It was the day Leo dreaded. Postings were being announced for second year recruits. Two hundred or so stood in the courtyard with sun beating down on them in front of the office as the long list was barked out by the towering sergeant.
Sweat poured in sheets like small avalanches down Leo’s face and there was nothing he could do about it. He stood there and was a picture of suffering. Everyone was praying for posts in the western islands and the suburban plains since they didn’t involve two years of horrific climates, plus the death toll was far lower. The eastern regions were home to small towns dotted amongst the merciless icy mountains where monstrous creatures roamed. The southern deserts were home to trading towns dotted along the desert perimeter hosting different kinds of dangerous beasts and sunburn.
As the names were read out Leo looked about his fellow recruit whose heads dropped or praised the sky which each announcement. His name was close to being read out and his trepidation drew deeper with each breath.
‘Recruit Osmond,’ barked the Sergeant. ‘Southern region.’
Salvador Osmond a thin recruit groaned out loud.
‘Oh Osmond, you’re going to burn so bad,’ said one.
‘Well,’ said another putting a hand on his shoulder warmly. ‘That’s you dead.’
‘Recruit Parry,’ the Sergeant bellowed. ‘Western region.’
A cheer went up from the side of the crowd. Percy Peeves was elated. The Sergeant barked for quiet.
‘Recruit Mortimer.’
All eyes turned on Leo who went pale. Everything he’d learned and endured had led up to this point. The next two years pivoted on the next two words. 'Not southern or eastern, not southern or eastern,' he whispered to himself.
‘Eastern region.’
The words hit him like a hammer. The Mountains. The ice. The frost. The snow bears, ice lions… winter ghouls.
A few commiserations rang about him as his head dropped. Leo felt totally alone. He was useless at the cold.
‘Oh mate, you’re useless at the cold, you’re screwed,’ said someone.
‘You’re so screwed Leo sorry lad,’ said another but he couldn’t look up to see who was talking. Leo’s eyes bore holes into the ground, sweat dripped off his brow down into the dirt.
‘Pack some thick socks Mortimer,’ whispered another sympathetically. ‘You’re gonna lose toes.’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ shouted the Sergeant. ‘Private Pound…eastern region.’
Pound was a young man with a big heart and an even bigger ass. His large rear became the subject of many bullying names such as Buffers and Pound of Ass Cake. Leo knew Pound well having grown up close to him, but in time they’d grown apart as they got older. He shook himself and looked over sullenly at Pound who was a picture of sorrow.
‘That’s brutal Pound, that’s so fucked,’ said a neighbour.
‘Buffers you’re gonna die on your ass!’ gasped another.
Pound and Leo’s eyes met each other’s. The mountainous forests and frost sheets awaited them, but for a moment they felt some calm knowing they’d be there together. For the next couple of years they’d be guarding remote posts and towns in amongst the harsh wintery elements and the nightmarish creatures of the east. Them and now Hors the loudest of the recruits would be there. Hors was an intensely loud figure who was hard not to notice, someone you could almost very easily hate. What a prick.
After an eternity, the Sergeant announced the last of the names.
‘Congratulations on completing second year.’ he boomed. ‘I am pleased to announce you have all achieved the rank of Private and can commence your posts in three days' time.’
He wished the recruits good luck and promptly left. The rest of the recruits dispersed, mainly to the taverns to either drink to good fortune or drown their sorrows. And that is exactly what Leo did, but first he needed desperately to visit the toilet because he had begun to well and truly shit himself.
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