Coming to a stop at the tent, the two brothers dismounted their horses, with the younger following the elder inside, where a man dressed similarly to the elder sat behind a desk.
A different badge was on his cap, and he had also slightly fancier epaulettes, as well as badges on his upper arms that indicated him to be of a higher rank than had been achieved by the elder brother.
The man looked up at the two of them, surveying them with inspecting eyes.
Taking a deep breath, the younger brother stepped forward.
“Reporting for duty, sir,” he said, offering a slight salute.
“Name?” the officer asked.
“Miķelis Viktors Eglītis,” he replied.
“Date of birth?” the officer asked.
“The seventeenth of the tenth, thirty seven twenty nine,” Miķelis replied.
“Soldier?” the officer asked, looking to his brother.
“Truly has he spoken,” his brother replied. “I am his brother, Valentīns Eglītis, Lieutenant of the Twelfth Highland Archers.”
The officer nodded and looked back at Miķelis. “Residence?”
“Elejādirozen,” Miķelis replied.
“Fill this out, neatly,” the officer said, turning a page and sliding it toward Miķelis alongside an ink bottle.
Taking up the pen and blotting it neatly on the blotting-paper, Miķelis read all the printed words on the page carefully before using his best penmanship — which Mama had always promised him would someday be necessary — to fill in the blanks he needed to before signing his name with a well-practised flourish at the bottom.
Valentīns and the officer also signed the page before the officer summoned a lesser officer, whom he instructed to take Miķelis to his tent.
Miķelis, Valentīns, and the lesser officer exited the tent. Miķelis felt a touch of nervousness as he looked at Valentīns.
“I have every confidence in you, Miķ,” Valentīns said, putting a hand on Miķelis’ upper arm. “This won’t even be work to you.”
Miķelis nodded, although he felt his throat tightening and the sensations about his eyes that always preceded tears.
“God be with you, Miķ,” Valentīns said, looking him in the eyes.
“You too,” Miķelis replied, managing to keep emotion from choking his voice.
Valentīns wrapped Miķelis in a tight embrace, which Miķelis returned, feeling tears moisten the edges of his eyelids that he desperately didn’t want to overflow down his cheeks like he’d never said goodbye to someone before. He’d said goodbye to all of his brothers, his brothers-in-law, his father, his mother, his grandparents, most of them more than once.
Feeling Valentīns release his hold, Miķelis reluctantly followed suit and saw that Valentīns eyes looked as glassy as he was sure his own were.
“’Til we meet again,” Valentīns said quietly.
Miķelis nodded, not trusting himself to be able to speak clearly.
Valentīns turned away reaching his foot up into the stirrup, grabbing the pommel, and springing aboard his dark bay mare, whose head rose and ears swivelled, showing that she was anticipating her master’s command.
He gathered up the reins, saluted to the officer, who saluted back, turned his mare, and headed away. Miķelis watched him depart until the tents about him blocked his view.
Pronunciations:
Valentīns: vahlehnteens
Elejādirozen: ehlehyahdihrohzehn
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