The rustling shrubs quickly cut off Reiziko's rational comment. When they realised the enormity of their predicament, their bodies froze still, becoming motionless. While Vasil stared in dismay, Reiziko opted to approach the bushes.

He raised his hand to Vasil, signalling for him to linger still for a few moments. His gradual and calculated steps barely raise a sound touching on the soft grass. His approach to the shrubs was imminent.

Touching the twigs that sprang from the main bush, he revealed all that might have been hidden behind the shrubs in one fast movement, only to be confronted with empty space. He scanned around the back of the bush for a few long moments before raising his head to see the offender running uphill towards the opposite direction.

Reiziko’s gaze locked in at the boy who had caught wind of their plans, his legs muscles tensed up as he initiated a powerful sprint. He was moving at such a fast clip that it wouldn't take him long to surpass the speed of the running culprit.

At the apex of his run, he crashed into the tall, stocky lad with tight brown hair who was assumed to have heard their conversation moments prior. Fallen on the hard dirt ground, the two boys were entangled and in a source of excruciating agony. Reiziko, however, had the upper hand in this encounter. By placing himself on the young whistleblower's tunic, he was able to turn the position into a hold.

The boy screamed in agony, "Wait! "Waiiit!" directing Reiziko's agitated gaze toward himself. Keeping a watchful eye on the terrified boy, he noticed some features that appeared familiar. Suddenly, his face perked up and cleared of the previously induced frenzy.

With a sombre and perplexed tone, Reiziko inquired, “Kajin?” At that moment, he let go of any grip he had and fell to the ground beside him. His body released from the tension it held before.

“Yes Rei! It’s me!” The boy calmed his breathing, trying to quiet his temper. They both stayed on the ground, drained of breath. The strained sense of heightened tension seemed to have fainted away at the unprecedented meeting of another familiar face.

- - -

It was now that a trio went side by side across the open halls, reaching for the assemblage. The sounds of moving feet smacking on stone slabs were the only noises that obstructed the silence. Vasil stood behind the two boys that towered over him, disturbed by his thoughts.

I don’t know who this guy is but he mustn’t heard much… He bit his nail in anticipation; the outcome of this interaction beyond the scope of his thinking. He could only hope in Reiziko’s bond with that boy to be a solid one.

On par with his thoughts, Reiziko took his turn to speak, “Hey Kajin… Sorry about that.” He murmured, stopping in his sentence with a hint of dread. “I really thought you were a whistleblower.” He bore not a care behind his choice of words.

“Yeah, haha… Tried to make it seem that way.” Remarked the tall boy with a confident expression spoke and it followed an awkward laugh.

However, unexpectedly, Kajin broke the natural pace of the conversation and spoke of a much darker topic. “You saw Thomas?” He asked, the arrhythmic pattern of Reiziko’s steps betraying the heavy weight those words placed on his thoughts, yet he responded.

“I seen how those bastards treated him…” He clenched his hand in rage and spoke through harsh teeth. Despite already being aware of Reiziko’s feelings, Vasil felt out of place being witness to their conversation. Kajin dared ensue this subject, his sense of companionship compelling him to seek solace in others.

“I understand we share the same sentiment…” He expressed non-discreetly while trying to convey his message to the best of his ability. Although quiet, it was realised that they both shared the same wrath.

After a brief pause, Kajin's frown softened into a tiny grin as he prepared to speak his mind, adding, "Hey, remember the mercenary market?" Reiziko’s face lights up, reminiscing about fond memories.

“Yeah, when he got in trouble with a merchant.” Reiziko chuckled at the thought before he ensued, “It was a sunny day, like this… It was me, you, Thomas and Phillip who were assigned with Ashon.” He spoke, Vasil remaining clueless about the identity of the aforementioned people.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Kajin took his turn to speak, bouncing off of Reiziko’s statement. “I remember how they kept avoiding him because he was a pyro.” Kajin chuckled as well, “He went and started beef with a merchant complaining about quality pyros!” He said with an exasperated tone.

“Yeah and turned out it was Lord Ulysses!” Shouted Reiziko, bursting into a fit of laughter shortly after, and grasping Kajin’s shoulder as they shakily marched forwards. Kajin’s and Reiziko’s story left Vasil underwhelmed, unable to grasp its essence. “He was whooped for days!” After Kajin's final remark on the memories, both lads laughed hysterically together, disguising the grief.

They patted each other on the back, reaching a sense of serene calmness, the blissful scenery only reimbursing the feeling. The chirping of birds rang around the courtyard, the wind whistled as it flowed through the crevices of the weathered walls and the light gleamed dimly through the wide gaps of the stone pillars.

Soon, the susurrations of a throng resounded through the wooden door that lay in front of them, allowing access to the grand hall. Abating the speed of his movements, Kajin turned his head to face the one that strode behind them this whole time.

“So… You are the grunt I heard about?” Despite the earlier occasions in which those same words were spoken with malicious intents, this incident sounded innocent and playful as it flowed with the happy tone that had been established prior. Kajin’s manner of speech was relatively livelier and friendlier opposed to Reiziko’s cold-hearted and straight forward speaking.

Vasil raised his head to meet the taller brown-haired boy’s gaze, with slight hesitation and his voice softly sounding through, he answered. “Y-yes, that’s me..”

Kajin prepared an invitation and then asked with a spacious grin, “What do you say? Shall we rid corruption together with Reiziko?” The three of them took up the pace again, giving Vasil barely enough time to dwell on the question before striding forward once more and opening the door.

The commotion surged through the entryway, signalling the start of the afternoon trials.

- - -

The uproar had subsided with only quiet murmurs breaching the silence. The moment arrived for each group to head to their allotted training and for Vasil and Reiziko’s cohort, it had been their turn to practise in martial arts. Before they began their march, the strange new instructor in charge of their martial arts training addressed his group.

“All pyromancers, please attend Lady Inga Fairclough’s training on Church of Ignis Initiate barehanded movements.” The young mercenaries understood their job flawlessly thanks to his clear and deep voice, which was complemented by his healthy look and graceful gambeson. From there, only a small group of three separated to join the main cohort of pyromancers, taking care in being discreet.

Vasil could observe the remainder of the pyromancers from the corner of his eye. None of them stuck out until his sight fell upon a tall boy with short brown hair and a stocky build.

Kajin is a pyromancer..? Having been left in a state of shock, he could only imagine what ramifications this had for the group's dynamics. It seemed reasonable to consider Kajin’s and Thomas’ relationship to be close.

He couldn’t spare another moment to dwell on that fact; the footsteps of the gathering signalled the beginning of the march towards the inner training room. He yearned to reveal his own true power via this training, granted that any free time he had to prepare was spent on sword practise.

The cohort, headed by the new proud teacher, made their way through the convoluted halls to their desired destination: the inner training room. It was long and broad enough to accommodate many activities simultaneously and its towering ceiling gave ample breathing area and ventilation. The majority of the centre of the room curved a step down from the edges, dividing the spectators to observe from the edges and the trainees to exercise their skills on the dug-out platform.

Each young boy lined up next to each other, as was customary, except this time it was regardless of size or ability. With their shoulders in close proximity, they kept motionless, awaiting for the next instruction.

The eerie silence raised the tension, prompting cold feet in many. However, it were soon to be disrupted by the blaring shouts of the instructor.

“Attention! I will be your tutor when it comes to Fior di Battaglia, at least for the foreseeable future.” While his words were emphatic, they lacked emotional depth, causing a sense of dread among the students. Yet, he didn’t let it simmer for long before he added “I am Sir Victor Barstow and I served in various academies for young scholars and aristocrats.”

His words sounded all the more distressing as he continued to expand his own lecture. “As such you will address me as Sire.” He remarked, ending his speech on a solemn note.

“Yes Sire!” expressed the gathering in unison, remaining stern in opposition with the instructor. His brown beard and knotted hair seldomly moved along with his head, as he kept expressing his brief melancholy through his body language. “Why did the royal guard have to assign me to a lowly mercenary company…?” He quietly whispered in despair.