, he eagerly devoured them. Soon after, the water reached a boil. He reached into his pack and pulled out the tea from Fr?swár. Taking a pinch of the dark leaves, he stirred them into the cup to steep. The tea began to color the water, and after a few minutes, the drink had shifted to a dark blue-green, at which point Trayce carefully removed the mug from the heat. Now that he had finished his meal, he reluctantly put out the fire. The cold began to seep back in almost immediately. He wrapped his hands around his mug, appreciating the warmth. Bringing the cup to his lips, he inhaled the scents of cinnamon and pine before taking a sip. The hot drink flowed down his throat, threatening to burn the roof of his mouth. It tasted strongly of pine needles and cinnamon, as the smell suggested, but also had an earthy, nutty note, followed by a bitter aftertaste. Next time, Trayce thought, I need to bring some sugar. It tasted fine enough, and it was warm, so he couldn’t really complain. Now to wait and see if it helped him stay awake and alert, because his eyes were beginning to get heavy.

  The second moon, Delara, crested the horizon, casting its pale golden light. It was enough to illuminate the ground, making the general shapes visible but leaving details in shadow. Trayce scanned the darkness as he drank the last vestiges of his tea. In the light of the rising moon, he was starting to feel the effects of the drink. It washed over him, warming his cheeks but sending a shiver down his spine. The tea didn’t give him the wealth of energy the merchant had advertised, but it cleared his mind, and he felt refreshed. Maybe with this stuff, long nights on watch wouldn’t be so bad after all.