Trashy Battalion (1/2)

Alister – a tall, lanky man, is walking down the street to the inn next door. He's well dressed and has an officer's badge on his sleeves. Just as he's going to visit another guild master, he hears a loud crashing and glass breaking.

Startled, the officer looks up in shock as a man on the second floor is thrown out the window. Then, he sees a mage jumps out after him with a dagger drawn and a murderous look in his eyes.

The officer, as well as the other passerby's, notice that the man thrown out the window has Kareen tattoos on his arms and that his assailant is guild master Garrik.

The Kareen manages to stay on his feet, and when he looks around back at Garrik, the guild master… pauses in place for a moment.

Officer Alister happens to be a mage, so he notices something no one else did. The Kareen's eyes glowed momentarily, and Alister sees mana circulating in his body as he pulls… some kind of foreign energy from within himself.

Of course, Alister isn't compatible with Death like Haalfrin is, nor is he a spirit mage, so he can't see the black death energy Haalfrin is summoning up from his soul – the very energy he took from the bandits he slew on the journey up.

'Some kind of fear spell?' Alister guesses. 'Well, it doesn't seem to be powerful enough. Garrik's already moving again…'

He then looks at the Kareen more closely and thinks, 'If he had been just a normal person, I'd just leave him for Garrik to take his anger out on; he probably offended him in some way… However… since he's a mage, that changes a few things.'

So, Officer Alister walks in and holds up both hands, yanking both Garrik and Haalfrin to the ground. Alister is a 2nd Gate mage, unlike these 2 weaker mages in front of him; immobilizing both of them wasn't a big deal.

Alister looks over at Garrik and makes sure to keep his tone calm, "What's the problem?"

"This man!" Garrik spits as he points at Haalfrin, "he just attacked me out of nowhere! Just let me finish him off. He attacked me in my guild, so this is guild business."

"Wrong!" Alister abruptly commands with a straight back and straight face. "That tavern isn't your guild hall. This city, however, is our general's territory for now. This ground is army ground, and that makes all disputes an army officer's business. If anyone's going to be punished, then I, or one of my colleagues, will be doing it."

The officer then turns to Haalfrin, "You have anything to say for yourself?"

Haalfrin composes himself and wipes the blood from his nose. "Yeah. I came in looking for a guild to join since I want to fight in the war. However, this man here could've just rejected my offer. Instead, he openly mocked my clan and challenged me. I'm sorry sir, but fighting him wasn't an option for me. You can take me to prison if you want; I don't really care."

... The only thing that makes Haalfrin feel sad about his situation is that he knows he'll probably lose his sword. They'll certainly take all of his possessions away, and when they find out that he has enchanted equipment, they'll take it all away.

'Well, I'm going to die soon, anyway,' he thinks. 'What's the point in really worrying about possessions?'

Still, his mind tells him to not worry about it, but his heart is still feeling sour.

Hearing this, Officer Alister frowns at his candid response. If this had been a normal civilian, he'd have been executed unceremoniously over a gutter – less cleaning up that way. However… this boy is a mage; they're important resources.

Alister himself doesn't have the authority to assign a soldier to a regiment, but after he sticks the boy in prison, the higher-ups are probably going to yank him out of his cell and send him off to war anyway.

Giving an exhausted sigh, the officer holds up a hand and motions for the soldiers following behind him. "Arrest that man and stick him in the prison in the keep."

There are common prisons where thugs and other petty criminals are kept in every noble's establishment; it's part of their peacekeeping duties, after all.

Most prisons are simple cells with open bars that can be crammed full of criminals... However, the lord up in Uthraal castle has enough money to afford a prison that can hold mages, and a prison of THAT capability needs a lot more than just bars and chains.

Of course, nobody but Haalfrin himself knows that he doesn't have any conventional mage skills yet, so putting him in a fancy prison really makes no difference either way.

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It takes several weeks for any decision on Haalfrin to be made. The general and sub-generals all are too busy to care much about a single mage to put him at the top of their priority list…

And when a decision is finally made, we just see a tired old man sitting at a desk, going through papers.

When he sees a small request sent in by some low-ranking officer, he reads about how there's a rogue mage in the prison who got into a brawl with one of the mercenary guild masters. The mage was also looking to join the war (how convenient).

... Well, at this point, the rogue mage's desire to become a soldier is no longer relevant; he doesn't have a choice now.

The report gives the circumstances of the quarrel, but the sub-general couldn't care less about that as he reads on. He glances through it all and hastily writes his reply on the report. "Send the rogue mage to Lord Tallus's troupe."

Once the officer finishes with that report, he flips the paper on its back and puts it on his pile of other replies. His secretary would stop by to pick up the reports later that afternoon.

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After Haalfrin is released from prison and sent to his destination, he hears some men talking on the side. "I think the generals are wanting to wait until the rainy season is over," one soldier comments.

"Yeah," another replies, "that makes sense. The rainy season'll be over by then, and the roads'll be firmer."

Haalfrin is quickly led through the city… and he's shown to a collection of tents outside the walls. 'Huh,' he surmises, 'I guess I'm being sent to one of the less dignified troupes.'

Since most of the army is made up of the king's vassal lords and their armies, it's mostly the higher-ranking nobles that get to stay in the cramped city and keep their soldiers in nice houses. The rest have to make do with their tents outside the safe walls and comfortable beds.

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While Haalfrin walks into camp, the first thing he notices is the drab and depressing look on all the soldiers here. They just stare at him as he passes by with blank, dispirited looks in their eyes.

Their armor is ill-fitting, and most of them look like they hadn't at least bathed in a stream in months.

Seeing this, Haalfrin gets a bad feeling… but he looks away and keeps pace with his guide, leaving the soldiers' off-putting mien behind him.

After Haalfrin arrives in the heart of camp, his guide turns, solutes him, and goes back the way he came – not even bothering to tell him where the barracks are. There's not even an officer here to tell Haalfrin what to do or where to go.

Sure, being in the city was different – Haalfrin was free to wander about there so long as he kept to the streets, as the streets are technically civilian ground. Out here in his troupe's camp? Wandering about asking where to go just feels wrong to Haalfrin.

It's like being dumped in someone's house, only for you to realize you have to search all the rooms to find someone to let you know where to go.

Even still, Haalfrin puts on his thick face and he goes up to the most well-dressed soldier within eyesight. "Excuse me… Yes, you. Where's the barracks?"

The rather dull-looking man looks up at Haalfrin, who's towering over him by half a foot. "Huh? Whad'you mean?"

Haalfrin breathes in deeply through his nose and suppresses the vexed feeling in his heart. "Where do I sleep at night?"

"Oh," the soldier relaxes, putting his head back down. "Anywhere's fine, really."

Haalfrin sighs more deeply. This fool clearly doesn't know what he's talking about. There's no way the army would just let people drop to the ground wherever they want. "Where's the nearest officer?" Haalfrin asks evenly.

Another soldier overhearing this conversation speaks up, "Try the whore's district in the city!"

"That's right," an older-looking soldier chips in. "Boy, you won't be finding any officers or captains or anything here."

Haalfrin studies the collection of soldiers to his left; they're all lounging atop some barrels, and they don't even have their weapons on them!

What's going on?