Gai bolted down the narrow alley, his heart hammering as he sprinted from the group of rowdy village boys who trailed him like vultures. The alley's walls were mirrored with the stains of time—old, crumbling buildings with flaking, sun-bleached paint that clung desperately to the decaying wood, all barely holding together under the relentless, damp weather. For Gai, this bitter chase was a perverse daily ritual; the boys found a twisted sort of fun in hunting him through these rain-slicked streets. With each desperate step, the cobblestones, polished to a slick sheen by the downpour, betrayed him—causing him to slip and skid as the icy water seeped through his thin, threadbare clothes, chilling him to the bone.
Gai's breath came in ragged gasps as he finally skidded to a stop, seeking refuge beneath a sagging doorway. Behind him, the wooden portal loomed like a decrepit guardian, warped and mottled with cracks overgrown by a scruffy layer of moss that hinted at years of neglect. Clutching his chest as his heart pounded in his ears, he pressed himself against the rough timber, silently praying that the rain might force his relentless pursuers to abandon their cruel game. He listened intently, straining his ears against the roar of wind and the drumming of rain on ancient rooftops, yet the chaotic symphony left him unable to discern any hint of their approach.
Shivering in the cold, Gai wrapped his arms tightly around his body and tucked his damp hands beneath his armpits in a feeble attempt to generate warmth. Nestled in the doorway's shadowy recesses, he waited for the tempest to subside, his thoughts drifting to the village that lay eerily silent around him. The familiar hustle of market stalls and animated chatter had been replaced by a strange, haunting stillness brought on by the storm. He recalled how his family, once among the village's wealthiest, had lived in a world of promise. His father had served in the disciplined ranks of the army, and his mother had shone in her role at the lord's manor until a relentless illness swept through the countryside, claiming her life. In better times, Gai had studied alongside the elite children of the district, tutored by scholars whose knowledge was as prized as gold. Just two seasons ago, his future had brimmed with hope.
A soft sigh escaped him as he dared a glance upward; through the thick, oppressive gray clouds, fragile beams of sunlight began to pry their way through, slicing open the gloom to reveal patches of sky-blue. With the rain lightening, warmth returned to the village, and with a reluctant grunt that echoed the stiffness in his joints, Gai rose. He departed his makeshift shelter, stepping into the narrow, ivy-clad alley where shadows mingled with nature's creeping resilience—moss and ivy encrusted the wall like nature's own remedy for decay.
Cautiously, he made his way toward the marketplace. Aware that the taunting boys were likely to congregate there—since every dust-laden village road seemed to funnel into the bustling center—Gai slid behind a rotting hay bale at the market's fringe. Peering over its uneven top, he scanned the scene for any sign of his pursuers. The rain had driven most shopkeepers and villagers indoors, leaving the market eerily sparse and devoid of the usual hiding spots that might have offered him a quick escape.
A ripple of malicious laughter reached his ears and sent a chill down his spine. That familiar sound, buoyed by boyish glee, came from the heart of the marketplace. Four boys swaggered into view—each step deliberate—positioning themselves at the entrances to both the market and the road leading home. Their eyes searched the crowd with predatory precision until, almost in unison, their youthful voices erupted in gleeful shouts upon spotting Gai. As he scrambled from behind the hay bale, every instinct screamed for him to retreat back into the maze-like alleys.
Desperate for self-preservation, Gai rounded a corner at breakneck speed—but in his haste, he collided with a wall of cold metal and tough leather. The impact sent him sprawling onto his back, stars exploding before his eyes, and the sharp aroma of wet earth flooded his senses. Rough, calloused hands yanked him from the muddied pavement, while a gruff voice tried to pierce the fog of his disorientation. When that voice failed to regain his attention, a single, biting backhand snapped him further into reality with a cry of pain that tore from his throat.
Standing over him was the village guard captain, Egbert, a man known as much for his sardonic smirk as for his duty. His polished armour, though dulled slightly by the rain, still exuded a sense of authority; droplets clung to its edges, catching the light as they fell. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, lad?" Egbert demanded, his tone laced with half-amused curiosity. Gai, cheeks burning with both pain and shame, mumbled, "I'm being chased again, sir," keeping his gaze stubbornly at the muddy ground. Despite his humiliation, he knew that Egbert, a friend of his father, would no doubt take a dim view of the relentless bullying of Lionel's son.
Without another word, Egbert grunted, "Right, come with me." A fleeting glance revealed the captain's face twisting into a stern scowl as he clasped Gai's elbow firmly, dragging him toward the marketplace. The wet streets, glistening under the hesitant return of sunlight, exuded the heady scent of rain-soaked earth mingled with fresh greenery as they strode through the village.
"You turn fifteen this year, don't you, lad?" Egbert asked as he steered Gai toward the centre of the market, where, to Gai's growing dread, the quartet of boys had assembled like a gauntlet. Gai only nodded, his stomach twisting into knots of anxiety. The four boys huddled in the centre of the market, their eyes furtively avoiding the captain's stern glare. With a subtle hand gesture, Egbert signalled his accompanying guards, whose silent, efficient movements soon encircled the group, spears raised and glinting ominously in the post-storm sunlight.
A tangible unease spread across the boys' faces as Captain Egbert's voice cut through the tension. "Roland, is it?" he probed, addressing the largest of the group. Roland's shaky nod confirmed his identity. Egbert's next question was equally curt, "How old are you, boy?" The reply came in a timid whisper, "I just turned fifteen, sir," as Roland avoided the captain's unyielding stare. "Good," Egbert said simply before turning to the others—Boris, son of an absent guard, soon to be fifteen in a few months; Errol, the baker's son, not yet fourteen; and Louis, a farmer's boy already a full fifteen. A heavy silence followed as the boys exchanged nervous glances, none of them knowing what punishment or fate was about to unfold, having never encountered the captain's wrath before.
Then Egbert's tone shifted decisively, causing every heart in the market, including those of his own guarded men, to race. "Most of you boys will be sent away in one month to the capital garrison. You will be tested for your abilities and then dispatched to wherever your masters see fit." He paused, studying each boy's face with a deliberate, unwavering gaze. "I may not know where any of you will end up, but I do know one thing: you will all face trials that either forge you into survivors or leave you broken."
In that charged moment, Egbert brusquely thrust Gai toward the group, a sharp shove that forced him into the midst of his tormentors. Gai's pulse surged as his vision tunnelled, every nerve alerting him only to the imminent threat posed by the boys now closing in. Faintly, over the din of the murmuring crowd and the echo of his own pounding heart, he heard Egbert murmur, "No more games. Gai is right here, so do what you wanted, or share in a beating from me."
Time itself seemed to slow in Gai's mind. He saw Errol being yanked away from the fray—presumably too young to be caught in such cruelty. His gaze then flickered to Louis, who made a feeble dash for escape only to be struck by the blunt butt of a spear across his legs; Louis crumpled onto the muddied ground as a couple of guards kicked him mercilessly, his hand curling over his injured thigh. Almost in a daze, Gai finally saw Roland and Boris lunge toward him; terror mingled with a confused glimmer in their eyes. In a heartbeat, Roland's massive fist crashed into Gai's jaw as Boris dove at him, both boys raining crushing blows upon his face and body. The cold, unyielding cobblestones offered no mercy as Gai's senses faded; the clamour of fists, the stinging tang of blood and wet stone, and the overwhelming despair flooded him until everything went black.