Pell was eighteen years old this year, from Oakhurst village, had only entered the Department of Military Affairs for four months, and within those four months he had been forced to memorize by heart twenty-two types of wax seals.
When learning he found this matter extremely useless, because standing guard all day he only met ox carts carrying firewood and women carrying vegetables on poles going to the market, learning brown wax blue wax to do what. The captain forced him to learn so he just learned, both learning and yawning to the point tears flowed out.
Therefore noon that day, when a horse staggered dashing arriving before the red and white barrier pole and the man on its back pulled from his shirt a bronze tube, Pell looked at the bright red wax streak on it and his heart jumped all the way to his neck.
