I should have stayed in Bellis. I have… well… had a family, a dog, and a good paying job. Had I known how good I had it (cutting wood, having large family dinners, occasional hunts), maybe I wouldn’t have been impressed by that damn recruiter when he came through town. He was a tall man, dressed in a smart blue jacket with golden pips. Knowing what I know now, I would have seen him for what he was; a parchment-pushing coward who sent others to fight for him while he pranced around in his fancy uniform.
I joined up and was attached to an infantry unit. Sounded good when I joined, “be the vanguard of freedom” and all that rot. After a few engagements I really stepped in it. Turns out officers don’t like being punched in the nose when they act like fools. I had a choice, prison or volunteer for a special assignment. Again, if’n I had one of those fancy crystal balls, I would’ve run to the prison, entered the cell, gave a smart salute, and closed the door behind me. But no, not me, “special assignment, sir” I said. Idiot.
Turns out my special assignment was a “sword point” squad. Training consisted of getting beat down until you were nearly or completely insane. Once you were nuts enough to follow every order, even it looked suicidal, you were ready for action. We were the ones that did the dirty work. They gave us orders and we did as ordered without question. I would be ashamed if I could remember all I done. They had guys in robes come in after it was over. They cast some mind wiping spell. I still have nightmares, but I can’t remember all the details. I don’t think I’m supposed to dream about stuff, must have a little resistance to those spells.
For five years I followed orders, raged, and killed. I guess they thought I had enough, or were tired of trying to control me in their secret camps. I was “discharged” last year. I reported to some fancy officer in robes. He was supposed to erase my memories, I think. Didn’t work though. He was too drunk to do the job proper.
Had a hard time adjusting to normal life after that. I was still having rages, which led to too much damn trouble. I’m lucky I met my comrade over there. He may be quirky, but he has a habit of giving out orders in just the right way so that I can mostly control my rages. He manages my money and things, and I do what I’m told for the most part, it’s easier that way.