“But father—”
“Silence!” he screamed, so shrill it cut the air. “Enough with you. Here they come. Get out of the way, and best mind your manners while they’re here.”
His father stepped up and with one hand pushed Thor to the side, as if he were an object he’d rather not see. His beefy palm stung Thor’s chest.
A great rumbling arose, and townsfolk poured out from their homes, lining the streets. A growing cloud of dust heralded the caravan, and moments later they burst in, a dozen horse-drawn carriages, with a noise like a great thunder.
They came into town like a sudden army, and their caravan came to a halt close to Thor’s home. Their horses stood there, prancing, snorting. It took too long for the cloud of dust to settle, and Thor anxiously tried to steal a peek of their armor, their weaponry. He had never been this close to the Silver before, and his heart thumped.
The soldier on the lead horse dismounted his stallion. Here he was, a real, actual member of the Silver, covered in shiny ring mail, a long sword on his belt. He looked to be in his 30s, a real man, stubble on his face, scars on his cheek, and a nose crooked from battle. He was the most substantial man Thor had ever seen, twice as wide as the others, with a countenance that said he was in charge.
The soldier jumped down onto the dirt road, his spurs jingling as he approached the lineup of boys.
All up and down the village stood dozens of boys, at attention, hoping. Joining The Silver meant a life of honor, of battle, of renown, of glory—along with land, title, and riches. It meant the best bride, the choicest land, a life of glory. It meant honor for your family, and entering the Legion was the first step.
Thor studied the large, golden carriages, and knew they could only hold so many recruits. It was a large kingdom, and they had many towns to visit. He gulped, realizing his chances were even more remote than he thought. He would have to beat out all these other boys—many of them substantial fighters—along with his own three brothers. He had a sinking feeling.
Thor could hardly breathe as he watched the soldier pace in the silence, surveying the rows of hopefuls. He began on the far side of the street, then slowly circled. Thor knew all of the other boys, of course. Some of them he knew secretly did not want to be picked, even though their families wanted to send them off. They were afraid; they would make poor soldiers.
Thor burned with indignity. He felt he deserved to be picked, as much as any of them. Just because his brothers were older and bigger and stronger, didn’t mean he shouldn’t have a right to stand and be chosen. He burned with hatred for his father, and nearly burst out of his skin as the soldier approached.
The soldier stopped, for the first time, before his brothers. He looked them up and down, and seemed impressed. He reached out, grabbed one of their scabbards and yanked it, as if to test how firm it was.
He broke into a smile.
“You haven’t yet used your sword in battle, have you?” he asked Drake.
Thor saw Drake nervous for the first time in his life. He swallowed.
“No, my liege. But I’ve used it many times in practice, and I hope to—”
“In practice!”
The soldier roared in laughter and turned to the other soldiers, who joined in, laughing in Drake’s face.
Drake turned bright red. It was the first time Thor had ever seen Drake embarrassed—usually, it was Drake embarrassing others.
“Well then I shall certainly tell our enemies to fear you—you who wields your sword in practice!”
The crowd of soldiers laughed again.
The soldier then turned to his other brothers.
“Three boys from the same stock,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “That can be useful. You’re all a good size. Untested, though. You’ll need much training if you are to make the cut.”
He paused.
“I suppose we can find room.”
He nodded towards the rear wagon.
“Get in, and be quick of it. Before I change my mind.”
Thor’s three brothers sprinted for the carriage, beaming. Thor noticed his father beaming, too.
But he was crestfallen as he watched them go.
The soldier turned and moved on to the next home. Thor could stand it no longer.
“Sire!” Thor yelled out.
His father turned and glared at him, but Thor no longer cared.
The soldier stopped, his back to him, and slowly turned.
Thor took two steps forward, his heart beating, and stuck out his chest as far as he could.
“You haven’t considered me, sire,” he said.
The soldier, startled, looked Thor up and down as if he were a joke.
“Haven’t I?” he asked, and burst into laughter.
His men burst into laughter, too. But Thor didn’t care. This was his moment. It was now or never.
“I want to join the Legion!” Thor said.
The soldier turned and stepped towards Thor.
“Do you now?”
He looked amused.
“And have you even reached your fourteenth year?”
“I did, sire. Two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago!”
The soldier shrieked with laughter, as did the men behind them.
“In that case, our enemies shall surely quiver at the sight of you.”
Thor felt himself burning with indignity. He had to do something. He couldn’t let it end like this. The soldier turned his back to walk away—but Thor could not allow it.
Thor stepped forward and screamed: “Sire! You are making a mistake!”
A horrified gasp spread through the crowd, as the soldier stopped and slowly turned.
Now, he was scowling.
“Stupid boy,” his father said, grabbing Thor by his shoulder, “go back inside!”
“I shall not!” Thor yelled, shaking off his father’s grip.
The soldier stepped towards Thor, and his father backed away.
“Do you know the punishment for insulting the Silver?” the soldier snapped.
Thor’s heart pounded, but he knew he could not back down.
“Please forgive him, sire,” his father said. “He’s a young child and—”
“I’m not speaking to you,” the soldier said. With a withering look, he forced his father to look away.
He turned back to Thor.
“Answer me!” he said.
Thor swallowed, unable to speak. This was not how he saw it going in his head.