They woke in the morning. Nihlukei was up before the rest of his unit, and he rang a bell by the door, its high-pitched vibrations filling the room from corner to corner. The bell woke the rest of the soldiers, and slowly, they organized and made their way back down the northern hallway, to the assembly hall. There, other soldiers were already eating breakfast, but there were still many empty tables, already set with food and silverware.

Nihlukei sat at a table, and the rest of the soldiers followed suit. Heror set himself down near the edge of the table, and immediately, the warm wafting fumes of food reached his nostrils. He looked down to see a full plate of breakfast, with eggs, bread, bacon, and cheese. It was the first time Heror had seen a full plate in years.

Beside the plate was a metal goblet, filled with a sweet-smelling beverage. Heror started to lift up the goblet, but before he could drink, Nihlukei came around the table and approached Heror.

“May I have your name, please?”

Heror eyed the siekarum, then set down the goblet.

“Heror,” he answered blankly.

“Heror,” Nihlukei echoed, with a slight bow. “Good to have you.”

The siekarum then moved on, and Heror watched as he made his way around the table, performing introductions with the other conscripts. Heror picked up the goblet again and took a sip, his eyes fixed on the siekarum as he spoke with other commoners from the mahallas.

Heror still didn’t trust Nihlukei. Opel elves had done little to earn his trust over the years, and so he was waiting for Nihlukei to slip. But the siekarum had been respectful so far. Nevertheless, Heror wasn’t convinced. Even as he began to eat his food, he had a watchful eye on the officer.

The hungry conscripts ate their meals fairly quickly. Once finished, Nihlukei led them through the assembly hall and past the kitchen, down to the east hallway where they then made their way to the armory. Eventually, they came to a short passage that branched off of the east hallway. They carried on through that, and soon, they came to a vast, open room, teeming with soldiers and other Khi Thung workers.

At the south end of the room was a smithing area. There, several smiths were already hard at work, grinding and hammering metals, while other workers stitched finished sheets to red cloths for armor. Large wooden slats were open on the ceiling above, controlled by a rope system, letting in the bright morning sunlight. Smoke and steam from the smithing work rose through the makeshift skylight, and a gentle breeze filled the armory.

At the north end of the room, finished armor sets and weapons were stacked and assorted for soldiers to choose from. Nihlukei led his unit here and stopped short of the collection. Other soldiers were already sifting through for supplies, so Nihlukei turned and addressed his group.

“Once they’re done, you’ll choose your armor,” he explained, speaking loudly so as to be heard above the noise. “The armor sets are sorted from smallest to largest. The straps are reasonably adjustable, so you’re not looking for a perfect fit. If you can move, and you feel protected, the armor’s yours.”

He now took a few steps to his left and motioned to the weapons armory in the northeast corner, where swords and other tools were arranged for selection.

“Next, you’ll pick a sword,” he continued. “The khilung traditionally employs a lightweight longsword in combat, less than a metra long. These blades are not hard to swing, and can be used with either one or two hands with relative ease. No other weapon preferences will be entertained at this time. If you have negligible experience with a longsword, let me know, and I will do my best to give you careful attention during instruction.”

The siekarum took a couple more steps and now neared the end section of the armory, where strange shield-like items sat in rows, made of gilded metal and leather straps.

“This will be the final part of your outfit,” Nihlukei went on, picking up one of the shield-like items. “The aspidan. Many of you may be familiar with the traditional royal aspis of the city guards. But siephalls and other foot soldiers of the Ardysan infantry use a different means for torso protection.”

Nihlukei took the aspidan and began strapping it to his arm.

“The aspidan is a long, thin, curved sheet of metal that conforms to the bend of your free arm,” the siekarum explained. “It can be strapped to the arm for autonomous protection, but there is also a folding leather handle on the inside of the aspidan. This handle can be grabbed, and the aspidan can be swung as an ancillary piece to the sword. Proper use is essential, as the aspidan doesn’t offer as much heft or security as a traditional shield. But I assure you, on the battlefield, this tool has saved my life countless times.”

The armor area started to clear out, and soon, there was enough room for the conscripts to browse and select their items. Nihlukei motioned for his unit to proceed.

“Pick your armor, then put it on,” Nihlukei instructed. “Then pick your weapon and your aspidan, and return to me when you’re finished. Once we regroup, we’ll head to the training grounds.”

Heror started at the middle of the armor section. After some searching, he found an armor set that might fit him. He lifted the cuirass and gave it a look, but soon noticed that another conscript was lingering to his right. He turned to see the young else Khoulane, who was struggling to find an armor set that fit.

Looking at the boy further, Heror surmised that he couldn’t be older than 15 years. The boy lifted one of the larger armor sets with dark hands, holding it to his small, thin body as if to compare. The cuirass stretched all the way down to his knees, however, and after a minute, he set down that armor and picked up an even larger one. This went on for a few more moments, until it pained Heror to watch further.

“Those are too big,” Heror grumbled.

Startled, Khoulane looked at Heror, then back at the armor that hung over his legs.

“Are you sure?” the boy asked, eyes wide as he hugged the cloth to his chest.

“Yes,” Heror sighed, nodding to the left. “Smaller sets are over there.”

“Oh, alright,” Khoulane said with a nervous twitch. “Thank you, Heror.”

Skittish, the boy set down the armor and hurried past Heror, making his way down to the smaller armor sets. At that moment, an older, burlier conscript with a full black beard stepped beside Heror, watching Khoulane as he left. He let out a small huff of a laugh through his nose and shook his head.

“That’s the one who wouldn’t shut up,” the man muttered.

Heror grinned. The man sifted through armor sets with his hands, eventually settling on one from the middle of the pile.

“You can see it in the eyes. He’s touched in the head,” the man went on. “Don’t know why the Gods make people like that.”

Heror’s grin faded, and he glanced back at Khoulane, watching as the boy still struggled to find an armor set for himself. As the bearded man left with his outfit, Heror took a deep breath and turned back to the armor array, setting down his chosen set as he now sought out a helmet. The helmets – smooth gilded armets – were less variant in size, and so he quickly found one that provided adequate comfort and support. After that, he picked a pair of armored boots and gauntlets to complete his ensemble. Then he checked on Khoulane again. The boy was still grappling over his decision.

Heror let out an exhale and tucked his armor set underneath his arm, carrying his other items by their straps in his other hand. He walked over to Khoulane, who only gave him a glance as he grew near.

“That should be good,” Heror told Khoulane, motioning to the armor set in his hands.

Khoulane stared at the armor, then looked at Heror.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Heror said with a nod.

“I just want to make sure there’s enough metal,” the boy went on. “Back home, one of my cousins got his leg cut off by a ta’r’ha’jee with an axe. Clean gone under the knee. I told him not to go in just pants. Nothing to stop the blade from running right through if it’s got a good angle. He was running with a rival clan, said the healers in Render would just fix him up afterward. I told him, ‘yeah, but not even them can give you a new leg’. Now he walks with a wooden stick for a calf. I want to keep my calves. I’m not looking to–”

“Khoulane,” Heror interrupted with a reassuring smile. “That should be good.”

Khoulane glanced at the armor, then back at Heror, struggling to make eye contact.

“Oh… alright,” he said. “Thank you, Heror.”

The boy left, armor in hand, and Heror eyed him for a moment longer. He then took his own armor selections and began slipping them on, starting with the cuirass. He lifted the garment by its interior pads and guided his head through the torso. Once it was on securely, he felt the heavy tug of the metal pauldrons on his shoulders. The golden bronze breastplate pressed against his midsection, and a smaller sheet protected his upper back. Red garbs stitched together between armor pieces hung down like a cloak, falling over his back and his upper arms.

After putting on the cuirass, Heror strapped on his cuisse and boots next. Each cuisse wrapped around most of his thigh, snapping into place with a leather strap that wrapped around the back end of the leg. The boots slid on fairly easily, covering everything up to his kneecap, and once on, Heror buckled them at the shins and the bridges of his feet, tightening the fit.

Now, Heror palmed his helmet with both hands, lifting it up to his face. In the light gold metal cranium, he could see his reflection, distorted by the swift curvature of the head guard. He saw his face, and he saw the pauldrons of Ardysan armor, perched upon his shoulders. This was the armor he’d grown to hate in Cephragon.

For a moment, he wondered why he didn’t just run when the gates opened for him. Maybe he could have found a chance. He then thought of Thaeolai and Ucankacei, but neither of them were there anymore. He’d chosen to stay for them, but now they had been separated. Heror huffed and shook his head at the cruel irony, then lifted the helmet and put it on. Seeing that it fit, he took it off again and moved on to the weapon selection.

The longswords were of high quality, made of a gilded metal mix that matched the armor set. The handles and hilts were made of grooved bronze, while the blades themselves were a sharp and brilliant gold, each linear with a long temper line running down the middle of the blade flat. Heror was almost impressed by the craftsmanship, and how it had been replicated time after time. Seeing no difference among weapons, he picked a sword at random and picked a red leather sheath to go with it, tucking the sheath onto his armor belt.

Finally, Heror came to the aspidan. Ucankacei had never trained him in the use of shields, so Heror liked the idea of a tool that would allow him to use two hands for his sword. He picked up an aspidan with his left hand and saw how the shield hybrid almost wrapped around his forearm, extending past his elbow on one side. The metal had the thickness of a light shield, but it could be adjusted by the straps inside. As Heror held the aspidan, its lack of rigidity startled him.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

Heror turned to see the ashen elf Braylyn, who was holding an aspidan of his own, looking down at it with a perplexed expression.

“I fought a long time ago for the War Chancellor in Charondor,” the ashen elf said. “We used greatshields that reached from toe to chest. Could stab them into the ground for defense against arrows. This is just about the opposite.”

“Surprised they held the border wall this long with these,” Heror muttered.

Braylyn let out a short chuckle, and Heror smirked, adjusting the aspidan in his hand. Braylyn turned away and made his way back toward Nihlukei, and Heror followed. They waited for a few more conscripts to finish choosing their tools, and once everyone was accounted for, Nihlukei led them out of the armory and back into the fortress house’s eastern hallway.

From the eastern hallway, the group carried on, making its way to the southern hallway, where more barracks lined the passage. After a few more minutes of walking, they came to another adjacent hallway that branched off from the southern hall. Nihlukei led his men down this hall, and soon, the hallway opened into a small entryway, dimly lit and underlain by a stone floor. At the end of the entryway, a large wooden door sat, thick and heavy on its hinges, guarded by a siephall on either side.

Nihlukei nodded to the guardsmen and approached the door. Once he came to it, he wrapped both hands around the large, curved metal handle. With a little effort, he managed to pull the door open, and as he did so, bright light poured into the room. Heror had to raise his arm to shield his eyes, and even when his eyes adjusted, the light of the midday Sun was all he could see.

“Siephalls,” Nihlukei said, turning back to his group. “Let’s get to training.”

Nihlukei walked through the door, and the others followed. When they emerged on the other side, they were met with the sight of the training grounds.

The training grounds were vast – far larger than Heror had anticipated. They stretched over one-hundred yards to the south, and over twenty-five yards on either side. The entire yard was a massive, flat plot of limestone brick and terracotta. The bricks took on a block-by-block pattern, with redder bricks outlining large squares of space, inside which siephalls from other units sparred with one another. Beyond the plot, Heror could see nothing but rolling green hills and forests, made dense by distance. Above, a full blue sky greeted him.

It was the most freedom Heror had ever felt. But soon, his eyes fell on the far edges of the plot. There, Heror could see a ten-foot stone wall that seemed to box the soldiers in, and at each corner of the plot, a guard tower sat.

Heror frowned, but it wasn’t long before the siekarum demanded his attention again. Nihlukei called out to his siephalls, and when they all gave him their eyes, he motioned to the expanse of the plot.

“These are the training grounds,” the siekarum explained. “For however long we stay here, this is where you will hone your skills and prepare for battle. There is no true substitute for experience on the battlefield, but here, I will do my best to enable you to succeed. Today, we’ll start by simply growing familiar with our equipment. I will also gauge your skills, and determine who needs more of my attention at the moment. Come, this way.”

Nihlukei turned and started the trek across the training grounds, and his siephalls followed. They walked past dozens of other soldiers occupying plots of brick, until they came to an empty section of the training grounds near the back corner. Under the gentle warmth of the sun, the siephalls spread out across their designated area, by Nihlukei’s command. Once the siephalls were spread out, they awaited Nihlukei’s next order. The siekarum performed a quick count, then nodded to himself.

“There are twenty-one of us here, with nine others resting in the barracks,” he confirmed. “I don’t expect the others to join us, so we will organize into pairs with this current group.”

Nihlukei paused for a moment. Then, to Heror’s surprise, the siekarum’s eyes fell on him.

“Heror, correct?” Nihlukei asked.

Heror eyed the siekarum with a look of confusion, then nodded.

“You’ll be sparring with me,” Nihlukei told him. “The rest of you, organize into pairs. Once you’ve done so, we will begin our training session.”

The conscripts began assembling into pairs, and Heror reluctantly made his way over to the siekarum. The two exchanged a glance, but Nihlukei said nothing to him, instead turning his attention back to the group. Heror watched as Nihlukei walked away from him, toward the group. The siekarum approached Braylyn and said something to the ashen elf that Heror could not hear, then returned to his position with Heror and remained silent.

As they stood, Heror squinted his eyes in Nihlukei’s direction, still untrusting of the Opelite. In moments, ten pairs were formed, and Nihlukei unsheathed his sword, holding his aspidan by the handle in his other hand.

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“Good!” he called out, his voice taking on added volume. “Now, our first sparring session will focus on acquiring balance between the sword and the aspidan. Simply trade light blows with your partner. Strike with the sword, and block with the aspidan. Become familiar with your instruments, and decide what is comfortable for you. Use some restraint, but bring urgency. We are not just introducing ourselves to the tools we will use. We are simulating battle. Helmets on! Opvae!”

The siephalls began to spar with one another, and Heror turned to Nihlukei. He slipped on his helmet and drew his sword, blue eyes staring intently at his target. After a moment of anticipation, Nihlukei nodded feverishly, his own eyes glinting in the shadow underneath his helmet.

“Opvae!” he exclaimed with newfound energy.

On command, Heror lurched forward and swung his sword at Nihlukei, and the siekarum deflected effortlessly with the aspidan. With unexpected quickness, Nihlukei began his swing, and Heror saw the siekarum’s sword flying toward him. He lifted his aspidan to deflect the blow, but was late with his defense, and was knocked off balance by the power of Nihlukei’s strike. It took Heror a moment to regain his footing, and by then, Nihlukei had stepped forward, putting pressure on the young siephall.

“Opvae!” Nihlukei shouted again, with unnatural intensity.

Heror grunted and swung again, this time aiming for Nihlukei’s left side. Nihlukei was ready, however, swinging his aspidan and wrenching Heror’s blade aside. Before Heror could recover, Nihlukei swung toward him, and Heror was forced to swing his aspidan at the last second, just barely deflecting Nihlukei’s blow. In the ensuing movement, Heror’s feet were twisted up, and he stumbled to the ground, falling onto his back. He rolled to the side and rushed to his feet, and when he entered his stance again, Nihlukei was still waiting for him.

By now, Nihlukei was twitching with energy. While Heror was sluggish and caught off-guard, Nihlukei was pulsing with fire, his feet ever so subtly hopping with a frantic rhythm as he maintained his stance. The siekarum smiled, invigorated by the combat, and as Heror saw this, a wave of anger washed over him. He felt eyes watching him as he struggled against the siekarum. And he realized why Nihlukei had chosen him, the half-breed, as his partner: To embarrass him.

Now Heror came to life. With sweat rolling down his forehead, he lunged forward and pursued Nihlukei’s left side, then diverted course and attacked his right at the last second. Nihlukei reached to block the slash with his aspidan, but his balance suffered, and he had to take a step back. Now Nihlukei sent his sword back toward Heror, but Heror was ready this time. With his aspidan, he swung and scraped Nihlukei’s sword away. Using that same momentum, Heror spun to his right and, using the move that Ucankacei had taught him, sent a searing swipe down toward Nihlukei’s legs.

The siekarum’s eyes widened, shocked by the quickness of Heror’s recovery. He managed to position his aspidan just in time to prevent Heror’s sword from meeting his boot buckles, but by lowering himself, he again lost his balance, and stumbled backward, barely keeping his composure.

Heror stood, his stance strong, and as the siekarum recovered, Heror expected him to grow angry over the young siephall’s success. Instead, to Heror’s surprise, when Nihlukei turned around, his smile had only grown wider, and there was a spark in his green eyes as he looked toward Heror.

“Yes!!” the siekarum exclaimed with excitement. “Everyone! Stop what you’re doing for a moment and look here!”

The other conscripts ceased sparring, and Heror glanced around the group, suddenly confused. He turned toward Nihlukei, whose sword was lowered as he gave a lecture to the unit.

“Heror just gave me a perfect example of combat balance that I want to show to you all,” Nihlukei explained, pacing the grounds. “A beginner’s first inclination may be to use the aspidan as one would use a shield. But the use of the aspidan is not meant to be passive. One must be active and aggressive when using the aspidan. And by being active, one’s energy, balance, and reaction quickness can be maximized. The aspidan is not merely a protection tool, but a catalyst for superior swordsmanship. With the aspidan, you can not only deflect opposing blows, but better redirect them and open pathways for your sword. Observe!”

Nihlukei now returned to his spot across from Heror and raised his sword and aspidan. He motioned for Heror to do the same.

“I am going to attack Heror,” Nihlukei went on. “When I do, watch the manner in which he uses the aspidan, not just to protect himself, but to use my sacrifice of balance, and gain an advantage.”

Now he turned his gaze to Heror and nodded emphatically, an eager smile returning to his face. Heror readied himself, and Nihlukei pulled back his sword, approaching with a standard upright swing. Heror positioned his aspidan before the blade, and as Nihlukei brought his sword down, Heror swung the aspidan, disrupting the path of the sword, sparks flying as metal clashed with metal. Now Heror performed a half-swing on Nihlukei’s vulnerable torso, halting his sword in midair. Nihlukei snapped out of his combat stance and turned back to the group.

“See how he is active, opportunistic – not passive – with the aspidan?” Nihlukei explained. “That is the mindset I want you to maintain on every single repetition. Even in defense, attack! Attack! Attack! Again, Heror.”

The two returned to their positions, and Nihlukei replicated his motions from before. Heror again redirected Nihlukei’s sword with the aspidan, following that redirection with a swing of his sword.

“Watch his eyes. Watch his feet,” Nihlukei instructed the others. “His eyes are always on the sword. The weapon. The weapon is what can hurt you. Focus on the weapon. Don’t let it leave your sight. See his feet? See how his base remains strong even through his movement? How his feet move as he transfers his weight? You want to flow like that as you engage your opponent. Maintain that physical synergy, and mentally, you must seek to always be on the attack. Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again. Excellent, Heror!”

They continued sparring for hours, until the Sun started to fall in the west, bathing the horizon with golden light. At the first hint of sunset, the siekangh came out onto the training grounds and called the siephalls inside to eat their last meal of the day. Most of the siephalls went inside, but a few lingered afterwards, chatting quietly in the calm, evening air. Had he not known better, Heror might’ve assumed there was no war nearby.

Near the eastern wall of the training yard, Nihlukei spoke with Braylyn. Near the center, Heror stood alone – exhausted but strangely content – watching the setting Sun as it hovered: A blinding obelisk in a sea of colors – orange, red, blue, white, and gold. It was more than he had imagined, but there was no water to collect the droplets of light beneath the sun, and so its light sank into the darkened landscape, below rolling hills of shadow, into the depths. But even there, Heror could see a residual glow outlining the landscape, as if even the light that went under never left.

Minutes passed, and soon, Heror heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Nihlukei approaching on his right side, the siekarum’s hands tucked behind his back. The yard was mostly empty now, save for a few redcloak guardsmen who hovered near the main door, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

“What are you still doing out here?” Nihlukei asked, his calm demeanor having returned.

Heror didn’t answer at first. He turned his gaze back to the sunset, then glanced at Nihlukei, choosing his words carefully.

“Just… taking in the scenery,” he said. “Never got to see this in Cephragon.”

Nihlukei nodded in silence. For a moment, the two stood, letting a soothing breeze pass by. Somewhere on the walls, two birds called to one another.

“You did well today,” Nihlukei said after a few moments.

“Thank you,” Heror managed, glancing at Nihlukei, his voice somewhat uneasy.

There was another silence.

“What made you choose me?” Heror asked the siekarum. “To be your sparring partner? Was it random?”

Nihlukei shook his head, then looked at Heror with a small smile.

“You looked like a fighter,” he replied. “I was not disappointed.”

Heror thought for a moment, then blinked and turned back toward the sunset. The compliment surprised him. Nihlukei started toward the fortress, then turned around after he took a few steps.

“Come along,” he called in the silent evening air. “A good day of work deserves a good meal.”

They returned to the assembly hall, where there was food waiting for them. By then, most of the siephalls at the fortress had finished eating, but a few clusters of soldiers remained, talking amongst themselves at the tables.

As Heror sat down, Nihlukei remained standing, his eyes veering off toward the eastern hallway. He picked up his plate and glanced at Heror.

“I should head back to the barracks and check on the wounded,” he told Heror. “Meet us there when you’re done.”

Heror nodded, and the siekarum left. The young man began eating. As he did so, he scanned the room for Ucankacei. There were around a dozen siephalls left in the assembly hall, spread evenly across a few tables. Heror did not see Ucankacei among the remaining soldiers. At first, his eyes fell back onto his food, but after noticing something out of the corner of his eye, he looked back up to see a few siephalls glancing in his direction and whispering to each other across the room.

As Heror saw them, his pulse jumped a hair, and he stopped chewing. He sent a glare in the siephalls’ direction, but they didn’t seem to notice or care. They kept whispering, and after one let out a stifled laugh, Heror stood up without a thought, taking his full plate with him as he retreated to the eastern hallway.

After a few minutes of walking through the eastern hallway, Heror found his way back to the barracks for Nihlukei’s unit. He nudged open the door with his shoulder, carefully holding his plate with both hands. Inside the barracks, the conscripts were lounging about on their beds, some of them talking quietly with one another. Heror spotted Nihlukei tending to an injured soldier, and went to his bed in the corner. He sat down, feeling the straw mattress bounce under his weight, and again began eating.

Minutes blended together, and soon, Heror was done with his food. He set the empty plate on the floor and slid it gently under the bed. He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his pillow, starting to doze off. However, it wasn’t long after that Nihlukei called the group’s attention.

“Siephalls, a few words,” Nihlukei started, standing by the table near the back center of the room. “First, I would like to thank you all for an excellent first day. I have a good feeling about this group. You’re all growing quickly, and I am eager to stand beside you in battle.”

There was a swell of gratitude from the group. Heror looked around the room, seeing ashen elves and elses and Opels alike celebrating one another. He couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Next, I want to thank those who helped me during our training session today,” Nihlukei continued with a bow. “Let us acknowledge Braylyn, who imparted his decades of military experience in Charondor onto our younger men-at-arms. Since I too was sparring, I wasn’t always able to pay close attention to every fighter. But Braylyn helped keep track of performance across the group, provided advice to others, and reported to me at the end of the day. With his help, I hope to get you ready quicker than expected.”

There was a quick applause for Braylyn, who sat across the room, giving a nod to the others. Soon after, Nihlukei turned his gaze to Heror, and a grin crept onto his face.

“Let us also acknowledge Heror,” he announced. “I choose to spar with siephalls to challenge them, and Heror not only stood up to that challenge, but flourished under pressure, and provided an excellent example of swordsmanship to follow. By watching him, you were all able to learn and apply his skills to your own development. In the future, I may call on Heror again, to help you all become better swordsmen.”

Now there was a brisk applause for Heror. Heror nodded to the others in the room, and was startled when a siephall from across the room spoke.

“I thought he was going to put you on the ground, the way he was swingin’ at ya!” the siephall exclaimed.

Light laughter now filled the room, and Heror couldn’t help but smirk. Nihlukei smiled widely and waved a hand.

“It was one of the toughest challenges I’ve faced from a siephall,” he admitted. “Not the toughest, but close. I’ve still never been knocked down.”

“I think I could take you!” Khoulane said excitedly.

“Bullshit,” another siephall chimed, his voice gruff. “He’d blow air on you and you’d fly away.”

There was more laughter, and Khoulane glanced around, unsure how to react. Nihlukei smiled, then nodded to the boy.

“I love the spirit,” he said. “I’ll give you that chance one day.”

Khoulane’s eyes lit up. Nihlukei let out a light sigh. The siekarum peered up at a circular stone window near the peak of the ceiling. No more natural light came in from outside, and the torchlight danced along the walls.

“If we weren’t in wartime,” Nihlukei muttered, “I’d almost run down to the assembly hall and grab a couple bottles of mead.”

“Do it,” a siephall prodded. “Dooo it.”

There was chatter as the soldiers egged on their siekarum to follow through on his desire. Nihlukei only smiled and shook his head.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “It would be irresponsible of me. Maybe after we’ve won our first battle. How about that?”

Nihlukei’s proposition was met with a mix of boos and cheers. The siekarum grinned and shook his head. At that moment, Braylyn stood and approached the siekarum. Once he reached Nihlukei, he reached into his cloak and pulled out two bottles of mead. The siephalls erupted in excitement, but Nihlukei’s smile faded.

“Where’d you get those?” the siekarum asked, perplexed.

“From the assembly hall,” Braylyn replied. “Trust me. Soldiers need more mead during wartime, not less.”

“I don’t think so,” Nihlukei said with a laugh. “But… I suppose two bottles shouldn’t hurt. Pass that one around, will you?”

Nihlukei took the second bottle from Braylyn’s hand, and again, there was a cheer from the siephalls. Nihlukei cranked open his bottle and pulled it back. Heror watched as he took a long swig, then wiped his face with his arm and took a breath.

“I’ve only been knocked down once in battle,” he began as the siephalls passed along the mead. “It was peacetime in Ardys, and so I left to seek out battles for more experience. I traveled to Hithain, where, at the time, they were in a war with the Kingdom of Tephire, fighting over territory at the border. They…”

“You’ve been to Hithain?” Heror asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Nihlukei answered with a nod after taking a quick sip. “Ardys… frowns on traveling across Kingdoms to seek fighting knowledge, but I was still a siephall at the time. Siekarums can only teach you so much if siephalls can’t apply it in battle, so I sought out battle on my own, serving as a hired hand of sorts.”

“You were a mercenary?” Khoulane assumed.

“I don’t like to use that term,” Nihlukei answered, shaking his head. “I knew who was fighting who. I didn’t just follow the Kivs. I made a choice and offered my services. They accepted, and I was compensated for it. But we’ve gone far enough off track. So I went to Hithain…”

The siekarum continued telling his story, encouraged by the mead. The second bottle was passed around the room, and when it came to Heror with just over a quarter left, he took a sip. One story led to another from Nihlukei, and soon, Braylyn was off telling his tales of combat. This carried on through the night hours, until several siephalls had nearly dozed off, eyelids heavy and dark. Nihlukei glanced at the window again, then let out a sigh, setting his empty mead bottle on the table as he sat down.

“Well, it’s late,” the siekarum managed. “I think we should sleep.”

“No, you must have one more!” Khoulane chimed, steeped in excitement. “Have you fought any pirates?”

The siekarum smiled, then started to answer. But before he could get any words out, the door to the barracks burst open, and a panting siephall stood in the doorway, his wide eyes falling on Nihlukei.

“Siekarum Nihlukei,” he said quickly between breaths.

A couple soldiers woke at the sound of the door. Heror leaned forward from the corner. Nihlukei was silent for a moment, eyes squinted in confusion. Then he spoke.

“Yes?”

“The Midans are advancing on the border,” the redcloak explained. “You’re needed at the wall.”

“How soon?”

“The siekangh wants you at the carriages as soon as possible.”

The room went deathly quiet. Nihlukei glanced around at his soldiers, then turned back to the siephall and nodded. The siephall nodded back and hurried away, letting the door creak shut on its own. Nihlukei stood, took a deep breath, and eyed his men.

“Let’s get up then,” he said, breaking the silence. “It’s time to go.”