Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

I couldn’t help but think that if the Geneshans had wanted to attack the place in the early years of the war when they held the advantage, Damanhur would have fallen in minutes. A quick glance about told me I was the only one who even cared. After more than a week on the back of a hard wagon, being jarred constantly, all anyone really wanted was a night of letting loose.

Captain Nehab managed to maintain discipline long enough to tie down the wagons on the city’s outskirts and ensure the horses were tended. Men quickly began to sneak off, and he had no choice but to just dismiss everyone. Soldiers peeled away before Nehab finished the command. He tried calling out a curfew, but no one heard it. Most people found it hard to listen with their backs turned and feet propelling them swiftly away from the person speaking.

I never did find out what time he had set for curfew.

* * *

Early in the war, my unit once received a two-day leave. One of my men took off on his own without waiting for the rest of us. I was young and thought nothing of it. The town had looked relatively peaceful, so I figured I’d let the man have a bit of time to himself. All of us needed moments of isolation lest we kill each other before ever reaching Genesha.

A few hours later a corporal had reported my man’s body hacked and slashed in an alley behind a local bar. The rest of my unit spent half the night beating information out of the patrons of the tavern until we learned what had happened. Turned out our man had a good night at dice and the loser was bitter about it. He and two friends wanted their money back. Our man refused. His stubbornness got him killed. We found the three responsible before the crack of dawn and made sure they suffered a fate to rival our mate’s. It was only the right thing to do.

Balak never came down on us despite the story making its way throughout the army. I think he agreed with the way we handled the problem, and, more importantly, understood we learned our lesson. Especially me. I only wish we could have learned it one day sooner.

After that night no one in my unit traveled in parties of less than three. So while many took off on their own into Damanhur, we four stayed together.

“Well, Tyrus, what’s on the agenda for tonight?” asked Hamath.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought. Why don’t one of you pick something?” I said, stepping over a puddle.

Damanhur did not boast the sophisticated drainage system one might find in the larger cities of Turine. Therefore, water pooled near the curb, capturing all sorts of bugs, rotten food, and Molak knows what else.

“We always pick where we’re going,” said Ira. “It’d be nice if you showed a preference for once when we’re on leave.”

“I did once. And none of you ever let me live it down.”

Hamath spat. “We didn’t think you’d want to check out the advances in plow design at the local blacksmith.”

Ira snorted. “That Ty sure knows how to have fun.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“And yet you want me to choose again.”

“Thought you might do better this time.”

“Doubtful. Farming is still in my blood. Why don’t you ever ask Dekar for his opinion?”

Ira laughed louder. “He’s worse than you. We’d probably end up at some local merchant’s stand looking through books or something.”

Dekar shrugged.

I sighed. “Just pick the whorehouse that best suits your interest since I know that’s what you and Hamath want anyway. My only stipulation is that it has to have a decent tavern attached so Dekar and I have something to do to pass the time.”

“Why Ty,” said Ira, exaggerating his words. “that sounds like a marvelous idea.” He wore a big smile. “Don’t you agree, Hamath?”

“I do agree,” Hamath said, mimicking Ira’s tone. “I wish I had thought of it myself actually. I guess that’s why he’s Sergeant and not us.”

I rolled my eyes, refusing to encourage them.

Hamath and Ira took the lead as we continued our trek, looking for the ideal place to spend their coin.

Damanhur wasn’t as large as some of the cities near the center of Turine, or as grand as Hol or Edema in its majesty. However, it did dwarf my hometown in both size and appearance. Denu Creek boasted over a hundred people if you included those who made their home in the land around it which most people did.

The largest building in Denu Creek was the house on a plantation owned by the Jareb family, an eclectic bunch who had named every one of their first sons Jareb for as far back as anyone could remember. The family boasted many things that others could not. Originality wasn’t among them.

The Jareb nearest my age had been a real piece of work growing up. He made life miserable for Ava until her talents manifested. That got him off her back fast. Most everyone in town saw the younger Jareb through the reputation of his father who had a heart of gold. Just goes to prove the saying ‘like father, like son’ isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.

In Damanhur, the largest building, a circular tower, made the Jareb plantation look like a butcher’s shop. It stood at the town’s center, seven stories high, and housed the City Watch. Seeing that the artisans were capable of constructing something of substantial size made me wonder even more why the local government hadn’t employed those same workers to raise the height of the city’s walls.

I guess our army’s relative success over the last couple of years made them feel safe enough.

Inns three and four stories high took up residence near the tower. I imagined it was pretty convenient to have the watch next door whenever rowdy customers refused to pay their bills or start trouble.

Ira and Hamath passed the inns without a second look. None of the places they sought would be located so close to the watch.

Though every city, town, and hamlet boasted whorehouses of their own, most residents liked to pretend they didn’t exist. These were the same citizens who hated to admit that the bulk of their community’s taxes came from those same appalling establishments, without which they wouldn’t have the funds necessary to keep the town running.

I had seen a similar attitude before in a town bordering Denu Creek.

Ifrane had been experiencing a major population influx, growing at an unheard of rate in the area I’m from. Most linked the surge in growth to the quality of women brought in from foreign lands to populate their bathhouses. The exotic nature of such women made the town attractive to many young men from the surrounding areas.

Things were looking up for Ifrane until a priest of Quan showed up.

Quan was a minor god in Turine’s pantheon, one that’s known for his hard line on pleasure. The details of what the followers of Quan believed were long and often contradictory. From my understanding, if something brought you pleasure, it probably displeased Quan.

The priest somehow managed to make that miserable life of restraint appealing, and converted a slew of people to his faith. As a result, the town passed an ordinance that made prostitution illegal. Within a year, Ifrane existed only in people’s memories. Those who converted to Quan grew alienated with him after seeing the lack of benefits from their commitment. People moved away in droves. Denu Creek’s population grew a fifth in size because of the exodus.

A smile formed on my face as I recalled the day that priest tried spreading his philosophy in our town.

The mayor didn’t even have to get involved. A dozen of the town’s more prosperous business owners turned him away half a mile outside the city’s limits. No one wanted to be the next Ifrane.

“Hey, Tyrus,” whispered Dekar.

I blinked. We had been walking through the city, but I was too lost in myself to even realize where we were. I needed to be more careful. That sort of thing could get a stranger in trouble. “Hmm?”