He awoke in a bed, just upstairs from where he had fallen. His head was spinning, the thoughts racing as though he had just escaped a very bizarre dream. He looked to the left and right, the shop master nowhere to be found. As soon as Emrys recalled the events, a waft of dread overtook him.

“Is my father really dead...?”

“Who is going to take care of me?”

“Where am I going to be sent to?”

“Does my mother know, whoever she is?”

The questions ripped Emrys' mind asunder, leaving him to crash back into his pillow. As he lay there, tears beginning to roll down his face, the shop master returned to the room, a kettle of tea in his hands. Emrys hadn't noticed the cup set beside him, nor did he really care. Tea was the last thing he wanted on his mind.

“This tea was ground on an anvil and boiled with the fires of sword tempering! It'll give you a good manly kick!” Yarl said, trying to cheer Emrys up. It didn't work.

“I don't care about the stupid tea. I understand that you want me to feel better, but there's a lot going on in my mind right now. Just resume where you left off.” The shock had left Emrys in the worst state of sadness he had ever felt, but strangely, it dissolved into apathy. All he wanted to do was figure out where to go next, then sleep.

“Well, alright then. In light of your father's passing, you've been drafted to serve as a craftsman. You'll be taken to a shop for training, after which you'll be sent out to a mobile factory. Any education you need will be provided. All you've got to bring is your hands,” the master said, holding up his old, cracked hands to emphasize, “and perhaps a less cynical mood, my boy.”

“I'm not your boy. You seem to be very easy going about this whole thing,” Emrys said, not really thinking anymore. The first words in his head were the first words out.

“Well I hope you'll still remember your old shop master when you make it big out there,” he said with a wan smile, “I'm just trying to do my best for you. Your father was an admirable man, and I served as his personal smith for years. I started my career the same way you are.” A tear rolled down the master's cheek, and he said, “My dad died too, except on the day after my draft notice came in. I know what you're feeling. It'll pass. You'll find that everything does, Emrys. Just keep your head up high. I know you're going to go far.”

Emrys' dazed mind took every word in and trapped it. Although he tried to feign apathy on the outside still, it had been crushed under the master's relations. Emrys really was going to miss him once he was off to whatever camp he was going to.

“Maybe we'll meet again. Not too hard to keep in touch these days,” Emrys said, drifting back off to sleep. His head couldn't take anymore emotional tempering.
– –

The uniform fit strangely.

As expected, the two officers returned the next day, and in his depressed state, Emrys went with no fuss. He bade Yarl farewell, and went off with the men into Porr's military district. There, he was taken into a large building made of steel, and told to fill out some paperwork. Despite being uneducated, Emrys still had basic literacy taught to him by his father. Once the papers were filled, he was given an ensign's uniform. It was a basic red jumpsuit made of tough cloth, with one pin on the lapel to indicate his low rank. He felt out of place wearing it. Once in uniform, Emrys walked back out into the center of the building, which was bustling with activity. A short man wearing the same uniform as the red capped soldier who visited Yarl's shop approached Emrys.

“Oi, I presume you're that Emrys boy, no? The one with no last name listed?” he rasped in a strange accent.

“Er, yes. That would be me.”

“'De uniform suits you, boy. I worked wiv your father back in 'de day. 'E never told me why 'e didn't 'ave a last name, and I don't reckon ye'd know either. Awl that aside, you'll be training in t' be a craftsman, not a soldier. We need more production to keep 'de army afloat, y' know?”

Emrys felt a bit happier for the first time since he left the shop. He wouldn't have to fight after all, and this strange talking man knew where he was coming from.

“Yeah, yeah! I know what you mean. What's your name, sir?” Emrys asked the man, feeling his intrigue returning along with his other normal emotions.

“'De name's Olberon Dolandric, and I'll be showin' ye how to be a blacksmith. Once we find me other two apprentice's, we'll head on over to the shop so you all can get settl'd in. Tomorrow, we start the learnin'.”

“Do you know what they look like?” Emrys asked, looking around curiously for whom he'd be staying with soon. He was hoping he might finally make friends his own age.

Olberon snickered, saying, “I ain't got any idea what they're lookin' like. I know one is a girl, and 'de other is damn near a man. Granted, they're both your age, but I was forewarned that 'de second boy would be an ox of a guy.”

As soon as Olberon finished his sentence, a tank of a boy exited a room next to where Emrys emerged from. He wore the same ensign uniform, except his was more suited to his large, muscular stature. He had straight, black hair that was cut short.

Olberon piped up, “Oi! Big man! Your name Khelov Racksch? “

Khelov turned his head towards Olberon, and then lumbered over to him.

“Yeah. That's me. Why do you ask?” he said in a slow, deep voice.

“You've struck lucky! You ain't goin' out to war, boy, you're joinin' me and this young man 'ere in the crafts industry. You've also got one more companion, provided I can find 'er. He's Emrys, by the way.”

Khelov looked at Olberon, then Emrys, then back to Olberon.

“Okay.” he said. Emrys noted that Khelov was probably a man of few words. While Emrys was trying to assess what kind of person Khelov was from his eight words, something caught his attention from the corner of his eyes. His felt his face flush, but still turned his head to observe what he saw.

A truly beautiful girl walked elegantly out of a third room. Her uniform fit her perfectly, fitting her frame to each curve and line. Her eyes filled Emrys with a feeling of phantasmagoria, a pale blue at the moment, but Emrys had heard from his father that any woman who struck his heart would have eyes that change in different lights. Her blond hair was cut to fall a bit below her shoulders, each strand seeming perfect to Emrys. He was stricken, but he quickly tried focusing. He had no experience with girls, and didn't want to ruin everything before he even knew her name. She might not even be in his crafting class. He turned back to Khelov, who he also noticed was staring at the girl, his dull eyes seeming to allude to the same emotions Emrys felt.

“My first rivalry?” Emrys thought to himself.

“'Ere we go! Yeka Rinshuk?” Olberon shouted, trying to get the girl's attention. She turned, smiling a heart melting smile, and then began walking towards the group.

“Awlright! I'm three fer three today! Eh heh heh. Welcome to our unit. We're gonna be learning how to be blacksmiths to help support the army. This tank 'ere is Khelov, and this fiery headed boy is Emrys. I'm Olberon, and I'll be your master.” He said.

“Oh! Sounds like fun!” Yeka said, smiling brightly, unknowingly stunning Emrys again. Olberon motioned for them to follow him, and he lead them out of the building and down the streets of the military district. Once they had gone a few buildings down, Olberon stopped and opened one up.

“Welcome home, lads.”

Khelov was the first to go through, followed by Emrys, and then Yeka. It was a decently sized area, coloured a simple green with no portraits, a bed oddly placed in the right corner, a set of stairs to the second level, and two doors leading to rooms that no one but Olberon knew of yet.

“Awlright, two of you 'll sleep upstairs, and one o' ye will be sleepin' down 'ere. 'De door straight ahead and to 'de left is my quarters, the one to 'de right is the shop area,” said Olberon, pointing to each part that he mentioned.

“I'll stay down here.” Khelov said in a low voice.

“Wonderful! I 'ad a feelin' ye would,” Olberon said, patting Khelov on the back. Emrys was somehow annoyed by this. Khelov hadn't done a single wrong doing to Emrys, and yet, Emrys felt like he was a threat.

“Emrys, Yeka, ye two can 'ed upstairs and get settled. 'S just one big room up there, but there's two beds. Restrooms are upstairs as well. It's rather late, so we'll get wiv 'de learnin' come sunrise. Ye ain't gotta worry about sleepin' in 'round here. Old Olberon 'as his tricks,” he said, a toothy smile in his mouth.”

It seemed Yeka preferred to follow, since Emrys was yet again the first to head upstairs. The room upstairs was blue, probably painted with the intent of sleep. It was the same size as the room below, but seemed much larger, since the only things in it were two beds on opposite ends.

“Well, goodnight, um, Emrys, was it?” Yeka said, catching Emrys off guard. His face turned red as red as his hair.

“Oh! Um, yeah! My name is Emrys. Uh, goodnight, uh, Yeka, right?”

“Mmhm, you got it,” she said with a wink. Emrys thought his heart was going to explode. He tried not to stare at here and make things awkward by lying down in the bed on the left hand side of the room, turning over, and feigning sleep.

An hour or two went by and he didn't have to feign it anymore.
– –