Sweat streamed down Philip’s face as he stabbed at the wooden gears with a broom. He was rewarded with a cloud of dust which rained down on him, stinging his eyes and nostrils. He coughed, and the rickety wooden ladder rocked under him.

Cursing, he looked down and sure enough, the man who had just moments ago been holding the ladder steady was now nowhere to be seen.

“Leonard?” Philip gasped as the ladder rocked back and forth dangerously.

“Sorry!” the chubby master of the mill cried as he waddled over as fast as he could to steady the ladder, “the missus was giving me an earful about being late for supper.”

“You could warn me next time,” Philip remarked sourly.

“You’re right, of course,” Leonard said. His scraggly beard was glistening from the sweat, and he licked his lips nervously.

“What is it?” Philip sighed.

“Do you think we could call it a day?” Leonard asked sheepishly.

Philip looked up at the mess of cobwebs and grain dust that caked the wooden gears leading from the waterwheel outside to the millstone below them and sighed again. They only had three weeks at most until the first of the harvest started coming in and there was still plenty of other work to be done.

“You’re the boss,” he conceded and climbed down the ladder.

“Thanks,” Leonard said, patting Philip on the shoulder, “lock up for me, please, I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m not home right smartly.”

“Sure thing,” came Philip’s tired reply.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Leonard said, already making his way to the door with all the haste he could muster.

Philip watched him waddle away without bothering to close the door behind him and shook his head. The miller had been sceptical about giving an outsider a job when he first arrived in the town almost a year ago, but Philip quickly impressed him with his knowledge and was now for all intents and purposes in charge of this mill.

The mill had been in poor condition when he first arrived, the gears were filthy and out of alignment, the grindstones did not meet properly, among a slew of other issues. There had been a bumper harvest last year, and work had piled up. Leonard had been weeks behind on his orders with his neighbours hounding him for their grain which was a large part of the reason he’d hired Philip who was not only a complete stranger but an outsider to boot.

It had taken them until early winter to clear the backlog and what little free time they had was spent simply on keeping the mill running. Spring had been spent performing most of the major repairs, but Leonard and Philip were both fairly laid back by nature, and now that summer was here, they were well behind schedule.

Philip took a skin of water hanging from the wall and deeply. It had been a hot day, and it was still sweltering inside the mill.

“Well, you wanted to be where it was warm,” he said out loud.

He stepped outside and saw that dusk had just set in. The sun was low in the west, staining the sky with orange streaks. Another day in the quiet provincial town of Melinfield was drawing to a close. He looked down the road at the row of neat wooden buildings with sloped thatched roofs and stretched. Part of the reason he settled here was that it reminded him of Rickton. The other was that it was located some forty miles north of Gelt’s Pass, which he felt was a safe enough buffer given Frederick’s advice.

The town itself was surrounded by fields and pastures. There was a lake nearby where the townspeople swam when the days grew too warm. The lake was fed by a network of streams that originated in the Humi Mountains that were visible to the south. It was from these streams that farmers irrigated their fields.

The mill was built on the edge of the town on the banks of just such a stream. The smithy stood next door, and he knew from the darkened windows that the smith and his apprentice were already drinking in the inn.

A packed earth road connected the mill and the smithy to town. The grass and shrubs growing along the edge of the road had recently been grazed upon by goats and Philip took care to walk around a few stray droppings. He recognized the back of the cobbler sitting on a stool by the stream with a fishing rod in hand.

“Are they biting today, Geoff?” he called out softly, knowing that he’d get an earful if he scared the fish away.

“Could be better,” came the reply, “looks like it’ll be leftovers for dinner.”

The people here were wary of strangers, the same as any sensible rural folk. Winning them over had taken time, but most of them had finally stopped calling him outsider. Absently, he wondered if he could spend the rest of his life here and quickly decided that was far too big a decision for an eighteen year old to make. All he knew was that for now, he was content here.

There was no pressure to perform, no threats, just looking forward to a drink with friends after a hard day’s work. Not classmates with whom he was forced to be civil to because there was no one else to talk to, but actual friends. He nodded at Matthew, the old weaver as they walked past each other, and the greeting was returned with a cheerful smile. Yes, it was a life he could get used to, he thought

The dirt road wound its way past a row of tidy houses. Warm lights glowed within as its occupants were just sitting down to supper. He caught the glimpse of a candle’s flame in his periphery and his heartbeat quickened briefly, which pleased him. There was a time that would have been enough to send him into a debilitating panic attack.

“You’ll be able to look at a fire by winter,” he told himself, not quite believing it.

Soon, he came to the succinctly named Melinfield Inn. It was a large standalone two storey building with stables for a dozen horses round the back. The windows were open and the inviting sound of laughter and conversation wafted out.

Philip smiled unconsciously as he pushed the door open. The common room was half full but it was still early. For now, the single men were sitting in clusters, exchanging tales, commenting on the weather, seeking, and dispensing advice. The married men would be along later after they had eaten with their families.

“Oi, Phil, over here!” Michael, the smith’s apprentice called.

Philip nodded at the wiry red haired youth and first made his way to the bar. On the way, he intentionally glanced at the fireplace that was set in one of the walls and regretted it at once. Though it was not lit on this balmy summer evening, the sight of it alone made him feel like throwing up. He paused to compose himself before continuing to the bar.

He was proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first arrived in the town, he was in bed by dusk, before the fires were lit. He’d managed to pass off going to bed so early to the others as down to being raised poor and being unable to afford such luxuries as candles. It had taken him weeks to summon the courage venture out after dark, taking care not to look at the fires directly. Now, he was able to drink in a tavern into the wee hours like a normal person while keeping his debilitating fear of fire a secret.

“What’s for supper, Sam?” he asked the stocky proprietor behind the bar who was in the middle of pulling a pint from the tap.

“Mutton and potato stew,” Sam replied without looking up. He wore a stained white apron that covered his considerable paunch. His arms were thick from a lifetime of hefting the barrels of ale and beer like the ones stacked on a rack behind him.

“Who’s turn is it to cook?” Philip ventured.

Sam looked up and gave Philip his infamous hard stare.

“It’s Norah’s, don’t you worry,” laughed a nearby patron, earning himself a glare.

“One of those please, and a pint of beer,” Philip said with his best smile.

He waited at the bar patiently for his beer and food and took it over to the table his friends were seated at.

“You should ask us before ordering next time,” Lewis grinned. He made a living helping his father in the fields just outside the town and at twenty two, he was the oldest of Philip’s group of friends, but the most diminutive in stature, standing over a hand shorter than Philip.

Lewis paused before lowering his voice conspiratorially, “if you’re not careful, he’ll slip hemlock into your food, and you’ll be sick for days.”

Leonard often told Philip that Lewis was too old to be hanging out with their group, but Lewis himself said that all the young men around his age were already married, and he’d grown tired of listening to them go on about married life and their children.

“That never happened,” scoffed Peter, the butcher’s boy. He was a chubby boy who and at sixteen, was the youngest at the table, but already more than half a hand taller than any of them with the build to match.

“Old man Francis brought some spoiled meat home is all,” he continued, “the butcher warned him it was only fit for his dogs, but the old miser cooked it up for himself.”

“I can certainly picture him doing that,” Philip chuckled, looking around the room, “do you reckon David will be let out tonight?”

David was an easily excitable young man of eighteen and the son of a merchant. He had recently failed some important examination and his father had, in David’s words, been apoplectic. As a result, his ability to go out and enjoy an evening of drinking with his friends had been severely curtailed.

“He’s running an errand at White Stone for his old man,” Michael replied, “I expect he’ll pop by before heading home.”

White Stone was the provincial capital a half a day’s journey away. David went there frequently on errands for his father and was town’s main source of news from the outside world.

Peter lowered his head and whispered. “Do you think he got pressed into the army?”

There were a few nervous laughs around the table. It was two months ago when David brought back news that a Celethir army had passed through White Stone on its way south to invade Morovin. The Galataens who were supposed to be protecting them by putting pressure on Celethir’s easter borders were engaged elsewhere and Celethir had taken advantage of the opportunity.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Peter remarked, “he did say they were winning the last time he came back from White Stone.”

“Yeah, didn’t he say they had taken the city of Lexi or something?” Michael added.

Most of the people of Melinfield would be hard pressed to find their own town on a map, never mind a Morovian city, so they had just nodded their heads and made a toast in the honour of the brave Celethir soldiers when David brought the news.

Just then. the door of the inn flew open. A sudden hush fell over the room as all eyes went to the doorway where a wide eyed, mud splattered young man stood. The conversations in the inn quickly resumed when they saw who it was.

The young man staggered to the bar theatrically and gasped, “a beer please.”

“Looks like he didn’t get pressed after all,” Michael observed with a half-smile.

“He certainly knows how to make an entrance,” Philip remarked as he tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into his stew. He popped the stew soaked bread into his mouth and watched David drain his pint in one long pull before slamming the empty cup onto the bar.

“Another please,” he gasped.

“Oi, watch what you’re slamming on my bar,” Sam growled, casting his evil eye on David, “or I’ll have you strung up by your ears til morning.”

“Sorry,” David said, shrinking slightly, “but please may I have another drink? I’ve been riding hard all day.”

Sam’s eyes bored into David who seemed to wilt under his gaze, and at length, the surly barman refilled the cup and placed it in front of the younger man.

“Thanks,” David said meekly. He drained that cup quickly as well before placing it carefully back on the bar. He placed a few coins in front of Sam before standing himself up straight and turning around to face the inn’s patrons.

“Looks like he’s finally ready to give us the news,” Peter sniggered, elbowing Philip in the ribs.

David cleared his throat loudly, and all conversation in the inn stopped. They had all been curious about what he had to say from the moment he walked in, but also knew that he’d string them along all night if they indulged his theatrics.

“Good people of Melinfield,” he began before pausing dramatically. His eyes searched the room to make sure that he had every single person’s attention. Satisfied that he did, he continued, “I bring news from White Stone.”

There was another dramatic pause and David licked his lips, savouring the attention he was receiving.

“Get on with it, then!” someone shouted.

“Yes, out with it,” Lewis shouted. He tore off a piece of Philip’s bread and threw it, striking David square on the nose.

“Come on then, we haven’t got all night,” shouted someone else.

Soon, David was being pelted by bread and fruit from all angles. “Our army was defeated outside Kiligi!” David shouted as he raised his hands to protect himself.

A hush fell over the room as they worried about the implications that would have for the kingdom and for them. The door creaked open. A pair of bewildered farmers entered and looked around, wondering why the mood was so sombre.

“They were ambushed while pursuing the fleeing Morovian army and lost half their men,” David continued, “they say they haven’t enough men to hold any of their captured territories and are retreating all the way back to our borders.”

“Are you sure?” someone shouted.

David nodded his head emphatically. “I heard it from several sources, Earl Theodore’s scribe is on the payroll of one my contacts and he swore it was true.”

Silence descended once more, and hearts were in throats at the implications. Perhaps their kingdom would be the one invaded soon. Perhaps war would soon come to their town. They had all heard tales of the fate of captured towns. Homes and fields burned, men being put to the sword, children being sold into slavery. Wives, daughters raped.

“When did all of this happen?” Lewis ventured, breaking the silence.

“They got wind of it yesterday,” David replied, “it would have taken two or three days for the news to reach White Stone, though.”

“More like four or five,” Philip remarked softly, deeply concerned.

“They say the Earl is raising an army,” David continued, “our merchant partners in White Stone have already closed shop and fled towards White Cliff.”

“Do you think the Morovians could come this far north?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” David replied, “all I know is that our forces are in full retreat and are expected to return to our borders in the next day or two with the Morovians hot on their heels.”

Having delivered the news, David joined his friends, but the mood in the inn had become sombre. Everyone quickly finished their meals and drinks in silence before going home. Even Sam seemed out of sorts, standing behind the bar with his shoulders slumped. Newcomers came in, were informed of the news by their friends and most went straight home.

“Well that’s it for me lads,” Philip declared as he mopped up the last drops of stew broth with his last piece of bread.

On unspoken agreement, the five friends got up and nodded at Sam before leaving.

“I’ve properly ruined everyone’s evening, haven’t I?” David mused glumly once they were outside.

“Don’t think too much of it,” Philip remarked, “you’re just the messenger.”

“Though you don’t help yourself with your theatrics,” Lewis pointed out.

“Are you going to make a run for it?” Michael asked, looking at Philip.

Philip blinked and shook his head. “It’s too soon to think about running away. Ask me again when the Morovians cross Gelt’s Pass.”

“Where’s Gelt’s Pass?” Peter asked.

Philip shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. “I heard it was a stronghold to the south.”

“Who’d you hear that from?” David pressed. He was proud of being the most knowledgeable among the group of friends and took someone knowing something about the world outside their town that he didn’t as a personal affront.

“A passing merchant at my father’s mill back in Rickton,” Philip replied, cursing himself for the lapse.

It often surprised him how ignorant the average commoner was about anywhere outside their own village or town and how unusual it was for him to have even the most basic general knowledge that didn’t concern their trade. Or it was more accurate to say that the depth and breadth of the education he had received at the Academy was most impressive, he corrected himself.

“There must be a lot of scholars in Rickton,” David remarked, looking dubious.

Philip shrugged again. “It’s not so different from here,” he said, looking around, “actually, it’s about half the size. This is practically a city to me, but Rickton is closer to Antere, so we got all sorts passing through.”

He could tell that his friends were not buying his act, but they were too worried about what the Celethir army’s defeat to press him like they usually would.

“Do you think there will be an emergency levy?” David asked length.

The others look confused, but Philip nodded. “If the defeat is as bad as you say.”

“What’s a levy?” Peter asked.

“They’ll force any able bodied man to join the fight,” David replied, “and if there is one, it will probably be countywide at least, so there’ll be no running away from it.”

“Joining the army, eh?” Lewis remarked, rubbing his hands together, “I quite like the thought of that.”

He then looked up at the others. “Reckon if I impress some lord, he’ll make me his squire?”

The others looked down at their friend and smiled despite their worry. “If that were to happen to anyone, it would be Peter,” Michael laughed, reaching up to slap butcher’s boy on the shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lewis demanded. He pretended to fume when he received laughter in reply.

Their spirits raised, they decided to part ways and return to their homes to spread the news and discuss it with their families. Except for Philip, that was. He spent his nights in the mill’s loft. He had built the loft himself after the last of the harvest had come in the previous autumn. Leonard’s wife had offered him to stay at their home, but Philip found that he preferred staying on his own after years of sharing a room with five boys at the Academy.

Normally, the sounds of the mill; creaking wood and the burbling of the stream as it flowed past, would lull Philip to sleep, but tonight, they were ringing in his ears. He tossed in his straw bed, as sleep continued to elude him.

“What if it did come to an emergency levy?” he asked himself.

If things were as bad as David implied, the punishment for avoiding an emergency levy would be severe… and if he were imprisoned, the seal on his chest would surely be discovered and they would know who he was… what then? No, the risks of trying to avoid the levy were too high. Besides, he was an outsider, and the locals would sell him out in an instant if it meant there was a chance one of their own didn’t have to serve.

He then worried about what would happen if he did get pressed into the army. He had learned of the mortality rate of levied soldiers during his studies at the Academy and the thought of being forced to become one of them froze his blood. He had decided to keep that scrap of information from his friends. There would be nothing to gain by scaring them at this juncture.

It was strange, he mused to himself. He had not cared at all for the actual study of pyromancy which was the entire reason he was there. On the other hand, he had taken joy in learning about the workings of the kingdom, it’s politics as well as other topics such as military strategy and tactics. Perhaps he should have become a scholar.

“Have you heard the news?” Leonard asked as he burst into the mill.

Philip jerked out of bed. His heart raced from the shock. He didn’t even know when he had fallen asleep. A glance out the window told him it was already late morning and he leapt to his feet.

“Odd for you to still be in bed at this hour,” Leonard remarked as he looked up at the loft.

“Sorry,” Philip said, climbing down the ladder. Leonard was already waiting at the bottom by the time he got down. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night.”

“Was it because of the debacle in Morovin?” Leonard asked breathlessly.

So it was already a debacle, Philip thought, impressed as ever by the speed of a small town’s news network.

“Yes,” Philip replied, “terrible news, eh?”

“David said there might be an emergency levy,” Leonard said, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“There might well be,” Philip mused and wondered if David had spent the night going door to door. He wouldn’t have put it past him.

“Oh no, I’ve never even been in a fistfight,” Leonard stammered, fraught with worry.

“Don’t you worry, Leonard,” Philip said soothingly, “you’re providing an important service, they won’t levy you.”

“Besides, levying someone in Leonard’s physical condition would not happen unless things were really desperate,” Philip thought but did not say.

“Is that true?” Leonard asked, scarcely able to hide the relief from his face.

“It is,” Philip nodded, “besides, we don’t even know if there will be a levy.”

Leonard mopped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm and looked up at Philip. “You don’t think there will be one?”

Philip shrugged. “Who can say? No use in fretting about it is there?”

“Well…” Leonard began.

“At any rate, as I’ve said, you probably won’t be levied,” Philip continued, “even if they needed soldiers, they’d still need to feed them, wouldn’t they?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Leonard nodded.

“The best thing we can do now is to get this mill ready for the harvest,” Philip said, feeling a bit cheeky, “after all, if they find this mill in poor condition, they might decide to levy you after all.”

Leonard looked around the mill and the blood drained from his face. “Then we’d better get to work.”

Philip took a few minutes to wash his face and share breakfast with Leonard before getting to work on the mill. Today, they would attempt to realign the axle that turned the millstone.

“Hello in there,” Philip recognized David’s voice from outside the mill.

“If you want to talk, come inside,” Philip called out, “we’re busy.”

“Hey Phil,” David said in a rush. He took half a step into the mill and stopped in his tracks, “Gods alive, it’s almost as bad as the smithy in here. I’ll wait outside!”

“How about we take a break?” Leonard suggested as David made a neat about face and walked straight back out. They had been hard at work for over two hours, and he had stripped to the waist. His body glistened with sweat and he was as red as a steamed lobster. It was another scorching summer day. The window was open, but it there had been no wind and the inside of the mill was like an oven.

“Sounds good,” Philip replied. It was starting to get uncomfortably hot even for him. Once summer came, the heat would get so bad that they would only be able to work in the early morning and the evening.

“We should start again closer to dusk,” Philip suggested, “any earlier and we’d just roast to death in here.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Leonard said as he mopped sweat from his brow, “I’d best go inform my wife.”

“But we’d better start at dawn tomorrow,” Philip added.

“I’ll try,” Leonard muttered half-heartedly before rushing out the door.

Philip shook his head and headed outside where he found David stripped to the waist lying flat on his back in a patch of grass under the shadow of the smithy next door.

“I don’t understand how you’re not as hot as the rest of us in this heat,” David remarked as Philip stood over him.

Philip wiped a few beads of perspiration from his forehead and shrugged. “I suppose the trade-off is that I’m utterly miserable from autumn til spring.”

He fingered the seal under his tunic unconsciously and shivered at the memory of last winter in the loft. He would probably have frozen to death without the seal.

“How about that millstone we ordered?” Philip asked, “I thought you were going to White Stone to pick it up.”

David sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Our trading partners there have closed shop. Fled, remember?”

“Well that’s no good,” Philip frowned, “is there anything else you can do?”

David shook his head. “If it were any other time, I’d go south to Lowark, but my father said that’s off limits. In fact, he’s told me I’m not to leave town for now.”

David paused and looked south worriedly before turning back to Philip. “There’s a war on, you know?”

Philip grunted.

“So what brings you here?” he asked at length, “are you bored after telling the entire town the news?”

David smiled and laid himself out on the grass once more. “Ah Phil, you read me like a book sometimes.”

Philip couldn’t help but smile. “It does help that you’re so transparent.”

“I thought I heard your voices,” Michael said as he rounded the corner. He wore only trousers under his heavy leather apron and was sweating profusely. His entire body was bright pink from the heat.

Philip raised an eyebrow. “Off work already?”

“I’d catch my death working the forge in this heat,” Michael exclaimed. He pulled his leather apron up over his head and tossed it onto the grass.

He then looked down at David. “You’ve got my old man convinced they’re going to force him to go to war, you know.”

David sighed dramatically. “I envy you lot, you know. You’re lucky.”

Philip and Michael exchanged confused looks before turning back to him. “Eh?”

“My father told me that all merchants will be exempt from any levy,” David moaned as though he was the victim of a great injustice, “while you lot get to march to war, have an adventure…”

“Then let’s change places,” Michael and Philip said in unison.

“My old man might be getting on a bit,” David said, “but he’d probably notice if either of you sat down at the dinner table and claimed you were me.”

They paused as the Albert, the town’s blacksmith, walked out of the smithy. He was a well-built man in his thirties. His barrel chest bulged under his leather apron, and his hands were black with soot as he folded them across his massive chest.

“Mornin’ Bert,” Philip and David chorused.

Bert nodded in response before fixing his eyes on David. “Are you sure about that defeat in Morovin?”

“As certain as the sun will set in the west tonight,” David replied with a casual wave of his hand.

Bert grunted. “Then I’ll have to talk business with your father. Is he at his shop?”

David shook his head. “He left for White Stone at the crack of dawn. He wanted to find out more about what’s going on. I suspect he won’t be doing much business until he does.”

Bert scowled, and David raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just telling you what he’s told me,” he squeaked.

Bert shook his head and turned to Michael. “Go see if you can buy any scraps around town, tell them I’ll pay a silver penny per pound.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? That’s far more than the usual.”

“And it will still be a bargain if what your friend said is true,” Bert replied, casting a sideways glance at David.

Michael nodded and rushed off to do as he was told.

“Do you have any metal scraps to sell?” Bert asked, looking at Philip.

“I’d have to ask Leonard,” Philip shrugged, “it’s his mill.”

“Please,” Bert said, smiling slyly, “the whole town knows who’s really in charge.”

He then turned to David. “Don’t we?”

David could only smile weakly.

“I’ll have to ask Leonard,” Philip repeated politely.

“You do that, then,” Bert said. He stretched his massive arms before walking off down the road toward town.

Philip and David exchanged looks as Bert lumbered down the road. He exchanged greetings with Geoff, who was soaking his feet in the stream as he fished. All work seemed to stop in Melinfield when the weather got too hot like today. The laid back nature of the rural town was in stark contrast to Antere where work stopped only for two days a month for church service.

“I’m bored,” David moaned as he stretched in the grass, “let’s go see what Lewis is up to.”

“Peter will be closer,” Philip pointed out, “why don’t we go bug him first?”

“I was just round by Peter’s,” David said, “he’s just got three sheep in, so he’ll be busy with that all day.”

“Oh, whose?” Philip asked as his mouth began to water.

“Roger’s,” David said, getting to his feet, “one of their ewes gave birth to six lambs over in spring and it looks like all of them are healthy. The ones they’re butchering are getting a bit long in the tooth.”

“And what’re they going to do with the meat?” Philp asked, wiping the saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Most of the time when an animal was butchered in the summer, the owners would cook a portion of it and treat their neighbours and smoke the rest as it would quickly spoil in the summer heat. The butcher’s smoker wouldn’t be able to handle three carcasses at once, which typically meant the owners of the animal would host a roast and invite their neighbours on the condition that they contribute something to the party. However, if a youth from town happened to pass by, they would be invited even if they were empty handed.

“Well, Roger is Lewis’ neighbours, so I was thinking we’d see if he knew,” David said.

“You are a genius,” Philip declared, breaking into a broad smile.

“I am, and it is a burden at times,” David said, lowering his head in mock anguish.

“Let’s get going then,” Philip said, wiping away a thread of saliva, “nothing says summer a proper roast.”

“Follow my lead,” David said, “if we play our cards right, we might score ourselves a free lunch.”

Philip had his doubts. David’s tongue tended to get him into trouble more often than not. Especially with Lewis’ mother

They chatted as they walked down the dirt road and headed south, out of town. They waved at farmers tending their fields or watching over their flocks as they grazed in the pastures. The heat wasn’t keeping the farmers from working at least.

To the south, the Humi Mountains loomed like a wall and Philip could see the gap in them where Gelt’s Pass was. The Academy had taught him that the Humi Mountains were once the natural border between Celethir and Morovin. Twenty five ago, Celethir raised an army to invade their southern neighbours. Led by Celethir’s first pyromancer, Penelope the Red, they had captured large swathes of land which had become the Celethir province of Folerin. Their rampage was stopped when she was suddenly killed two years into the campaign.

He remembered the portrait of her at the Academy. Her fiery red hair made her stand out, but it was her legendary exploits made her a hero to many of the Gifted students. She was also Frederick’s master and he had often regaled Philip and the other students with tales of their adventures together.

“Here we are,” David announced, bringing Philip to the present.

They’d walked about half an hour and had come to a low wooden farmhouse at the end of a modest wheat field. The wheat was already turning gold and bowing under the weight of the grains. Sheep grazed and a lone cow grazed in the neighbouring pasture, bordered off from the field by a low wooden fence.

“Hello there!” David called as they walked up the path past a small garden that Lewis’ mother used to plant vegetables for the family.

It was then that they heard the sound wood clashing coming from behind the farmhouse. David and Philip exchanged looks before walking around the farmhouse to the back where they found Lewis duelling his younger brother Brian. A pair of three foot long branches served as their swords.

Brian was ten years younger than his brother but already only an inch shorter, and to Philip’s eye, gaining the upper hand in their current bout. Their sisters, aged fifteen, twelve, and six watched from the shade of the barn, looking decidedly unimpressed.

The two fighters circled each other warily for a moment before Lewis darted forward and swung his ‘sword’ with an enthusiastic cry. His brother intercepted the blow with one of his own and sent Lewis’ ‘sword’ flying out of his grasp.

“Almost had you that time,” Lewis panted as the branch landed at Philip’s feet.

“Yes,” Philip called out, “it was a closely fought battle.”

Lewis turned red as he saw his friends. “Ah, I was just going easy on the lad,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “he’s just a child, after all.”

“No you weren’t,” chorused the two younger girls while the eldest sister simply rolled her eyes and said, “you’ve been at it for hours and Brian hasn’t lost a single bout yet.”

“I think I hear da calling me,” Brian said quickly, once he saw that his older brother was distracted.

Before Lewis could say anything, Brian had dropped his sword and was rushing off to the barn.

“Anyway, what brings you lads this far out?” Lewis asked breezily as he walked over to his friends.

“Oh we heard you might know something about your neighbour’s sheep,” David replied.

“Ah,” Lewis smiled knowingly, “I might, or I might not… I might, or I might not.”

He paused and gave them a sly look before continuing, “what’s it to you?”

“A pint,” David said, stating his opening offer, and seeing Lewis’ disappointed face, gave Philip a quick look before adding, “each.”

Lewis was about to give his counteroffer when they were interrupted by the farmhouse door slamming open.

“Lewis!” cried his mother who came bustling out of the house. She was a thin, hard faced woman named Edna who tolerated little of her son’s nonsense. “You’re supposed to be meeting Janet and her parents this evening. Have you even begun to make yourself presentable?”

“No he hasn’t, mama,” chorused his sisters.

“I’ve been training mama,” Lewis said, puffing out his chest, “there might be an emergency levy you know?”

Edna stared at her son and her upper lip trembled as her stern look was replaced with one of worry momentarily.

“How do you even know what a levy is?” she demanded once she had regained her composure.

“David said that we might be attacked, and I might be called upon to defend our home,” Lewis said in a rush, “if it is, I’ll have to go. Father is too old, and Brian’s too young.”

Edna rushed over to David with such speed that it drove boy who stood almost a head taller than her a step back.

“Is that true?” she demanded, her eyes boring holes into David.

“Well, I don’t know what our Lord might deem too young or too old,” David began.

“I meant about the levy!” Edna cried with a ferocity that made Lewis wince. His friend looked even smaller than usual, and it was all Philip could do to hide his smile.

“As… as near as I can tell,” David stammered.

Edna gasped and stumbled as the strength left her legs. Philip shot his hand out to steady her.

“Will your friend, the butcher’s boy be called?” she demanded as she pushed him away and stood under her own strength

“Probably,” David said, looking confused, “but who can say?”

“We don’t know if there will be a levy yet,” Philip interrupted.

Edna’s attention snapped to him, and Philip suddenly felt very sorry for Lewis for having to deal with her every day. No wonder he was one of the first at the tavern every day despite living the furthest away.

“Well, it’s probably true that our armies have suffered a terrible defeat in Morovin,” Philip allowed.

“Morovin is the kingdom about a hundred miles to the south,” Lewis offered when he saw the confusion on his mother’s face.

“So a levy is likely,” Philip continued.

“Well?” Edna asked expectantly, turning her attention back to David.

“Eh?” David blurted, thoroughly flustered, “well what?”

“Will that butcher’s boy be levied as well?” Edna repeated, “that large lad, looks strong as an ox, that boy.”

“Erm, probably?” David offered.

“If he is, I expect him and the lot of you to look after Lewis,” Edna said, looking both David and Philip in the eye, “I don’t expect you to sacrifice your lives for his, but my boy thinks he has something to prove on account of his short stature which he gets from my mother in law’s side.”

Philip and David exchanged looks as Edna paused for breath.

“But if my boy tries to volunteer for something dangerous, you have my permission to give him a good hard smack across the back of his thick head on behalf of me and my husband,” she continued.

“Mama!” Lewis protested, but a look from Edna shut him up.

“Also, look out for him, please,” Edna added.

“We will, don’t you worry,” Philip said confidently, “and believe you me, we both know your son’s limitations only all too well.”

“Oi,” Lewis protested.

“As for you,” Edna said, and Lewis quailed under his mother’s stern eye, “levy or not, you have a meeting to attend, and you will not shame your father and me again!”

“Mother please, I’m not ready to settle down,” Lewis protested.

“Not ready?” Edna erupted, as her face turned deep crimson, “you are already twenty two! Your father was eighteen when we were married. Leona is already betrothed and will be married after the harvest!”

Philip glanced at the eldest sister who nodded in silent agreement with her mother.

“But mama,” Lewis began.

“No buts, young man,” Edna said, “you will make yourself presentable or so help me you’ll not be allowed into town until spring!”

“Well then,” Philip said loudly, nudging David in the ribs, “we’ll excuse ourselves and leave you to your loving family.”

Edna dismissed them with a curt nod, and the pair gratefully made their way back to the road as quickly as they thought was polite.

“Some friends you are!” Lewis cried to their backs