“So, we waking him up or letting him snore through the fireworks?” Anders asked, his voice slow and lazy, not sounding like he cared either way. He lounged against the bunk’s corner, arms folded, a small smirk barely showing itself.

  Edgar just grinned, shaking his head. “Let him sleep. The captain’s got plenty of lessons lined up for rookies.” There was humour in his voice, but it came with that look—like he knew exactly how things would play out. He shifted his weight, the wooden floor complaining under his boots.

  “You sure about that?” Edgar shot Anders a sideways glance, an eyebrow raised. “Might be a rough welcome if his new partner lets him walk in blind. First impressions can bite back.”

  Anders shrugged, flicking a phantom speck off his sleeve with exaggerated carelessness. “Not my job to hold his hand,” he said flatly. “If the kid can’t handle a rough start, he’s in for worse.”

  Behind them, a sharp gasp cut through the room, followed by a groggy grunt. Gai jerked awake on his bunk, muscles tense like someone just threw cold water in his face. The chatter snapped off instantly. His heart hammered as he blinked around in the gloom, scrambling to remember where he was and who these two silhouettes were supposed to be.

  A lantern, hooked onto a rusty bit of iron, gently rocked back and forth by unknown force—unless it was just the draft sneaking in—throwing shaky shadows along the chipped stone walls and creaky beams.

  “Up and at ‘em, kid!” Edgar’s voice blasted through the room, sharp enough to jolt anyone awake. Gai blinked hard, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes as he turned toward the sound.

  “Wait, this is morning?” Gai rasped, voice rough from sleep. He sat bolt upright, nearly pitching himself straight onto the floor. His blanket tumbled down with him, and he managed to snag his foot on a weather-beaten bag and some boots that had definitely seen better days. He flailed for balance, limbs everywhere.

  “Easy there!” Edgar laughed, stepping in to grab his arm. His grip was steady and rough, clearly a man used to work. When he hauled Gai up without breaking a sweat, it was obvious this wasn’t his first time helping a rookie. Up close, Edgar’s face looked lived-in—lined but genuinely friendly, like someone who’d spent more time laughing than frowning.

  “Name’s Edgar,” he said with an over-the-top sweep of his hand like he was putting on a show. “But just call me Ed. And this ray of sunshine—” He nodded at Anders. “—goes by Anders.”

  Anders barely reacted; one eyebrow ticked up like he couldn’t believe Ed made such a fuss out of it. Still, he stepped over and offered Gai a hand—a gesture that just about passed for welcoming around here.

  “To answer your question,” Anders began dryly as he shook Gai’s hand firmly—the kind of grip that made Gai wince slightly—“it is most definitely not morning.” There was a glint of amusement in Anders’s sharp gray eyes as they flicked over Gai’s dishevelled appearance: rumpled tunic and hair sticking up at odd angles.

  “I… I’m Gai,” he stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks under Anders’s scrutinizing gaze. “Sir.”

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  Edgar let out a bark of laughter so loud it seemed to rattle the very walls of the room. “Sir? Did you hear that, Anders? He called you sir!” He clapped a hand on Gai’s shoulder with enough force to make him stagger slightly. “You’ve got your work cut out for you if you think anyone here deserves that kind of respect, barring the captain of course.”

  Anders shook his head with a faint smile tugging at his lips before turning away. He crossed to the far side of the room where an old trunk sat near the doorway—its hinges rusted and its wood scarred by years of use—and pulled out a steel helmet that gleamed faintly in the lantern light.

  “Come on then,” Edgar said after catching his breath from laughing so hard. “Get your uniform and kit on. Parade begins soon enough, and you don’t want to keep the Captain waiting.” The joviality in his tone faded slightly at the mention of the captain—a subtle shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Gai.

  “Anders will be waiting for you in the yard,” Edgar added knowingly as he moved toward the door. The floor creaked under his weight with every step.

  “Why Anders?” Gai asked hesitantly as he bent down to pick up his belongings. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear exactly, but from nerves and uncertainty about what lay ahead.

  “Well…” Edgar paused in the doorway and turned back toward him, one hand resting against the frame. “He’s your partner now. Every time you go out there—every schedule—you’ll be side by side with him.” There was something unspoken in Edgar’s tone—a weight behind those words that made Gai swallow hard.

  Gai threw on his uniform in a hurry, each movement clipped and awkward. The fabric scratched at his skin, stiff and uncooperative, making him grimace as he yanked at the collar to stop it digging into his neck. He wrestled with the leather straps of his gear—still slick from oil and not broken in yet—feeling them bite into his shoulders with every adjustment. His fingers slipped over the last buckle at his chest, and he let out a tight breath, trying to pull himself together before stepping out.

  “Still struggling with that harness?” Edgar’s voice cut through the quiet room. The older guard leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a crooked grin teasing at his lips. “You’ll get used to it… eventually.”

  Gai looked up from fumbling with the straps, managed a thin, sheepish smile, and stayed quiet. Edgar gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t sweat it,” he said, stepping over and giving Gai’s shoulder a reassuring thump. “By this time tomorrow, you might not even notice how much it’s annoying you. Or maybe you’ll still hate it. Either way, you’ll get through.” His words were casual enough, but there was a knowing look in his eyes that said he remembered exactly what it was like to be new.

  Before Gai could respond, Edgar turned on his heel. “See you out there,” he said over his shoulder as he strode toward the door. His boots thudded against the wooden floorboards, each step echoing in the small chamber until he disappeared into the stairway beyond.

  Gai stood alone, the room suddenly feeling too quiet, broken only by the occasional groan of the old beams overhead. He didn’t move, just stared at the doorway Edgar had vanished through, wishing his stomach would untwist itself.

  He knew what waited outside—the open yard ringed with unlit torches, ground worn flat by too many boots, sunlight slipping away behind battered stone walls. In his mind, he could almost smell the warm dirt and the distant hint of something cooking, as if the world outside was pretending this was just another evening.

  He grabbed his helmet from its spot on the stool. The metal was cold against his palm, dull except where a bit of light caught on it from the window above. He paused, catching a warped glimpse of himself in the curve—his own face, looking unfamiliar and a little older than he remembered.

  Gai let out a shaky breath, steeling himself. He nudged the door open—the hinges protested loud enough to announce his exit to the whole floor. The door swung wide, revealing a the cramped stairwell cut into cold stone, leading down to the courtyard.

  He took the steps one by one, each footfall echoing quietly in the tight passage. The chill from the stone crept right through his soles, settling him as he made his way down.

  Reaching the bottom, he walked out into the courtyard. The place spread out before him—wide, open, hemmed in by high walls that grabbed what was left of the sun. Everything glowed faintly gold and amber in the fading light. Rows of unlit torches circled the yard, tossing thin shadows across packed dirt with every gust of wind.

  It was busy out there now. Recruits clustered together in loose groups; some fussed with their armour or tapped nervously at their spears. Snatches of quiet talk drifted through the air. Their chest plates caught the sun whenever they moved, sending quick flashes of brightness through the crowd.

  “Gai!” A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Anders waving him over from across the yard, an impatient frown splitting his face beneath his shining helmet.

  Gai frowned but didn’t move immediately. Instead, he let his gaze drift back toward the recruits assembling in neat rows under an officer’s watchful eye. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation—the kind that prickled at your skin but didn’t yet explode into action.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Gai admitted finally, keeping his voice low so only he could hear.