A/N: Just a quick thank you to everyone who let me know about the formatting issues-we should be good from here on out. And thank you to my guest reviewer! You're right, there's some distance there, and her dad's been intentionally trying to keep it that way given the situation.
The Imperial Legion offices were housed in the city's prison district, and the atmosphere was fittingly stifling as Sabine stepped through the gates. It didn't help that her father was beside her in full armor, and the soldiers present immediately saluted as they passed. She hated the feeling of eyes on her, and although she knew their focus was on her father, she could shake the feeling that she was drawing attention as well. They had to wonder, didn't they, who the nameless girl walking beside the famed General Warhaft was. Or even worse, she thought miserably as she hurried after her father, it was immediately obvious that she was his daughter, and then she'd have a reputation to live up to.
But as they approached the central tower, Joric stopped and turned to her. "I have business in the Bastion. The Legion offices are that way," he said, pointing across the yard. "Go in the third door and tell them you are interested in joining. They will direct you from there."
"By myself?" Sabine felt her pulse quicken, but Joric merely raised his eyebrows, and she meekly nodded and turned in the direction he'd indicated. It was better this way, she told herself as she trudged across the yard. Without her father at her side she'd have a much better chance at avoiding unwanted attention. But her knees still shook as she entered the offices.
Inside, there was a small murmur of activity in the back of the room, but the soldier seated at the desk facing the door looked utterly bored, idley fiddling with the beads of an abacus. "Can I help you?" he asked, glancing up with eyebrows raised as she approached.
"I…" She swallowed hard, feeling her face go red as the words stuck in her throat. "I wanted to ask about joining. The Legion, I mean."
The soldier barely batted an eye, grunting as he turned to a stack of parchments on the desk. "Wait over there," he ordered brusquely, pointing at a bench along the wall. Sabine obeyed, carefully settling on it and gripping the tops of her knees to keep her hands from shaking.
The minutes ticked by, until finally he motioned her back over, quill in hand. The questions he asked were fairly straightforward, and she methodically rolled through the answers. Name: Sabine Rose Talin. Born in Hallin's Stand, Hammerfell under the sign of the Lord. Age: seventeen. Parents' names and occupations: Gisele, midwife; and Joric, soldier. She cringed a little at the last one, waiting for the inevitable follow-up, but miraculously, the soldier didn't seem to notice.
Finally, he set aside his quill and looked at her for the first time. "You seem healthy enough," he said, "but you'll be examined by a healer before we can proceed." He turned to call over his shoulder, his armor plates clanking together. "Davide!" The group in the back of the room didn't respond, and he shouted again. "Davide!" This time, one of them finally glanced up, and the soldier rolled his eyes. "Take this recruit to the infirmary for an examination," he said stiffly. "Then I expect you back here right away.
"Yes, sir," Davide said quickly, heading for the door and motioning for Sabine to follow him.
"Right away, Davide," the soldier was still calling as they exited. "No lollygaggin'"
"Infirmary's down around the other side, next to the armory," Davide explained as they strode across the yard. "You'll get the full tour eventually, I'm sure."
Sabine only nodded silently, breathing an inner sigh of relief when they reached the door. "Right through there," he explained. "Head back to the office as soon as you're done and we'll finish your registration." And then he was gone, and Sabine gathered her courage before pushing through the door.
The examination was speedy but thorough, and by the time the healer was handing her the signed papers affirming her clean bill of health, the evening shadows were stretching across the yard. Many of the buildings she scurried past were beginning to display illuminated windows, and when she re-entered the office, only the front desk was still occupied-albeit by a different soldier than earlier.
"Name?" he asked without looking up.
"Talin," she replied, extending the papers. "I was here earlier, I have the signature from the healer."
"Well, hand it over then." He still didn't look up as she placed them in his outstretched hand, and she cringed a little at the wrinkled sweat stains left by her fingers. But the soldier didn't seem to notice as he skimmed over them, and it was only when he pulled another stack from the desk that he gave pause. "Oh," he said, eyebrows rising. "Oh." For the first time he looked up at her, interest flickering across his features. "You're Talin?"
It was a statement, but it came out as a question, and she knew exactly what had prompted the question. Joric had been known as Warhaft long before he'd ever met her mother, but their family name was hardly a secret. It was right there in her records. Swallowing down a flare of adrenaline, she straightened her shoulders.
"Yes, sir," she said firmly, looking him in the eye as she enunciated the words. It was the only response she was obligated to give, she reminded herself. No further explanation necessary.
His mouth opened as if to press further, but mercifully he stayed silent, shaking his head as he scribbled out a signature. "Well then," he said. "Turns out we had your records on file, and everything else appears to be in order." He gathered the scattered sheets of parchment into a stack, then slid one final piece across the desk to her. "All we need now's a signature."
Sabine took the offered quill, wishing her hand wasn't trembling as she dipped it into the inkpot. And although she'd waited her whole life for this, she hesitated as the quill hovered above the parchment. This was really it. No turning back now. Once she signed, her life would no longer belong to her. Not really, anyway. Joric's words from earlier were ringing in her ears, and she suddenly felt herself breaking into a sweat. What if she'd been wrong? What if she wasn't cut out for this?
A glob of ink spattering onto the parchment recaptured her attention, and she instantly felt ashamed. Imagine how it would look, for the daughter of General Warhaft to sprint out of the Legion offices, having lost her nerve at the last second after a lifetime of preparation. And so with a deep breath to bolster her nerves, she put her quill to the parchment and signed.