Everything Begins

Chapter 7

The  morning sun had yet to crest the palace walls, but Frank 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. Frank 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. Frank 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 Frank had had no choice but to defend himself, and he had done so admirably.

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

Frank 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 Frank 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. Frank 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 Frank 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 rLisain 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 Frank 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 Frank 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.”

Frank 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?”

Frank 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.”

Frank 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 Frank 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.