Gai stirred awake before the others, his body instinctively responding to the thins streams of light creeping through the shutters. The faint glow of dawn cast a soft golden hue over the sheets and faces of sleeping recruits. He blinked away the heaviness of sleep, his eyes adjusting to the dusky gray that still dominated the barracks. Around him, more than half the beds were occupied by weary bodies. Some lay motionless, their breathing steady and soft, while others tossed and turned as if battling some unseen foe.
Gai slid silently out of bed, careful not to disturb his bunkmate. His movements were practiced, almost instinctive—he had learned months ago how to navigate such small areas without drawing attention to himself. The floorboards creaked softly beneath his feet as he slipped on his sandals. He made his way to the door, pausing only to grab a thin woollen cloak he had brought with him.
The air was still cool as he pulled his tunic tighter and made his way to the latrine, situated just behind the main entrance to the barracks.
The latrine stood quiet and shadowed, its damp chill greeting him as he stepped inside. Gai's movements were methodical as he approached one of the marble seats. The cold surface bit into his skin as he sat, but he ignored it, his mind already moving forward to the tasks of the day.He focused on the small, crude brush left behind by a previous visitor, dipping it into a trough of running water to clean himself. Gai finished quickly, hurried by the thought of the morning rush, and washed his hands at the communal basin before stepping out.
When he returned to the barracks, his purpose was clear: movement. He despised idleness in these early hours when his mind felt sharpest and his body yearned for action. Gai made his way toward the foyer of the barracks, remembering it as a space large enough for stretching or exercises without disturbing anyone. The foyer greeted him with its dim light—the sunlight struggled to filter through small, high-set windows carved deep into thick stone walls. Dust motes floated lazily in shafts of light like tiny golden dancers suspended mid-air.
The room was silent except for Gai's footsteps echoing faintly against stone. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms high above him, feeling his muscles pull taut as he began to warm up. Each stretch was deliberate; each movement chased away lingering traces of sleepiness that clung stubbornly to his body. His focus sharpened with every passing second.
But just as he was beginning to lose himself in the rhythm of his routine, a sudden sound pulled him from his concentration—boots striking stone in unison, their cadence measured and purposeful. Gai straightened quickly, turning toward the source of the noise.
Through the arched doorway strode Oswald and several other soldiers, their presence immediate and commanding. Each man wore a green cloak draped over their shoulders—a vivid splash of color against their otherwise muted uniforms. Their expressions were stern, their postures erect and disciplined. Among them was a man who stood out not only because of his adorned helmet but also because of the quiet authority he exuded. His cropped black beard framed a face weathered by experience yet unyielding in its determination.
"You," barked the adorned soldier sharply, pointing directly at Gai. "What is your name and dormitory number?"
For a split second, Gai hesitated—not out of fear but caution. His mind raced as he assessed the situation. These men were not here casually; their arrival carried purpose and weight.
Rising to his feet smoothly, Gai met the soldier's gaze without flinching. "I am Gai Lionel from dormitory three," he replied evenly, "bed eleven, sir."
The soldier nodded curtly before pulling out a folded map of sorts—likely a roster or guide to those stationed in this section of the barracks. He scanned it quickly while another soldier stepped forward: Oswald.
Oswald's voice cut through the quiet like steel slicing silk. "He's one of mine," Oswald confirmed without hesitation.
The man with the adorned helmet—clearly in charge—turned his sharp eyes on Oswald now. "What were your orders to him last night?" he demanded.
Oswald didn't falter under the scrutiny; instead, he squared his shoulders and answered confidently. "I instructed all boys to remain within the building unless they needed to use the latrine."
"I see," said the higher-ranking soldier slowly, dragging out each syllable as though weighing them carefully. His eyes flickered back to Gai, scrutinizing him once more before speaking again.
"Be sure to instruct them this morning that they may not leave their dormitory unless use of the latrine is required," he said firmly. "You must be clear in your communication."
"Yes, Sir Maric," Oswald replied without missing a beat.
Sir Maric—now identified by name and title—allowed a brief pause before addressing Gai directly. His voice carried both authority and an undercurrent of curiosity as he said, "Boy, I am Sir Maric, Royal Knight of Arieruro and charged with this green barracks." He paused deliberately, letting his words settle like stones into water before continuing. "It is a welcome sight to see common folk who understand the value of rising early—and exercising." There was something almost approving in his tone now, though it was tempered by formality. "For now," he added brusquely, "return immediately to your dormitory and await Oswald's command."
"Yes, sir," Gai responded crisply without hesitation.
As he gathered his garments and turned to leave, Gai couldn't help but overhear Sir Maric's parting words to Oswald: "Watch that one closely," Maric said quietly but pointedly. "He seems switched on."
Though Gai didn't linger long enough to hear Oswald's response, those words stayed with him as he closed the dormitory door behind him.
"There you are, Gai!" Louis's voice broke through the low hum of chatter in the dormitory as he darted toward his new friend, his wide eyes betraying a mix of relief and anxiety. His sandy-blond hair was tousled, and his tunic hung askew, as though he'd dressed in a rush. "I was worried. You were gone for so long—I thought something might've happened."
Gai turned to face him, his expression calm, replying with an even tone, "I'm fine, Louis. You didn't need to worry." He tilted his head slightly, studying the younger boy for a moment. "How did you sleep?
Louis shrugged, his shoulders sagging as if weighed down by the strangeness of their new surroundings. "Um, okay... I guess," he mumbled, glancing toward the rows of beds crammed into the dimly lit dormitory. "This place is so... different from home." His voice faltered on the last word, and he cast his eyes downward, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.
Gai placed a reassuring hand on Louis's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "You'll get used to it," he said firmly, though not unkindly. "This is home now."
Louis didn't respond immediately but nodded slowly. He had grown attached to Gai in the short time they'd known each other; the boy's quiet strength seemed to anchor him in this unfamiliar world. Though they had arrived alongside Roland and Boris from Cemirini, Louis found himself clinging to Gai's calm demeanor—perhaps too much.
Before either could say more, the door to the dormitory slammed open with such force that it rattled on its hinges. The sudden commotion drew every eye toward the doorway.
Oswald stormed in, His booming voice echoing in the small space. "Wake up, lads! Get your rations now or go hungry today!" A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it barely softened his stern expression.
Behind him, two older boys strained as they pushed a wooden cart into the room. Their clothes were streaked with flour and smudges of what looked like dried fruit preserves, giving them an almost comical appearance if not for their exhausted faces. The cart itself was piled high with an assortment of foods that gleamed in the dim light streaming through narrow windows: golden-brown cakes dusted with sugar crystals, flaky pastries oozing jam, and glossy sweet rolls drizzled with honey. The sight made several boys salivate audibly.
"Take as much as you need, lads!" Oswald barked, stepping aside to let the crowd surge forward. Like wolves descending on prey, the boys rushed at the cart in a chaotic flurry of limbs and shouts. Hands grabbed greedily at anything within reach—some snatching armfuls of cakes while others stuffed their tunics with bread.
Louis started to move toward the fray but stopped short when Gai's hand shot out and clasped his elbow firmly. "Wait till last," Gai said quietly but with enough authority to make Louis halt mid-step.
Louis blinked up at him in confusion. "Why? Everyone else is—"
"Just trust me," Gai interrupted gently but firmly. His grip loosened slightly as Louis hesitated but ultimately stayed put.
Nearby, two boys also lingered at the edge of the chaos, watching silently as the others ransacked the cart. One was taller with dark curls framing a sharp-featured face; his arms were crossed over his chest as he observed with an unreadable expression. The other boy—shorter but stockier—stood beside him with an air of quiet confidence that belied his unassuming appearance.
Finally, when most of the food had been claimed and scattered across beds or tucked away into pockets, Gai led Louis toward what remained on the cart: baskets filled with sun-dried fruits and nuts, loaves of freshly baked bread wrapped neatly in cloth, and wedges of firm cheese.
"Here," Gai said as he handed Louis a small basket laden with fruits and nuts. "Take these." He grabbed bread and cheese for himself before stepping back to let the other two boys approach.
The taller boy glanced at Gai with a faint nod of acknowledgment before selecting similar items for himself and his companion. As they turned away from the cart, Oswald's smirk finally gave way to what might have been approval—or perhaps simply amusement—as he took note of their restraint.
"Okay, lads!" Oswald called out abruptly, silencing any lingering murmurs among the group. "Slightly new orders: apart from trips to the latrine, you are not permitted to leave this dormitory at all." He didn't wait for questions or protests; instead, he spun on his heel and marched out as swiftly as he'd arrived, leaving behind an air thick with tension.
Louis plopped onto Gai's bunk beside him and stared at the basket in his lap. "Gai," he began hesitantly after a moment of silence, "why couldn't I take any of the sweets? I can't even remember when I last had one."
Gai leaned back slightly against the wall behind him and regarded Louis thoughtfully before answering. "Do you know what was missing from that cart?" he asked in return.
Louis furrowed his brow and shook his head slowly.
"Water," Gai said simply but pointedly. He gestured toward their shared jug on a nearby table—the only source they'd been given since arriving. "Those breads and cakes are loaded with stuff that'll make you thirsty—and hungry—faster than you realize."
Louis frowned in realization but still looked skeptical. "So... what? You think this is some kind of test?"
"I'd bet on it," Gai replied without hesitation.
"That would be about right," came an unexpected voice from nearby. Both boys turned to see the taller boy from earlier approaching alongside his counterpart.
"My brother told me about this place before I came here," he continued matter-of-factly as he stopped beside them. "He said everything is a test—right from day one."
The shorter boy elbowed him lightly in mock reprimand. "Sorren! You can't just barge into people's conversations like that without introducing yourself first."
Sorren rolled his eyes but relented with a small smile. "Fine... I'm Sorren," he said before gesturing toward his companion. "And this is Mack—we're cousins from Whitwatch."
"I'm Louis," the boy offered quickly, his voice light but tinged with a certain nervous energy. He motioned toward his companion with a small nod. "And this is Gai—we're both from Cemirini."
Gai sat on his cot, gave a brief wave, and said, "Yeah, it's been... a trip getting here," with a faint note of humor. He stretched one leg out casually, looking relaxed and comfortable in the moment.
"So, Cemirini," one boy chimed in—a lanky teen named Sorren, whose unruly hair seemed perpetually on the verge of covering his eyes. "That's... what? South, In the forest near the grasslands? Bet you had it easy growing up there. Spent your days climbing trees or hunting or whatever."
Louis raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly against the bedpost behind him. "Easy? Not exactly," he replied with a chuckle that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sure, we've got the forest, but you try hauling wood before dawn every day. Gai and I can probably tell you more about trees and critters than you'd ever want to know."
Gai smirked faintly but said nothing, letting Louis handle the banter. Sorren grinned back and shrugged. "Sounds better than where I'm from—nothing but salty winds, fish guts, and rocks." He wrinkled his nose dramatically, earning a ripple of laughter from the group.
As they spoke, more boys trickled into the dormitory in pairs and small groups, most escorted by Oswald—a stern-faced man whose sharp eyes missed nothing. Each time he entered, Oswald's gaze swept over the room like a hawk surveying its prey. He lingered for moments too long on certain boys, as if mentally cataloguing their behaviour: who was chatting in clusters, who sat alone staring at the floor, who looked too pale or too weak to stand for long.
The dormitory had grown stifling over the the hours and among those already present, it became increasingly clear that dehydration was taking its toll. Water had been scarce, with even the skin Gai had brought with him near empty. The signs were subtle at first—a few dry lips here, a sluggish movement there—but soon undeniable. Faces flushed redder than they should have been; hands trembled as they gripped onto bedframes for stability.
"Hey Mack," Sorren suddenly whispered loudly enough to draw attention. He jabbed an elbow at his cousin was lounging nearby. "Look at that one." He pointed toward the far side of the room where a frail-looking boy had just stood up on shaky legs. The boy swayed precariously, as though caught in an invisible gust of wind.
Before anyone could react, he collapsed forward like a felled tree. The dull thud of his body hitting the hard wooden floor made several boys flinch. A sickening crack followed as his face struck the ground—then silence.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then came the laughter—sharp and cruel—from Sorren and Mack. It echoed through the room like nails scraping against stone until Gai shot to his feet, his expression hardening into something fierce and unyielding.
"Enough!" he barked, his voice cutting through their amusement like a blade. He strode toward the fallen boy with purpose, ignoring Sorren's startled look and Mack's muttered protest of "We were just joking."
"Get back," Gai commanded firmly when a few curious onlookers began to gather around the scene. There was no hesitation in his tone; it brooked no argument. The nearest boys shuffled backward awkwardly as Gai knelt beside the semi-conscious figure.
Louis appeared not far behind him while Sorren hovered uncertainly nearby, clearly unsure whether to help or stay out of Gai's way. "What's wrong with him?" Sorren asked hesitantly after a pause.
"He fainted," Gai replied briskly without looking up. He gently rolled the boy onto his side and inspected his face with quick but careful hands. Blood trickled steadily from the boy's nose—a vivid red against his pale skin—and pooled onto the floor beneath him.
"Broken nose," Gai muttered grimly before glancing over his shoulder at Sorren. "Help me sit him up."
Sorren hesitated for half a second before stepping forward and crouching down beside him. Together they lifted the boy into a seated position despite his groggy attempts to resist.
The injured boy groaned softly as consciousness returned in fragments; confusion clouded his eyes when they fluttered open. "Wh...what happened?" he mumbled thickly.
"You passed out," Gai explained simply but not unkindly. He pressed a folded rag—provided by Mack—to the boy's bleeding nose and guided his hand to hold it in place. "Keep pressure here," he instructed firmly. "And don't tilt your head back—you'll just make yourself sick."
The boy nodded weakly and muttered something that sounded like "Thanks." His voice was hoarse and barely audible.
By now, Louis had returned to their corner while Mack lingered awkwardly near Sorren, neither of them daring to meet Gai's gaze as he stood up again. The tension between them hung heavy in the air until Gai finally broke it with a curt nod toward their bunks.
"Go sit down," he said flatly before turning away without another word.
---
As dusk crept in and shadows lengthened across the room's rough wooden walls, Oswald reappeared—this time pushing a food cart laden with far humbler fare than that morning's feast: a large cask of water that sloshed audibly with every step; a steaming pot of bone-and-vegetable soup whose thin aroma barely reached past its surface; baskets of coarse bread that looked one step away from stale.
The boys lined up silently to receive their portions under Oswald's watchful eye—none daring to speak except for hurried expressions of gratitude when handed their share. When it came time for the injured boy to approach, Oswald studied him briefly before gripping his arm and leading him out of the room without explanation.
"They're probably taking him to some kind of infirmary," Louis speculated aloud as he tore into a piece of bread back at their bunks.
"Let's hope so," Gai replied quietly, though there was doubt etched into every word he spoke.
The rest of the evening passed in subdued silence; even Sorren seemed chastened by what had happened earlier. As night fell fully outside their narrow windows, each boy climbed into bed with their own thoughts swirling restlessly about what challenges tomorrow might bring yet too exhausted to dwell on them for long.