All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

The morning sun had yet to crest the palace walls, but Ga’briyel stood at attention before General Mistri. His body was stiff, but his eyes were downcast. The boy next to him was in much the same position, but that boy stared straight ahead. Ga’briyel barely came to the other’s waist, but it was the latter who looked the worse for wear. Chatra Ricard had a split lip, a black eye, and a gash on his cheek that was steadily dripping blood. The knuckles of his right hand were also cut open. Ga’briyel had only a small knot on his left temple. Both boys’ clothes were torn and dirty from rolling around on the ground. The rest of the Chatra were in rank behind the two.

“Head up, Ga’briyel.”

At his father’s stern command, the little boy slowly raised his head and faced him. Jarda kept his face grim, but inside he was proud of his son. He knew that the older boy had started the fight, and he knew that Ga’briyel had had no choice but to defend himself, and he had done so admirably.

“Which of you wants to tell me what happened?”

Ga’briyel only tightened his lips as his eyes glowed brightly. Jarda knew how angry he was, and he understood it completely.

It had been three moons since Jarda had found the young Anmah on the side of the Torkeln road and had taken him in as his own son. The boy still had not spoken a word except during his nightmares, which occurred at least once a night, but the two had devised a means of communication that few others understood.

“Well?” Jarda said, his voice stern. He looked between the boys and then settled his gaze on the older one.“Chatra Ricard, you tell me.”

“Yes, sir.” The fourteen-year-old boy swallowed visibly, but he immediately spoke with a clear voice. “I started it, General. I told Ga’briyel that he should not be on the training grounds, and then I…” He trailed off, and his eyes shifted away from his general guiltily.

Jarda frowned and stared at the boy until his eyes came back to him. “And then you what, Chatra?”

“And then I pushed him away, sir. He fell to the ground, and then he suddenly came at me and knocked me down. I was just trying to get him off me, sir.”

Jarda’s eyebrows rose as a murmur rolled through the ranks. Captain of the Chatra Stiphen Phransa quelled it directly. Ga’briyel clenched his fists in protest at the older boy’s words and snarled. Jarda turned to him and held up a warning finger, and the boy calmed slightly, though his hands did not relax.

“Are you sure that is what happened, Chatra?” The general’s eyes and voice were hard as he turned back to the older boy, and the blood drained from the Chatra’s face.

“Yes, sir, I am sure. You can ask Chatra Domin and Chatra Eran; they both saw it.”

Jarda had already talked to the other two Chatra, and they had tried to stay true to Ricard’s version of events, but when stared down by the General of the Guard, they had quickly changed their stories and told him the truth. It was a good decision, but it had not kept them from serious consequences. They were currently mucking out the stables and would have that job for the next two moons.

“Well, that is unfortunate, because someone else saw what happened. Care to take a guess as to who that was?”

The Chatra gulped and shook his head, his eyes never leaving his general’s.

“What was that? I could not hear you.”

“No, sir,” the boy said softly, “I do not know.”

Jarda took a step forward so that he was a mere span in front of the boy and dropped his voice to a forbidding rumble. “I saw it, Chatra.”

The boy looked as if he were about to faint.

“What is the Guard’s motto, Chatra?”

“Integrity and Honor Above All Else, sir.” The boy’s voice was barely a whisper, and his head hung low.

“Stand up straight, Chatra, and speak up!” Jarda’s voice was like steel, and the boy snapped to attention.

“Integrity and Honor Above All Else, General!” Ricard’s throat was working frantically, but he spoke loudly and clearly.

“Are you showing me that you are a man of integrity right now?”

“No, General.”

“And were your actions toward Ga’briyel honorable?”

“No, General.”

“No to both. Fighting is forbidden in the ranks of the Chatra at all times, but picking on a boy less than half your age and size is despicable. Especially when he is not even old enough to be a Chatra.”

Ricard’s teeth clenched, his eyes showed fear, and he had turned a sickly green color. Jarda knew that he had to make an example of this boy or others would follow in his footsteps. Ricard was known as a bully in the ranks, threatening physical harm to boys who did not do as he said, and Jarda was going to put a stop to it.

“So,” he said, turning his back on the boys and clasping his hands behind him, “you not only tried to hurt someone younger than you, you also lied to your General about it.” He spun around, his eyes pinned on the Chatra before him who was trying not to squirm under his gaze. “Chatra Ricard, you will report immediately to the quartermaster and trade in your uniform for a servant’s garb. Then you will report to the kitchens where you will remain for the next three moons. You will obey the head cook in all things without delay. At the end of that time, I will decide whether you may stay in the ranks of the Chatra. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.

“Dismissed.”

Ricard saluted and slowly turned on his heel and walked away. Jarda turned his attention to Ga’briyel who had not moved except to relax his hands.

“You,” Jarda said, pointing at his son, “will follow me.” He kept his voice hard. “Captain!”

Phransa stepped up to his general and saluted smartly.

“It seems to me that discipline in the ranks of the Chatra has been slipping. The rest of the afternoon will be spent in drilling, and, Captain, I will hold you personally responsible if something like this ever happens again.”

“Yes, sir, General. It will not, I promise.”

“It had better not.” Jarda gestured to his son. “Come with me, Ga’briyel.”

Without another glance at anyone, Jarda marched away, ignoring the salutes given to him by everyone he passed. He was more furious than he could remember being in a very long time. Not at his son, but at the boys in his command who thought that picking on someone perceived to be weaker was something they could get away with. He would go back to the training grounds a little later and tell Captain Phransa that he was not working the Chatra hard enough, whether he was or not. The fifty-three boys in the ranks needed a healthy dose of fear, and he was going to give it to them. He felt his anger build as he and his son made their way through the hallways to his office.

When they reached it, Jarda opened the door and motioned Ga’briyel inside. The boy walked in, his head held high, and stood at attention before his father’s desk. Jarda chuckled, his anger slowly melting away at the sight of the brave child in front of him.

“Relax, Ga’briyel. You are not here for punishment.”

Ga’briyel turned slowly, an expression of disbelief on his face.

“I am serious,” Jarda said, dropping to one knee. “I am not your general right now; I am your baba, and your baba is very proud of you.” He placed his hands on the small shoulders and smiled.

Ga’briyel’s eyebrows came together, and he pantomimed a fight.

Jarda nodded. “I know you got in a fight, my son, but only after Ricard tried to hurt you.” The little face now showed astonishment. “That is right. I was watching from the balcony. I saw him hold you against the wall and attempt to punch you. I also saw you duck out of the way so that most of his punch landed on the wall. And I saw you block every other punch he threw at you while landing plenty of your own.” He raised a hand and gently touched the bump on his son’s head. “Does it hurt?”

Ga’briyel shook his head, and Jarda smiled. “Would you tell me if it did?”

The boy shook his head again, and his father’s smile turned into a laugh. “I did not think so. Now, go get cleaned up. It is time for your lessons with Ma’ikel.”

Ga’briyel nodded, and Jarda watched as he walked through the door that connected the office to their living quarters. Just before the door shut, he heard Elise cry out, “Ga’briyel! What did you do this time?” He imagined the indignant look the little boy was probably giving his mother, and he laughed softly. Then he stood up and straightened his uniform. He knew he needed to be at his sternest for his inspection of the Chatra ranks if the bullying was going to stop.

He thought of the recent rumors that some of the older boys had made it a practice to pick on the younger ones and that plenty of people knew what was going on and were doing nothing to stop it, and by the time he made it back to the training grounds, his blood was boiling.

The ages of the Chatra were from ten to fifteen years, at which time, if the boy had proven himself, he would become a full-fledged guardsman. Many boys never made it that far. They often dropped out and went home to their families and learned whatever trade their father knew. Very few had ever been forced to leave the ranks, though.

The rumors also said that it was some of the oldest boys who were the worst bullies, and he was going to make sure that it ended immediately. He neither needed nor wanted such boys in his Guard, and if it meant that most of them were sent home, then that is what would happen.

Jarda Mistri, father to Ga’briyel and husband to Elise, was nowhere to be found when General Mistri of the Crown’s Guard stalked through the gates of the training ground, a scowl on his face and his eyes hard.

“Captain Phransa!” he bellowed as he advanced on the man.

The captain spun from his position on the edge of the wrestling ring and snapped to attention. “General!”

“I will speak to each and every Chatra, starting with the youngest. Send him to the quartermaster’s immediately after I leave.”

“Yes, sir, General! It will be done as you say.”

Jarda said not another word but swiftly marched to the quartermaster’s. He told the man that he needed the space, and it was instantly vacated. He positioned himself so that he faced the doorway, and he forced himself to relax. It was the older boys he was angry with, and he did not want the younger ones to be scared to talk to him. Moments later, a small boy walked slowly into the room and stood stiffly, his hand on his heart.

“Chatra Dinton Sekara reporting as ordered, General.”

“At ease, Chatra,” Jarda said softly, and the boy dropped his hand, spread his feet, and placed his hands behind his back.

The general pulled two chairs from behind the counter and sat in one of them. He gestured toward the other. “Sit.”

“Yes, sir.” Dinton sat and placed his hands on his knees.

“Now, I want to ask you a few questions, and I expect honest answers. Do not be afraid to tell me the truth. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Good.” Jarda took a deep breath and leaned close to the boy. “How old are you?”

“I had my tenth naming-day three moons ago, sir.”

“And how long have you been a Chatra?”

“Only a moon, sir.”

“And have you been threatened or hurt by anyone in that time, Chatra Dinton?”

The boy’s eyebrows came together even as his eyes slid away from Jarda. “I am not sure I know what you mean, General.”

“No? Honest answers, remember?”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“But what? You can tell me.”

Dinton glanced over his shoulder as if he were afraid that someone was listening in.

“Boy, look at me.”

Scared eyes snapped back to Jarda, and it took great effort to keep the anger within him off his face.

“Who are you afraid of?”

The boy started to tremble.

“I…I cannot…I mean, I do not want to tell you, General.”

“Why not?”

“Because they will hurt me worse if I do, sir.” The words were barely audible.

Jarda frowned. “Who will? What do you mean worse? Tell me, Chatra. That is an order.”

A tear trickled down the boy’s cheek, and he hastily wiped it away. Fury as he had never known before rose up in Jarda, but he kept it in check and gently placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Listen to me, Chatra. Whatever is happening to you is wrong, and I cannot stop it if I do not know who is behind it. Tell me.”

“You will really make them stop, sir?”

“Of course I will. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Because some of the guardsmen know what is happening, sir, and they have not done anything about it.” The boy’s voice was shaking, and his tears were now flowing freely. He had quit trying to stop them.

Jarda’s voice was hard as steel. “Give me names, Chatra Dinton, all that you know.”

“Yes, sir. The Chatra are Ricard, Domin, Eran, Juston, and Glaucus. The only guardsmen I know are Iskander and Gregers, sir.”

Jarda knew them all. The guardsmen were all several years older than the Chatra, in their early twenties, and it seemed like they had created their own gang within the ranks.

“What are the Chatra doing to you?”

The boy stood up and pulled his shirt out of his breeches. He pulled it up past his ribs, and numerous bruises became visible. Their colors showed that they were anywhere from a few weeks old to a few days. The Chatra slowly turned, and Jarda saw that they extended around the child’s entire torso.

“How did you get those?”

The boy dropped his shirt. “If we do not do what the others say, they hit us with their practice swords. They make us stand with our arms over our heads, and they usually hit us three or four times.” He tucked in his shirt and sat down on the chair again. “They threaten us with worse if we talk.”

Jarda clenched his teeth in anger. “How are the guardsmen involved?”

“They keep a lookout for Captain Phransa while the Chatra hurt us.”

“I see. So, the captain does not know what is going on?”

“No, sir; at least, I do not think so.”

The general thought that was probably the truth. Boys had an uncanny way of keeping things secret from adults.

“Thank you, Chatra Dinton, for telling me the truth. I know it was hard to do, but I promise it was the right thing to do. Now, I want you to stay right here until I come back. Bar the door behind me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda stood up and walked to the door. Just as he opened it, the boy’s voice stopped him.

“General Mistri, sir?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say thank you, sir.”

Jarda nodded and walked out the door. He waited until he heard the bar drop down, and then he marched back to the training grounds where Captain Phransa was now watching a group of older Chatra train with wooden practice swords.

“Captain!”

Phransa saluted and stood at attention while the boys lowered their swords and did the same.

“Yes, General?”

“Walk with me. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda walked past the group and the captain joined him. Jarda waited until they were out of earshot of all the Chatra, and then he stopped and faced his captain. When the latter saw the fury in his general’s eyes, he instantly stood at attention and wondered if he had done something to incur his superior’s wrath.

“I will ask this one time and one time only, Captain, and, with Yisu as my witness, you had better answer me truthfully. Did you know that the younger Chatra were being tortured by some of the older ones?”

The captain’s wide eyes and dropped jaw told Jarda more than his words ever could, but he was glad, nonetheless, when Phransa said, “No, sir, General! If I had, I would have stopped it immediately! Who told you this?”

“Chatra Dinton. I saw the evidence with my own eyes. Apparently, some of the older Chatra and the newer guardsmen are forcing the younger Chatra to be their slaves and are hurting them when they refuse.”

“General, I promise you, sir, I knew nothing about this.”

“I believe you, Captain, but now I need your help to stop it. I need you to talk to the Captain of the Guard and get me ten seasoned guardsmen that he trusts implicitly. Tell them to report to the quartermaster’s immediately. I will tell them what to do when they get there. Then I need you to keep sending Chatra to see me, one at a time, youngest to oldest until I have seen them all. Do not tell anyone what I have told you.”

“Yes, sir. Might I ask what you are going to do?”

“I am going to find out who is involved in this barbarity and deal with them accordingly. It seems that it is time to do some weeding out of the bad seeds in the Guard.”

“Yes, sir. I will get on it right away.”

Jarda nodded his dismissal, and Captain Phransa saluted and hurried away. Jarda went back to where Dinton was waiting and knocked on the door.

“Chatra Dinton, open up. It is General Mistri.”

The bar was released, and the door opened a crack. Jarda entered and knelt down in front of the terrified boy inside.

“Listen to me, Chatra. This abuse is going to stop now. Trusted guardsmen are going to be here soon, and I want you to go with some of them.”

The boy’s eyes went wide with fear.

“Do not be afraid,” Jarda said, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “these guardsmen are nothing like the ones you are used to. I promise.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered. They waited for about fifteen minutes, and Jarda asked the boy more about what the others had been doing. Dinton told him that the younger boys had to wash the older ones’ clothing, polish their boots, and even clean their barracks. The more the boy talked, the more furious Jarda became.

Dinton jumped when the door opened further and he saw nine large men in white jackets and blue breeches standing in a semicircle around a tenth who stood in the doorway. All ten were saluting Jarda, and all ten had swords on their hips.

“General Mistri, sir, Guardsman Tero. My men and I were told to report to you immediately.”

“Yes,” Jarda said, standing up but keeping his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I have a few questions for you.”

“Of course, General.”

“How long have you been in the Guard?”

“Almost ten years, sir. I was a Chatra for five years before that.”

“And these other guardsmen? What about them?”

“Most of us were Chatra together, sir. Those that were not have been in our company for at least five years.”

“Do you trust them?”

“With my life, sir.”

Jarda looked down at the child who was trembling beneath his hand.

“I am going to tell you something, and it must be kept secret. You and the others are to tell no one else.”

“Yes, General!” All ten men spoke at the same time, and the Chatra jumped again.

Jarda told the men what had been going on and had Dinton raise his shirt. Each and every one of the men scowled, and more than a few hands strayed to the hilts of swords. Tero’s eyes were drawn to the child, and he frowned.

“May I, General?”

“Of course.”

The guardsman knelt down and placed his hands on his knees. “What has happened to you is wrong, little one. Do you understand that?” At the boy’s nod, he continued. “We will keep you safe and make sure this never happens again. I give you my word.” Then he stood and saluted the boy.

A tiny hint of a smile was seen on the little face, and the Chatra stood tall and returned the salute.

“All right,” Jarda said sternly. “Three of you will take this child to a safe place. Expect several others to join you, so make sure there is enough room. I am anticipating that up to ten more Chatra will be found with the bruises. Three of you will find another room for the offenders to be held and will wait for them there. The other four will be paired up to accompany the Chatra to one room or the other. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir, General!”

The guardsmen conferred briefly, and then three disappeared. Three others stepped forward, and Jarda gently guided Dinton toward them.

“Go on, Chatra. They will protect you.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy fell into step with the guards, one on either side of him and the third behind him. All three had their hands on their sword hilts.

The last four took up positions in the shadows of the room where they could not be seen. Tero was one of these four.

“You are to make no sound while I question the Chatra,” Jarda told them. “It will be difficult when you hear what I know some of these boys will say, but you must control yourselves. I do not want the boys to know you are here until you escort them out.”

“Understood, General,” Tero said, and Jarda heard the fury in his voice.

Jarda stood facing the open door, and within a few minutes another young boy appeared in the doorway and saluted him.

“Chatra Sylvain, reporting as ordered, General.”

“Step inside, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy entered the room and stood at attention.

“How old are you, Chatra?”

“I am six moons from my tenth naming-day, General.”

“Raise your shirt.”

Eyebrows came together in confusion, but the boy did as ordered. There were no bruises on him.

“Turn in a circle. Keep your shirt up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sylvain made a complete turn, and Jarda noticed something about the boy. He was quite a bit larger than Dinton, and the general knew at that point that it would only be the smaller boys who would prove to be the victims.

“Tuck your shirt in, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda stared at him. He did not want to believe that such a young boy could be involved in the abuse, but he had to be sure.

“Tell me about your time in the Chatra.”

“Yes, sir. I came to their ranks on my tenth naming-day. I have learned the rules and regulations of the Guard, and,” here the boy smiled slightly, “I just started learning how to fight.”

“Have you enjoyed it here?”

“Oh, yes, sir! My father is a tanner, and it is wonderful to be away from the stink of the tanner’s shop. I would much rather be a guardsman than a tanner, sir.”

“Have you seen anything here to cause you concern, Chatra? Anything at all?”

The boy thought for a moment and answered, “No, sir, nothing I can think of.”

Throughout the entire exchange, the boy’s eyes never shifted from Jarda, and he showed no other signs of falsehood.

“Very well, Chatra, you may return to your duties. However, you will tell no one of what we spoke. If anyone threatens you to make you talk, immediately come back here and tell me, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, completely.”

Jarda nodded, and the Chatra saluted and left.

This process was repeated with the next thirty boys. The first six were all ten years old, a dozen were eleven, and the rest were twelve. Out of the thirty, eight had the bruises and were escorted to the room where Dinton waited after they had told Jarda who had hurt them. They were all small boys. Out of the others, Jarda found none that he suspected in the abuse. They all answered the questions quickly and frankly. The victims had confirmed the names of the abusers that Dinton had given him, however, and they added the names of three more guardsmen: Elwyn, Mahind, and Brynjar.

It was not until the first thirteen-year-old Chatra that Jarda found his first offender.

“Chatra Juston, reporting as ordered, General.”

The boy stood at attention and saluted, but there was an air of arrogance about him. Upon hearing his name, Jarda knew white-hot fury again, but he controlled his expression and kept his voice calm.

“Come in, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda did not have him raise his shirt. He knew there would be no bruises, for all nine victims had named him as a perpetrator of the abuse. The boy was large; his head came to Jarda’s shoulder, and the general was over two paces tall. He stepped closer to the boy, and as he did so, he heard one of the guardsmen crack his knuckles.

“Juston, you are here to face charges…”

“What?”

Jarda glared at him and spoke through his teeth. “Do not interrupt me again, boy.”

Juston gulped and nodded, the arrogant stance slipping. “Sorry, sir.”

“You are here to face charges that you have been torturing smaller boys in the ranks. What have you to say for yourself?”

“I say that it is a lie, General! I would never do such a thing!”

“And what would you say if I told you that nine boys, without knowing about the others, all said that you are indeed involved?”

The Chatra’s eyes slid to the wall. “They must have gotten together to come up with a story, General.”

“I see. Did you know why you were summoned here?”

“No, sir, I had no idea.”

“Then what makes you think they did? How could they have come up with a story if they had no idea what I was going to ask them?”

“I…” The boy’s eyes were shifting around the room now, landing anywhere but on Jarda. “I do not know, General.”

“Hmm.” Jarda took a step toward the boy, who tensed as if he wanted to run. “And how do you explain the bruises on their bodies that give evidence to their words?”

The boy’s bottom lip quivered, and he clamped it between his teeth while his eyes settled on a spot near his general’s feet.

“Well?” Jarda snapped. “What is your response, boy?”

“I…” Juston pulled himself up straight but kept his eyes from Jarda. “I have no response, sir.”

Jarda’s lip curled in contempt at the boy’s dishonesty and cowardice, and he gestured sharply to the shadows.

Guardsman Tero stepped forward with one of his men, and Juston’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, General?”

“Get this boy out of my sight. Now.”

“Yes, sir!”

Tero’s hand shot out and seized the boy by the nape of the neck as his companion grabbed an arm. Juston cried out, and he tried to turn around toward Jarda.

“General Mistri, sir! I will tell you what you want to know!”

“Too late, boy,” Tero snarled as they disappeared through the door.

Jarda paced from wall to wall in the small room in an attempt to calm his anger and disgust. His hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously, and he finally stopped before the back wall and crashed his fist into it with a loud yell.

“General? Are you all right, sir?” One of the guardsmen stepped forward from the shadows.

“How do you mean? I feel like strangling someone, so I would say, no, I am not all right.”

“I understand, sir,” the man said respectfully. “I would like to say that I am glad my job was to escort the victims, sir. I am not sure I could keep myself calm with that Chatra that just left.”

“Do not call him that,” Jarda snarled. “As of today, none of the offenders are Chatra or guardsmen any longer. I will not have that kind of person in my Guard.”

“What are you going to do with them, sir?”

“I have not decided yet. I need to see if there is any precedence for something like this.” Jarda took a deep breath as he heard footsteps approaching. “And we are not done yet,” he growled, and he straightened his uniform and flexed his sore hand before facing the door once again.

The rest of the Chatra who came before him did not seem to be involved, other than the three in servants’ garb, two stinking of horses and one of burnt food, but then came the last one, which meant he was the oldest in the ranks. The boy stood at attention in front of Jarda and saluted.

“Chatra Glaucus reporting as ordered, General!”

Jarda said nothing but slowly walked around the boy, studying him closely. He was larger than the other four guilty Chatra, almost able to look Jarda in the eye. The thought of this brute terrorizing the small boys who had passed before him made the general’s stomach twist.

“Let me tell you why you are here, boy.” Jarda’s tone was quiet but as hard as steel. He spoke clearly and slowly. “I know what you, Ricard, Domin, Eran, and Juston have been doing.” Glaucus opened his mouth, and Jarda held up a warning finger. “I did not give you permission to speak, boy, and do not interrupt me again. Just listen.” The boy nodded as his mouth snapped shut. “Do not deny your involvement with the torture that has been going on. I already have enough evidence to prove your guilt. I want to know the names of everyone else involved.” Jarda stopped in front of the boy and leaned close. “And I mean everyone, boy, do you understand me?” When there was no answer, Jarda said, “You may speak.”

Glaucus nodded nervously, but Jarda noticed that he kept his eyes up and directed at him.

“I understand, General,” the boy said, his voice shaking. “It started with Chatra Ri…”

“Do not give yourself or any of your compatriots that title, boy! You do not deserve it!”

His face going white, Glaucus nodded. “Yes, sir. It started with Ricard, sir. He wanted to make the smaller boys do his work for him, so he started hurting them if they refused, sir. Eventually, the rest of us just kind of got pulled in.” He swallowed and stood straight. “I know it was wrong, General, and I will gladly receive any punishment you see fit to give me.” His lip trembled, but he drew his mouth into a tight line and then said, “I am sorry I disappointed you, General, and I am sorry I was ever involved in this.”

Jarda’s anger lessened a degree or two at the boy’s honesty and obvious remorse, but he was still furious. “Names, boy. I want names; all of them.”

“Yes, sir. There is me, of course, Ricard, Domin, Eran, and Juston, as you said earlier. There are also some guardsmen who kept watch for us. I think they enjoyed the show, sir. There are five of them: Elwyn, Iskander, Mahind, Brynjar, and Gregers, sir. No one else, I swear.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Almost a year, General,” the boy said softly, his eyes finally dropping to the ground in shame.

“A year. And you are sure no one else knew what was happening?”

“I am positive, sir. We were very careful.”

Jarda took a deep breath. “Look at me, boy.” Glaucus’ eyes slowly came up, and Jarda saw tears in them, but whether they were from fear or guilt, he did not know. “I want you to know that you are the only one of the guilty ones who had the courage to tell me the truth. It does not mean that you will not be punished for your actions, but it does show that you have some integrity and honor in you.”

The boy nodded, and his voice caught as he whispered, “Thank you, General. That means a lot to me.”

Jarda tilted his head as he crooked his finger toward the shadows. Tero stepped forward with the other three guardsmen. Unlike with Juston and the other three, he merely gestured toward the door, and Glaucus saluted as the first tear trickled down his cheek.

“I am sorry, General Mistri,” he whispered as he turned and trudged out the door.

Tero started after him, but Jarda stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Let the others take him, Tero. I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Tero stood at attention and waited.

“Not here. Follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda led him out of the quartermaster’s, his eyebrows together and a frown on his face as they made their way to his office.