Crown Seeker

Chapter 4: Reasons for a Dream

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a blur. Crane took the gaggle of young recruits all around Camp Bracken, pointing out various buildings and points of interest. Oliver liked the old soldier immediately. His gruff voice carried easily through the air as he rattled off a steady stream of details.

“Here are the barracks, gentlemen, where the lazier Crownseekers sleep. Lucky for you boys, you won't have to worry about that. I'll run you so ragged you'll be falling asleep on your feet more often than not!

“And here's the central keep. Once, a whole army of Grems attacked this place, you know. Nasty little tunnelers. Came up right in the middle of the Lord Captain's quarters! He beat them back with nothing but a chamber pot and a candlestick before help arrived."

“Was the chamber pot used, sir?"

“You know, I didn't think to ask, Master Kelley."

The young men roared with laughter, Oliver right along with them. 'Grems?' He grinned. 'Like in the fairy tales?' Sometimes, he could not tell when Crane was joking or not. Before today, he would have certainly thought so. But after seeing the Colossi, he was willing to give the benefit of the doubt to the Crownseeker.

The only one who did not laugh was Rolind. “He's mocking us," he whispered loudly to another young man whom Oliver could not recall the name of. “Just my luck to be stuck with this clown as a quartermaster."

Oliver scowled at him and opened his mouth to tell him off, but he was beaten to it. “A clown, am I?" Crane said lightly, turning on the spot to face Rolind.

The young man flushed. Clearly, he had not expected to be overheard. The other recruits watched with bated breath to see what Crane would do.

The smile never slipped from Crane's face as he stared down Rolind. “We are all brothers under the Goddess, here, Master Rolind. You'll find that a clown's sword is just as useful as a king's when it comes to a fight. I would not be so choosey, if I were you, when it might stop a blow intended for your neck."

Rolind dropped his eyes, coloring deeper as the other recruits chuckled appreciatively.

“Think I'm joking, do you?" Crane demanded. All the young men jumped at the whip-crack of his voice. “We Crownseekers protect each other, so you just leave your old squabbles at the door. There will be plenty of real enemies to concern yourself with and not nearly enough allies to save you from them. Be grateful for the ones you have."

His falcon eyes swept across the silent row of recruits. “Protect your new brothers and let them do the same for you. Am I clear?"

Then, he snorted in satisfaction and turned back around, his good humor returned in an instant. Oliver stared admiringly at his back. He was the perfect picture of a Crownseeker.

But then he caught a glimpse of Rolind. The young man was glaring at Crane, murder in his eyes. 'He's not had the last word, yet,' Oliver thought. There would be more trouble to come with that one.

***

The sun was sinking in the horizon, turning Camp Bracken to gold, when at last Crownseeker Crane dismissed Oliver and the other recruits. Oliver followed in the wake of the crowd of young men, his mind still whirling. He had really made it. He would be a real Crownseeker.

A sudden blast of voices made him look up and realize that he had stepped into the fort's mess hall. It was comprised of one long room, filled nearly wall to wall with benches and tables. Nearly all of them were occupied by Crownseekers busily digging into their supper. Shoulder to shoulder, their white cloaks seemed to stretch in a solid line from end to end, like a snowbank.

“When will we get a cloak of our own, do you think?" Aldric asked from the front of the group, an eager glint in his eye.

“Remember what Brother Crane said?" Kelley screwed up his face and continued in a gruff voice, “'You'll earn your cloak when you lice-headed bottom feeders can march without tripping over it, and not a jot sooner!"

Oliver laughed along with the other recruits. The group took a seat at one of the benches, where they were quickly seen to by several camp attendants, who ladled out bowls of stew from large iron pots.

Oliver accepted his gratefully, only just realizing how hungry he was. He slurped it down, burning his tongue slightly. It was very good. Of course, nothing could beat Master Limwell's beef and vegetable stew. Everyone in the Vale said that he was the best cook for a hundred miles.

A wave of homesickness suddenly washed over Oliver. He could picture Master Limwell right then, standing at the entrance of the stables, beckoning Oliver impatiently over. But he would be smiling as he did it. Master Limwell was always smiling, whatever he did, and he never reprimanded Oliver whenever he failed to tighten a girth strap properly or tie off a bridle knot.

He wondered if Master Limwell would ever understand why Oliver had left. Could he ever forgive him?

Oliver forcefully chased away the gloomy thoughts. 'Pining for home after only a week away? What's the matter with me?'

Meanwhile, everyone was just finishing their meals. Kelley set his spoon down on the table with a clatter and leaned back, sighing and massaging his stomach. “So," he said at length, “I suppose it's about time we come clean with each other."

“Hm?" Aldric paused with his spoon held halfway to his mouth. “About what?"

“About the tragic circumstances brought us all here." Kelley leaned forward. “Aldric, yours should be particularly pathetic."

Aldric laughed in the middle of a mouthful of stew and nearly choked. “Why do you assume I've got the saddest tale here?" he gasped when he had recovered sufficiently.

He went on in a lower voice, “Rolind's a frontrunner, I'd say. I heard that his father chose his younger brother over him to take charge of his business. One thing led to another, and now the fellow got packed off here because his dear old father's got no clue what to do with him anymore."

Kelley stuck out his lip and rubbed the corner of one eye sorrowfully. “Poor, poor Rolind. If only he wasn't such an enormous prig."

Oliver snorted with laughter. Rolind, who was sitting farther down the table, looked up sharply. His eyes narrowed as though he had some idea of what Oliver was laughing at.

“How about you, Oliver?" Kelley asked suddenly.

Oliver looked over, taken aback. “Me?"

“Yes, you!" Kelley laughed. “What made you want to join the Crownseekers?"

“You said you came from..." Aldric scratched his head. “What was it? The Vale? Sounds like a long ways south. And an awful long way to travel to come here."

Oliver flushed under their expectant eyes. “It's... no special reason."

“Come now!" Kelley protested. “Here, I'm not afraid to give my reason. Maybe that will loosen the tongues of you spoilsports."

“Get on with it, then," Aldric said wearily. “I know you've been dying for an excuse."

“Only because you asked so nicely." Kelley's smile broadened. “I want to see more things like we saw this morning. That Colossi, when it got up and stepped over the wall... it just..."

He shook his head. “I would never have seen anything like that, wiping off tables at my uncle's inn, would I? And you heard what Brother Crane said. There's a whole wide world out there. And the Crownseekers get to see it all!"

Aldric folded his arms, looking thoughtful. “True. For me, it's my family. My mother runs a tannery in Trinn. She's kept up the place all by herself ever since my father died. Thanks to her, my sister and I never starved, but we were never well off, either.

“If I bring in some coin, they might have an easier time of it." He reddened. “Quit grinning at me, Kelley, it's true!"

“Now I know why you wanted me to go first! You wanted to look like a proper saint!"

Oliver laughed with the other two. He felt at ease around Kelley and Aldric.

“Come on, now, Ollie," Kelley said turning to him. “Your turn."

Oliver nearly made some excuse to refuse. But then he changed his mind. He shrugged in embarrassment. “I've heard stories of the Crownseekers all my life," he said. “Even in the Vale, where we hardly see more than two strangers passing through every year, they're heroes. I suppose... I wanted to be a hero, too."

He glanced at Aldric and Kelley, wondering if they would start laughing at him. But even Kelley was listening without cracking a grin. Oliver relaxed further.

“Trevon Stonehammer, Caemyn the Immortal, Featherfoot Alphelius..." Oliver ticked them off on his fingers. “Crownseeker heroes, all. They spent their lives looking for the One Sovereign, trying to fulfill the ancient prophecies."

Oliver rubbed his chin, not quite able to meet the others' eyes. “I'd like to be a part of it, when we finally do find the One Sovereign."