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.

As I am heading towards the main street where the parade will start a guard halts me to check that I’m not in the wrong formation. He lets me in after I show him my credentials.
Over three hundred officers graduating from the academy are in formation. Rank in file, shoulder to shoulder.
Behind us stands the 51st Royal Garrison Force. All three thousand of them are there to march with us to the palace.
They could be the new replacement force for one of the colonies. Either heading the arid nation of Rafica or the island nation of Ocinia. Both of the colonies enrich the Empire with their raw goods. It’s a shame they are mostly populated by savages, but we have given them civilisation, the gift of the modern world. Thankfully, this gift made them peaceful enough that a large-scale war cannot happen.
As soon as the marching band forms up, the officer orders us to right dress and fix our formation. The drums beat their rhythm; the bagpipes roar the demands of the Commander.
‘Company, by your left. Quick march!’
A force of thousands in sync slam their boots to the ground. The ground shakes as her Empire’s military moves to the palace. Above us flies the legendary Dragon Fleet, flying air ships with lightning cannons on each side. An elegant floating black boat, with golden trims etched along the sides and safety bars of the ship. A light hum of its magical engines comes over head as they fly over us.
Hooorooom!
The Ship blasts its horn as the crowd cheers at our Empire’s prized possession. The Empire’s primary weapon that slayed the dragons, in bringing peace to the world, and in eliminating any chance of a global conflict. As we establish ourselves in every nation to watch over them, the fleet has stopped everything that could cause another forgotten era. They are the reason for how we earned the title of global protectors because the Gods of this world gave us the tools to defend it. They gave us our fleet, our island, and the knowledge of the distant past.
We are blessed to have our machines of war. With them, we have brought the world to its knees, and brought a golden age of peace.
Every street we move through, roses rain down on us, as the people cheer, delivering praises and compliments from our left and right deafens us as we march to the palace.
The palace is just in sight, a monolith of beautiful architecture surrounded by high walls of gold and silver, its arches molded to look like vines and waterfalls.
‘Company, halt!’
The entire company slams their boots on the ground, silencing the crowd as they wait for the ceremony to continue. The Commander breaks rank as he marches to the front of the company to meet with the palace’s head guard.
They salute each other before they shake hands. The Company Commander gives the head guard a scroll to have the rite of passage into the palace gates.
The guard reads the scroll, handing it back when he is done. They salute each other again, signifying that we are allowed to march into the palace.
The guard orders the gates to open for the Company Commander to continue our march. We change formations to fit in the palace’s massive courtyard. The officers to the left and the garrison corps to the right.
Once in position, the Commander orders us to stand at ease and rest. We stand in silence for what feels like hours, the sun kissing our skins while the wind test our balance. Some unlucky souls faint from the stiff position alone. Lads clearly didn’t drink or eat before the parade, such a rookie mistake.
Empress Rebecca steps up to the podium, her bright blue dress and snowy white hair catches the attention of everyone. Even in her old age, she is remarkably beautiful. Some even claim her beauty comes from the Gods themselves. To represent our divine service to protect the world.
She looks at us, scanning our uniforms and our formation.
‘Company, attention!’ As one, we all clap our feet together to stand up straight with our hands by our sides.
She clears her throat. ‘Here marks our annual military parade, celebrating our nations triumph over our enemies throughout history, and world peace that we have enforced. But for peace to continue, men and women of this mighty Empire must make a noble sacrifice. You have all made an oath to serve me and my people. Yet most importantly, you have made an oath to protect the world, as Uthana demands it. You are the new chapter of our nation’s history.’
She continues on about the Empire’s years in conflict to end global wars, how we ended the reign of dragons, defeated the Dodad tides and the Carthis Campaign in length.
Frankly, I am bored with her speech, a rehashing of the history books I love. It is disrespectful, almost treasonous to almost doze off through her speech. I’m not a person for long speeches, especially about stuff I already know.
My feet ache from standing. More people faint from exhaustion or dehydration. What an embarrassment, to collapse in front of the Empress, but it was excellent motivation to not topple over.
‘This year’s officers’ course, I have noticed exceptional academic achievements across all levels. For the first time in this palace’s history, I will have some graduated candidates to be invited to the palace to serve by my side.’
She brings out a piece of paper and starts reading out names. I cross my fingers while I pray in silence.
‘Oh god Wrathisa, please have her call my name out.‘ I think as I hold my breath.
She goes down the list, calling out twenty people I know from training.
‘The last person who will be called into my service has shown potential, passing every course with top grades and proving to have a brilliant strategical mind. Truly evident that this individual has out shine their peers, and that they are a sign of a new age of thinking. Volas Regali, I call you forth to serve me. We will appreciate your contributions to aid our Empire and her people. May the Gods bless you all. Company Commander, you may take charge.’
Excitement bubbles through me, building pressure until I feel I may explode in a mighty cry, I have to bite my lip to stop myself grinning like a fool.
We march out of the palace, the people outside cheering for our return. As the Commander dismisses us to disperse into the crowd to celebrate. I head back home to tell my family the good news.
I see how some men in uniform chat with the women, dancing with them and sharing a few drinks. Some women ask me if I would like to join them. I find it strange since I barely know them, so I kindly decline their offer.
Imagining of what life would be like in the palace is exciting. Living in a life of luxury for the rest of my days, what more could a man like me want?