The old sorcerer spoke, “These fine men, our protectors, are here for some rest and recreation. They also recruit for the armies of Koorlost and have conscripted three round ball players. But since you are only fourteen, you are too young to consider joining the forces of our glorious leader Quoddlebon. You should give them your respect and show them your gratitude, Yerko.”
Noting the wry old man’s subtle wink, Boton said, “We are grateful for your efforts. I hope the war goes well and you find good fortune.”
The oldest of the three men looked incredulously at Boton and said, “You’re a little tall for fourteen. You have a good attitude. Keep your loyalties in line, in the proper place. There’s little chance of good fortune when one goes up against the wyrms and minions of the Laurels. But having to go through life with a name like Yerko might be worse!”
The three laughed raucously, slapped one another’s back, lifted the bags of supplies Roanie’s life-mate had gathered for them, motioned to the three new recruits who tearfully bade their families good-bye, and headed down the road.
When they were gone, Roanie said, “The war doesn’t go too well for them. They spoke of several setbacks. In some areas of Rocalina, it seems a rather rag-tag effort. One of the young men they conscripted was sixteen. I could not prevent his going.”
“Thank you, I think. Couldn’t you have thought of a better name than Yerko for me?” Boton asked. He remained confused.
“Don’t be pithy. I have several friends named Yerko who would feel that Boton is a rather asinine name. But what’s in a name. I feared one of those Centurions might have been familiar with your lineage. As well, I fear the war draws near us. Will you walk with me?” Roanie asked.
benjamintowe 