Awe overtook Gabriel as he and the soldiers neared King's Crest. Perched at Valandor’s southernmost point, the city's majesty sprawled before him. From this vantage, its name was aptly fitting. King’s Crest sat atop a hill so grand it resembled a mountain more than a mere rise.

The city's hilly terrain was a dense maze of structures, each topped with a sun-kissed terra-cotta roof. Their tiered formation reminded Gabriel of terraced vineyards climbing skyward, each layer reaching higher into the heavens. Velictras soared the sky, gliding toward the city, their wings catching the sunlight, seemingly beckoning him into the heart of the city.

The capital’s ancient walls, crafted from dark, age-old stones, told silent tales of innumerable epochs and conflicts they had weathered. Battle scars adorned them, mute testament to historical skirmishes, yet their enduring strength was evident. Soldiers patrolled these bulwarks, their gaze unyielding and ever watchful for the slightest hint of a threat.

A gentle nudge from Atlas brought him back. "Nothing quite like it,” he said, as if in prayer. As if on cue, the clear tone of a trumpet announced their arrival, echoing from one of the leading soldiers.

Traversing the drawbridge, Gabriel briefly observed the moat's depths. Ephemeral shadows danced across, offering a fleeting glimpse before diving into the dark. It was yet another marvel, he mused, that fortified this capital. The city's guards, recognizing their arrival, greeted them with crisp salutes as they passed beneath the imposing arch.

Beyond the initial fortifications, a second wall caught his attention. Though it didn't rise as high as the first, it shared the same shadowed stone construct, making its presence no less dominant. It added a deeper layer of complexity to the city's defense, a formidable gauntlet for any would-be invader. Gabriel couldn't help but think that anyone daring enough to attack King's Crest would be a fool.

As he absorbed the expansive view, a whirlwind of wonder and anxiety swirled within him. Subconsciously, he wiped his moist palms against his trousers.

"It's good to be back," Avis said, his voice carrying a relief so palpable that it seemed to encapsulate the heartfelt sentiments of every man present.

Suddenly, a joyous cheer burst forth from the ranks. The infectious energy surged, with soldiers sharing hearty laughs and embracing one another. This wasn't just about the familiarity of the surroundings; it signified reunions with families, loved ones, and the routine comforts of the life they once knew. Their jubilation stood as a poignant reminder of the commitments they shouldered and the ties that bound them. The life of a soldier was not easy. Of that, Gabriel held no disillusionment.

“Tonight, we celebrate our return!" Atlas said, the gleam in his eyes hinting at the festivities to come.

Avis grinned like a madman. "How about we find a place full of lasses? It's been too long."

Atlas chuckled. “Who are you kidding? I know you haven’t been with no lady.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No lady would be dumb enough to bed you with a face like that.”

“The ladies love my face.”

“Sure, they do.”

Commander Galland, who approached the congregated troops promptly halted their jesting. His voice resonated clearly, ensuring everyone heard his words. "I commend each of you for your unwavering bravery and dedication. You've earned a respite. But make the most of it—for in half a moon's cycle, our training resumes." The soldiers all let out a collective sigh.

Galland drew closer to their smaller group and nodded toward the men, then looked at Gabriel. "Orion, come with me."

Gabriel exchanged glances with his comrades. Each face held a knowing smile. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you three, thank you.”

“Ease up, lad,” Atlas said as he delivered a robust on Gabriel’s back. A gesture that once would have sent him stumbling. “You ain’t dying, no need for thanks. Just make us proud. We’ll be seeing you.”

Gabriel nodded, then followed Galland’s lead. After a few steps, the man turned to him. "Are you ready?"

Gabriel raised his brow.

"Don't play coy with me. I've had plenty of time to learn how that mind of yours works."

Gabriel hesitated a moment. "We're going to the Academy?"

A slow smile spread across Galland's face as he nodded. “I can’t guarantee your admission, but I’ll speak on your behalf.”

A wave of gratitude washed over Gabriel. “Thank you, commander.”

“Whatever happens, know that you've earned the respect of not just me, but every soldier you've fought beside.”

As they passed beyond the second fortification wall, the expanse of King's Crest revealed itself to Gabriel. The surrounding sights clashed with the image he had formed from his lessons in Accamania. There, Balatians were depicted as mere warriors, with little appreciation for the finer things. Yet the city before him shattered that portrayal. Smooth cobblestones formed the streets, wide enough for grand carriages. Consistent and tastefully colored storefronts stood side by side, and while the architecture was rooted in practicality, it emanated a distinctive allure, marrying function with beauty.

Breaking his reverie, Galland asked, "Your first visit to King's Crest?"

Gabriel nodded. "Uh, yes."

“Curious.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Gabriel burrowed his brows.

“I thought you would have traveled here before, with your father being a merchant.”

“Well… I’ve lived a sheltered life.”

"Hmm," Galland hummed, looking sidelong at him with skepticism.

Changing the topic, Gabriel asked, "Are you happy to be back in the city?"

Galland began cautiously, "In some ways, yes. The issue with returning is that people suddenly have all these expectations and demands. I often find solace in the simplicity of camp life." His face then broke into a grin. "But I must say, the company of women is something I've missed, so I plan to fully capitalize on the opportunity." He concluded with a roguish wink.

They meandered through the streets, each ensnared by their private musings. Around them, the vibrant pulse of daily life danced. Vendors hailed passersby with spirited pitches for their wares, while children's jubilant calls echoed as they indulged in a boisterous game of squash ball. Nearby, a weathered old man, his face a roadmap of time-worn creases, theatrically shooed the youngsters away. His loud complaints about "irresponsible kids" and "negligent parents" provided entertainment to many. Not too distant, florists artfully curated bouquets with a peculiar shade of orange, a hue Gabriel recognized only from fruits. Musicians strummed unfamiliar instruments that sat across their laps, drawing both hands into a dance that produced melodies haunting in their beauty. These sounds, both jubilant and melancholic, created a symphony that captivated him — a union of contrasts harmonized to perfection.

Galland gestured towards a bakery as they strolled past. "That place has the best custarde tarts in the kingdom."

Gabriel salivated at the thought. He didn’t know what custarde was, but he remembered snagging tarts from the kitchens and enjoying his prize. "That sounds tempting."

"You won't need a full stomach for where you’re going."

As they rounded a corner, the architectural style began to shift. While the buildings retained the same stone and roofing material, their designs were decidedly more ornate. The roofs now curved gracefully, and the edges of the structures softened, transitioning from sharp angles to gentle curves. Steel balconies graced the upper levels, and from them, ropes stretched across the street, supporting a vibrant array of banners that painted the vicinity in rich hues. The presence of armed guards became more pronounced. Donned in superior armor, their uniforms were immaculate, hinting at their elevated status.

After navigating several more meandering streets, Galland came to a stop and declared, "We've arrived."

Gabriel assessed the locale with a hint of bewilderment. "This is the place?"

Galland pointed to a solid stone wall punctuated by a rich mahogany double door nestled beneath a circular arch. The immediate area was strikingly serene. "It's through that door."

His expectations somewhat jarred, Gabriel paused. "I had envisioned something more…."

Galland shook his head. "This isn't some grand palace. It's a training ground where boys are forged into men."

As they approached the red door, Gabriel's steps faltered, causing the commander to pause as well. "Well, come on," the commander said.

“It’s just… What if I’m not good enough?”

"In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you doubt yourself."

"All my plans hinge on being admitted here."

Galland clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "Little Wolf, whether you gain entrance here, you always have a place in my ranks. Remember the adversaries you've stood against, the battles you've weathered. This challenge is no greater. You've repeatedly surprised and impressed, even the skeptics, me among them. That fire in you? Keep it burning."

Strengthened by Galland's words, he nodded firmly. "I'll make it in.”

The moment of sentiment was interrupted as Galland knocked assertively on the door. In moments, two stern-faced guards answered it.

The first guard's demeanor softened upon recognizing the commander. “Galland boy, it’s good to see you.”

Galland responded with a warrior's grip, their forearms clashing in mutual respect. "It's always good to return."

The second guard's gaze lingered on Gabriel. "Fresh blood?"

With an affirming nod from Galland, the guards stepped aside, the heavy door creaking open. "May fortune favor you," the first guard said as Gabriel took his first steps inside.

Each footfall seemed weighed with the import of the plans he'd laid out for his life, plans that now teetered on the precipice of the next few moments.

Stepping inside, the academy belied its unassuming exterior; its spaciousness was astonishing. Behind its discreet façade, the interior courtyard was a haven of lush greenery, offering a soothing contrast to the demanding instruction that Gabriel knew unfolded here. The area radiated a peaceful aura, seemingly harboring age-old secrets beneath its tranquil surface.

Venturing past another stone arch, Gabriel encountered the vision he had anticipated: a bustling training arena with the tactile sensation of coarse sand underfoot. Young aspirants, nearing adulthood, engaged in vigorous duels, their bodies protected by polished plate armor. The harmonious clash of blades dominated the ambient sound, echoing tales of valor and discipline.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “They practice with real blades?”

“Wooden training swords are for beginners, young ones still wet behind the ears."

The intensity of these trainees surpassed Gabriel's early lessons with Ser Rodrick. He recalled the initial unease of wrapping his fingers around a blade for the first time. Now, a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension pulsed through him. He wanted to become like these warriors; only then could he do what needed to be done.

"There's no turning back now," Galland said from over his shoulder.

"I don’t intend to," Gabriel shot back, his voice firm.

A smile crept onto Galland's face. "Perhaps you won't disgrace me after all."

They continued towards a dark featured man whose imposing stature was awe-inspiring. His brawny arms seemed more robust than most men’s thighs, and he overshadowed nearly everyone he had ever encountered, dwarfing even Ser Rodrick in height and girth.

Galland inclined his head gracefully, his closed fist resting upon an open palm. Gabriel emulated the gesture. The imposing figure acknowledged Galland's salute with his own, but offered Gabriel only a fleeting, almost dismissive glance.

“Grandmaster, this is Orion. I would like to submit him to testing for entrance into the Academy,” Galland said.

“Who is he?” the grandmaster asked.

“A merchant's son. He joined the army a little over six moon cycles ago. He…”

The Grandmaster interjected, "His age?"

“Thirteen.”

"And why was a child of his age inducted into the army?"

“He had nowhere else to go. He wanted to help around the camp and learn what it meant to be a soldier.”

"And why are you vouching for him?”

"In the short time since he joined us, he has shown a remarkable aptitude for combat. In the beginning, he was barely competent with a sword, but under the guidance of our men and my tutelage, he has grown. Orion has so much potential he just needs the training.”

The grandmaster had his arms crossed and still didn’t look impressed. Galland added, “He fought against the Paresh when he didn’t need to. He saved many lives. The men have taken to calling him Little Wolf."

At this, the grandmaster's thick eyebrows perked up, and he scrutinized Gabriel with renewed interest. "How long have you wielded a blade, young pup?"

"About a year, Grandmaster."

"Most recruits here have years of training under their belts. You'll be outclassed."

"Sir, with respect, you don't know me. Give me a chance, and I'll show you what I'm capable of. I won't claim to best the other recruits immediately, but give me a year, and I will."

The Grandmaster turned to Galland and chuckled. "He does have a certain confidence, doesn't he?" Returning his gaze to Gabriel, he asked, "What makes you want to join the academy?"

"You train the best, and I want to be the best.”

The Grandmaster seemed to weigh his answer for a moment. "Very well. Let's see what you've got."