Middanhal
The northern courtyard of the Citadel had its share of activity in the wake of the mustering. Carts with weapons, arrows, tents, and much more were being prepared for the next departure to the Order encampment at Lake Myr. Newly conscripted soldiers were being drilled, and there was a line of hopefuls in front of a desk manned by the servants of the Master of the Citadel.
"Next," the scribe called out, and Nicholas stepped forward with bow staff in one hand, bag in the other.
"I'm here to enlist," Nicholas told the man.
"Let me guess, an archer," the clerk said dryly with a glance towards the staff in Nicholas' hand. "Name?"
"Nicholas from Tothmor. I'm well experienced, too, I won the solstice games in archery."
"Name does sound familiar," the pen scribbler said, dipping hi
