The sun had barely started to rise on the sweat-covered training grounds. Serlon swung the blades toward Eran’s head. He hesitated, crashing to the ground in a feeble attempt to dodge the attack. The guard struggled to recollect himself, moving too slowly before finding the wooden blade resting against his throat.

Eran dropped the sword in his hand, yielding his hands to defeat, “It’s my loss,” He admitted, panting as he leaned back to catch his breath.

Serlon lowered both swords, “You hesitated. That’s why you lost. If it were a real battle, your head would be gone.”

“Understood, Sir Serlon,” Eran nodded, brushing off the leftover dirt caked to his trousers before heading to the side to join everyone else.

One of the twins, Daniel, raised his hand for a high-five, which Eran reciprocated, “Nice Captain, you lasted a minute longer than the others did.”

“That’s nearly impossible against Sir Serlon,” Trent yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

“Yeah. Next thing you know, you’ll be rising in the ranks of the castle,” Gunnar beamed.

“I don’t think we’re the type of people to be talking about high ranks,” Lars gloated, pointing to himself, “I’m pretty awesome already.”

His twin brother, Daniel proceeded to punch him on the side, “Says the guy, who got knocked out within the first three minutes of the spar.”

“I wasn’t paying attention! There was a bird!” Lars cried, holding his shoulder in pain. Normally I’d have some clever quip to add to this conversation. Instead, I leaned against the estate walls that bordered the training ground and stared off in a daze.

Last night, Dagon hadn’t added to his explanation of their attack on the western human territory. There was nothing to add. Seeing as the angelic and demonic neutrality clause had been revoked. I had ventured back to the estate enveloped in the realization of what that meant. In the hundred years that I had been gone, my father had incurred war on the angelic tribe. This explains the weakening of demonic attacks from the human perspective. Demons were at a disadvantage when it came to the powers of the angels. Light magic was damning, leaving no mercy to demons of even high rank. My wing was a stark reminder of that fact.

It troubled me. Fighting for my father wasn’t my duty anymore. I needed to focus on surviving in the human world. But I should be there. There. With Dagon and Adbeel. Around that stone strategy table. In that godforsaken battle that would surely be the end of me. Why? I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss at my predicament. The matter was that I was no longer welcomed in Hellion and unable to protect my people. With one wing. What could I even accomplish? Useless. My mind could only focus on this.

“Hey?” A voice called.

“Asta? Hello?” Again.

“Earth to Asta,” Serlon waved his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.

I quickly came back to my senses, peering around to find the others staring at me, “Ah. Sorry. I zoned out a little.”

“We could tell,” Serlon sighed, “Anyway, it’s your turn to spar. Are you feeling well enough to do that?”

“I’m fine, old man,” I scoffed, grabbing the wooden sword laid beside me, as I entered to training grounds.

Serlon strolled over to the other side of the field, now holding the two swords in his hand, “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

Without another word, he launched himself forward across the field. I held the sword out in front of me, meeting the two blades of the commander just in time. Redirecting the blades down, I used the moment to launch backward to create space between us.

Serlon recovered immediately, closing the distance, and slashing one sword to my side. The other sword was raised above my head, rearing down swiftly. There was little time to react. I spun to the empty side, dropping my stance down, and delivering a kick to his ankle. Serlon grunted, stepping back with his swords dragging to his sides. Like the last time, his stance appeared lazy. Yet, the experienced warrior stood without openings.

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“What’s your secret?” He chuckled, beginning to circle my position, “I’d love to know where you learned to fight like that.”

In Hellion. Surrounded by war-crazed maniacs.

“My secret is that moisturize every morning” I joked, spinning around to face his circling figure, “Fighting wise? I picked up some tricks along the way.”

“Is that so?” He took a step back, before spearing one of the swords directly to the handle of my own, knocking the wooden blade outside the grounds, “I supposed I picked up a few things along the way too then.”

Tsk. I clicked my tongue. The spar was over. I seemed to be losing a lot to this human during training sessions. It was a bitter feeling. Serlon threw his other sword into the pile in the corner of the training grounds.

“That’ll conclude our session for the day,” He called to the others, who chatted amongst themselves on the sidelines, “Line up! We have a busy day today.”

Wasn’t that every day?

I sighed, joining Eran, who had been the first to position himself. The others joined us quickly, yawning as they did so. Soon, Serlon paced down the line of us, stopping in the middle.

“Today, we’ll all be escorting Crown Prince Edwin to the imperial castle to meet the King,” Serlon announced, “Everyone needs to go freshen up and equip their imperial armor before we head off. We meet in two hours. If you’re late, it’ll fire you.”

God, I wish.

“Yes, Sir!” The line replied in unison. I simply nodded, not bothering to join the crowd.

Everyone hurried away towards the showers. I lingered over to the estate walls, sitting down to watch the rising sun. I wonder if Dagon and Adbeel were up. Probably not. Maybe they were fighting right now? Battling for their lives. I should be there. Shouldn't I?

A thud was heard beside me, as Serlon joined me on the wall, “I guess I won’t need to chase you down. You’ll be following me.”

I looked over, narrowing my eyes, “Don’t I need to get ready?”

“This doesn't look like getting ready,” He scoffed, alluding to my short rest, “Besides, the attire that you need to wear isn’t something you’d have yet.”

What was he on about? The attire that I had already was standard for the royal guards. According to the rulebook, at least.

Serlon huffed, as he stood back up, “Don't whine. Follow me.”

“Whatever, old man,” I sighed, hurrying over to join his side.

Instead of taking the normal way back, we went through a side door. Guards waited inside, bowing as they saw the head guard.

“Sir Serlon! Sir!” The two guards greeted him with their heads down in respect.

“Good morning. Keep up the excellent work,” Serlon responded, turning towards a set of stairs.

It was out of the way and heavily guarded with people positioned at every turn. Only when we reached the end of the stairway did this make sense.

More guards opened a steel door, revealing the hallway to the Crown Prince’s quarters. Similar to the other guards, they bowed briefly before shutting the door behind us.

I peered back toward the steel door, “Isn’t that a safety risk? It leads straight outside.”

“I’m aware. This whole estate is under consistent patrol. I make sure that the outside hallway is heavily guarded to make up for it.” He commented, leading us over to the front of Edwin’s quarters.

Wait. Why here? Why were we here?

“Didn’t you say that I was getting my armor?” I deadpanned at the sight of the royal doors, “…Why are we here?”

Serlon sighed, “Because Prince Edwin was adamant about polishing both of our armor for today.”

The last thing that I expected that the blonde bitch knew how to do was polish armor. It was a scary thought in actuality. I couldn’t help but cringe at the damage he’d do.

“And you trust him?” I voiced, noticing the grim expression that appeared on the head guard’s face.

“…Do you expect me to say no to the future king of the kingdom?” Serlon reasoned, his tone somewhat depressed.

“Why not?” I shrugged, “I’ve said no to him before.”

“You know what? Why did I ask you? Of course, you’ve refused him before…” He sighed, rubbing his temples.

Serlon cleared his throat, before stepping up to the grand wooden doors, “Your Highness! It is Sir Serlon and Guard Asta. We are here to pick up the armor.”

I wondered if we would find him passed out on his couch again. To my surprise, it was almost immediately that the doors creaked open. Edwin stood with a large grin, dressed in gold ribbons. His tunic was covered in lavish gems and his golden hair had been styled. On the top of his head rested a crown that brandished a large ruby at the center. He looked like a true prince for once. The only thing that was out of place was the eyebags that hung under his tired expression.

Serlon bowed, elbowing me on the side, “Your Highness.”

“…your Highness,” I made a pathetic attempt to bow.

Edwin placed his hand on Serlon’s shoulder, guiding him inside the room. He peered over at me, “Asta! I’m glad to see you!”

“I wish I could say the same,” I grumbled, earning another elbow from Serlon. I followed the two inside the lavish quarters.

The prince playfully winced, “C’mon, my friend. Don’t be like that! Come, come! I spent all night polishing your armor for your first trip into the imperial castle.”

“It’s too early for this, Edwin,” I said, brushing past him towards the two sets of armor that hung on the other side of the room. Littered on the floor next to them were a variety of rags, buckets, and opened containers of polish. Did he really spend the whole time polishing two sets of armor?

Serlon walked over to the first set of armor, lifting the chest plate off the hooks to inspect the polished steel. Well, it wasn’t destroyed. In fact, they looked nice.

He shook his head, before glancing back at the prince, “I told you to not be up too late. You should have called your maid to finish polishing the armor.”

“I felt bad. It was already later in the evening and the staff had been preoccupied with getting my attire ready for today.” Edwin explained through a loud yawn, “It’s fine. My father has been in a lenient mood recently.”

“Your father’s version of lenient is….” Serlon trailed off, stopping as he eyed me. He redirected, “Asta, this one is yours. We’ll be wearing matching ones today.”

I scrunched my nose, grabbing the chest plate from his hands, “Gross. I don’t want to play matching with my boss.”

From behind us, the crown prince broke into a muffled laughter.

“No. There are only two guards allowed in the throne room with the prince,” He pointed to the blue strip painted into the shoulder padding, “Edwin asked that the other guard, be you.”

I went silent, before glaring at Edwin,” If this is about the offer of being your personal guard, I’m not interested.”

The prince shook his head, “No! No. It’s not that. I’m not going to make you be my personal guard against your will,” He turned his head to whisper, not thinking I’d hear, “…although I could technically command it.”

I fought the urge to punch prince pauper.

“Then why?” God. I had enough to worry about as it was. First war, now this.

“Because I need someone, I trust by my side today. I trust you.” His tone was serious, lacking the joking one from seconds ago.

Trust me? What a foolish idea.