When we wake up, we merely say "good morning." Laura has to do the laundry for everyone today, and I have to start my week-long moat-digging assignment. I hope I don’t pull my back. I am afraid of how many of us will remain after the siege is over, but oddly, I am excited to spend more time with the group.

Once we arrive at the locations, we are given a shovel each and told to dig. The boys are in high spirits, which makes my unease wash away a little bit. If they’re happy, then I’m happy.

It doesn’t take long until they break out into a song. A folk tune, no doubt. It’s a shame I can’t sing along with them since I’m not of this world. The best I can do is to hum along, though they will eventually run out of songs to sing. Perhaps when they start over in the loop, I can join in.

The October weather is generous to us today, so we eat outside. Laura appears to once again be assigned to lunch duty to where we’re stationed. I wonder if Hubbert pulled any strings for us to end up together both times.

The lunch doesn’t go without teasing from David and the rest of the group. Laura is once again beet red. Why did she not show such embarrassment when we were both half dressed yesterday? Is she that comfortable with me, or does she just have low tolerance for public humiliation?

I am once again applying a thin layer of Red Water to protect my skin from blisters. I hope no one notices and accuses me of being a spy for the demons. However, I will be severely constrained if I am unable to use this power in public. The same goes for Laura with her Red Frost.

I’ll have to figure out how to reveal it without being labelled a blasphemer again. With the help of the High Priest, I should be able to mend my relationship with the church. The problem is, I have no clue how to approach this issue. Anyway, university awaits us first.

“So there is really nothing going on between you and that girl?” David asks, this time more discreetly.

I pause, my foot on the top of the shovel blade, and look at him. His expression is that of genuine curiosity as opposed to the playfulness he showed during today's and yesterday's lunch.

“Nothing at all,” I respond, focusing on the dirt in front of me as I dig.

David resumes digging too, his smirk visible even out of the corner of my eye. “She’s cute, you know.”

“I noticed,” I reply flatly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any further reaction.

He grins wider. “Then you don’t mind if I talk to her.”

I pause for a moment, then continue digging. “Suit yourself.”

I can’t shake yesterday’s image of Laura out of my mind. Sure, I am a man and she’s a woman, but we are just friends; nothing more. It’s strange. The thought of Laura making friends with that woman from yesterday fills me with pride, but David? Somehow imagining that makes me uncomfortable for some reason.

Dinner comes, and we find ourselves seated outside once again. Laura, as she did at lunch and yesterday, gives me an extra scoop of soup. Her casual kindness feels routine by now, but my thoughts are anything but.

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Out of the corner of my eye, I catch David watching her. It’s subtle, but obvious enough to spark an unsettling thought: she’ll reject him. Is that what I expect... or is it what I wish?

I shake my head, brushing these uncomfortable thoughts away. He will certainly go talk to her once work is over. I’ll spy on them just in case he tries anything funny.

The shift is over, and my back is killing me, but at least my hands are not full of blisters again. Time to go see the interaction unfold.

David bids farewell to the group with his usual enthusiasm and quickly vanishes from sight. Keeping a cautious distance, I follow him discreetly, careful not to let him notice. In the dim light, I spot Laura in the distance.

David approaches Laura, calling her name, and she turns to him, her expression confused at first. From my hiding spot, I can’t hear their words over the low hum of background chatter. David, as always, wears his usual cheerful demeanor, while—wait—is Laura smiling?

They talk for a few minutes, their conversation seemingly lighthearted. Then they part ways, heading in opposite directions. From where I’m standing, their expressions are unreadable. Curiosity gnaws at me, and after a moment of hesitation, I decide to follow Laura.

“How was your day?” I ask, catching her by surprise.

“Oh, it was great! I made a friend today—or, actually, I think it started yesterday.” She smiles warmly.

“Glad to hear it,” I reply, my tone steady, though her words linger in my mind.

Yesterday? Did David speak to her before today? She certainly seemed engaged while talking to him earlier.

“Her name is Pamela,” she says, her smile soft. “She’s my cooking partner—the woman who was helping me yesterday.”

“Oh,” I respond, feeling an unexpected wave of relief wash over me. “Did you meet anyone else today?”

“Actually, your work friend David introduced himself to me.”

“Introduced himself? He didn’t say anything else?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

“No, why would he?” She quickly responds.

The rest of our walk to the keep is filled with mundane chatter about the day’s events. I decide not to press her further; she seems genuinely happy, and I don’t want to ruin the mood.

Tomorrow, I’ll grill David instead.

Tomorrow unfolds much like the day before. Our monotonous digging is lightened with song, and I’ve even memorised a few lines. Spirits remain high, though our backs continue to ache.

“So, how did it go yesterday?” I ask David, catching him alone.

“Great. I asked her out, and she agreed,” he responds cheerfully.

My heart skips a beat before he continues. “Just kidding—she rejected me.” He pauses and grins mischievously. “Man, you should’ve seen yourself; you went pale!”

“I did not!” I retort, a bit too quickly.

David’s expression shifts from playful to serious. “Just tell her you like her, man. It’ll save you a lot of heartache.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I turn back to digging, letting his words hang in the air. As the rhythm of the shovel hitting dirt continues, a single thought echoes louder than the rest:

I am not worthy.

The next five days blur together, my hands almost becoming one with the shovel. The group’s unwavering enthusiasm shields me from my own spiralling thoughts as we work tirelessly to complete the moat.

Finally, the day arrives—the day the demons are expected. The finished moat stands as a stark reminder of what’s at stake.

We are armed and outfitted: a real spear, a gambeson that scratches at the neck, thick gloves, and a heavy iron helmet that feels like a cage.

Standing atop the wall with the others, we stare at the horizon, bracing for the moment when the demon army will emerge.