“Do you see anything?” Gai’s voice barely pierced the thick blanket of night, his words carried away almost immediately by the restless wind. He squinted out into the void, one hand resting on the cold stone parapet as though steadying himself against the oppressive darkness.

  “Nope.” Anders’ reply was curt, his tone balancing indifference with a practiced vigilance. He didn’t even glance in Gai’s direction, his eyes fixed firmly ahead. The older guard shifted his weight slightly, the faint creak of leather straps and chainmail breaking the stillness.

  Gai leaned in, squinting between the worn stones. His breath fogged the air as he tried to spot anything in the thick darkness. The moon sat low, barely giving enough light to sketch out the rough line of the cliffs far below. Shadows crawled along the castle walls, shifting with every tremble of torchlight—hard to say if it was just the fire flickering or something moving out there.

  Far below, the ocean hammered away at the rocks, the noise rolling up the stone until it pressed in on them. It didn’t make Gai feel any safer—if anything, the sound was unsettling, too steady and relentless, like something just waiting out of sight.

  “Do you ever see anything out here?” Gai asked after a long pause. His voice broke through the silence like a pebble dropped into still water. There was a note of curiosity there, but it was tinged with something else—boredom, maybe even frustration.

  Anders shrugged without turning his head. “Occasionally we’ll catch sight of a boat heading into the harbour late. Smugglers or fishermen who lost track of time.” He paused for a moment, then added dryly, “The dockmasters deal with ‘em. Not our problem.”

  “So,” Gai began, dragging out the word as he turned to face Anders fully. “We’re just walking up and down this wall all night, staring into nothingness? Waiting for something that won’t happen?”

  Anders finally looked at him then—a quick glance over his shoulder that was equal parts amusement and weariness. “Kid,” he said, his voice carrying that infuriatingly patient tone reserved for someone explaining something obvious to a child. “What did you think this job would be?”

  Gai frowned but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kicked at a loose stone near his foot, sending it skittering across the walkway before it disappeared over the edge. The faint sound of it bouncing off the rocks below was quickly swallowed by the roar of the sea.

  They moved on, feet thudding quietly over the age-smoothed stones. The chill in the air seemed to crawl up through the floor, settling in their bones and refusing to budge. When they reached the watchtower at the edge of their route, Gai eyed the lantern overhead, its flame guttering as if it might give out any second. Shadows from the weak light stretched across the walls, wavering with every draft.

  A guard stood near the base of the tower, leaning casually against one of the support beams. He straightened when he saw them approach and raised a hand in greeting before muttering something about needing to use the latrines. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the shadows.

  “Well,” Gai muttered under his breath as they began climbing the narrow spiral staircase inside the tower. “Not exactly riveting company either.”

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  Anders chuckled softly but said nothing until they reached the top. By then, both were breathing heavier from the climb—the steps were steep and uneven, worn smooth by years of use but still treacherous in places.

  The room at the top was small and cramped, its stone walls seeming to close in around them. A pair of torches burned steadily on either side of the doorway, their light casting a warm but inadequate glow over their surroundings. One wall was dominated by a large metal plate mounted between two wooden poles—a makeshift alarm system designed to be struck with the heavy baton lying nearby.

  Opposite this stood the flag of Arieruro, its deep blue fabric emblazoned with a silver phoenix mid-flight. It fluttered gently in the faint breeze that whispered through narrow arrow slits carved into the walls.

  Anders crossed to one of these slits and leaned against it casually, gazing out over the darkened landscape beyond. “So,” he said after a moment. “What’s your story then? Why’d you sign up for this if you weren’t expecting long nights staring at nothing?”

  “Well... not this.” Gai’s voice broke the silence as he glanced up at Anders with a sheepish expression. His gaze darted away almost immediately, as if ashamed of voicing his thoughts aloud. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to end up in the castle guard,” he admitted quietly, his words carrying a mix of regret and resignation.

  Anders snorted softly, his breath visible in the cold air as he gestured toward the narrow staircase winding down inside the tower. “Yeah? Why’s that, Gai?” he asked casually, his tone light but laced with genuine curiosity as he stepped onto the first worn step.

  “Well...” Gai hesitated as they began their descent. He ran a hand over hair, a nervous habit he hadn’t yet broken. “I mean... I’m a squid,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Anders paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised in confusion. “A squid?” he repeated slowly, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and bewilderment.

  “Yeah,” Gai mumbled, his face flushing crimson even in the dim light filtering down from above. “You know... I don’t have any elemental abilities.” He took a deep breath and pressed on quickly before Anders could respond. “And I’m not even from a wealthy family or anything like that. Most guys here—they’ve got connections or money or... I don’t know... something.”

  Anders let out a low chuckle as they resumed descending. “Kid,” he said after a moment’s pause, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. “You think anyone really cares about that once you’re out here? Wealth? Power? Strength? None of it matters if you can’t back it up”

  Gai didn’t answer immediately; instead, he focused on placing one foot carefully after another on steps that felt far too slippery for comfort. Finally, he muttered under his breath, “I guess.”

  “Exactly,” Anders said firmly as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a small enclosed room at the base of the tower. The space was snug but functional—a sentinel’s haven against both weather and attackers alike. Torches burned steadily along two of the walls, their flames casting warm amber light over rough stone surfaces lined with faint carvings—marks left behind by generations of bored guards.

  Anders turned back to Gai as they entered fully into the room. “Listen closely,” he said seriously, placing both hands firmly on Gai’s shoulders and meeting his gaze without flinching. His dark eyes glinted with an intensity that made Gai feel both seen and strangely reassured. “This ranking system we’ve got? It’s flawed—more than flawed—it’s broken in places some folks pretend don’t exist.” His grip tightened slightly before relaxing again. “But some of the bravest men I’ve ever served with were considered nobodies by that system.”

  Gai blinked up at him uncertainly but couldn’t help feeling a flicker of something warm in his chest. “You mean it?” he asked quietly after several long moments had passed.

  Anders smirked faintly before giving him a playful shove toward one of the arrow slits overlooking the town below. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he replied gruffly before leaning closer conspiratorially. “Besides,” he added with an exaggerated wink, “if I thought you were useless, I’d have left you back there to freeze.”

  Gai laughed despite himself—a short but genuine sound that seemed to lift some invisible weight from his shoulders.

  “Come on,” Anders said, peering back out at the wall. “Looks like our wandering champion has returned from his epic battle with the latrines.” He nodded toward the guard reappearing in the lantern’s glow, shuffling into place without a word. “Edgar should be in the next tower over,” Anders added, his tone steady and giving just enough edge to remind Gai who was in charge. He readjusted his sword strap with a quiet creak, breaking the lull.

  Gai grinned, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes for the first time in ages. “Think we should make him sweat a bit?” he asked, his voice light and playful, but with just enough hesitation to show he wasn’t sure how far to push it.

  Anders paused mid-step and shot Gai a look, the moonlight catching the corners of his uneven smile. “Now you’re starting to talk like one of us,” he said, a low, genuine laugh rumbling from his chest. It bounced off the stone walls before fading back into the night.

  Gai let out a quieter laugh of his own, the edge finally coming off his shoulders. Anders’ laugh wasn’t just noise—it felt like the start of something solid between them.