March To The Capital

Chapter 2: March of Children (Volas)

From my childhood room, with its five child-sized beds and only three small closets, the music outside brings untapped excitement into my heart.
People hang coloured cloth from their windows while they share flowers with one another as they dance on the streets. The sweet scents of pastry and lovely odours of recently made butter purifies the city's air.
I smile like an idiot. It is a celebration for the officer candidates who finished their training. A celebration for me.
I take out my freshly ironed ceremonial uniform to wear for the military parade. I must fold the left collar at a ninety-degree angle. The sleeves have to be folded back to the length of two fingers. No more, no less.
I glance at the mirror for the final touches, straightening everything and adjusting my uniform to perfection.
I love how the uniform looks on me, it makes me look important. In this uniform, I could be invincible. With my unblemished skin, short black hair cut to imperial standard. Dare I say, some might call me the most handsome man in the entire city.
If it wasn't frowned upon, I could easily snatch up a woman looking like this.
I look around the room to see if I have missed anything while I continue to adjust my already glamorise outfit.
Upon my search, I find one of my all-time favourite books from my childhood: The journey to the Forgotten Era and History of the future we've lost. Books about history, the distant past, and its wonders.
Next to it lies a wooden toy soldier.
A flash of nostalgia flushes through my mind like a wave of smiles and joy. Child me pretending to be an adventurer, finding secrets of the Forgotten Era while I fight monsters, maybe even get the girl and save the world at the end of all of it. I cherish the thought of being a hero. Maybe I will become the hero I've always fantasised of being as an Inspector.
'Volas! Get down from there! The parade is about to start,' my mother yells from downstairs.
I snatch up my slouch hat, with its thilic eagle feather attached to the puggaree while I scurry down to meet my parents.

I navigate through the narrow hallway downstairs to the tiny dining room, with its table really only made for one person. However, a once large family of seven use to eat around that table. Luckily, I am the youngest of my siblings; I didn't have to deal with the dramaturgy of sharing that tiny thing.
My father has a habit of leaving his tools on every shelf in the room. It drives my mother mad sometimes. But my dad insists they stay there because they are easy to remember where they are if he loses them. I theorise he just does it so he can have an excuse to sit down and do nothing and maybe annoy my mother in the process.
My father walks into the room, still wearing the dirty apron from his shop. He slides his goggles back onto his balding head, smiling from ear to ear.
'You're finally out of that room.'
He walks up to give me a hug, but I raise my hands to stop him in his tracks.
'Dad, I love you, but I can't let you ruin this uniform.'
'Bullshit!' He grumbles. 'No way can the army stop a dad from loving his son.'
He continues moving towards me for a hug.
I barely avoid him as I run around the small dinner table. It was so childish of us, but I like it. It brings me back to the times when I was a kid, playing chasing with my dad in the park.
We giggle and laugh as he chases me. I beg him to stop, but he doesn't care. Old man needs his hug from his youngest son after all.
My mother walks into the room with a butter platter in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.
She is a short, stubby lady, more rough than my father, due to her time being a former army cook.
She walks up to my dad to give him a good whack across the head with the wooden spoon.
'You should know better! Your son is not a kid anymore!' She growls.
I couldn't help myself but chuckle a little. Though unfortunately, that only shifts my mother's wrathful attention towards me.
'Don't you be cheeky you little shit. I don't care if you are a man now, I am still your mother.'
I raise my hands in the air to admit defeat. 'Sorry, it won't happen again.'
She places the platter down onto the table.
'Good, now sit down and have something to eat. I don't want my son to faint while on parade.'
On the plate is a large array of different butters. From ash, salted, honeycomb, and Chilvilan style. Every one of them came from local farms near the city and made in the butter factory my mother works at.
If there is something my mother knows how to make well, it's butter. And man, the sweetness of the honeycomb makes my mouth water at the sight of it.
My father and I stand at the opposite ends of the table as we nibble on the bread with the butter of our choice, and it is heavenly.
My mother scans my uniform with an unimpressed gaze.
'Volas, how can you miss something so crucial to your uniform?'
I glance at my outfit to see if there is anything missing. Everything is there. I can swear there is nothing missing or out of place.
My mother waves her finger at me. 'How can you forget your family's successes?'
She walks over to one wooden drawer and brings out an old wooden box with a coat of arms in the middle.
'Your father and I want to give this to you.'
She hands me the box. I open it to see four medals. Two are the military service medals you get for being in the military, one definitely my mums.
But the other two intrigue me. I've never seen them before, but I know what they are. One is the Medal of Actoro, an award given only to those who have shown tremendous bravery during battle. The last one is the Medal of Fire, one of the few medals rewarded to those who served in the Dragon War as officers.
This sparks a curiosity in me. These medals show our Empire's greatest triumph against one, if not the most tyrannical creatures on the planet: The Dragons! Just the thought that one of my family members was involved in the extermination of these magnificent beasts brings me so many questions.
'Where did you find these?' I ask enthusiastically.
My mother scoffs in frustration. That wasn't a good question, come to think of it.
'We always had them. We didn't show them to you because your father and I wanted it to be a surprise.'
'They belonged to your great-great-grandfather-on your father's side,' my father interjects with a smug grin.
My mother looks at my father with a disappointed expression. Realizing he've done something wrong, he leaves the room with the vague excuse that there might be a customer in the shop.
I smile like a child as I look at my mother. 'I don't know what to say, thank you.'
She shrugs. 'You don't need to thank me, nor should you.'
I continue to munch down on the bread and butters, out of nowhere, my mother gives me a hug from behind.
I place my food down to hug her back.
'I don't want you to go, you know,' my mother sighs.
'I know, you always keep telling me they will treat me poorly.'
My mother lets go and steps back, tears trickling down her face. She can barely wipe her tears away with her handkerchief while looking at me.
'You should be smart enough to realise how the world is going. Being a Commander isn't that bad.' My mother looks me straight in the eye for an answer.
She use to tell me horrific stories about the Inspectors in other countries, how they would be lynched and or become victims of assassinations. But I don't care. I want to explore the world and learn the secrets of the past. I've always felt it was my calling in life.
'I'll be fine. As dad keeps telling me. I have his problem solving, and your stubborn pride.' My mother taps my shoulder while she chuckles.
'Make sure you come home intact.'
'I will.'
I pin the medals my parents given me on my uniform. They look good on me, but it pains me to know these medals could be the last gift they will ever give me.
I hug her one last time before I head out.
It breaks my heart knowing that my decision to join the army hurts her on such a deep level, but, I think she knows she couldn't really stop me.
I head to the front of my dad's shoe shop. Ladies footwear and high heels down one side of the room, while men's boots and shoes on the other.
A customer is complaining about how their boots broke on the job to my dad, hassling him to lower the prices for him to fix them. He sees me leaving, but is unable to leave his customer, he gives me a wave, continuing the conversation with the angry customer.
I open the shop doors to the city. The festive air cleanses my lungs while the music warms my soul. It is perhaps the best time to be alive.
From the heart of the city, a hundred church-bells ring, bringing a new life to the city as counts down the minutes for parade. The music grows in intensity as people cheer while they head to where the parade will take place.
Women take flowers with them, boys wave their toy swords and wear makeshift wooden helmets. The men chat along with their mates while they too walk to cheer on the Empire's finest soldiers.
I put on my slouch hat with pride as I make my way to my post to start the parade.