“Gai, over here,” Anders beckoned, his sharp voice cutting through the clamour of the training yard. His tone brooked no argument, and his eyes narrowed impatiently as Gai hesitated for a moment too long. “Yes, stand here,” Anders ordered, stepping forward with an air of authority that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for delays.

  Before Gai could properly position himself, Anders grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and all but shoved him into place. “Spear straight up—no, not like that—up,” Anders barked, adjusting Gai’s grip with a quick twist of his hand. “Shield here. Like this.” He banged his own shield lightly against Gai’s to demonstrate, the metallic clang drawing a few glances from nearby recruits. “What’s with the sword? Why’s it hanging off you like a sack of grain? Whatever—leave it where it is for now.”

  Awkwardly adjusting his stance under Anders’s scrutinizing gaze, Gai muttered, “Uh, thank you, Anders.” His voice was quiet, unsure, as though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was thanking him for.

  Anders fixed him with a glare that all but pinned Gai to the spot. “Don’t thank me,” he said curtly. “Just try to keep up. I’m not repeating myself.” The tone left no room for argument, and Gai’s stomach twisted; this was more than instruction—it was a clear warning.

  All around them, the training yard thrummed with noise—barked orders, clangs of metal, boots scuffing in the dust. Other senior guards ran their own recruits through the motions, their shouts and corrections blending into the restless air thick with sweat and iron.

  Nearby, Raimondis—whose earlier arrogance had made him stand out among the new recruits—was being lectured by a grizzled veteran guard. The older man gestured animatedly at Raimondis’s shield placement while the recruit stood stiffly, his jaw clenched in frustration. Clearly, even the cocky ones weren’t exempt from harsh scrutiny here.

  “Attention!” The command rang out suddenly, bouncing off the high stone walls of the courtyard like a drumbeat. It was sharp and commanding enough to make every guardsman snap to attention almost reflexively. Even Gai, despite his lack of experience, mimicked their rigid posture as best he could. His spear wobbled slightly before he steadied it against his shoulder.

  All eyes turned toward Maric as he strode purposefully onto the raised podium at the centre of the yard. The late afternoon sun cast golden rays over his polished armour, making him appear almost larger than life. He paused for a moment, surveying the gathered guardsmen with an expression that was equal parts pride and stern expectation.

  “Okay, you lot,” Maric began, his deep voice carrying easily over the murmurs that had died down to near silence. “Let’s make this quick.” His gaze swept across the sea of faces below him, pausing briefly on each cluster of recruits as though assessing their worth in an instant. “Close to half of you are new to our ranks.”

  Gai felt a flicker of unease at that statement. Half? That seemed…disproportionate. He glanced sidelong at Anders, who stood beside him with an unflinching posture and a face carved from stone.

  Maric pressed on, voice steady but not harsh. “You’ve all been paired with a guard who actually knows their way around—the castle, the city, and, well, most of the citadel.” The slight pause on ‘most’ made a few heads turn; veterans weren’t immune to getting lost either. “There’s no official training after this. You’ll pick it up from those beside you.” He waited just long enough for the words to land before concluding, “That’s all.”

  The words hung in the air like a challenge. No formal training? Gai felt his pulse quicken. How was he supposed to just pick things up? What if he missed something important? What if—

  “Your schedules are at Davis’s store,” Maric finished crisply. “Dismissed.”

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  The courtyard erupted back into motion as guardsmen broke formation and began moving toward the quartermaster’s station at one corner of the yard. Anders nudged Gai none too gently with his elbow. “Come on, kid,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go get our roster.”

  Gai stumbled slightly at the nudge but quickly fell into step beside Anders as they made their way across the crowded yard. Around them, clusters of recruits exchanged nervous chatter while veterans shared knowing smirks or barked instructions to their assigned partners.

  “There aren’t that many of us here,” Gai remarked after a moment, his brow furrowing as he glanced around at their relatively small group. “Surely we’re not all the guards?”

  Anders snorted softly but didn’t break stride. “Not even close, kid,” he replied matter-of-factly. His tone carried just enough amusement to suggest he found Gai’s naivety endearing—or maybe just entertaining. “We have three shifts typically,” Anders explained as they weaved through the throng of bodies moving toward Davis’s station. “Plus special assignments. I reckon about a fifth of us were here for this afternoon's parade.”

  Gai absorbed this information silently for a moment before asking hesitantly, “And Maric oversees all of that?”

  Anders shot him another sidelong glance but this time there was a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Now he is one you should be calling ‘sir,’ lad,” Anders said dryly.

  Gai blinked at him in confusion before realizing what Anders meant—and promptly flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh—I mean—yes...sir," he stammered awkwardly.

  Anders gave a quiet snort of laughter but kept whatever comment he had to himself as they arrived at Davis’s store—a squat stone building pressed up against the courtyard wall, busy with guards coming in and out, grabbing papers and exchanging gruff nods. The air inside was thick with the smells of parchment, ink, worn leather, and a trace of lamp oil.

  They ducked inside, winding between a couple of burly veterans arguing over shift swaps. Davis looked up from a stack of rosters, spotted Gai, and shot him a quick wink—same as earlier, just as cheeky. Gai tried to look like he belonged as Anders took their schedules with a muttered thanks.

  It all felt a bit dizzying—noisy, full of movement—but even as nerves crept in, Gai couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. It wasn’t even the end of the first day yet, and already it seemed like everything was moving faster than he’d ever expected.

  And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Anders unfolded his parchment with practiced ease, scanning its contents with an experienced eye. “Maric oversees the guard,” he began, speaking to Gai without looking up from the paper. His tone carried an edge of authority softened by familiarity. “But he’s got two officers under him—his lieutenants—who handle most of the day-to-day operations.” He glanced at Gai then, noting the younger man’s furrowed brow as he squinted at his own parchment in the fading light.

  “Day-to-day operations?” Gai asked hesitantly, tilting the paper this way and that in an attempt to catch the last rays of sunlight. The words on the page remained stubbornly illegible to him, smudged shadows on an unfamiliar canvas.

  Anders grinned faintly, shaking his head. “Yeah—patrol routes, shifts, assignments. Maric himself is usually all over the city,” he continued smoothly, his voice dropping slightly as though sharing a secret. “He keeps tabs on special assignments mostly.”

  Gai’s curiosity piqued at those words. “Special assignments?” he echoed, glancing up from his parchment to meet Anders’ gaze. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes now, mingling with uncertainty.

  “Forget about those for now,” Anders said, brushing the topic aside with a flick of his hand. For just a second, something tired flickered across his face. “You won’t be getting one of those missions anytime soon—not unless Maric’s completely lost his mind.”

  Before Gai could get another word in, Anders let out a dramatic sigh as his eyes scanned the parchment. He shoved it at Gai with a mock flourish. “Wonderful,” he deadpanned. “We’ve landed the graveyard shift for this round. Lucky us.”

  Gai stared at him, brow knit in confusion. “Graveyard?” he echoed, sounding genuinely alarmed. He shot Anders an uneasy look, clearly bracing himself for some grim assignment among headstones.

  Anders barked a laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads. He slapped Gai on the back, nearly sending him off balance. “Relax, you’re not ghost-hunting,” he said, still grinning. “It just means we’re on night duty—while everyone else is sleeping, we’ll be wandering around trying not to freeze.”

  “Oh.” Gai exhaled, looking mildly relieved—then promptly scowled at the parchment in his hands. “Brilliant,” he muttered under his breath.

  Anders shot him a knowing look, easily picking up on the sarcasm. “Careful, that attitude might just win you a promotion,” he said with a smirk, nudging Gai away from the counter and back into the open air. “You’ll get the hang of it... one midnight at a time.”

  Gai mumbled, “Oh, I’m counting down the hours,” dry as dust.

  Anders snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement. The sky was deepening into dusk now, shadows stretching further as purple streaked through orange above the rooftops. He gave Gai a nudge with his elbow. “Let’s move. I’ll wager you haven’t sniffed out the mess hall yet.”

  Almost on cue, Gai’s stomach betrayed him with an embarrassingly loud rumble. His face went pink, but Anders just barked a laugh.

  “Knew it,” Anders said, still grinning. “Better fill up before patrol, or else I’ll have to drag your half-starved carcass around all night.”

  They crossed the yard together—the crunch of gravel underfoot and the hum of voices growing softer behind them. Up ahead, the mess hall glowed warm and busy against the settling gloom.

  For now, Gai let himself relax. There was food waiting, company that wasn’t half bad, and—for once—he felt like maybe things would be all right.