September Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Walking a Fine Line

Time Setting: 1920

Genre: Historical Thriller

Minimum Word Goal: 120,000

Timespan: March–June

Location: Chicago, Illinois

Main Characters: Joseph Neil

Background Information: 

Born the third of five sons and seventh of thirteen children to a first-generation Irish-American father and an Irish-born mother who made their home on Chicago’s South Side, Joseph’s existence has been for the most part a decent one, even if it’s been somewhat of a lonely one.

The main reasons it’s been lonely are because, firstly, Joseph was five years younger than his oldest brother; secondly, his second brother was a sickly baby who lasted only ten days, and thus was long gone before Joseph was born almost eighteen months later; and thirdly, Joseph’s two younger brothers were born when he was nine and eleven years old, respectively.

Joseph, thus, was closely surrounded by sisters, and although he became close with his immediately younger sister especially, his oldest brother would mock him for playing with girls, and even hampered his abilities to develop relationships with other boys by telling those boys that Joseph played dolls with his sisters, even though the doll he played with was a boy doll made for him by his mother.

Thankfully, Joseph’s father worked a steady job, bringing in good money for the family, ensuring they were on good financial footing, and even though he went out drinking with his friends regularly, he didn’t usually get horribly drunk, and he was never bellicose when under the influence either.

Nevertheless, Joseph found his father a strict disciplinarian with all of his children, not just Joseph’s difficult and unruly oldest brother, and thus struggled to please his father with anything that he did, even though he put his utmost effort and then some into everything he did for his father.

When Joseph was ten years old, his oldest brother was killed in an incident of mischief-gone-awry with his friends, which shocked and devastated the whole family, and prompted Joseph’s father to become even stricter with him, not wanting Joseph to run with the same unsavoury crowds his older brother had run with, which his parents believed had been a contributory factor to their son’s demise.

The devastation of the tragedy was somewhat tempered by the fact that Joseph’s oldest sisters started getting married around the same time — his oldest sister having married a scant four months before his brother was killed — and thus started giving Joseph’s parents grandchildren, and Joseph himself nieces and nephews.

Nevertheless, tragedy remained close to the family, as within five years Joseph’s father’s health started to deteriorate, culminating with him collapsing at work in the spring of the year Joseph turned fifteen, causing him to be hospitalised. The diagnosis was the beginning of liver failure brought on by his years of regular and moderately heavy drinking.

Although it was expected that his death would be swift, he lingered until June of that year, with the hospital bills he incurred for his lengthy stay depleting the family’s savings and leaving Joseph — still three months shy of fifteen — as the oldest male in the house.

Additionally, Joseph’s mother was pregnant with her thirteenth and final child, who was born in November, and with much difficulty that resulted in Joseph’s mother being hospitalised for a period of time that further affected the family’s savings, putting them in a far more difficult financial position than they’d been in just a year before.

It looked like Joseph was going to have to quit school and get a job, but his married sisters were opposed to that idea as Joseph was a good student — his sisters were sure he would be the top of his class if he actually put the kind of effort into his schooling they thought he ought to — and they wanted him to be able to complete school and maybe even go to college so as to be able to get a better-paying job to support the family.

As a result, his sisters, along with his numerous prevailingly maternal relatives in the area, and the congregation of the Catholic church his family attended devoutly, were generous in their gifts to the family — financial and material — in order to keep Joseph in school.

In addition, his mother recovered enough to be able to sew again as she had before, and took advantage of her reputation as an excellent seamstress to make some money by taking in mending, altering, and even tailoring work in addition to keeping on top of all of the mending other sewing she had to do for her own children as they got older with each passing year.

Even still, Joseph took summer jobs to provide something for the family until he graduated shortly after the United States entered the Great War that had been raging in Europe since a little over a week prior to his fifteenth birthday.

Desiring to have some adventure in his life, and seeing being in the military as a chance for him to get paid for having just that, Joseph fudged his birthday by a couple months so that he’d be allowed to sign up.

His family were worried about letting him go to war, so his three brothers-in-law signed up to keep a semi-paternal eye on Joseph, as none of them had necessarily been in a hurry to sign up for the army otherwise.

Joseph quickly distinguished himself as having a keen eye and was trained as a sniper, but he was attached to the infantry unit with which his brothers-in-law were serving so they were still able to keep an eye on him, and he, in turn, on them.

In the months of action they were able to have before the hostilities concluded, Joseph managed to survive unscathed, and the oldest of his brothers-in-law by age — but the second to join the family when he’d married Joseph’s second-oldest sister in February 1915 — survived with minor physical wounds, but his other two brothers-in-law were killed.

Since Joseph’s going to war had been the main impetus behind his brothers-in-law deciding to go, Joseph felt a measure of guilt at two of them having died, leaving behind not only their widows, but a combined eight fatherless children, and resolved that he was going to do what he could to help his widowed sisters until they got remarried — if, indeed, they decided to pursue remarriage at all.

Additionally, as they headed home following the war, Joseph noticed that his remaining brother-in-law seemed to have suffered some deep psychological wounds that made Joseph question whether he would be as capable of supporting his wife and five children as he’d been before the war, causing Joseph to add another burden to his pile.

Following some time spent laid up sick with influenza before they could be discharged from the army, Joseph and his brother-in-law returned home where Joseph, despite having graduated school, was unable to find any job other than working for the same Polish shopkeeper he’d worked the summer for before the war.

Since his family needs the money and he’s intent on providing some financial support to his married sisters because of the fact that his going off to war made their lives more difficult than they’d been before, Joseph hasn’t even considered going to college — not that he’d had any ideas of what he might study at college before the opportunity to go to war had become an option — and is more than certain that his family wouldn’t be able to afford it even if he wanted to.

Also, if Joseph is perfectly honest, he wishes he wouldn’t have sought discharge from the army as he’d enjoyed the lifestyle and was sure he could’ve had the chance to have some further adventures, plus he’s disappointed to think that he’s not likely to have any sort of adventure in his life back in Chicago like he had participating in the conclusion of the greatest war mankind had ever seen.

Newcomer: Day 15

Word Total: 90,047

Year to Date: 600,337

Summary of Events: 

Miķelis made his way to the covert time of Reform fellowship, as he did every Sunday morning, only to be distressed by the fact that everyone was surprised to see him and worried he was compromising on his faith because he was spending more time with Kristiāns and Dzidris — who weren't Reform-believing — than with them. Since he'd not realised this, he apologised, but some of them weren't convinced, and he wasn't entirely wanting to quit spending time with Kristiāns and Dzidris either, so he did what he could to socialise with them all together. Prince Zigmārs noticed that Miķelis seemed to be distressed and asked Miķelis what was going on, offering counsel once Miķelis explained…

Excerpt of the Day:

  “There are times when friendships fade,” Prince Zigmārs said. “Oftentimes because neither party really cares to put effort into the relationship, although — and this could be a case — there are times where a person may not value their friendship with someone enough to put the effort a friendship demands into it for themselves, but they believe the other person in the relationship ought to care and put the effort in, prompting them to get offended and antagonistic.”

“That isn’t true of all my old friends,” Miķelis replied. “Some of them have apologised for not doing their part, and for having not mentioned to me that they were feeling neglected sooner, but some of them are upset at me.”

“How many old friends do you have?” Prince Zigmārs asked.

“About… five, or six,” Miķelis replied.

“That’s rather a number,” Prince Zigmārs said.

Miķelis nodded.

“I would say that some of them are evidently good and true friends with whom you ought to keep up relations,” Prince Zigmārs said. “But the others, maybe it’s time to let go.”

“But, the group of us have always spent time together,” Miķelis replied. “We’re all from Elejādirozen, so we all grew up together, especially because we’re the same age.”

Prince Zigmārs nodded.

“And, I have been, especially since my old friends mentioned it to me, bringing my new friends to dine with them,” Miķelis added. “It was just this afternoon, because Ainārs and I had to set up the stove that I missed them and they all sat apart. I think my new friends can integrate into the group over time, but right now I’m the only adhesive between them.”

“You even looked troubled yesterday,” Prince Zigmārs said. “I’m not so sure that this matter is as insignificant as you seem to be implying.”

“I’ve written my priest about it,” Miķelis said. “I rather wish the mail had gone out already so the letter would be on its way to him, but I hope that his counsel will help me.”

Prince Zigmārs nodded. “Good, I hope that it has a short trip, and that his reply will aid your countenance, for it does not gladden me to see you looking so burdened. I am sure the camp priest would be willing to offer some counsel in the meantime as well.”

Miķelis nodded. “I will consider it, my lord.”
“And I will pray for you that you might come to an amicable resolution of this situation,” Prince Zigmārs said.

“Thank you, my lord,” Miķelis replied. “Is that all?”

“Yes, you are dismissed,” Prince Zigmārs replied.

Miķelis rose from his seat and slipped back outside. The lights still glowed and danced. Miķelis hoped that he might hear the crackling that accompanied them, the conditions seemed right for it, but he wasn’t sure, he’d heard that the crackling was latitudinally-limited as well, but he wasn’t that far south of home, so he felt like he shouldn’t yet be out of range for it.

As he watched the lights dance, Miķelis did very much hope that Tautvydas’ answers would help, after all, if he was honest, those who hadn’t yet forgiven him of his ‘old friends’ were the ones with whom he’d had less association overall, while the ones who had been closer to him — both in residence and relationship — were the ones he was right with.

Pronunciation:

Tautvydas: t'outveedahs

Next Post: 31 August.

Newcomer: Day 14

Word Count: 84,013

Summary of Events:

Miķelis was required to move to Prince Zigmārs' tent as a result of his promotion, so he went to his tent to get his things, which also required him to inform Kristiāns, Mārtiņš, and Genādijs of his promotion, which Kristiāns was a bit sad about — although he was glad Miķelis wasn't leaving the camp — while Mārtiņš and Genādijs seemed prevailingly indifferent. The following morning Miķelis rose early to accompany Prince Zigmārs and two others to a shrine in the woods to pray before they went to breakfast, where Miķelis was dismissed to dine with his friends…

Excerpt of the Day:

He didn’t really know which way to go, but then he saw Kristiāns and Dzidris in the line, just inside the tent door, Kristiāns looked to be pointing him out to Dzidris. He hurried toward them, not looking aside to the rest of the line, sure that others were likely to be staring and glaring at him.

“Come to say hello?” Kristiāns asked.

“Actually, hi– ah, um, I– I’m joining you,” Miķelis stammered.

“You’re allowed?” Dzidris asked.

“Yes,” Miķelis replied. “I don’t have to report back until suppertime.”

“So is Esquire of the Body a made-up rank then?” Dzidris asked.

“No,” Miķelis replied. “But I’m one of two, so I’m being spared to continue my military training, but I am learning a bit how to be one.”

“What does it, exactly, require?” Kristiāns asked.

“Basically what I did with you while you were recovering,” Miķelis replied. “That’s what I’ve seen so far.”

“Oh,” Kristiāns said. “So you were training for it without even realising it.”

“Maybe that’s why he picked me to be one,” Miķelis said.

“I’m sure he saw you helping me around,” Kristiāns agreed.

He yawned, ending it with a groan and rubbed his eyes.

Miķelis looked at Kristiāns and noticed that he looked weary, his eyes half-closed with shadows beneath them, his shoulders sagging. Miķelis considered asking, but he decided to wait, as they’d reached the table already.

Because of Kristiāns’ evident weariness, Miķelis fell in behind him, letting Dzidris lead the way through the line to get their food and choose a place for them to sit, where Miķelis pulled out a chair for Kristiāns, who sat down heavily and wearily.

“You seem tired,” Miķelis said.

“I am,” Kristiāns replied, moving his chair close to the table.

“Why?” Miķelis asked.

“Mārtiņš and Dāvids hadn’t run out of things to talk about when they were separated for curfew, so when they were put back together they talked for hours, even though the lantern was put out,” Kristiāns replied. “I had a horrid time trying to get to sleep, much less to stay there, and then I had to fight to wake up with the bugle, and I had to wake everyone else up to be ready. I was barely passable. Everybody else failed.”

“Oh,” Miķelis said. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Kristiāns replied. “Protocol is protocol.”

“But it wasn’t protocol,” Miķelis replied.

“What wasn’t?” Dzidris asked.

“Dāvids moving,” Miķelis replied. “Protocol is vacated beds are occupied by the next new arrivals, otherwise we’d probably be moving almost constantly as older trainees are commissioned and such.”

“So then why was he moved?” Kristiāns asked.

“Because I asked Prince Zigmārs if it could be done so that they don’t accumulate a list of curfew violations,” Miķelis replied.

“Oh,” Kristiāns said. “Well they were sure glad about it.”

Dzidris nodded.

“I wish them to stay glad too,” Miķelis said.

“What do you mean?” Dzidris asked.

“Don’t tell them that I asked for them to be reunited,” Miķelis replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it would sorely displease them to know they’re only together because I asked for them to be.”

Newcomer: Day 13

Word Count: 78,037

Summary of Events:

Miķelis continued his training, as well as spending time with Kristiāns and Dzidris, and dealing with Genādijs' continued disagreeability, in addition to Mārtiņš' unfriendliness for the next while before he was summoned to Prince Zigmārs' tent again. Having gotten so busy with everything else that he'd forgotten about his previous visit, Miķelis feared that he was going to be meeting the King, and so was relieved when he found the King wasn't in Prince Zigmārs' tent. Prince Zigmārs informed Miķelis — with evident disappointment — that the King had rejected Prince Zigmārs' request that Miķelis be sent to the front early, prompting Prince Zigmārs to declare that he was going to do the next-best thing…

Excerpt of the Day:

Someone — Miķelis supposed Ainārs the stool-bearer — removed his fur-lined winter hat from his head. Prince Zigmārs placed the cap he’d been given on Miķelis’ head in its stead, then he unbuttoned the ends of each of Miķelis’ unadorned epaulettes and slid the decorations onto them before refastening them.

The decorations weren’t familiar to Miķelis, thus he was sure they didn’t represent any sort of important position like his brothers held, but they evidently signified something.

Prince Zigmārs placed his hands on Miķelis’ shoulders once he was finished. Miķelis returned his gaze to Prince Zigmārs’ knees and hoped the Prince couldn’t feel the nervous tension in his shoulders.

“I, Prince Zigmārs Ozoliņš, heir of the House of Ozoliņš to the throne of Ovilis, firstborn of His Majesty King Alvis Ozoliņš, first of his name, do hereby, in my authority as Crown Prince and Commandant of Military Training Camp Sargs, appoint you, Miķelis Eglītis, son of Vitālijs Eglītis, of Elejādirozen, as my personal Esquire of the Body from this day forward until you shall for yourself earn a superior rank,” Prince Zigmārs said, his voice sounding serious and authoritative. “This I do before the witness of God, the Holy Virgin, the Saints, and all who have heard these words.”

Silence — excepting the crackling of the wood burning in the stove — fell over the tent. Miķelis felt even more perplexed. He’d never heard of an Esquire of the Body, and he didn’t know how it was the next-best thing to his being commissioned early.

He tilted his head so the shiny black brim of his new cap allowed him to see only Prince Zigmārs’ feet.

“My lord,” he said quietly.

“Yes?” Prince Zigmārs asked.

“I am not familiar with the rank of Esquire of the Body,” Miķelis replied. “What does that mean, my lord?”

“It means you are my personal attendant,” Prince Zigmārs replied. “A manservant of sorts. It will be your duty to assist me in dressing and undressing for battle, and otherwise, and requires that you go wherever I go. Therefore, when I am well enough to return to the front, you shall go with me, regardless of whether you have completed your year’s training or not, for it supersedes such requirements.”

Miķelis nodded.

“As you know, I am by no means well enough to return to the front soon,” Prince Zigmārs said. “As a result, you will remain here for the time being, and that requires another document.”

The Commandant-Adjutant handed over the other paper in his hand and the two men filled it out and signed it before more wax was poured on and Prince Zigmārs imprinted his seal therein.

“This document releases you to participate in regular training with the other trainees until the time that I am well enough to depart, thus there will be little change to your routine until I have recovered as much as necessary to return to the frontlines,” Prince Zigmārs said. “The only thing that is required is that you should move from your tent into this one.”

Pronunciation:

Ozoliņš: auzaulihn'sh

Newcomer: Day 12

Word Count: 72,040

Summary of Events:

Genādijs was well enough to return to the tent with Miķelis, Kristiāns, and Mārtiņš, but he was still sore, so Miķelis tried to help him, but Genādijs went so far as to brandish his army-issue pistol at Miķelis in response to his efforts, prompting Miķelis to withdraw. The following evening, Miķelis and Kristiāns were on their way to dinner when Miķelis heard a delighted cry moments before he and Kristiāns were bowled over by a trainee who embraced Kristiāns tightly…

Excerpt of the Day:

Their faces were both broad with smiles, and Miķelis noticed the two of them had similar faces as they sat up.

“Why didn’t you write to tell me you were coming?” Kristiāns asked.

“I wanted to surprise you,” the other trainee replied. “It took me longer to find you than I expected, though.”

“What do you mean?” Kristiāns asked, getting to his feet.

“I’ve been here for over a day,” the other trainee replied, following suit.

“Well, this is a big camp,” Kristiāns said. “I mean, there’s over six hundred tents.”

“And since six hundred and twenty three of them, I’m presuming, are full, that’s almost two thousand five hundred people, not counting officers and anyone else,” the other trainee said.

“Wait, what tent are you in?” Kristiāns asked.

“I’m one of two in tent six hundred twenty four,” the other trainee replied.

“What!?” Kristiāns exclaimed, grabbing his head with both hands. “I’m the tent right beside you!”

“Six hundred twenty three?” the other trainee asked.

“Yes!” Kristiāns exclaimed.

“And I couldn’t find you!?” the other trainee exclaimed. “I should’ve just started knocking on neighbouring doors!”

“That is ridiculous!” Kristiāns cried. “You were here yesterday afternoon?”

“Yes,” the other trainee replied. “We spent an entire night practically side-by-side and didn’t even know it!”

Kristiāns placed one of his hands spread out across the forepart of his scalp. “I can’t believe it!”

“Oh!” the other trainee exclaimed, looking toward Miķelis, his hand over his chest. “Did we knock you over?”

Miķelis nodded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was hoping I wouldn’t take anyone else out with us,” the other trainee said.

“It’s alright, snow is soft,” Miķelis replied.

“Oh, sorry,” Kristiāns said. “I probably owe you introductions too.”

“Well, how about I hazard a guess first?” Miķelis suggested.

“What’s your guess?” Kristiāns asked.

“You’re related,” Miķelis replied.

“Yes we are,” Kristiāns replied.

“We’re double cousins,” the other trainee replied with a smile.

“Double cousins?” Miķelis asked. He was pretty sure the term was second cousins.

Kristiāns nodded. “Our fathers are brothers and our mothers are sisters.”

“Oh,” Miķelis said. “I didn’t realise there was an actual term for that.”

“I don’t think there actually is,” Kristiāns admitted. “I think we’ve just, sort of, made it up.”

“Maybe it’ll make its way into the dictionary someday,” Miķelis said.

“Maybe,” Kristiāns agreed. “But, more formally, this is Dzidris Lepiņš. Dzid, this is Miķelis Eglītis, my tent-mate and best friend.”

Miķelis gave a nod. Considering that Dzidris and Kristiāns’ reactions to seeing one another had seemed like those of two young men who were very close, Miķelis had to admit that he was somewhat surprised that Kristiāns was still inclined to call Miķelis his best friend.

“You’ve made a best friend here in two and a half months?” Dzidris asked.

“Yes,” Kristiāns replied. “I’ll tell you the whole thing as we eat.”

Miķelis let the two cousins walk toward the line ahead of him before drifting after them with the few other trainees that had lingered once they’d figured out that they were witnessing a joyful reunion between two close companions.

Pronunciations:

Dzidris: zihdrihss

Lepiņš: lehpihn'sh

Dzid: zihd

Newcomer: Day 11

Word Count: 66,075

Summary of Events:

Miķelis was upset to learn from Kristiāns that Mārtiņš had recently approached him and apologised for being unfriendly while still refusing to accept Miķelis' apology — even when he reiterated it. He decided to ask Mārtiņš directly why he disliked him so much, and was further upset to learn that Mārtiņš believed Miķelis to be trying to portray himself as ultra-pious, and wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. A couple nights later Miķelis was summoned to the tent of Prince Zigmārs, although Miķelis hadn't the faintest idea what for…

Excerpt of the Day:

He sat down on the chair as invited and watched as Prince Zigmārs dismissed everyone else from the room, leaving just the two of them, facing one another across the desk, two lanterns illuminating them, while heat from a stove near the door warmed them.

“I have observed in my time here — both with my own eyes, and through reading the reports of the instructing officers — that you are an exceptionally well-trained young man when it comes to the skills necessary for success in the field of battle,” Prince Zigmārs said after a lengthy moment of silence.

“Th-thank you, my lord,” Miķelis replied. “My family are… huntsmen, by trade. My grandfather and my father taught me everything that they knew in order to be a good huntsman, much of which goes hand-in-hand with what is needed to be a good soldier, which they made sure I also knew.”

Prince Zigmārs nodded. “Some of the instructing officers are suspicious of your talent, and question whether you are as young as you claim to be.”

“I can assure you I am,” Miķelis said. “There are others in this camp with whom I grew up, and will be able to assure you of my age, as will my father, my brothers, and my brothers-in-law. Do you want their names, that you might get proof?”

“No, thank you,” Prince Zigmārs replied. “I don’t need it. I believe you are of the appropriate age to be here. I am persuaded that you are a skilled, gifted young man, and that you would have been destined to become a soldier and a warrior even if war did not beset our fair Ovilis. That is why I have summoned you.”

Miķelis was slightly perplexed.

“I would like to see you receive your commission early,” Prince Zigmārs continued before Miķelis could comment. “And I would like to see you receive a good commission, for you have distinguished yourself well, and deserve to be sent to the frontlines immediately, as I have every confidence that your grandfather and father gave you all of the training you need to be capable of handling all that will face you on the frontlines.”

It took conscious effort for Miķelis to keep his mouth from gaping open. He’d not even been at the camp for two months!

“Although I do not need to have the approval of the Commandant-Adjutant or the other officers of the camp to do this,” Prince Zigmārs went on. “And not all of them are inclined to agree with me on your competency and capability anyways, I do not intend to do this without consulting my father on the matter. As a result, I shall be shortly writing my father on the matter, but I wanted to give you notice that I admire your talents, and that you may be ordered to the frontlines with short notice, thus you should be ready to depart at a moment’s notice.”

Newcomer: Day 10

Word Count: 60,035

Summary of Events:

Kristiāns tried to give Mārtiņš some pointers on making sure he was presentable, but Mārtiņš was hostile and unreceptive before startling Miķelis and Kristiāns when he revealed — following Kristiāns having asked if he even wanted to be in the army — that he intended to do the mandatory training and service before pursuing an education to become a priest. Concerned he wouldn't make a good priest, Miķelis decided to bring this to the attention of the camp priest, who was concerned about Mārtiņš' unkindness toward Miķelis and rejection of his sincere apology and promised to talk to him about it.

Excerpt of the Day:

Carefully taking hold of the tent flap, Miķelis slipped out of the darkened tent and into the predawn darkness. The air was quite cold and the stars overhead twinkled like tiny jewels set into a smooth cloth of rich, deep blue. Lower down from the sky, Miķelis could tell a fog was hovering over the camp, which undoubtedly meant that a frost was forming on every available surface edge there was to be had, although how thick it would be remained to be seen.

Miķelis crept through the snow as quietly as possible, passing the tent in which Dāvids slept alone, as far as Miķelis knew, only to stop short when he noticed that the tent in which he slept was glowing.

It wasn’t the brighter glow of a tent with a lantern lit inside it, but a lower glow, like a candle was lit, and it was evident that the candle was toward the back of the tent, as a shadowy form blocked some of the canvas from glowing.

Although the glow had caught him by surprise, Miķelis quickly concluded that Mārtiņš had risen early to do his devotions, and was not only the one who’d lit the candle, but was the one whose form was blocking the candle from illuminating the entirety of the tent.

He continued his advance through the snow quietly before slipping into the tent silently.

Mārtiņš was out of his bed, but evidently still in his nightclothes, as Miķelis could see Mārtiņš’ uniform cast on the ground where he’d left it, although Mārtiņš’ nightclothes were obscured from Miķelis’ view by the blanket Mārtiņš had around his shoulders.

Low and murmuring — but still possessing that distinctive nasal note — Mārtiņš’ voice could be heard, uninterrupted and unwavering. Nothing about his posture suggested that he’d detected Miķelis’ stealthy entry into the tent.

Miķelis continued to move carefully and quietly as he first put his book away with several furtive glances toward Mārtiņš, as well as to Kristiāns, whose slumber was evidently undisturbed by the candlelight — likely aided by the fact that Kristiāns’ back was to the candle — as even Kristiāns noticing the book could be dangerous, despite the friendship he had developed.

He then carefully removed his coat and other outerwear, that he might be ready and presentable when the inspecting officer arrived, although he was actually grateful to take his heavy winter wear off, as he noticed that the tent seemed to be warmer in temperature than before.

Looking at the stove once he’d finished undressing, Miķelis was glad to see no part of it was glowing to suggest it was overheated, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to open the door and find that the chamber was full of wood. Evidently Mārtiņš liked things warmer than he did.

A gasp prompted Miķelis to turn his gaze and see that Mārtiņš had turned his head and was looking at him in a mixture of terror and indignation. Miķelis nodded politely, keeping the pleasure he felt at having been able to sneak in so undetected confined within himself. Mārtiņš definitely wouldn’t be pleased to see it.

Pronunciation:

Dāvids: dayvihds

Newcomer: Day 9

Word Count: 54,064

Summary of Events:

Miķelis decided to tell the officer who'd inspected him and Mārtiņš that he'd tried to tell Mārtiņš to be ready, but the officer assured Miķelis that most new arrivals failed their first few inspections before getting the hang of things. That evening, Miķelis apologised to Mārtiņš for having embarrassed him on Saturday, but Mārtiņš wasn't receptive of the apology. The following day, Kristiāns informed Miķelis that he ought to be out of the infirmary in a day or two, only to surprise Miķelis by returning that very evening — not that he'd expected to be released so quickly either — which they spent talking to each other both about Mārtiņš and other topics…

Excerpt of the Day:

“But even though there are some days where I’m as good as you, I’m not consistent, you are,” Kristiāns replied.

“I think it’ll come,” Miķelis replied. “By the end of our year here for sure.”

“You flatter me with your confidence in my abilities,” Kristiāns said.

“Considering all the flattery I’m receiving I ought to spread it around,” Miķelis replied.

“Really?” Kristiāns asked. “I’ve noticed that some of the officers seem suspicious of your abilities.”

“Those who aren’t are never shy with their compliments,” Miķelis replied. “It’s somewhat embarrassing.”

“You weren’t anything significant at home?” Kristiāns asked.

“No, I was considered the best shot in Elejādirozen, and one of the best horsemen, especially of my age,” Miķelis replied. “But even though people felt I was the best, they didn’t necessarily bring it up every time they saw me. Some of these officers won’t stop talking about me the entire time I’m with them.”

“Considering some of what they get to work with,” Kristiāns said. “Maybe I’m not too surprised.”

“They don’t have to mention it every time,” Miķelis said. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s only helping to sow and grow seeds of resentment in the others because they don’t get complimented or anything like that. I don’t want the others to feel inferior just because I’m as talented as I am.”

“That is a good point,” Kristiāns said. “Why don’t you mention it to them?”

“I never end up finding an opportunity,” Miķelis replied.

“Well, what about if you were to tell someone like the Commandant?” Kristiāns asked. “He could then mention it to all of the officers and even keep watch to ensure that they do ease off on praising you and give praise where praise is do to others as well. It would probably accomplish the ends faster.”

“You’re forgetting that the Commandant is the Prince, the Crown Prince,” Miķelis said.

“Well, I mean, you could even speak to the regular Commandant,” Kristiāns replied. “It isn’t as if he’s left.”

“I’m not entirely sure when I’d find the time,” Miķelis said.

“What about all this evening?” Kristiāns asked.

“He probably wants to relax as much as I do,” Miķelis replied.

“Who says it would be a tense discussion?” Kristiāns asked. “It might not even take all that long, really.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see about it tomorrow,” Miķelis replied.

“You don’t look very sure, though,” Kristiāns said.

“I don’t know if I feel like it’s important enough,” Miķelis replied.

“But you’re concerned about the others coming to resent you because you get all the praise,” Kristiāns said. “Surely you don’t want any more incidents added to your disciplinary record, which could happen if the resentment builds, as you might not be able to prove yourself innocent of all of them.”

Miķelis nodded. Kristiāns’ point was a valid one. “Regardless, I won’t do it today. It’s time we get to bed.”

Pronunciation:

Elejādirozen: ellehyahdihrohzehn

Newcomer: Day 8

Word Count: 48,040

Summary of Events:

On Saturday Kristiāns' leg was feeling quite sore, so Miķelis took him to the infirmary to be given some painkillers and to rest before heading to his tent for a moment before supper. In the way of the door were two new arrivals arguing with an officer, as they didn't want to stay in separate tents. Miķelis asked a few questions in hopes of resolving the conflict, and revealed that the new arrivals were supposed to stay in neighbouring tents. Having been unaware of this, the new arrivals were embarrassed, which made things awkward for Miķelis, as one of the new arrivals was supposed to be occupying the fourth and final cot in his tent, but Miķelis hoped to apologise. Come Monday morning Miķelis was up as early as usual, which seemed to annoy his tent-mate, especially when he explained that he was already awake because he spent time in prayer in the mornings, preferring early hours over late hours, which was the only other time he had free…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Hm,” Mārtiņš said indignantly. “Maybe you should manage your time better.”

“I have no problems in the management of my time, thank you,” Miķelis replied, letting a small measure of sternness edge his voice. “There simply isn’t enough time from the wake-up call to inspection for anyone to engage in prayer unless their prayer should be little more than ‘dear God, Amen’.”

Mārtiņš again uttered an indignant sound, but made no comment.

Miķelis expected Mārtiņš to get up out of bed with a bit more speed and even urgency, but Mārtiņš remained laying in bed. Miķelis wasn’t sure if he was just not wanting to get up and get cold before putting his clothes on, or if he was still meaning to do some devotions in bed.

“I mean what I’ve said,” Miķelis said. “There isn’t time to dally when the bugle is sounded. Everything needs to be in readiness for inspection quickly.”

“Sst!” Mārtiņš hissed.

Miķelis bit his lower lip, covering it over with his upper lip, and looked at Genādijs’ empty cot. Miķelis had made both his and Kristiāns’ cots neatly the evening of the day they’d gone to the infirmary, and they’d remained untouched, neat, and tidy since then.

He glanced over at Mārtiņš occasionally, hoping to see that he’d gotten up and started getting dressed, but even as Miķelis saw the glow of the inspecting officer’s lantern starting to shine through the tent canvas, Mārtiņš remained under his covers, his eyes closed, his voice quietly whispering, and his covers high on his chest moving, indicating that his hands were fingering the beads that he — and all others who adhered to the belief — used to count how many times they’d repeated their prayers.

Finally the tent flap lifted and the inspecting officer, gripping his lantern in a mitten-clad hand, stepped inside. Miķelis’ hands felt colder at the sight of the leather mittens that looked like they were thick with wool within, as they made the officer’s hands look like large brown eggs on the ends of his hands.

He hung his lantern on the centre post of the tent and removed his mittens to allow him to fetch out his book and pencil to note down his report.

“Pass, absent, absent, and fail,” the officer said, pointing at each cot with his pencil once he’d finished.

“How dare you fail me!” Mārtiņš snapped. “I didn’t have time to get ready with how quickly you came along.”

“I’m quite sure you aren’t of the Royal House, or even a noble one, boy,” the officer replied, pocketing his book and pencil. “But even if you are, this is the army, and the army has no place for sluggards. You will be ready for inspection, or you will fail it, be you prince or pauper.”

Taking up his lantern, he left the tent. Miķelis looked at Mārtiņš, whose face was contorted with sore indignation, making it clear that he was by no means appreciative of the fact that he’d been so chided.

Pronunciation:

Mārtiņš: mahrtihnsh

Newcomer: Day 7

Word Count: 42,009

Summary of Events:

Miķelis spent the next few days on his own, continuing his training, but daily paying visits to both Kristiāns and Genādijs as they recovered. Kristiāns was greatly appreciative of these visits, but Genādijs was annoyed by them, and continued to believe that Miķelis was only pretending to be nice to him in order to convince people that he was a nicer person than he really was. As the week went on, Kristiāns informed Miķelis that the doctor said he might be able to get up and walk around a bit, at least coming to meals…

Excerpt of the Day:

Slowly, and looking pained, Miķelis saw a figure advancing to join the line of hungry young trainees eager to get their breakfast. He strode toward the figure, quickly recognising it to be, as he’d suspected, Kristiāns. Kristiāns, spying him, offered a grimacing smile that emphasised his pain as opposed to disguising it.

“This is more tender than even I thought it would be,” Kristiāns said, pain sounding near to tears in his voice.

“Well, you’ve made it this far,” Miķelis said, putting his arm around Kristiāns’ shoulders. “I think we can make it the rest of the way.”

Kristiāns reached his arm around Miķelis’ shoulder and gripped tightly as they resumed progress toward the line.

Even though Miķelis was pretty sure he and Kristiāns were pretty close to the same height, Kristiāns’ hobbling made it clear that he was the — even if only just — shorter of the two of them.

“Do you think it’ll bother you sitting down?” Miķelis asked once they’d integrated themselves into the loose column.

“I don’t think so,” Kristiāns replied. “Even, standing still it’s not so bad. It’s just the walking part.”

“So it’ll be the transit between places that’ll be more unpleasant than standing and watching?” Miķelis asked.

“Well, I don’t know,” Kristiāns replied. “Standing too long could be a bit much.”

“That’s no surprise,” Miķelis said.

They made their way slowly with the rest of the line into the dining tent, where the aroma of the freshly-cooked food made their stomachs grumble with anticipation, while the warmth generated by the cooking process warmed the interior of the tent a couple degrees compared to the still-chilly morning outside.

As of yet, no snow had fallen, but Miķelis was sure it wouldn’t be long before at least a little skiff might land, which would be followed by more and more snow, sometimes in light dustings, sometimes in big dumps, which would all be moved and shifted around by the wind to create drifts that could sometimes be so thick as to allow a fully grown man to walk a good metre above ground level.

The annual first fall of snow had preceded Miķelis’ birthday as usual, but — also as usual — it’d quickly melted away, disappearing by the end of the day, and since then no snow had fallen, but Miķelis knew that there would be snow yet before the year came to a close in just under a month and a half’s time; there always was.

They reached the line before long and Kristiāns withdrew his arm from around Miķelis’ shoulder.

“I think I should be able to hop along on my own for this part,” Kristiāns said.

“If you need any help, I’m right here,” Miķelis said.

Kristiāns nodded.

Miķelis let Kristiāns go ahead of him to get his porridge, which could be adorned with a few simple garnishes: namely cream, dried or canned fruits both indigenous and imported, syrup, and imported sugar and spices.

Newcomer: Day 6

Word Count: 36,092

Summary of Events:

On Monday morning Miķelis was praying privately in an empty tent when he heard Genādijs swearing and wondered if Genādijs was intent to do something to Kristiāns. Going to investigate, he heard the sound of scissors and jumped Genādijs, trying to get them away from him. He failed to do so before Genādijs stabbed Kristiāns in the leg, and ended up wrenching Genādijs' leg unnaturally in anger afterwards before watchmen came in and broke everything up, with Miķelis being locked up in a prison wagon until the Crown Prince would have time to make a judgement on the situation because he was the only uninjured person. In the afternoon, the prince came to talk to Miķelis, asking for his account of the events…

Excerpt of the Day:

“And your parents are?” Prince Zigmārs asked.

“Vitālijs and Beāte Eglītis,” Miķelis replied. “I also have six brothers and two brothers-in-law who serve in the army still. The youngest of my brothers, Valentīns, vouched for me when I came.”

Prince Zigmārs looked more impressed at the quantity of relations Miķelis cited than he had at Miķelis’ attestation of morning prayers. He nodded.

“And also, my lord,” Miķelis replied. “This morning, when I heard Genādijs’ oaths, I did not take the candle back with me, I snuffed it in the tent, it should still be in tent six hundred twenty four.”

“Ainārs,” Prince Zigmārs said. “Please check this.”

“Yes, my lord,” the attendant said quietly, departing quickly.

“Shall I continue as you wait, my lord?” Miķelis asked.

“Yes,” Prince Zigmārs replied.

“Just as I had reached the tent door, I heard the sound of scissors being opened and closed,” Miķelis continued. “I suspected at once harm to garments or hair, and so slipped in quietly, jumping Genādijs, with whom I struggled for control of the scissors for some time before Genādijs struck me with a blow.”

He indicated the side of his head on which the blow had been landed.

“I was momentarily stunned and loosened my grip on his arm,” Miķelis went on. “He took advantage of this and thrust his arm toward Kristiāns’ cot. I grabbed his arm close to the elbow, but I couldn’t stop him from lifting his arm and plunging it down, which caused Kristiāns to shout in pain.”

Seeing motion, Miķelis looked up and saw the attendant jogging back. The others turned to watch him jog the final metres.

“There is a candle in tent six hundred twenty four, my lord,” the attendant reported. “Also, the grass is depressed in a shape consistent with someone being seated as he is now.”

“Thank you, Ainārs,” Prince Zigmārs said. “Now continue.”

“Since I have spent a good deal of time with Kristiāns, as he has been graciously kind in showing me around and as seemed himself quite glad of my companionship as a welcome escape from Genādijs’ negativity, I was not pleased to hear the pain in his shout,” Miķelis continued. “As a result, I set myself upon Genādijs with undue violence, forcing him to the ground in an unnatural position, and striking him with several heavy blows before another pained utterance of Kristiāns caused me to stop and to realise that I had let my passions get the better of me. I turned my attention to alleviating Kristiāns’ pain, at which point the guards arrived.”

“You regret what you have done?” Prince Zigmārs asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Miķelis replied. “I do not believe that Genādijs was right to be trying to do ill upon myself or Kristiāns, but even in his stabbing Kristiāns, I don’t believe that my violence was justified, for the Scriptures urge us not to be overcome by evil, but to overcome evil with good. In that moment, I believe I was overcome with evil, wanting to harm Genādijs in return for his having harmed Kristiāns.”

Pronunciations:

Zigmārs: zihgmahrs

Vitālijs: vihtahlees

Beāte: behahteh

Ainārs: aynahrs

Newcomer: Day 5

Word Count: 30,011

Summary of Events:

During his early morning prayer time, which he did in an unoccupied tent so he could light a candle and not fear he was disturbing anyone's sleep, Miķelis heard a noise he determined to be coming from his tent, and saw a figure in the shadows. He and the person got into a scuffle, which was joined by Kristiāns — who was roused by his cot getting bumped as Miķelis and the person struggled — before a night guard arrived and broke it up, revealing the person Miķelis had been struggling with was Genādijs, who had been trying to stain Kristiāns' uniform with ink. All three of them were accused of being childish and immature, and were punished separately, with Miķelis' punishment being to clean and shine all of the boots belonging to the officers of the camp, which he managed to get through before curfew, despite being able to tell that some of the officers had deliberately made their boots extra dirty, which impressed the officer supervising him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man get through this many boots in a full evening,” the officer said. “Or even less. And especially considering how filthy these all were. You’d never know it now.”

“Shall I clean yours now, sir?” Miķelis asked.

“Mine?” the officer asked.

“Yes sir,” Miķelis replied. “I was instructed to clean the boots of the officers, and you are, in fact, an officer, sir, thus I ought to, in order for the task to be completed. Oughtn’t I?”

“Well, I mean, I guess, it isn’t as if you have to rush back to your tent for curfew, but… well… it isn’t required,” the officer replied, seeming quite bemused.

Kneeling down before the officer, Miķelis set to work, quickly cleaning what little there was on the boots to be cleaned off before polishing them and shining them so they looked as fresh and new as every other pair in the tent.

“You know,” the officer said. “I really don’t know why they punished you in the first place. You have one of the most pleasant dispositions I’ve encountered in supervising punishments. Surely you can’t have done anything egregiously wrong.”

“Well, I behaved childishly and unbecomingly of a soldier,” Miķelis replied, citing the reason which had been stated several times throughout the day.

“However in the world did they come up with that?” the officer asked. “As much as I don’t recall having seen you around here much, you certainly have seemed nothing short of mature and an excellent example of the soldierly ideal.”

“Thank you, sir,” Miķelis said. “I appreciate your favourable review.”

“How long have you been here?” the officer asked.

“Only just over a fortnight, sir,” Miķelis replied.

“Seriously?” the officer asked.

“Yes sir,” Miķelis replied.

“And how directly did you come?” the officer asked.

“My birthday is the seventeenth of the tenth, sir,” Miķelis replied.

“Then you came directly,” the officer said. “Usually the recruits we’re punishing are the ones who have to be sent a letter of order, or even dragged here practically kicking and screaming. The volunteers almost never cause trouble, and certainly never something so petty as childishness. Those who volunteer to the service of their country are almost always the brightest and most shining examples of all that embodies this realm, and, to be honest with you, I think you are one of the best I’ve seen in my years.”

“You’re too kind, sir,” Miķelis said, lowering his head.

“I really am at a loss as to why they would’ve punished you,” the officer said. “But I can say without a doubt that you have served your punishment, and you have served it far and away better than any other soldier whose punishment I, at least, have supervised.”

Miķelis didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded, keeping his head down deferentially.

“You are dismissed, soldier,” the officer said. “A good night to you, and thank you.”

“Good night to you, sir,” Miķelis said, leaning forward in a small bow before saluting the officer and heading back to his tent.

Newcomer: Day 4

Word Count: 24,020

Summary of Events:

Ready for morning inspection, Miķelis and Kristiāns took a moment to go refresh themselves beforehand, having to hurry back when they saw the officer was getting near. Unfortunately Genādijs had messed up their cots, leaving them frantically putting things back together when the officer arrived to inspect the tent, leading to Miķelis and Kristiāns being sentenced to punishment, as the officer believed they'd woken later than they should have. They were punished with untangling and re-rolling freshly washed medical bandages, which they got through quicker than anyone expected before heading back to their tent, where Genādijs wasn't inclined to believe they'd been given a harsh enough punishment…

Excerpt of the Day:

“And people wonder why this war is being lost,” Genādijs grumbled. “Not only are we a tiny nation against a vast empire, with a pathetic population against a great one, but the men in our military command are absolute incompetents.”

“It’s been almost twenty years and we remain,” Miķelis said. “I certainly don’t think the Gryebyaninets expected that. They had every confidence, I’m sure, that they would drive us into the sea in months. We still hold territory east of the Highlands. As much as we’ve lost land, it certainly isn’t as much as anyone expected.”

Genādijs exhaled scoffingly. “We’re going to lose, though, so all of this effort is pointless.”

Miķelis shifted his jaw. “Is that why you don’t wish to be here? You don’t think there’s any point in trying to stave off the inevitable?”

“No, I don’t,” Genādijs replied. “Let’s just get it over with and be done with it, I’m sure living under the Gryebyaninets won’t be that bad, and if people do think it’s bad, then they can go live somewhere else.”

Glancing over at Kristiāns, Miķelis saw he was still quite lost in thought, as Miķelis had expected Kristiāns to have made some heated comments that could’ve incited an argument in response to Genādijs’ bleak view of things.

Genādijs wasn’t the first person Miķelis had heard express such sentiments, even if he was the first person in the army Miķelis had heard express them.

It was true that the mismatch was in Gryebyaninets favour. Their territory was vast, to the point that Gryebyaninets was considered a dog on whose back was a flea, and Miķelis was one of the parts of that flea which was intent to stubbornly resist being removed from the dog.

Nevertheless, as Papa had wisely pointed out not long before Miķelis had left, it had been nearly twenty years and the ‘great dog’ of Gryebyaninets had failed to remove and destroy the flea on its back, which suggested that for all of its greatness and might, Gryebyaninets wasn’t so great as it seemed.

The fact that this war had dragged on for so long was proof that bleak outlooks like Genādijs’ were unwarranted. Everyone had been convinced — insofar as Miķelis had heard, as he’d not been born when the war broke out, even if he’d been born before the war had been going on for a year — that it would be a swift rout, with the vast might of Gryebyaninets overwhelming the meagre force that could be mustered against it, but here Miķelis was, of age to fight in the army, and there was an army for him to fight in against the Gryebyaninets, who still had not driven his people into the sea, and had not even crushed them against the Highlands.

Considering few people had believed in the beginning that their homeland would still exist even a year on from the first attacks, it wasn’t necessarily surprising that people were still of a mind that defeat and a cessation of existence for their homeland would still be the ultimate end. Their enemy was vastly superior to them in territory and manpower, it was only reasonable, but the fact that they’d held on for this long gave them good reason to hope that maybe a different outcome might be the result.