“What’s your name?”
“Malek, sir.”
“Aren’t you too young to believe in those, Malek?” - he said and nodded toward the wooden figure in the boy’s hands.
“My family still keeps the old faith, sir. I’ve been a believer since little. Many of the other men here are.”
“Good for them, but this can’t be a cause for fighting. We’ve got plenty of that already. Next time you clench your fists, you come talk to me instead, alright? You might hear more than whatever these two told you where we’re going. Is your patience always going to be as thin as a leaf?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been putting up with jokes all my life, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back.”
“Who is that?” - Veran asked, looking at the figure again.
“Has to be Lada, sir. She’s the goddess of beauty and is always depicted in… such a way.” - he turned the idol to his commander so he could see it better.
“I see.” - said Veran.
“I take it you’re not familiar with the old faith, sir.” - the boy said with a trembling voice.
Asking a superior about religion was always a gamble. He could get a straight answer, yes. But he’d probably get mocked or given a longer watch that night. Today he lucked out. Veran could use the conversation.
“I’m not, never have been. My mother was, but I got too many unanswered prayers to believe.”
“An unanswered prayer is still an answer. They have a plan for us, sir.”
Veran barely held his tongue from telling the boy what he thought about his gods and what good they were when Ozren’s brother was laying butchered in the dirt. But that wasn’t the right thing to do. Not now.
“I’ll talk to the two morons inside. I respect your beliefs even if I don’t share them. But I want to know that they won’t get in the way of your duties. Understood?”
The boy nodded and his general dismissed him. The men respected Veran because he was one of them. But it was getting hard for him to keep everyone else together when he barely kept himself. How many boys like this were in the batallion? How many fights will he have to stop as they get close to Rhana?