The year was 341, and the sun shone down on the grassy courtyard of the Aladeriv Royal Barracks, situated between the Eastern border of the capital and a forest of tall trees that walled it on three sides. Men and women in armour and uniform went about their daily activities: following drills, running errands and whatever else had them occupied.

It was four days since the massacre at the eastern farm town known as Eausuterrain and in a sparsely-furnished room somewhere within the main building of the barracks, Tristan sat starved and disillusioned on a bed, head buried in his knees. The memories just before he’d been taken from his village were fresh in his mind, and as the days passed, they only grew more ominous.

He remembered his father’s limp, bleeding body, and his mother’s crying, pleading face. The last he had seen of both of them. Were they alright? Who was running the village? Was the blockade lifted? But more importantly: was his father alive?

Lost in these thoughts brewing a storm in his head, he didn’t pay attention to the maid who would come in thrice a day to replace the meals he never ate and clean the annexed bathroom. A senior officer of the Royal Guard had come to visit him in the afternoons of the past two days to let him know that his presence was greatly desired in the Royal Guard platoons. But he wouldn’t say a word and the officer would soon leave. In his last visit, he’d left an application form for the Royal Guard on the table.

The door was locked save for when the maid arrived. He’d tried opening it. And the window had metal bars and not glass panes on hinges. In spite of the relatively pleasant conditions and the hospitality the maid and officer seemed to show him, it was a fact that he’d been kidnapped and imprisoned.

By . . .

Tristan felt his nails digging into his body as his face materialised in his mind. The red-robed Royal Guard who had killed so many of his village, left his father on the verge of death and taken him from his home. The man’s face made his breath quicken, muscles tense and body shudder with hate.

There were three knocks on the door, pulling him out of his head. A quick glance at the clock told him that the officer who’d visited him earlier was back.

There was no need for permission. The door clacked as it was unbolted from outside and the officer walked in, closing the door behind him. The routine was simple. He’d walk to the table near Tristan’s bed, sit down on the adjoining chair and try to get him to talk.

Except, he didn’t. The officer sat down right next to him on the bed. Confused, Tristan glanced at the officer from the corner of his eye. He saw, not a lean black-haired man in his 30s wearing a dark blue uniform, but a girl around 15 or 16 in age, brown-haired and fair-skinned, dressed in a shirt, leather chestplate and boots.

For a moment, Tristan found himself forgetting the events of his kidnapping as he registered the new arrival. But the thoughts came right back and he looked away from her again.

The girl hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” she said. There was a smile crossing her face, as if she was with a close friend she’d known all her life.

For the first time, Tristan found the words to talk. “Get me out of here, then,” he said. His throat hurt, his mouth tasted bad and his lips were sticky and cracked.

The girl’s smile slightly wavered. “You know they won’t let you do that. Once someone with an Affinity is brought here, the only way out is either by graduating from the Royal Guard Camp or by being executed as a traitor to the kingdom.”

Tristan didn’t respond.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” she continued in a soft voice, “but you only have another day to decide if you want to join the Guard. Otherwise they’ll—” the girl stopped as she heard what she thought was a gasp. “You alright?”

Tristan raised his head off his knees and the smile vanished from the girl’s face as she saw that he was crying. “I just—” Tristan said and wiped his eyes with a free hand. “I just wanna go home.” He tried to control himself, but that one response he’d given her had been like a floodgate releasing all the emotions he’d had pent up inside for the last four days.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

For a while, the girl said nothing, as if she were debating something in her own head. But then she stood up and left. The door locked behind her as Tristan lay on his side and pressed the pillow to his face.

And broke down.

***

That night, the brunette rifled through the folders in the mail room of the barracks. “Where is it?” she whispered to herself. She travelled from filing cabinet to filing cabinet, running her fingers down the files in every drawer. “Where is it?” She shut the final drawer and looked around the mail room. Where could it be?

For all the mail room’s security, it had been surprisingly easy to break into. But if she got caught rummaging around at night, she could get tried as a spy, so she had to be quick.

It was then that she thought to look in the disposal bin. After digging through several levels of mail, reading the name on each one, she finally found it.

Hearing footsteps nearby, she pushed it into her pocket, pulled a hood over a head and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor outside.

***

Tristan stared at the envelope the following day. The girl sat beside him, as she had done the day before. “It’s,” he said. “From my mother.” He didn’t want to believe himself.

“I found it in the mail room last night,” the girl said. “It came in last morning. Normally they don’t let people interact with the outside world until graduation. But since you’re not gonna be leaving this place for a while, I figured I might as well just bring this to you.”

“But couldn’t you get in trouble for this?” Tristan asked without making eye contact.

“Nah,” the girl kicked back against the wall, folding her arms behind her head. “Trust me. They’re not gonna notice this letter is gone.”

Tristan nodded slowly and peeled the seal open and slid the letter inside into his hands. Opened it. Read it.

Dear sir/madam,

I am the mother of Tristan from the town of Eausuterrain. A member of the Royal Guard recently demanded custody of my son, claiming that he was born with an Affinity, and anyone with an Affinity has to be either made into a Royal Guard or executed as a criminal. When we refused to hand him over, he was taken from us, and almost our entire village was murdered.

The letters were getting shakier with each sentence, and Tristan felt tears welling up in his own eyes.

My husband is dead. He was killed by the same man that took my son. Please, if you have any sympathy for a poor farming village that was never a threat to you, send him back to me.

The page ended with his mother’s signature written in messy handwriting.

For a moment, Tristan could only stare blankly at the paper, its words echoing loudly in his head. “He was taken from us”. “Almost our entire village was murdered”. But the loudest echo of all: “My husband is dead. He was killed by”

“Him,” Tristan breathed.

“Pardon?” the girl raised an eyebrow, oblivious to what Tristan had just read. For a second, Tristan said nothing, wiping his eyes once again. And then he spoke, without looking at her. “How long does the Camp last?”

“Oh?” the girl sat up, surprised to hear him having dropped any idea of escape so easily. “Well, three months. I joined a month ago. But you’d be part of my batch, since Affinity-bearers don’t need as much training as we do as they can easily surpass the average Encaster with less training.”

He nodded again. “Good.” He folded the letter, put it in the envelope. “Thanks.”

“Oh, by the way, I’m Ian,” she said and confusion furrowed Tristan’s brow.

“But that’s a male name,” Tristan muttered and she laughed.

“It’s spelled A-E-O-N,” she said. “And it means a long period of time. Though I’m not sure why my parents chose that name for me.”

Tristan managed a very slight smile. “I see.”

“Well,” Aeon stood up. “You seem set on becoming a Royal Guard. I’ll send an officer over to collect your application.”

She stopped at the door and looked back to smile. “See you ‘round,” she said before locking the door behind her.

Tristan looked at the application form lying next to the empty plate on the table. And then back to the letter in his hand, his head suddenly devoid of any pain and distress. Only one thought remained in his head.

I’ll kill him.