Chapter 1:
The Call to Arms
Copos Larelli looked up from his blacksmith’s forge at the sound of trumpets outside. At first, he ignored it but, after it persisted, he laid down his hammer and stepped into the street.
Coming up the street was a procession of horsemen surrounding a red lacquered coach with a gold dragon on the doors. A trumpeter led the way, blowing on a silver trumpet. Seven horsemen rode in front and seven behind, resplendent in bright silver breastplates with lances held at precisely the same angle.
Other people who had heard the noise were stepping outside and peering intently down the street. Exclamations of surprise and recognition rippled through the quickly growing crowd as the trumpeter cried, “Bow to the Emperor, may he live forever!”
Instantly, people up and down the street fell to the ground, bowing low in respect. When the procession had turned a corner, the stood up and continued about their business, whispering excitedly.
“There you are, boy,” said a gruff voice behind Copos. In spite of himself, he jumped, spinning around so quickly he almost fell over. “What are you standing there gawking at?” his master demanded. “Get back to work, you lazy oaf!”
Copos shook his head as his master, Markus Brutus, turned away and walked back into the shop. Slowly, Copos followed him back in, pondering the events he had just seen.
The day went long and by the time Copos made it to The Silver Moon the bells had already sounded Nons.
“Copos! Did you see it?” his friends exclaimed as he entered.
“What’s all the fuss about?” he asked as he sat down.
“The Emperor, that’s what,” they said. “May he live forever.”
“I saw him going through the city,” said Copos as a serving girl set a mug of ale in front of him. “But what else did he do? Master Brutus kept me late.”
“That old crackpot?” asked Jurus Flir, a slim boy with black hair, piercing green eyes, and a roguish smile. “Really, Copos, you should leave him and find another smith to apprentice yourself to.”
“I couldn’t,” said Copos. “Master Brutus is really quite nice despite his gruff nature. Besides, he’s the best smith in the city.”
“Anyway,” broke in Luc Vastel, another young man, “the Emperor, may he live forever, gave a speech in front of Lord Hruther’s palace. It was grand, almost everyone was there. He talked about loyalty to the Empire, and protecting our homes. Then he made a Call to Arms.”
“A Call? There’s been a Call?” asked Copos excitedly. “There hasn’t been a Call since the last time Coran tried to take over the Monal River valley.”
“Yes, a Call,” said Luc. “The Call is for every able-bodied man between the ages of 20 and 35. The Emperor, may he live forever, will be staying at Lord Hruther’s palace for the next four days to
personally take answers to the Call.” Luc sat back, satisfied with his version of events.
Copos sat, barely hearing a word as he imagined himself leading soldiers into battle. He could see himself at the head of a regiment or maybe a banner, heading a charge to break the enemy’s ranks.
“—and he called for no quarter,” he heard Hane Kroc saying.
“What was that,” Copos asked as he broke out of his reverie.
“The Call is against Yulan,” repeated Hane, “and the Emperor, may he live forever, has called for no quarter.”
Outside the inn the bells chimed Trey. Copos pushed back his chair and stood, stretching.
“I have to get back to the shop,” he said. “Tomorrow we are fitting shoes on Lord Hruther’s horses.” He gave his friends a significant look. No one wanted to shoe Lord Hruther’s big black warhorses, except for Markus Brutus.
“Good night,” said Jurus. Everyone echoed the sentiment as Copos left.
Once outside, Copos turned up the collar of his coat against the cool night air. It may have been spring, but that didn’t mean it had to be warm.
As he walked, he thought about the Emperor’s proclamation and the Call. It all seemed unreal. He felt himself buoyed with a surge of patriotism to the Empire.
Copos was not paying attention to everything around him until an arm circled his neck and dragged him into an alley. He struggled to get out with all of his might, but his assailant was stronger and held on tightly. Copos stopped struggling as a rough voice spoke in his ear.
“Hand over your purse, boy,” it said. Frightened, Copos fumbled around in his pocket until he found his purse. It held two silver pennies, all of the money he owned.
He held it out and the thief took it. Then he pushed Copos roughly into a wall and ran out onto the street.
Copos fought for breath having had it all shoved out of him as he slammed into the wall. A sense of helplessness and rage welled up inside of him. It wasn’t at the loss of his money, but at being manhandled and pushed around. With a muted cry he sprang into the street and sprinted after the thief who was disappearing around a corner.
Running around the corner he was the thief squatting down and counting his loot. Hearing Copos’s footsteps, he looked up. With a muffled oath he stood up and started towards Copos. “So the boy has a backbone after all,” he muttered as he lunged at Copos.
When the man lunged, Copos instinctively jumped to the side. A blade flashed in the moonlight as the thief drew his knife and lunged again. This time, Copos was not quick enough and the blade sliced his left arm.
A searing flash of pain told him he had been wounded. Reflexively he grabbed his arm and felt his warm blood on his hand. On a whim he moaned and sank to the ground. The thief, believing his victim to be helpless, moved closer.
Copos waited until the man’s leering face was almost above him and he could smell the man’s fetid breath and the stink of dried sweat. Then he swung out a leg, catching the man unawares.
Caught off guard, the thief yelled and fell over, the knife skittering off down the alley. Copos sprang up, grabbed his purse, and was preparing to leave when the thief grunted and clutched at a knife that blossomed in his chest. Copos stopped in surprise. Now where did that come from? he wondered.
Markus Brutus stepped around the corner and fixed Copos with an icy stare. “Never leave your enemy alive,” he said. Then he jerked over his shoulder with a thumb. “Get back to the shop, boy. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
* * *
The next day master and apprentice showed up early at Lord Hruther’s palace. A groom met them at the gates and escorted them to the stables.
“I’m afraid,” he said, “that you must also shoe the Emperor’s horse, may he live forever.” Then he walked out of the stables.
Copos walked out to set up the portable forge they had lugged from the shop. When Brutus came out, Copos had the forge red hot, ready to begin work.
For the first hour they worked in silence; working together in tandem as they had done for the past three years. Finally, Copos could take the silence no longer and asked:
“Master, about last night, how did you know where I was?” Brutus sat back on his hells and stopped what he was doing.
“I was following you,” he said.
“Why?”
Brutus chuckled. “Full of questions, aren’t we?” he mumbled. “I was curious to see where you were going,” he explained. “In all the years we’ve known each other I’ve never inquired into your affairs or any part of your personal life. Last night, I felt a sense of foreboding. Perhaps at the time it was my imagination, but I acted on it, just in case. I was too far away to do anything when the thief first attacked you, but after you went after him, I followed faster. After that, you know what happened.”
Copos thought about that for a while, then said, “Thank you for your concern, Master. What you said though, ‘Never leave your enemy alive’, what was that?”
“A lesson from the army,” said Brutus brusquely.
“You were in the army?” asked Copos excitedly.
“Yes, and that is one of the first lessons they teach you. That and others,” he said bitterly.
“What—” began Copos but Brutus cut him off.
“Copos,” he began, “I do not know how to say this, but I believe it is time for you to leave me.” Copos stared, openmouthed.
“I believe,” continued Brutus, “that you are nearly a master smith. I would like,” he said, overriding Copos’s exclamation, “to offer you a partnership position.”
For a moment, Copos could not think of anything to say. Finally, he managed to push out an incredulous, “Really?”
“Yes,” said Brutus, “really. You may have time to think about it, but now we have work to do.” Both men went back to work, smiling.
Later, as they were packing up, two men walked out of the palace conversing in low tones. They stopped a few feet away from Copos and Brutus who both bowed to Lord Hruther who was one of the men.
“I am afraid I do not know your companion, my Lord,” said Brutus.
“I am the Emperor,” said the man.
Hastily, Copos and Brutus kneeled. “Stand up,” said the Emperor, “I hate the formalities and traditions, getting in the way of what really needs to be done.”
Copos and Brutus stood, speechless. The Emperor was not at all as Copos had pictured him. He had thought that the Emperor was old, with a long, gray beard, and also very wise. But instead, the Emperor was young and fit. He had shoulder length black hair and dark eyes. And he seemed impetuous, too.
The Emperor looked Copos up and down and smiled, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. “You would make a good soldier,” he said.
“Th-thank you, your Majesty,” stammered Copos. Once more, he was living that fantasy again.
“We really must be going, your Majesty,” said Brutus.
“Then go in peace,” said the Emperor as he turned away.
As they walked back to the shop, Brutus said, “If I were you, I would not go out tonight.” Copos nodded his head and did not argue.
* * *
The next day, Copos hurried up to Lord Hruther’s palace to answer the Call. Inside, he was taken to a small room, where the Emperor was.
“Ah, the young man from yesterday,” he said as Copos came in. “Sit down, sit down…no, don’t bow,” he frowned,” just sit.” When Copos was seated, the Emperor asked, “You have come to answer the Call, have you not?”
Copos started and thought before answering. He had been observing the room, which was painted red. The gilded fireplace along one wall was unlit as were the golden stand lamps set in each corner. The wide window was thrown open, letting in bright rays of sunshine. Much to his disappointment, the two chairs were simple wood, although elegantly carved.
“Yes, I have come to answer the Call,” he said.
The Emperor produced a piece of paper, a pen, and an inkwell. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Copos Larelli,” replied Copos.
“Age?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Height?”
“Five feet and eleven inches.”
“Weight?”
“One hundred seventy-five stones.”
The Emperor asked these and other seemingly pointless questions for about five minutes. Finally, he looked up and asked, “Preferred method of fighting?”
“I am not familiar with—” began Copos.
“Foot, horseback, bow, sword, lance, axe, which one?” broke in the Emperor impatiently.
“Foot,” said Copos.
The Emperor noted this and capped his inkwell. He stood up and said, “Well then, Soldier Larelli, report back here by Saens, two days from now. Dismissed.”
Confused by the abrupt dismissal Copos stayed where he was. “You must learn obedience,” said the Emperor. “Now go.”
Copos stood, bowed, and left.
* * *
Two days later, Copos was packing his only set of clothes when Brutus walked into his room. “What is this?” he demanded, eyeing the bundle in Copos’s hands.
Copos had been dreading this moment, but he took a deep breath and said, “I have answered the Call.”
For a moment, it seemed that time stopped, but then Brutus drew a deep breath. He turned away and broke into tears.
When he turned around, his face was composed, but he was breathing heavily. “Get out,” he said. When Copos did not move, he repeated himself, but louder. “Get out!” Then he lunged at Copos, grabbing his collar. Abruptly he sank to his knees and released Copos.
Heartbroken, Copos ran out the door.
* * *
Blindly, Copos ran through the city. His friend and mentor had turned him out, yelled at him. It didn’t seem possible. But it was.
When the bells began to ring Saens, he remembered where he was supposed to be and dashed towards Lord Hruther’s palace.
He arrived just as the sound of the bells faded. Everyone was marshaled into lines by grim-faced soldiers by age and fighting preference. Then they were led out of the city, towards the capital, 250 leagues away.
Looking back, Copos thought he could discern a small figure standing on the walls of the city, waving.
For a moment he thought that it might be Brutus but decided that it was likely a wife or mother. Now he had to but that behind him. He turned forward, and marched. March in answer, to the Call to Arms.
__________________________________________________ _______________
The story continues in
Chapter 2: In the Camp.
