Damien woke at five. There was no window in the room he shared with Eli, but he’d woken at five every day for as long as he could remember and, sunlight or not, his body knew when to get up. In the pitch-black room the only sound was Eli’s deep, steady breathing. Damien slid out of bed, dressed by feel, and slipped out as quietly as he could. Outside, glow balls hanging from the ceiling in glass jars lit his path. Damien walked down to the dining room hoping to get his breakfast and get to training.

He pushed through the swinging doors and found the hall silent and empty. He’d have thought the cook would be up and started at least. Maybe he could get in a workout before breakfast. Eli hadn’t shown him a gym yesterday, but they had to have something.

Damien went down to the ground floor and out into the yard. The morning was cool and clear, the sun just turning the sky above the wall gray. It was a beautiful late spring day.

A few guardsmen stood on the wall and Damien ran up the steps to talk to them. If anyone knew where he could find the gym it seemed like it would be the guards. He trotted up to the nearest man, a middle-aged fellow with a pot belly and salt-and-pepper beard. On closer inspection maybe he wasn’t the best one to ask.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Not wanting to be rude now that he’d approached Damien said, “Excuse me. Do you know if there’s a gym or somewhere for the students to exercise?”

The guardsman laughed. “Not so far as I know, young sir. Sorcerers aren’t much for exercise.”

Coming from a fat guardsman that was a laughable statement. “Would you guys mind if I ran the wall?”

The guardsman waved his hand. “Be my guest.”

Damien shook his head and jogged away. He did ten circuits, about five miles give or take. The guards all stared at him in disbelief as he kept running. It was like they’d never seen someone exercising before. Given their lack of conditioning Damien guessed most of them certainly hadn’t run in a while.

He stopped beside the same guardsman. “What time is breakfast?”

The man grumbled and glanced at the sun just peeking over the wall. “Another hour at least.”

Damn, they didn’t get started very early here. He grabbed the lip of the wall and swung over, hanging by his fingers. He did forty pull ups, then reversed his grip so his back was to the wall and did forty more. Damien pulled himself back up on the walkway and rolled his shoulders. What was he supposed to do for another hour?

He jogged back inside and up to the dining hall. Pots were clanging in the kitchen, so that was progress. He dropped to the floor and did some crunches. The doors squeaked and a familiar voice said, “I figured I’d find you here.”

Damien grinned and kipped up to his feet. Standing by the door, a matching grin on his face was a boy a year older than him with long brown hair, a lean, fit build, and a chiseled, handsome face. John Kord, his oldest and best friend.