Page 30 of Wings of War

“The amount of extra PT we have had to do because of you would say otherwise.” Merrik rolled his eyes and set aside the recruitment letter. “The only reason you have not been kicked out yet is that you easily pass every drill and test.”

“Yeah, that’s the reason.” Fieran muttered this last bit under his breath, tossing his Mechanics Auxiliaries recruitment letter aside.

It wasn’t like the sergeants would have a downright difficult time kicking him out. Despite all of Uncle Julien’s changes to the army, names and reputations still carried weight. And no one would want to be the person who kicked the son of Farrendel Laesornysh out of the army. Not to mention the nephew of the great General Julien Ardon, Spymaster Edmund Ispamir, King Averett of Escarland, King Weylind of Tarenhiel, and King Rharreth of Kostaria.

Come to think of it, Fieran was probably every commanding officer’s worst nightmare.

But he didn’t want to be there because of whom he was related to. He wanted to prove himself. Prove that he was worthy to carry the name and legacy he bore.

No matter what he did, people would assume that he only got where he was because of his father and mother. Or because of his highly connected aunts and uncles. What no one realized was that he had to work twice as hard as anyone else for his accomplishments to be taken seriously.

He shook off those thoughts. Nothing he could do about that. Right now, he just had to survive training. Only then could he get his butt in a flyer, take to the sky, and chase a few legends of his own.

Fieran opened all the letters from his family, checked the dates on the top, and arranged them in order.

The bunk creaked as Lije plunked onto his mattress below Fieran. The sound of crinkling paper came from below, then Lije’s excited, “Yes!”

Fieran peered around the end of the bunk, but he couldn’t see much more than Lije’s knees and feet. “Got something good?”

“A care package of my ma’s best soap.” Lije leaned out and showed off the box. Inside nestled a row of cream-colored bricks of soap. “Nothing takes off grime like my ma’s goatmilk lye soap.”

On the lower bunk across the way, Stickyfingers snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ll smell like roses or flowers or something. You’ll be duded up worse than Pretty Face.”

Lije sniffed the box. “Nope. Oatmeal and honey. Nothing fancy.”

On the bunk below Merrik, Pretty Face reached across the aisle and made a grab for one of the bars of soap. “You’re going to share, right?”

Lije yanked the box out of reach before Pretty Face could snag any of the soap. “Not a chance. Just because you’re missing your high-class perfumes doesn’t mean I’m going to share my ma’s soap.”

“Cologne, not perfume.” Pretty Face huffed as he flopped back onto his bunk. He waved his stack of letters. “Perfume is what ladies use on their letters to me. See?” He sniffed one. “Ah, Lorelei.” He sniffed another one. “And sweet, sweet Marianne.”

Lije made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and turned his attention back to his soap and accompanying letter.

Fieran raised his voice to be heard across the way. “You get any mail, Sticky?”

“One from Mama.” Stickyfingers held up the single sheet of yellow, cheap paper filled with a rough scrawl. “My brother Kevin is back in solitary so he won’t be able to get a letter out for a while. But she’s hoping to visit Jack and Ron soon so I might hear from them. She’s hoping they’ll be able to get their transfers to Saltan Prison soon so they’ll be closer to home.”

“That’s…good news.” Fieran wasn’t sure what else to say to that. Sticky might have grown up in Aldon like Fieran had, but his life experiences and family were vastly different.

Once everyone else was absorbed in their letters, Fieran finally took the time to read his.

His mama’s letters had all come from Estyra. She, Dacha, Tryndar, and Ellie were there at the moment, while Dacha trained with the elven warriors and discussed plans with Uncle Weylind about the possibility of war.

Aunt Jalissa was currently also in Estyra while Uncle Edmund was off somewhere doing something that no one could talk about, especially in a letter. Nor was there any mention of Fieran’s cousin Jayna, Uncle Edmund’s and Aunt Jalissa’s daughter. Fieran hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jayna in over two years, and he highly suspected that wherever she was, it was classified.

Tryndar had included a picture he’d drawn and colored of their cat Munchkins sitting on the workbench in Dacha’s inventing workshop in Estyra.

Dacha had added a small postscript to two of Mama’s letters. Just a few short, stilted lines. But that wasn’t unexpected. Dacha wasn’t all that great with words.

Ellie’s letter was mostly filled with a recap of the recently released Star Forest novel she’d read. Which was convenient for Fieran. He could save all the work of reading the book himself if Ellie was just going to tell him the whole story in a nice, shortened version.

Adry’s and Louise’s letters were filled with news from Aldon. They’d stayed behind at Treehaven while they created a stockpile of magical power cells. The newspapers were filled with stories of Mongavarian aggression toward the ogre kingdom of Groyria.

As the Alliance Kingdoms didn’t have an official alliance with Groyria, nor had Groyria reached out to Escarland asking for aid, there was nothing Uncle Averett or any of Fieran’s other uncles could do. Their hands were tied, politically.

Yet the calls for war were building. Articles declared that war was just around the corner while Parliament members pushing for war were making speeches decrying Mongavarian aggression.

“Your parents are in Estyra too, I take it?” Fieran glanced across the way at Merrik.

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