The following is an excerpt from the diary of Benjamin A. Wolfe, circa May 27, 1794.

I last wrote of my discovery that gnomes become toads when exposed to sunlight, and my confusion when I realized that I have been running on a twenty-five hour schedule since first arriving in Beetle Fire.  I write this entry from the military common room, since today I began my basic training in the gnomish army.  Having said my adieus to Haxel this morning I set out in low spirits wondering what may have possessed me to commit myself to such a formidable and senseless undertaking.  I arrived outside the military headquarters an hour and a half later, and was met by a guard who asked for my name.  Upon receiving it he opened a large iron gate and unceremoniously waved me inside.  I have never felt so melancholy.

I might add now that gnomes are notorious record keepers.  No sooner had I gone through the gate than I was faced with a gruff old gent with a writing stylus and clay tablet.

“Name?” he demanded sharply.

“Benjamin A. Wolfe, if you please sir.”

“I don’t please.  And what a dreadful surname!  Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

“So young?  We may be the infantry, but we don’t fancy sending actual infants to fight!  Occupation?”

“I work at Shiny’s sir.”

“A drunkard child!  My my, we should have fun with you!”

I was not at all liking how this was going, but to the end I held my peace.  After an endless interrogation as to the names of my deceased parents, my siblings, relatives, and every ancestor I could recall, I was finally allowed to pass through a long hallway to the new recruit check-in.  I was already feeling exhausted, and I hadn’t even started my training yet.

At the entrance to the check-in I received rather a fright, for a huge and terrifying gnome ambushed me and began rummaging through my pack.

“No contraband items here!” he growled, emptying everything into a refuse pile near the door.

“Please sir!” I cried in alarm.  “My pocket watch, journal, and quills are among those!”

“Did you say something, soldier?” he sneered.  Then he became quiet as another gnome approached him.  I was relieved to see it was Midel.

“He may keep his watch, journal, and quills sergeant.  Mind that you respect that.” Midel said sternly.

The sergeant quickly apologized and complied.  Midel nodded to me and walked away.  I did not see him again for the remainder of the day.

Upon Midel’s disappearance I was roughly handed a slate gray uniform by the same sergeant and given barked orders to change into them quickly in a tiny closet to my left.  My own civilian clothes were tossed into the refuse pile.  If it had not been for my friend I would have been void of anything pertaining to my former identity.  I fear any earlier notes on the city would have then been lost.

No sooner had I dropped my pack off at my sleeping quarters, a low, cheerless room filled with sleeping palates, than I was herded at last into a huge cave filled with new recruits.  It was strangely comforting to see that everyone of them appeared as shell shocked as myself.

“That’s the last of you.  Good!” a gruff voice snarled from the front.  My heart sank as I saw the record keeper from earlier.  “My name is Sergeant Noytel, but you will know me only as sir.  I am here to turn you sloppy toads into the fine fighters and protectors this city needs.  My duty is not to watch you children or be your mother, although one of you could certainly use it.”

I deigned not to meet his eyes as he proceeded to look my way.

“You are all soft bellied and weak!” he continued.  “If faced with an ant swarm right now most of you would go running and screaming like a little girl.  The remainder of you would get eaten.  Luckily that won’t last long.  I will harden and shape you like the humans temper steel.  You will not waver at the threat of death.  Your minds will not bend, and your bodies will not brake. ”  He paused to survey us momentarily before barking, “Alright soldiers, into formation now!  I want two lines sixteen deep.  No lollygagging!  What was that soldier?  Excellent, a volunteer!  Worm gutting duty tonight!  Now shut your mouth and get in line!”

I rather pitied the gnome who had dared ask what the lines were for.  I saw him hurry dejectedly into formation a few gnomes behind me.  I hadn’t much time for reflection however, as suddenly we were instructed to run.  Following Sergeant Noytel through a tunnel to the left, I felt my spirits reach a new low.  My training had only just begun, and already we were off at a full sprint.  I’d soon learn that this was actually the gentlest portion of the camp.  Gnomes it seems take their training very seriously indeed.  (To be continued…)