Fort Bowie resembled a temporary camp rather than a permanent army post. A rancid laced odor carried even on the still wind. I twitched my nose and spat on the ground, but the choking taste remained on my tongue. It wasn't the recruits filing in, even if some puked their guts up along the way. No, it was more. With a combination of feces and death from the ghastly crows of the rooster, I had my answer. A farm was in this fort, and the soldiers seemed immune to it.

Why did they build the fort at the bottom of a hill? A cannon would have free rein to fire after the watchtowers fell. Not like these wooden walls would make a difference. The many tents and makeshift structures showed Bowie took on far more than it expected to carry.

Military commanders? More like imbeciles, the lot of them. No wonder the war dragged on. I would have to do something about it. Something to distinguish me from the rest.

The sun was blistering even under this hat. Seated on my horse, I grimaced in horror. Men shambled into the fort like corpses, some barely standing, others collapsed by the entrance. Those inside the fort scrambled like dogs for a drop of water. Recruits that the soldiers called fresh fish begged with their eyes and pleaded with their desperate movements.

Was this even ethical?

It would strengthen them. Carper said when I asked him about this march of tired men. There isn't much time before they have to fight the war. No one will hold their hand then or give them a simple time. War is brutal. He kept chanting.

Still, corpses can't win a war. These recruits — beaten, provoked had taken enough. The soldiers laughed and mocked their misery.

I had to do something. A situation like this on the battlefield could also mean my death. I had read many books on treachery and what stirs noble men's hearts. Although these are lower-class men, men are men. If we treat them like a beast, it could only come back to bite us even if the intention is for their betterment.

I bit my lip and weighed the consequences. Breaking the chain of command was a serious matter. However, Carper never said what would happen next. He just said to make sure they get to Bowie. They got here to the fort, which means they followed the order.

The soldier beside me was sweating heavily in his dark blue uniform. He was tall and had a youthful face. There was concern there, annoyance unlike the others as he watched on. He had two Chevron bars on his shoulder colored sky blue.

"Corporal?"

I caught his attention.

"Richard, sir," he responded, meeting my eyes.

"Get them some water," I said.

He saluted, picked out others, and hastened to bring back buckets laden with water. Soldiers stop laughing, either getting out of the way or helping.

Carper's steel-blue eyes rested on me but said nothing. He sat on horseback beside the other officers, who just watched on. Was I wrong? I was sure I was not breaking a command. If I had allowed this to continue further, somebody would have died.

I sighed, noticing the trio I had seen in Mannorland smiling at each other. The recruits were piling in from outside. The others that had made it into the fort sat where they could. They were hesitant at first but realizing no lashes, the men relaxed.

Carper drew his horse closer to me. "You don't approve of my methods, Albert?"

I turned to Carper. "I don't see the point in this. This isn't standard training."

Carper adjusted his hat as his horse relieved itself before covering it with its back legs. "No, it's not. I have to push them to their limit and weed out the weakness inside of them. To get them up to the 45th Brigade's standards."

I turned away and frowned.

"Do you think a few lashes are anything compared to a line falling apart? The booming of cannons, the cascade of gunfire. If they can't handle this much, how would they handle a line? If the weak run, the rest will also run too like sheep and that is how war is ."

"What will you do with the ones that failed? Are you planning to punish everyone as an example?"

"Nothing," Carper scratched his chin. "Major Myres," Carper called.

"Sir!" Myres responded.

"Have them get back into lines and then give them the breakdown of the camp."

"Yes, sir!"

Major Myres shouted to the men to get into four lines. Recruits gathered strength through fear. They quickly and concisely got themselves back into a formation. No lash went as they stood, ensuring their uniforms did not smudge the ground.

Carper smirked at me.

Major Myres then explained the bugle call. The schedule signals them to wake in the morning — assemble — when they can eat. Men's faces showed they struggled to process that a day was now thirty calls.

Myres outlined their daily rations, from bacon to pork, hardtack, beans, and coffee. Some men's mouths watered while others looked on. He told them they could place orders for other food, but it would be with their own money at the commissary.

As I examined their faces, the report I read on the way here came to mind. It stated that we made the recruits up of a mixture of convicts, farmers, and former slaves. From their faces, most just looked like ordinary men that had it hard from the state's decline. These recruits were to fill in the numbers of soldiers' strength back to four thousand men.

The stragglers were now making it in thanks to the help of soldiers bringing them in by wagons. Major Myres didn't give them time to rest. He ordered them to create a new line separate from the rest, divided by a few spaces. He talked about duties and what we expected from them as a soldier. It all sounded like they were to be both handymen and disposable pawns.

"Uniforms!" Myres' voice bellowed. "The only way to wear one is to earn it. Starting from today, drills, skills, ability to learn, and good discipline will be those merits to earn you those clothes."

The recruits' eyes seemed to voice complaints, especially the recruits who had kept up the entire time with the Major.

"That uniform must be maintained and we have laundress here to do that heavy lifting for you that comes from your own salary." He pointed over to a section further in the fort. The man's eyes followed. "That is where you go to get them clean. Questions?"

No one answered.

Myres continued, "Many of you will stay outdoors. The fortunate few once earned take up space in the barracks. We have already made tents available to you to the letter which you would have probably seen. Remember that desertion is a crime and is punishable by death, dismiss."

Corporal Richard beckoned, "follow me, to the tents!"

The recruits trailed behind Richard. They went back out of the fort's walls.

A trumpet blew, and the other soldiers moved into positions, going around the fort.

"Come with me," Carper said, "Let me show you where you will be staying."

Carper didn't wait for a response. He turned his horse and trotted slowly onward. Major Myres and I followed along on his heels.

First, we passed the wooden troops' barracks peering through the open door. Men littered inside, either lying down or playing dominos at a table. On my left was an outside kitchen area with men and women doing butcher work. My gaze grasped the chicken getting plucked.

Next to the two was the makeshift laundry area. Hidden beneath the stench was a slight flower fragrance — littered with wooden buckets on the ground and clothes hung outside. Further was a long trail of an open farm and a stable. Chickens ran free, horses and even a few sheep.

It shocked me to see the number of women working here, from washing to cooking, some even doing labor work.

"The soldiers can't be doing all these tasks any longer. Battle sometimes can be at a moment's notice and the fort still needs to be operational," Myres said next to me.

"I didn't see any women applying back home."

"We don't recruit women the same way as men," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

"Most of these women have a vested interest in this fight."

A vested interest? My eyes caught on to the women that passed. They seemed unaffected by the mud, the sun, or anything around them. It was not the image that I had of a woman in my mind. I couldn't quite picture any nobility getting to this level.

"Do you see it now? Every one of them has lost someone in this war. For every woman here, this simple act of food or washing the men's clothes gives them that taste of revenge."

"Are they trained to use weapons?"

"No," Myres said.

My eyebrow shot up. Given how Carper seemed to push men, I expected the same. Still, from the way some women sat outside polishing and breaking down guns at tables. It would not be shocking if they knew how to use them well.

"Headquarters," Myres muttered under his breath.

It stood tall and beamed with a combination of wood and wall. It dwarfed the other buildings. Carper came to a stop and regarded Arigina's flag.

"This is the officer's quarter," Carper said, dismounting his horse.

I rode my horse up to the post, dismounted, and hitched it up. The Major did the same before we all entered, with Carper leading the way.

When the door opened, it made the outside seem pale in comparison — I had entered another land. Paintings of the founders of Arigina adorned the walls, the furniture — mahogany finish and the fur rugs lay comfortably on the ground.

"I will take the Lieutenant from here, Myres," Carper said.

Myres nodded and headed into the room to the left of us. He opened the door, and I saw the spacious beds inside compared to the soldiers.

Carper led me upstairs and into a dark room with chairs and a table. Maps littered around, and documents laid on a desk further away. He pulled back the blinds to let the light inside. Alcohol and cigars were in almost every corner of the room and the flag of Arigina.

"This room is our command center. The officers and I usually do all of our planning here," he said as he opened a drawer. "Whisky?"

"Sure."

The wood creaked under his feet. Before taking his seat, Carper got two glasses and placed them on the table in the center, along with the whisky. He pointed to the chair opposite him, and I sat facing him. He rocked back in his chair and wiped the sweat on his forehead before placing his hat on the table.

I was sure that he wanted something or wanted to tell me something. It was probably for crossing him earlier. He only put on a face for my father because he needed a promotion. That was my leverage, but it might be best to play along for now. I would need his support when I return home.

I sat back in the chair and placed my hands on the table. "I am sorry about earlier, if I was out of line, but I don't think I broke command."

"Oh, think nothing of it," he said, his eyes shifting to the window. There was not a lace of anger in his tone. "You decided. Who knows? It may be right. However, I figure you thought about it as if I scratched their back that they might scratch mine later on."

I blinked once, twice, but before I could speak.

Carper opened the bottle of whisky. It popped, and he poured my glass first and then for him to about the same amount. It had a raw kick to it that aroma took over the room.

"They call this one Chain Lightning." He took the glass and drew it towards his face. He gulped it down like water and hit the glass on the table. "This is probably my favorite. I just like the lingering feeling it leaves in my mouth." He looked at me. "Well, go on then, have a try."

I took the glass and brought it to my nose and sniffed. It was potent but had a sweet scent of caramel. I placed it on my lips and drank, and the kick set in as I swallowed it down. It was searing pain.

"Ahh, it's strong," the words fell from my mouth.

Carper smiled. "I probably should have warned you off how strong it is. Listen to me. Well, you're a smart lad with a background in nobility. These recruits, however, don't play by the same rules as you."

He met my eyes as I lowered the glass and placed it back on the table.

I folded my arms. "I did what I think was right."

"That hand you gave might be returned with a knife in your back."

"Regardless of being recruits, they are still men."

"Showing weakness anywhere is a dangerous move and it would leave you at the bottom of the pack."

"Aren't we going to arm them?"

"In time, but you can't give a man anything." He motioned with his empty glass. "He has to earn it, he has to want it."

"So what is your plan then, Carper?"

"Turn them against each other by making them want what the other has."

"Complying with obedience?"

"Yes."

"So you're going to wave them more money."

"No, food, letters, easier work and whatever else I can use as a reward."

I grunted. "If you think it's best."

"Remember, many are criminals forced to serve, others impoverished farmers or paying off their debt to the banks they borrowed from. Each man has ambitions, dreams, and desires. Those uniforms have to become desirable as much as the air to breathe and as time passes and one man gets promoted and better food than the rest. You will see the difference."

A knock came at the door. "Brigadier General Carper?"

"When we get to the ending of the fourth month, you will see what I mean." Carper's head turned to the door. "Come in."

It opened, and a Native Indian walked in. Light brown skin, long black flowing hair crept down her back, and a headband with feathers adorned her head.

She was beautiful, no doubt about that. Simple clothes and a bow rested on her shoulder. The books always pictured the Indians as cannibals. Ready to kill at a moment's notice with large piercing teeth. Unable to speak a word of English except for grunts and howls.

Tons of questions brawled behind my teeth — I had to ask her — no, she would think I was mad. Perhaps we all were mad.

My father had said the Indians helped us get through the path to the center, but I didn't think they would be in the fort as well. I didn't know what to expect, but certainly not this. I smiled and rested a hand on my head.

"You find something amusing Albert."

"I thought it was illegal to trade with Indians?"

Carper laughed. "And how this war would continue if you don't have someone to lead you."

The lady took her seat on the left side of Carper. She had not waited for him to give a command. Instead, her wide almond-shaped eyes lay fixed on me.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I have never seen you before," she said as her high cheekbones rose.

"This is Second Lieutenant Albert and Albert, this is Esadowa." Carper turned to Esadowa. "He has only now arrived."

"Are you here for the gold too, Albert?" Esadowa asked.

"No, I am not here for gold. I don't even believe that place exists."

"It is real," Esadowa's voice rose. "The soldiers have not proven themselves worthy in the hunting grounds."

"Not worthy? After all these years and so much time of war, fought with and without public knowledge. I would think that they would have found it by now."

"You fight each other, you fight on the guardians land, I show you the way but it's up to you all to prove you're worthy enough."

Guardians?

"Is that your god?"

"God?" She looked at Carper, who tried various ways with his hand to make her understand. "It might be Silver Fox, angry at your people for disrupting the land and displacing its inhabitants."

"If that is the case, then why do you help us?" I asked.

"Because that is —."

"That is enough for now, Esadowa, no need to get him afraid of old stories. He has a war to focus on and men to lead. I just wanted to get this introduction out of the way since I know the skepticism that comes with our guide."

I nodded, noticing the fire in her eye.

Carper poured himself another glass. "Come Albert, I will show you, your room."

Carper led me outside and three rooms down before opening a door. The small room was a single bedroom compared to where I had seen Myres go; They adorned it with nice furniture and the Mannorland flag.

"Like it?" he asked.

"It's fine," I replied.

"The best luxury we can afford. I will leave you to it." He sipped his drink and walked back down the hall.

They had already placed my luggage inside. I took a seat and took a deep breath. What didn't Carper want that woman to say?