Hajin slid the new militia appointment across the registry table, watching Hans study the seal with obvious uncertainty.
Hajin sat opposite Sergeant Hans, keeping his hand on the rolled parchment until the scarred veteran reached for it.
Hans picked up the document, his calloused fingers tracing the formal seals stamped along the bottom margin.
"You are appointing me Commander of the Frontier Volunteer Militia?" Hans asked, his brow furrowing as he looked up.
"The position carries full command authority over defense drills, supply convoys, and civilian evacuation corridors," Hajin replied.
"I am an old cripple who abandoned his imperial post after losing an entire squad at the White River Gap," Hans said, his voice quiet with lingering self-recrimination.
"The town militia needs an active warrior who can lead vanguard charges, not an aging hunter whose left arm stiffens in the rain."
