The halls were unusually silent this time, as if the whole building's personnel had known he was coming. The only sound was that of his boots hitting the floor with each step. He couldn't help but wonder what the commanders wanted with him today.
Must be the general's usual speech about Regular superiority and all that mumbo-jumbo. He thought. "Wonder what he'll have for me this time..."
He pondered the general's motives for the summoning until he stopped in front of his door. He took a deep breath, stretched his neck and brushed his uniform before turning the knob.
The room beyond was filled with trophies, medals and mounted animal heads. It had a couple of chairs located on each side of a small table, which stood few feet in front of a fireplace.
"Private Christian Raves reporting, sir," he saluted the general, who stood next to the fireplace and sipped from a glass of wine while running his eyes over a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Yes, yes. It's about time," the general grumbled and emptied his glass. "But, thankfully, it'll be the last."
"Pardon, sir?" Christian asked, curious of the general's words for the first time.
"Ever since you joined the Regulars, although tolerable, you've been a nuisance. But these past few days you've been completely out of control!" The general replied. "You disobey your orders, show no respect to superiors and in no way behave like a proper soldier!" The general marched in circles in front of the fire while flailing his arms, as if to emphasize his message as usual. Christian always did consider it a little overdramatic. "But now..." he chuckled. "Now it ends. I have here in my hand the details of transfer for you. You've been reassigned."
The burly general handed the paper over to Christian with a grin, who took it and quickly read its content. Notice of transfer... yaddayadda... Private Raves... yapyapyap... the Militia... wait, Militia?
"The Militia, sir?"
"That's right, my boy! You have been reassigned to the Militia," the general let out a slight chuckle and turned his back on the soldier. "Unruly peasants are what they are… and I'm sure you'll fit right in."
The Militia... It figures... Christian mumbled in his breath. "Very well, sir. I'll pack my bags and move out later this evening."
"Don't forget to hand in your uniform! Can't have you prancing around in that among such rabble... and, hopefully, this'll be the last time we meet."
"Of course, general." Christian forced a straight face and bowed.