hardly a throne. It sits at the head of a long table, along which we and many other solders sit. Behind the pillars on each side sit smaller tables, some with maps similar to the one Jarl Kjunn possesses in Stormguard.
“Well, I’m done,” I say, standing.
“And I,” agrees Percival.
Nathaniel stands and pushes away his empty plate as Jericho belches.
James stares sadly at the remnants of the food on his plate. “I guess I’m done too…”
“You can finish later,” says the Jarl. “It will only take a minute or two.” He leads us down the table and past the throne-like chair.
“Why here?” asks James.
“Because it’s tradition,” answers the Jarl. “That’s really the only reason.” The floor behind the throne is inclined by a flight of about four stairs. At the top, the floor evens out again. An enormous banner, brown and emblazoned with the bear and sword, hangs on the wall behind.
The Jarl stands on one side of the banner, and positions us on the other. “Do you have your weapons?” he asks. We shake our heads. “No matter,” he continues. “It’s only a minor part of the ceremony, and an unimportant one at that.” He eyes the sling James wears. “You sure you can fight?”
James replies, “Give me about a month. I’ll stand with you until then, but as soon as I am able, I will fight.”
The Jarl smiles. “Good. Repeat after me.” We accept his instruction. “I, Jarl Hralfar.”
We repeat, but substitute our own names in for his. That is, except for James, who quickly realizes his mistake and says his own name.
“Do swear fealty to the clan of Gilgal and all of its authorized leaders.”
We repeat.
“And offer myself as a protector of its values, to the death.”
I punch the last few words a little too hard, while the others seem almost reluctant to say them.
”And take upon myself all honor and responsibilities that calling holds.”
We echo him like a chorus.
“All hail Gilgal,” he finishes.
We repeat.
He nods. “There. You are official soldiers.”
We don’t move. The Jarl stands across from us awkwardly.
After a second James leans over and looks at his plate sitting alone on the table. He points to it and begins, “Can I-”
“Yes, go!” says the Jarl. All four of us scurry from our spot and down to finish our breakfast.
Commander Magnus stares at me from further down the table. “You weren’t even a soldier yet?!”
“Just ignore her,” says Percival.
“Yeah,” I agree. “But there’s only so much I can endure.”
That night there is a feast, but I remember little of it. Just about everybody gets drunk. There’s lots of food and the Jarl gives a speech about how we fought bravely and reclaimed our city. I leave early with Nathaniel, to visit Gunther and Mother.
By the time we get there, Mother is asleep, but our brothers are not. It’s hardly evening, so I ask Gunther why Mother has gone to bed so soon.
“She’s taking it hard,” he says without looking up from his book. “Do you know when your regiment is moving out?”
“Two days,” I say. “We’re going to launch a counterattack on Tygnar.”
He nods. “Good.”
“What? Why?”
He looks up from his book and gives me a sly look. “Because my wedding is tomorrow,” he responds.
The information takes a moment to process. As soon as the words make it through my ear and into my brain, I exclaim, “Right! I forgot!”
He shushes me and reminds me the Mother is sleeping.
“Right,” I say quietly. “I forgot that too.”
He wears a smile like a mischievous child.
“What’s that about?” I ask.
“What’s what about?” he retaliates.
“That goofy smirk.”
“I’m getting married! You’ll know when you get married.”
“That’s assuming I survive this war,” I say quietly.
“You will,” he says. “You just need to find a girl to wait for you ‘til you come back. Rachel has a sister, you know.”
“Not interested,” I reply at once.
“You’ll meet her tomorrow at the wedding,” he continues, ignoring my comment. “You are coming, right?”
“Not if you’re trying to hook me up with your bride’s sister!”
He shakes his head. “Fine.”
I’m unsatisfied. “Where is it?” I ask.
“Just meet me here tomorrow morning. We’ll go as a family.” He still wears the childish grin as I leave his home to go back to the barracks.
Gunther’s Wedding
The next morning I show up at Gunther’s house wearing the most formal thing I own, which happens to be the armor I have acquired from the army. Though slightly uncomfortable, it suits the occasion and it satisfies Mother, even if she wishes I had worn a