Hutch and Casimir's conversation would last well into the evening hours. They discussed many things, and even came to some understandings as to what would need to happen going forward.
Despite his reservations, Hutch now believed that Casimir's intentions were as he said, and that fixing or rebuilding the amulet was his ultimate goal. However, somewhere lingering inside, remained a tiny voice of doubt, reminding him to be vigilant and to be prepared for treachery in the final moments. For regardless of how friendly they were now, he couldn't quite shake the imagine of Casimir as a super villain with hidden ulterior motives.
With the hour getting late, and their beers long finished, Casimir called his family down to the living room, where they shared in a lengthy goodbye, before Casimir and Hutch, got back in his Expedition, and began the drive back to Hutch's home.
"You're serious about teaching me to drive?" Hutch questioned, after Casimir brought it up again.
"For the last time, yes," he replied, as he grabbed a package of mints from the center consol. "If you have a better offer though, by all means, share."
"Sort of wish I did," he muttered, taking a mint from the package Casimir was holding out to him, "but we both know I don't. Thanks."
"You're welcome," he replied, before popping a mint himself and tossing the package back in the consol. "But it doesn't explain the hesitation."
"It's just happening so fast. It feels like when you insisted on teaching me to ride all over again."
"On the upside, a car isn't an eranth."
"Right, with a car you can screw up as many times as you like and still be able to drive it," Hutch recalled, patting playfully at the dashboard. "Beasts like these don't hold a grudge. Eranth do. Lose their trust, and you will never ride again."
Casimir chuckled. "I can't believe you remember that."
"How could I forget it? You had me terrified down to the very core of my bones. I was positive I was going to mess something up, and it would have been entirely your fault. And just like all of this, it seemed to start out of nowhere. I couldn't have been in that conscript training program for more than six weeks when you appeared. I can still remember the smell of that yard. It was a strange mix of sweat, dust, and the grecitatin oil soaked so far into the training swords they never dried. Hell, I can still recall the way my heart stopped to the sound of Captain Vosolak shouting my name while I was in the middle of our morning sparing sessions."
"Conscript Hutchinson! Front and center!"
The bellow had come from training Captain Vosolak on the other side of the yard. It was so uncommon for the captain to call anyone by name, that it caused the entirety of the yard to fall silent as the members of the conscript regiment turned to look in Hutch's direction.
Removing his helmet, Hutch bowed to his sparring partner, and then quickened his pace to the captain, stopping and bowing to him, with his helmet tucked under his arm, and sword, point down in his hand.
"Sir, I am conscript, Hutchinson," he said, as he stood tall before the captain who was a stout man for a Sajomei, with piercing neon orange eyes and hair that was stripped like a Bengal tigers.
"Follow me. The rest of you, back to practice!" he ordered, and Hutch fell in line behind him, as he led the way through the armory and into the training academy's main building.
Hutch was uncertain as to the reason he'd been pulled away in such a manner. While he knew for a fact that he needed more practice than everyone else in the yard, he was also aware that he managed to stay above the minimum requirements, albeit barely, on a consistent enough basis that he wasn't at risk of being expelled, which despite being a conscript, was a real concern.
Expulsion, meant punishment, and for most that meant going from a warrior to a digger; digger of trenches and latrines. Conscription may have been mandatory, but it didn't necessarily mean dying as an untrained piece of cannon fodder.
To Hutch, this conscription meant money, and potential. All he had to do was stay above the minimum, and while to him this required a vast amount of effort, including extra training in his own time, he saw it as worth it. He knew there was money to be made in the military of Qur'loam, and he knew he couldn't rely on Ghan'dono forever. At some point, he had to find his own way in the world, provide for himself, and build a life for himself, be that within the tribe or from an outside source. To him, this training was an opportunity that he couldn't afford to pass up, despite the inherit risks, and should he survive the mandatory year of service, after successful completion of the eight-week training program, he was guaranteed a spot in the Guard Academy, something otherwise unobtainable for someone like him. He was after all, too small to meet normal acceptance requirements for someone without any magic abilities, what are often referred to as scourgers, and he had no one to champion him as most applicants do.
While being a guard wasn't the most exciting job in the country, Cascel had assured him, more than a year previous, that outposts like the one near the Moahaba village were difficult to keep staffed, and no one would refuse him if he made the request to be stationed near his home. Plus, he knew that the salary would be more than enough to live a good life with.
Truth be told, Hutch was still uncertain of what his future looked like. He felt indebted to his tribe for welcoming him in, and to Ghan'dono for everything he had done for him, but he knew there was little he could ever do to repay their kindness. He could, however, see the benefit of serving in Salvador's ranks. It was not only a way to help his tribe from within, by returning to them some of the money they had to pay in taxes, but it was a way to gain information and pass it along, ensuring the tribes continued safety and survival. There were also a number of other benefits and perks to being a guard, but to him, the most important thing of all, was that it was a way for him to prove his worth to Kahlala.
It had only been two months before he left for the conscription training, that during the annual Sissinnishinnah, that Kahala had confessed to an interest in starting a relationship with him. And while he had agreed, it became blatantly obvious to him, that he had to do more than simply remain as he was. He wanted to give her more, more stability, more safety, and someone she could be proud of knowing. Regardless of everyone's resentment to Salvador, service to the country was considered a worthwhile endeavor and respectable choice.
When they arrived at the captain's office, Hutch was surprised to see Cascel waiting inside with another he recognized from the king's tour, General Barhalis of the First division of the King's Guard.
"Ah, look at you. Still in one piece," Cascel remarked, when Hutch stepped into the room. He was wearing the same satisfied grin Hutch had come to know well during the time they'd spent together when the King was in the Moahaba village. "It's good to see you again, Hutch."
"You too, Sir," he replied, bowing at the waist in his direction.
"Are you certain this is the one you want?" Captain Vosolak questioned, as he sat down behind his desk. "Not only is he a scourger, but he's barely able to keep up with the rest of the conscripts. I can't imagine how he will be of any use to you, Strategist. I highly recommend you select someone from the legitimate recruits. There's more than a dozen suitable for this position."
"Captain Vosolak has a point," Barhalis concurred. "This one is a Moahaba. He's either a farmer, orchardist, or granger."
"I'm aware of your reservations, Barhalis, but since you don't remember, he's the one I commandeered last year during the King's tour. I happened to find him rather impressive and enjoyed his unique view of the world. I believe he will be a good fit for this position."
Barhalis sighed. "He has large boots to fill, and his feet are very small," he replied, glaring down at Hutch's dust covered shoes.
"Come now. He's still young. If it doesn't work out, I'll take a closer look at the recruits the two of you recommend, but for now, this conscript is coming with us."
"As you wish, Strategist," the captain replied as he signed the piece of paper on his desk, and then stamped it with his official seal. "Congratulations, conscript Hutchinson. Don't screw this up."
Hutch took the paper the captain was holding out to him and began to read it over. "I don't understand, what is this?"
"Those are your new orders. They came directly from the king, and were just signed by your former commanding officer," Cascel explained, as Hutch stared down at the paper in his hand. "Chin up, Hutch, all it means is that I've commandeered you once again."