The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,113

up to enlist. I doubt the king’s officers would take kindly to you if they see it.”

A few minutes later, Will found himself on the street in front of the constabulary building, holding his steel cap in his hands. He put it on and buckled the strap since it seemed silly to just carry it. He was hungry, but what he wanted most was a bath.

The guard outside was kind enough to answer some questions, and he soon learned that Branscombe had a public bath, but it cost a penny to use. Unfortunately, he had no money, so that was out of the question, as was buying a meal. Without other options he decided he might as well go and present himself at the military camp, so he asked for directions to it.

“Head back out of town,” said the constable. “The camp is a quarter-mile northwest. You can’t miss it.”

Will took the man’s advice, marveling at the size of Branscombe as he walked down the cobbled street. It was several times larger than Barrowden and perfectly fit what he had always imagined a city would look like, yet the locals called it a town. If this is just a town, what is a real city like Cerria like? he wondered.

At the gate he recognized one of the constables from his previous arrival. “I told you I wasn’t a spy,” said Will sourly.

Ned grinned at him. “You still look like one to me.” He wandered over to the guard post and opened a large wooden box. “I guess you want your things back.”

“If you don’t mind,” said Will stiffly.

Ned sifted through the contents before withdrawing the sword and belt and handing them to the other guard. “One falchion of questionable origin,” he said aloud.

The second guard handed it to Will.

“One belt knife, with sheath,” added Ned. Will accepted that as well.

“One murder weapon,” said Ned with a snicker, producing Will’s staff.

With a sigh of long-suffering, Will took his staff and left without replying. As soon as he had put a little distance between himself and the gate, he took out his knife and spent some time picking loose the stitches of the embroidered crest on his gambeson. At least I learned one thing, thought Will. Never show up at a gate with the enemy’s crest on your armor.

In the back of his head he imagined his grandfather’s mocking laughter. I could have told you that, idiot.

Chapter 36

“You’re here to enlist in the King’s Army?” asked the officer sitting at the desk in front of Will. The officer’s official title was lieutenant, though Will had no idea what that meant, and his name was James Stanton. The soldier outside the tent had told him to address the man as Lieutenant Stanton.

“Yes, Lieutenant Stanton,” Will responded nervously. The office he stood in was actually a tent with a small table and several stools to sit upon. A clerk of some sort sat at another table on one side with several books and a tall stack of papers on it.

The officer sighed. “You don’t have to say that every time you answer. A simple ‘yes, lieutenant’ or even a ‘yes, sir’ will be sufficient.”

Will nodded, which caused the lieutenant to frown, bringing his dark brows together in a steep ‘v’ that went perfectly with his sharp mustache. “Nods and casual replies aren’t acceptable, however.”

“Yes, sir,” he said hurriedly.

“Name?”

“William Cartwright, sir.” The questions went on for a couple of minutes as the clerk recorded his name, date of birth, and where he was from.

When the main questions had been answered, Lieutenant Stanton jerked his head toward the clerk. “Do you have all that? Please add Mister Cartwright to the rolls.” Then he looked back at Will. “Since you’ve volunteered and brought some of your own arms and armor, you will be listed as a voluntary enlistee. This entitles you to a slightly higher pay than the regular conscripts. You’ll receive five silver clima per week and we won’t be taking a fee for armor or sword, though you will still be required to pay for your shield and spear. Do you understand?”

Will was confused, which he quickly admitted. “Soldiers pay for their equipment, sir?”

“Conscripts don’t,” said the lieutenant, “though they are still required to pay for their food and drink, which comes to three clima per week.”

“Would it be all right if I was listed as a conscript then, sir?” asked Will.

The lieutenant gave him a cold smile. “We could do that, but conscripts are