Alric sat his horse competently but with little flare. It didn’t matter though, Villese hadn’t hired him for his ability to sit a horse. He’d been hired for the trip from Cairhien to Hama Valon for his ability to lead. His skill with a sword hadn’t hurt either. Nor had Havar’s vouching his out of work former commanding officer. Lieutenant on a merchant’s guard detail was quite a step down from captain of a highly decorated infantry company, but fortunes changed. It was a better life than he’d lived in Trasailles after coming home from the War. He hadn’t gone hungry working for Villese; the beer wasn’t bad ether. There was also something about being on the road with soldiers again.
As the caravan wound its ways through the foothills of the Mountains of Mist, Havar road up to talk to his old captain. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked in his gruff voice, “The men love you, I know Villese would have you back for another trip without even thinking about it.”
“Yeah, but Tollen’s got me thinking,” Alric replied gazing off into the distance, in the direction of Hama Valon. “This is a refreshing change of pace, but why not try? You should come with me, we can become Gaidin together.”
“And get bonded to a bloody Aes Sedai? No thank you.”
Alric hung his head slightly, “It would have been nice to have you along. It’s just… These last few years have been a mess. I feel like I’m sailing without a rudder. Being a merchant’s guard is great. Having real people to spar against doesn’t hurt, but why am I doing it?”
“Because the pay’s good obviously,” Havar said. “It’s not like you had some great motivation back in the army. Well, beyond killing Tearins.”
“The threat of execution does wonders,” Alric said with a slight grimace. “But when I accepted the army life, there was something special about it. Being part of a big group working towards a single cause.”
Their conversation trailed off as one of the mountain road’s twists and turns opened up onto their first sight of Hama Valon. From their vantage, they could see above the tops of trees as the Mountains of Mist opened up into a great basin with a giant lake on the west end. A massive walled city sprawled on the bank with a great tower overlooking the northern part of the city.
A plump man in a dark silk coat road up on Alric’s other side. Master Villese, the merchant, used a small spyglass to look out at the city. “Wow,” he murmured in a voice tinged with sadness, the battle made a mess of things. The city was so beautiful.” Usually congenial and upbeat, the merchant appeared to be sinking into a sullen brood.
Alric put his hand out for the spyglass, and Villese handed it over without really paying attention. With the glass to his eye, the destruction was plane. There were holes in the walls, craters in the streets, and large swaths of burned buildings. Entire districts in places. Even during the war with Tear, he’d never seen destruction like this. Most of the fighting had happened in the countryside. He passed the spyglass back. They had heard all manner of rumor on their trip west, but it had not prepared them to the destruction first hand. He didn’t think the Gaidin would be in a position to turn away future recruits.
As the caravan wound its ways through the foothills of the Mountains of Mist, Havar road up to talk to his old captain. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked in his gruff voice, “The men love you, I know Villese would have you back for another trip without even thinking about it.”
“Yeah, but Tollen’s got me thinking,” Alric replied gazing off into the distance, in the direction of Hama Valon. “This is a refreshing change of pace, but why not try? You should come with me, we can become Gaidin together.”
“And get bonded to a bloody Aes Sedai? No thank you.”
Alric hung his head slightly, “It would have been nice to have you along. It’s just… These last few years have been a mess. I feel like I’m sailing without a rudder. Being a merchant’s guard is great. Having real people to spar against doesn’t hurt, but why am I doing it?”
“Because the pay’s good obviously,” Havar said. “It’s not like you had some great motivation back in the army. Well, beyond killing Tearins.”
“The threat of execution does wonders,” Alric said with a slight grimace. “But when I accepted the army life, there was something special about it. Being part of a big group working towards a single cause.”
Their conversation trailed off as one of the mountain road’s twists and turns opened up onto their first sight of Hama Valon. From their vantage, they could see above the tops of trees as the Mountains of Mist opened up into a great basin with a giant lake on the west end. A massive walled city sprawled on the bank with a great tower overlooking the northern part of the city.
A plump man in a dark silk coat road up on Alric’s other side. Master Villese, the merchant, used a small spyglass to look out at the city. “Wow,” he murmured in a voice tinged with sadness, the battle made a mess of things. The city was so beautiful.” Usually congenial and upbeat, the merchant appeared to be sinking into a sullen brood.
Alric put his hand out for the spyglass, and Villese handed it over without really paying attention. With the glass to his eye, the destruction was plane. There were holes in the walls, craters in the streets, and large swaths of burned buildings. Entire districts in places. Even during the war with Tear, he’d never seen destruction like this. Most of the fighting had happened in the countryside. He passed the spyglass back. They had heard all manner of rumor on their trip west, but it had not prepared them to the destruction first hand. He didn’t think the Gaidin would be in a position to turn away future recruits.
On the streets of Hama Valon, the members of the caravan could see that Hama Valon was trying valiantly to rebuild itself. Many of the more intact parts of the city were crowded with refugees. Street venders did their best to ply their trade as work crews dug through rubble or climbed scaffolding. Among the shell shocked faces and slumped postures, there were hints of optimism and determination. It was a good sign. They hadn’t come all this way for naught.
Alric and Havar road along the main street towards the Grey Tower. Villese had given him the option to take the grey gelding he road for if he deducted the cost out of his pay. Alric, who had never been more than a middling rider had opted for the sack of silver. The men parted with a bear hug, and the merchant’s reassurance that if the “whole Warder thing” didn’t work out, he had a place on the caravan. Havar would take both horses back with him.
The two men dismounted in front of the gates. “It was good having you back, Captain,” Havar said with a sad smile.
Alric clapped the man on the shoulder, “You don’t know it but you saved my life. Back in Trasailles, I was ready to take a long walk off a short peer. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“No, not for me. It’s ok though, you’ll become the best warder there is, and I’ll tell over inflated stories about you so I can get free drinks.”
Alric pulled his old friend into a tight hug, “Take care of yourself, don’t get stabbed by a barmaid.” He cut the good buy short and proceeded onto the Tower Grounds.
Alric and Havar road along the main street towards the Grey Tower. Villese had given him the option to take the grey gelding he road for if he deducted the cost out of his pay. Alric, who had never been more than a middling rider had opted for the sack of silver. The men parted with a bear hug, and the merchant’s reassurance that if the “whole Warder thing” didn’t work out, he had a place on the caravan. Havar would take both horses back with him.
The two men dismounted in front of the gates. “It was good having you back, Captain,” Havar said with a sad smile.
Alric clapped the man on the shoulder, “You don’t know it but you saved my life. Back in Trasailles, I was ready to take a long walk off a short peer. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“No, not for me. It’s ok though, you’ll become the best warder there is, and I’ll tell over inflated stories about you so I can get free drinks.”
Alric pulled his old friend into a tight hug, “Take care of yourself, don’t get stabbed by a barmaid.” He cut the good buy short and proceeded onto the Tower Grounds.
Shocking twists and incalculable waits, it was almost like being back at war. Without the constant marching, risk of illness, or death. On second thought it wasn’t a thing like being back at war. Alric had climbed the Tower steps and opened a massive front door. Young men and women in black coats and white dresses rushed in every direction while men and women with somehow ageless faces moved with confident strides or elegant glides. Everybody moved with a purpose. He snagged the sleeve of a woman in white and asked where to sign up to become a Warder. She pointed up the stairs and told him the Master of Training’s office was that way. The door plaque read “Ravak Darrow” but he was in a meeting, so Alric settled down for the first of his waits. He sat with his feet propped on his pack, a bundle of two swords propped next to him. Years in the army had taught him to catch sleep wherever he could. He’d almost slipped into a doze when a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see a plump cheeked man in a black coat standing above him. The pins on his collar looked like rank insignia but he didn’t look much like any officer he’d seen before.
“Are you here to talk to the Master of Training?” he asked in a surprisingly deep voice.
“Yessir,” Alric said, sitting up straight, “I wanted to sign up to become a Gaidin, but I think he’s in a meeting.”
The man laughed, “You don’t sign up to become a Gaidin, you signe up to become a drin’far’ji, and after you complete your training you’re a Gaidin.”
Alric thought it was a nitpick. You signed up to become a soldier, even if you spend your first months as a recruit. He didn’t say anything though.
“Before you sign up, come with me,” the man, Alric assumed he was an Asha’man, continued. “We need to make sure you can’t channel before we send you to the Warder Yards. This way now.”
Alric stood, gathering his belongings. The Asha’man, introducing himself as Pit Dolen led him to an unused conference room. Apparently the Master of Soldier’s was also busy and he would test him. It would be a waste of time, Alric knew that for sure. He wasn’t special, he was just a man. Orders were orders though, and if he was going to sign on with these people, he’d best start now.
The conference room had a large table down the middle and a pair of book shelves flanking a window that overlooked the grounds. The two men sat across from each other and the Asha’man somehow created a flame hanging in the air between them. The Asha’man ordered him to look into the flame. It was an odd demand but he obeyed. He stared until his eyes hurt, and the image was burned into them. Alric was beginning to think it was a useless exercise when the flame disappeared.
“Congratulations, child, you can channel,” Pit said with a pleased look. He went on to quiz Alric about times in his life when he fell sick with chills and headaches. Alric had fallen incredibly ill while he was in the army, shortly after his master scholar died. According to Pit, he might be a Wilder, somebody who’s been channeling on their own. That was ridiculous, he’d have remembered calling lightning or something in all his years at war. They didn’t have a reason to lie though.
According to Pit, he’d managed to not die from the power after several years, so he had two options: put on black and become a Soldier, or go about his way. Alric was a wilder, he didn’t have a place among the Drin. It didn’t seem fair, but he’d come this far. He wasn’t going to turn back now. Anyway, he’d been a soldier for six years, who different could life as a Soldier be?
Pit stood and clapped his hands together, “It’s settled then. You can officially sign the Book of Soldier’s later. You don’t get to keep your belongings. We’ll keep them safe for you. Sit tight, and I’ll send one of the lower ranks your way. They’ll help you get your belongings stored and then take you down to the laundry rooms to find you a couple of uniforms.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Alric alone to ponder his new situation. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary, he’d never had a gradual change in his life, and things seemed to happen all in a rush. One moment he would be standing on the dock, the next, in a storm at sea. For all the hustle and bustle, Alric found himself waiting a lot. Maybe this wouldn’t be so different. The mantra “Hurry up and wait,” had practically become doctrine during his time in Cairhien’s armies. He picked up a book off the shelf, something about Hama Valon’s legal codes, and settled down to wait.
“Are you here to talk to the Master of Training?” he asked in a surprisingly deep voice.
“Yessir,” Alric said, sitting up straight, “I wanted to sign up to become a Gaidin, but I think he’s in a meeting.”
The man laughed, “You don’t sign up to become a Gaidin, you signe up to become a drin’far’ji, and after you complete your training you’re a Gaidin.”
Alric thought it was a nitpick. You signed up to become a soldier, even if you spend your first months as a recruit. He didn’t say anything though.
“Before you sign up, come with me,” the man, Alric assumed he was an Asha’man, continued. “We need to make sure you can’t channel before we send you to the Warder Yards. This way now.”
Alric stood, gathering his belongings. The Asha’man, introducing himself as Pit Dolen led him to an unused conference room. Apparently the Master of Soldier’s was also busy and he would test him. It would be a waste of time, Alric knew that for sure. He wasn’t special, he was just a man. Orders were orders though, and if he was going to sign on with these people, he’d best start now.
The conference room had a large table down the middle and a pair of book shelves flanking a window that overlooked the grounds. The two men sat across from each other and the Asha’man somehow created a flame hanging in the air between them. The Asha’man ordered him to look into the flame. It was an odd demand but he obeyed. He stared until his eyes hurt, and the image was burned into them. Alric was beginning to think it was a useless exercise when the flame disappeared.
“Congratulations, child, you can channel,” Pit said with a pleased look. He went on to quiz Alric about times in his life when he fell sick with chills and headaches. Alric had fallen incredibly ill while he was in the army, shortly after his master scholar died. According to Pit, he might be a Wilder, somebody who’s been channeling on their own. That was ridiculous, he’d have remembered calling lightning or something in all his years at war. They didn’t have a reason to lie though.
According to Pit, he’d managed to not die from the power after several years, so he had two options: put on black and become a Soldier, or go about his way. Alric was a wilder, he didn’t have a place among the Drin. It didn’t seem fair, but he’d come this far. He wasn’t going to turn back now. Anyway, he’d been a soldier for six years, who different could life as a Soldier be?
Pit stood and clapped his hands together, “It’s settled then. You can officially sign the Book of Soldier’s later. You don’t get to keep your belongings. We’ll keep them safe for you. Sit tight, and I’ll send one of the lower ranks your way. They’ll help you get your belongings stored and then take you down to the laundry rooms to find you a couple of uniforms.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Alric alone to ponder his new situation. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary, he’d never had a gradual change in his life, and things seemed to happen all in a rush. One moment he would be standing on the dock, the next, in a storm at sea. For all the hustle and bustle, Alric found himself waiting a lot. Maybe this wouldn’t be so different. The mantra “Hurry up and wait,” had practically become doctrine during his time in Cairhien’s armies. He picked up a book off the shelf, something about Hama Valon’s legal codes, and settled down to wait.
