Raid watched as a long column of people marched down the broad street in four uneven lines. Their steps were uncoordinated, and their faces betrayed a mix of emotions, ranging from anxiety to unproven confidence. Leading them was an officer at the forefront, with a few soldiers interspersed throughout the crowd, attempting to maintain some semblance of order. Though predominantly men, women could be seen among them, adding to the unusual sight.
"What is it?" Nova asked, gently pulling the reins of her horse to a halt.
The both of them were cloaked, their hoods casting shadows over half their faces while riding black horses. Beneath the cloaks, they wore a different set of hard leather armor, no longer allowed to wear the knights' field uniform they were accustomed to. Raid flexed his shoulders, irritated by the ill-fitting armor, which wasn't custom-fitted to his size due to the lack of time. Seeing as the discomfort was a constant reminder, his first task, once opportunity permitted, would be to visit an armorer.
"I have no idea. Looks like they're recruiting a new batch of fodder," Raid replied.
“Fodder?” Nova echoed, a note of disapproval in her voice. “That's harsh. They'll be under our care soon.”
“When's the last time you saw women in the infantry?” Raid asked, skepticism in his voice.
“Once in a new moon, we’re not entirely absent from the lower ranks,” Nova retorted. “You know that.”
“Sure, but in these numbers? The most I've seen is a dozen in a unit of thousands, not counting logistics and rear staff.”
“Apparently, women and men fought in equal measure before the dawn of our calendar. Maybe it’s an exaggeration, but still.”
“Well, if that's true, it was before, not now. We must be getting desperate if we're dragging our sisters to the front.” Raid turned his gaze from the road to the imposing structure they had stopped in front of.
It resembled a small castle, its stone walls rising five meters high on all sides and even higher towers at each corner. Its architecture harkened back to a bygone century, adorned with a sparse sprinkling of modern enhancements. The gateway, one of just two entrances, this one being the largest, consisted of two wooden doors and an open portcullis, guarded by five soldiers. It was wide enough to allow a sizeable carriage to pass through, and perhaps even two, should a merchant be wishful.
Raid approached the guard with the highest rank, a 2nd Officer, as indicated by the armband on his sleeve. "Odd, isn't your rank a bit high for a mere gate? I thought this task was typically assigned to a 1st sergeant at most. Didn't know this place was so important."
"And whom do I owe the pleasure?" the officer replied suspiciously, trying to discern the faces hidden beneath their hoods.
"What's happening over there?" Raid pointed toward the marching column.
"Are you blind? They're recruits for the war effort," the officer answered curtly, saving no effort to conceal his rudeness. "Unless you've been living under a rock, you'd know we've suffered some losses."
"There's quite a number of them, can't even see the end of the line. Where are they headed?"
"Out of the city, for training. It's become a regular sight, new batches of blood marching out every few days. The recruiters been doing good work."
“This is a recent thing? How long has this been going on?”
"Look, if you're just here to ask questions, then fuck off," the officer snapped. "Go ask anyone in the streets, even a guide. We're guards, you blind mutt. Do you have any idea where you are? Unless you have some business here, I kindly ask you to sod off. No, scratch that, take off those hoods. I want a good look at the both of yous before you leave."
"And what if we don't?" Nova challenged, her voice steady and firm.
The officer's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, and the other four guards behind him shifted their spears. "I have the authority to detain anyone I find suspicious," the officer warned, eyeing both Raid and Nova's swords. "Who are you two? Freelancers? You'd do well not to cause trouble. These walls behind me aren't just for show. There are knights inside, and their scrutiny can be lethal. You wouldn't want to attract their attention."
Raid pulled back his hood, revealing his ashen hair. Reaching under his collar, he retrieved his identification tag and dangled it in the air for all to see. "It must be convenient to invoke a knight's name whenever there's trouble. Who would dare raise their voice near a monster's den? But your threats mean little to me."
The officer's face paled. "A knight?"
"A farrider," Raid corrected.
Nova followed suit, displaying her identification tag but keeping her hood in place. The officer scrutinized their tags from a distance, noting that each displayed only a single plate. This was unusual, a farrider typically had either two plates or none at all. One plate would imply they were active knights. A realization struck him. They were the disguised knights that have been arriving in recent days.
"Ah, you're the expected arrivals," the officer's demeanor shifted abruptly to deference. “You could have mentioned that from the start. Come on in, we have a few rooms in block 4 dedicated to you lot. Bring your horses to the stables on your left as you enter, but first head to the building with the green roof right next to the stables. There’s a 3rd Lieutenant by the name of Isni waiting for you there.”
“Not even going to ask who we are? I’ve got a letter of entry here. It's pointless if I can't use it,” Raid said.
“I’ve been instructed to let any farriders with a single tag pass without question. Curiosity kills when it comes with you lot. Like I said, meet Lieutenant Isni. You can hand him the letter.”
“Your tone is awfully casual, not something I often see from people who know us,” Nova chimed.
The officer chuckled, recalling his past encounters. “I’ve been watching this gate for seven years. The first time I spoke to a knight, I nearly lost my nerve. But after years of your comings and goings, I’ve learned you’re a lot friendlier than I thought.”
“Why? Do you think we’ll eat you alive? I can’t speak for my partner here, but I certainly won’t,” Nova said. “But I didn’t realize we were friendly enough for you to use our names to threaten others.”
“I use the names of knights, not farriders. And it was a kind heartfelt warning, not a threat,” the officer replied with a sly grin. “And since when did you guys start riding around calling yourselves farriders anyways?"
“What are we to you then?” Raid asked. “Knight or farrider?”
“All I see is a bad omen, so I’d rather keep guessing than be certain. Too many of you farriders with active tags have been arriving, and it makes me anxious. Having monsters come home to their den in such numbers is never a good sign.”
“There are more of us?” Nova asked.
“Why, didn’t you know? Don't tell me you thought yourselves special?” the officer replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Go on in. I’m just a guard, you’ll get the details inside.”
Raid and Nova entered the castle, leaving their horses at the stables, and went to meet Lieutenant Isni, who was all smiles. After confirming their identities and reading their letter, the Lieutenant showed them around the castle. As they approached their final destination, they passed a large courtyard at the heart of the castle, where a column of soldiers stood in full gear, their posture disciplined and rigid, intently listening to the impassioned speech of a 3rd officer, whose voice resonated with fervor.
“Expect death!” shouted the officer, pacing along the first row and scrutinizing the soldiers' stern expressions as he did so. “May our sacrifice be made with utmost grace! May our blood fertilize the soil, nourishing the very plants with our meager flesh, so that our descendants may reap the fruits watered by our lives! May the Fair Maid, chained by her burdens, be gentle with our fall! May she wish us well to the life beyond! To another hell! To a land where we will find another Rose and clad ourselves in duty once more! Let not the Rose recognise our names like so many before us, with our actions accomplishing naught but the continued existence of our kin, our clan! Remember, men, there is no greater honor than to have your deeds merge with the countless nameless heroes of our past, for our Rose stands! And it will continue to stand! Our flag embodies our achievements, its continued significance our legacy, and may it forever stand!”
"Blessed is our Rose! Blessed is our fate! May we die with grace! May we burn forgotten in the ashes of our forefathers!" the soldiers shouted in unison, their voices a thunderous echo in the courtyard.
Nova watched with a bemused expression, slightly slowing her walking pace. “Looks like we have quite the romantic. Though this feels a bit excessive for a mere castle garrison. This is something you'd more likely hear during a battle, just before a charge, not some courtyard in the safest urbanscape in all known Rose."
"They’re being transferred to a frontline unit, due to the lack of manpower, as I’m sure you’re aware," explained Isni. "This garrison was already reduced to half its strength when the war began, and now it’s happening again. The romantic you speak of is the only one among them with combat experience, for the rest, this will be their first taste of war. Better to leave home parting with good words than none at all. My son stands among them, right in the front row.”
"Your son?" Raid asked.
"Yes, my eldest. I like to keep him close," Isni replied, a trace of pride in his voice. "I twisted a few arms to get him stationed with me. If I could, I’d join him, but it’s all hopes now."
"Is a smaller garrison going to be an issue if they send almost all the guards to war?"
Isni couldn’t help but smirk, almost laughing as they exited the courtyard, leaving the shouting soldiers behind them. "To defend this place?" he said sarcastically. "This place is the safest spot in Astra, even with no guards or knights present. Every lowborn fool knows this is a knight's den; just the thought of a knight lurking around is enough to scare even the dumbest drunks."
"I was under the impression that there were always some knights here," Nova said.
"Not at all. Only when there are foreign assignments. Most of the time, it’s just us guards, all year round, empty halls and quiet days. Sometimes we even feel more like housemaids or construction workers, just keeping the castle in shape."
"I see," Nova said, nodding slowly. "So, this headquarters only calls in knights as needed."
"Yes, times like now. But I suppose I can't officially call you two knights, can I?"
"Should've given us our second tags to make our farrider disguise more convincing," Raid remarked.
“Now that would be quite the problem, wouldn’t it? The military doesn’t like retiring its knights, even in jest. It’s easier to just keep your tags hidden, like you normally do. Excluding death of course. It would be quite troublesome if a farrider’s corpse just happened to have a single tag on his person. It would be appreciated if said tags were to mysteriously disappear should any of your fellows manage to fall.”
“Is this operation going to be that dangerous?” Nova asked.
“Can't say,” answered Isni, casually shrugging his shoulders. “I don't have the details. My sole duty is to tend to your care during your stay here. But I can't imagine that it won't be dangerous seeing as, you know, you're here. Earlier, you mentioned you two are from the south, yes? How is it down there? Any combat? I haven’t met any comrades from the south since the invasion. Everyone seems to be heading south, but none have returned north.”
“Lady Fable and I fought in the Battle of Hill 47. But have yet to participate in the small war.”
Isni’s expression soured at the mention of the battle. “The news of our loss there still pains me. I was told we were greatly outmatched, and that the enemy managed to exploit some lucky breaches early on.”
“Is that what you’ve been told?” Nova mused.
“Is it not true?”
“We got completely decimated,” Raid said. “And fairly too, front to front, man by man. They just bought some new weapons, new knights, which ended what was meant to be a multi-day battle in one.”
“New weapons? I’d like to hear more about this later, when we have time, perhaps over dinner. Care to share your stories?”
“Gladly, with some compensation for my time of course.”
“I have some excellent mead I’ve been saving,” Isni grinned. “I’ll check to see if we have anything planned for tomorrow, if not, we’ll drink tonight. I also have some friends who went to fight in that battle, but I haven’t heard from them since. It would help my unease if you could answer my questions.”
“Unless they’re knights like me, I’d have a hard time knowing them.”
“I don’t expect individual names, just the units they were with.”
“That would certainly be easier to remember. Name a few, see if any ring a bell.”
“I’ll ask you later, when there’s more time. See that building there?” Isni pointed to a large, two-story brick structure, its once-vibrant orange hue now faded with age. “That’s where you’ll be staying. The exterior may not be charming, but the interior is pristine. My apologies in advance. The nicer building you would normally stay in has been taken over by the bureaucrats from the interior.” He gestured toward an even larger two-story building in the distance, on the opposite side of the castle.
"Anything is better than a tent. We're not ones to complain, especially where there isn't mud," Nova said.
"Really?" Isni replied in faint surprise. "Southern knights really are different, eh? We've had a few complaints from the others who came, saying the place wasn't nice enough and that they didn't get their own rooms. You'll be sharing a room by the way, with a few others. Forgot to mention that."
"You called us southern? Did the knights who came before us come from elsewhere?" Nova asked.
"Virtually all of those currently here are from the east, back from the Kundis. You two are the first from the south. I think a few more will arrive with the last of the eastern knights. Personally, I find the knights who returned from the east a lot more spoiled. It seems they are treated better there and complain too much. Must fancy themselves nobles. Of course you’re an exception, Lady Fable. I can even arrange for you to have your own room if you’d prefer."
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"That won't be necessary, but I'll keep the option open in case of troublesome roommates."
"I did hear the Kundis stations were better," Raid chimed in. "Generally anyhow. Though I can't imagine the infantry getting a different treatment over there."
"From their attitude, you'd think they went on vacation instead of duty," Isni scoffed. "But then again, I've been told they've seen little combat. Most of the Kundis fighting has been recent, unlike us, who have been clashing with the Imperials since the beginning."
"I thought the ministry required experienced knights?" Nova asked.
"They're experienced, just not in this war. A few may have fought the small war when the Lemfords greeted, but most earned their blood during the Rain War."
"They're our seniors then..." Raid responded.
“On the second floor, you’ll find a door with a poorly drawn picture resembling either a cow or a wolf, not quite sure what it is, but it’s your room, courtesy of some drunks last fall who fancied themselves artists. That’s about it, really. We have a few hours before dark, and I still have work to do. Make yourselves at home; I’ll see you two at dinner.”
The pair waved farewell to the lieutenant and entered the building, which surprisingly seemed empty, as they did not see anyone while searching for their door. It didn’t take long to find it, as it was the only door on the second floor with knife carvings. Indeed, the artwork was poorly done, leading Nova to argue it looked more like a sheep than anything else. Raid was about to turn the handle to enter when he heard chatter from inside. He exchanged glances with Nova before fully opening the door.
The room was simple and functional, designed to accommodate soldiers. It had a rectangular layout with four single beds lined up along each longer wall, totaling eight beds. Each bed was outfitted with a thin blanket, a pillow, and a plain sheet, creating an atmosphere that felt both utilitarian and austere.
Between each pair of beds along the walls were small, sturdy wooden cabinets for storing personal belongings. The cabinets were plain, each with a lockable drawer and a shelf. A single window at the far end allowed light to enter, and the walls were painted a muted, neutral color, somewhere between a shade of beige and gray. Overhead, hanging lanterns within arm’s reach provided ample illumination when natural light was insufficient.
There were five people in the room, three males and two females, who all ceased their chatter to stare at the two newcomers.
“Who are you two?” one of the men asked, eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He had a thick mustache, a short beard that framed his square jaw, and brown, scruffy, uneven shoulder-length hair that could well use a trim.
“We were told this would be our room. Unless we have the wrong one, which I doubt,” Raid replied bluntly, stepping inside and examining the space. Nova, however, paused halfway in, waiting to see how the conversation would unfold.
“Then you must be the final members of our team,” the man said, nodding slowly. “We were told it would be another few days before you arrived.”
“Team?” Raid inquired.
“Yeah. Everyone's been divided into teams of seven. I'm Michael, by the way. What's your name?”
“I'm Raid. Greetings. And this is Nova Fable,” he said, gesturing slightly toward her.
“Named?” Michael asked.
“No,” Nova replied.
All five of them gave Nova small nods of respect in response, which she returned in kind. A last name does not always imply nobility. There is a distinction between named and titled, the latter being noble.
“Well, don't just stand there, come on in,” said a woman with long, light amber hair, sitting cross-legged on the second bed from the right, her eyes sparkling with a welcoming warmth. “The three beds in the back are yours to pick, first come, first served. I'm Claire, nice to meet you.” She smiled and extended a hand towards Raid, who was the closest to her, and he took it.
“I'm Anna,” the second woman said meekly. She had silky, dark shoulder-length hair and was perched on another bed beside Claire. “Part of the 92nd Allied Recon Company.”
“No point in stating our unit tags, idiot. We're no longer in the military, remember?” said Michael.
“Don't speak to her like that,” snapped Claire. “You're a rude little fucker, you know that?”
“Me? Rude?” spat Michael. “Quit making an issue out of everything. You're the only bitch here who cares. This is just how I talk, it's not rude. Right, Anna? You don't mind do you?”
“Don’t mind those two,” said another man with slightly curly brown hair and a clean-shaven face, standing further back. “They're always fighting over absolutely everything. It's been that way since the beginning.”
“And you are?” Raid asked.
“I am Owen. Don’t mind the pile of clothes on that last bed there. That’s Michael’s doing, won't clean up after himself. Feel free to toss it all out the window if you want the bed underneath. I’m sure he won't mind.”
“Hey, don't touch! I said I'll clean it up!” Michael yelled.
“You said that two days ago,” Claire retorted, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I'll do it now. Sorry bro, didn't know you wanted the last one.”
“I haven't picked yet,” Raid replied. “I’m fine with taking a different one. You said there are three available, right? We’ll just take the other two.”
“Don't encourage his laziness,” said Claire. "This bastard doesn't need any more breathing room."
As Raid made his way to the end of the room, Nova trailing close behind, he couldn't help but notice a very sickly looking man sitting quietly near Owen. The man had dark circles under his eyes, a gaunt frame, and short brown hair. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
Catching Raid’s glance, Owen gestured towards the man. “This is Charlie. He doesn’t talk much; very shy. I often speak for him.” Charlie gave a faint nod in response but remained silent.
"Does anyone know what this transfer is about? Why the secretary?” Nova asked.
“No idea,” Claire replied. “They still haven't told us anything. The word is we have to wait until the other two teams are full, and then we’ll all find out what’s going on together.”
“So, a few more days, I assume? Until everyone is here?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Prestige…” Michael mused aloud, “who knows? They might make us parade around the city, show off our presence or some nonsense.”
“Out of all the things we could be doing, a parade seems the most far-fetched,” said Claire.
“I’m just expressing my creativity.”
“One that hasn’t developed past the age of ten from the looks of it.”
“You what?! Say that again, you ill-fed brat!”
“Watch it; I’m older than you.”
“Like I care.”
“Here they go again…” Owen murmured, his eyes curiously studying Raid and Nova's hair. “Is, um, that natural?”
“What is? My hair?” Raid replied.
“Yeah.”
“Yes, we were born with it.”
“Really? A twist of fate?”
“No. Where I'm from, my people all have ashen hair.”
“And where are you from?”
“Core Highmer, former Anyi. My clan fell, so we came here.” Raid's words seemed to resonate with Charlie, who suddenly leaned in with keen interest.
Owen noticed Charlie's change and nudged the shy boy lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, I’m not going to say everything for you friend. I know you'd like to share.”
“What is it?” Raid asked, curious.
“I—I’m Kesi, Charlie Kesi, from Aliswa of Manda. My clan also fell. I’m happy to meet a wanderer like myself, no-not for your loss, but for our likeness.”
Raid nodded slowly. “I apologize, but I've never heard of the Kesi. I know of the Manda, but I didn’t know they had a neighboring clan called Kesi.”
"That's fine. Many don't. My clan has been gone for three centuries.”
“And you still managed to retain your clan name?” Nova said, impressed.
“With difficulty…” Charlie replied, his shyness amplified in response to Nova's question. “In truth, I've never been to my heartland. I was born here. My parents came here to seek shelter after the Manda tried to eradicate our culture for the last time.”
“I’ve heard the Manda have an especially aggressive assimilation program for migrants, but my understanding is based only on hearsay,” Nova said thoughtfully.
Charlie, however, failed to respond. The group awaited Charlie's courage, but when Owen realized the will to speak was gone, he quickly spoke up to prevent any further awkwardness and save Charlie from added attention. “So, ahh… What are your classes? I think it’s important we know each other’s roles since we’re going to work together and all.” An obvious shift in topic.
“I’m a flanker,” Nova replied smoothly, playing along to Owen’s cue.
“Striker,” Raid added curtly.
“Oh hey!” Michael called out, waving from afar. They hadn’t realized he had been listening. “I’m a striker too! It’s good to know I’m not entirely alone. Well, wait, no… I guess Claire counts as a striker as well.”
“What?!” Claire spat, clearly offended. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m a rook?”
“What’s a rook?” Raid asked, puzzled.
“I’m basically a striker, but I hit harder,” Claire said. “That’s the simplest way I can explain it.”
Michael scoffed in response. “You mean that’s the only way you can explain it. Don’t make yourself out to be so sophisticated. Hit harder my ass. That’s basically the same thing, you’re a striker.”
“I’m a rook...” she reiterated, her anger simmering.
“Mind you, no one here had heard of your class until you got here, which means you’re more of an art piece than anything else.”
“Shut it Michael. It’s fuckwits like you who give strikers a bad name. Do you realize your class is the most common around? Stop thinking so highly of yourself,” Claire shot back, her scowl deepening.
“And for good reason we're the most common! It's because we're the best! Art, piece…”
“Yeah? Come outside, I’ll floor you.”
Anna hesitated, her hand hovering in the air as she sought to draw attention without raising her voice. The gesture worked, capturing the group's focus despite the ongoing argument between Claire and Michael. “I'm a slingshot,” the timid-looking girl said. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll give it my best, I promise.”
Both Raid and Nova nodded in acknowledgement, with Nova’s particularly warm smile making Anna’s cheeks flush with a hint of embarrassment.
“It seems I have discovered two bashful lambs here, a male and a female, what luck,” Nova remarked with obvious subtlety, her tone quiet and mellow as she turned towards Raid with a teasing grin. “So what about you two? What are your classes?” Shifting her focus to Owen and Charlie.
“Charlie here is a wallburn,” answered Owen, patting Charlie's shoulder.
“A rook and a wallburn," Raid mused. "Two classes I’ve never encountered until now. I’ve just gotten to know a rook, but I’ve only heard tales about a wallburn. Tell me, Charlie, is it true that you’re the suicidal cousins of grenadiers?”
“In my case, partly,” Charlie replied, almost inaudibly enough that Raid considered enhancing his hearing. “I can’t speak for the others, but my artform, the False Flame, is derived from the grenadiers of Kesi.” His voice gaining volume and confidence as he spoke. “But I'm ashamed to admit that I don’t know the specific artform that birthed my own. The knowledge has been lost.”
“But is it true that you have high coverage and explosive power at the cost of your stamina?” Raid asked.
“Yes, that’s accurate for me. My reserves burn out faster than most, sometimes in a single fight if I’m unlucky. I need a fort on the battlefield, or I’ll be quickly overwhelmed.”
"In a single fight? Really?" Nova said in disbelief.
Charlie hesitated for a moment but then gathered the courage to respond. "It only takes a single hit from me. Th-that's normally how it goes... It's only bad if they force me to waste my reserves, otherwise I can last the battle."
“Well, a fort shouldn't be an issue, isn't that right Owen?” Raid assumed. "Seeing how two are so close, maybe that might apply in battle as well?"
"Sadly no, it doesn't. A poor assumption Raid, but I am not a fort. I was actually hoping one of you two new arrivals would fill that role."
“So what are you then?” Nova asked.
"A signalflare," Owen declared with pride.
"What?" Raid replied, perplexed. "You're not even a knight. What’s a signalflare doing here?"
"Communication, obviously. Why else would I be here?" Owen replied, smirking. "Every team gets one."
"A signalflare at the team level?" Nova chimed. "That's new. You guys are so valuable that it would be a waste to do so. How much is the ministry paying you?"
"I am here on transfer as well. Charlie and I were stationed in a large border town in northern Kundis."
"They didn't sent you south for the war? Why would they leave you sitting there?" Raid asked.
"No idea," Owen said with a shrug. "Can't mobilize everyone and abandon the borders unless they’re desperate. Kundis and Pelgid haven't been on good terms lately."
"They don't have to move everyone. Just any aura users south. Shouldn't infantry just be enough for border patrol if there isn't a clan war?" Raid reasoned.
"I don't make the decisions. Kundis are cautious. They like security and certainty."
"But aren't we desperate now though?" Nova said. "We've lost two battles, and now the Imperials have a foothold in the Kundishelm."
"The Kundis can't even reduce our numbers on the northern borders, let alone abandon them. If anything, we need more soldiers up there. There's too much land to cover."
"What's the issue?" Raid asked.
"Bandits from the Pelgid side, crossing the border and torching villages," Owen explained. "Pelgid has allowed them to thrive in the Sleepy Forest, as long as they only prey on the Kundis."
"That's nasty," Nova remarked. "And I'm guessing the Kundis can't send soldiers to deal with the bandits because they're on Pelgid lands."
"Exactly," Owen nodded. "Not to mention it’s Pelgid’s responsibility to deal with the bandits to begin with."
"Then why don't the Kundis hire freelancers to handle it?" Raid suggested. "Deal with the bandits…”
“They have been, to no effect. Some groups are too strong, would need more than just a few lancers to take them. Might as well hire an entire army, which cost a fortune. Other groups just scatter and flee, only to return once the lancers are gone. And then there's the challenge of finding them in that damned forest, too dark even during the day. But none of this addresses the root cause. You can purge the forest full of them, but they'll grow right back because any aspiring vagabond or fucksmear can just walk themselves in and replace the dead ones.”
“Good thing we’re the Rose then. Our northern border is all high rock and sharp edges. I don't envy the Kundis’s problem at all,” Nova said.
“Alright!” Micheal shouted, grabbing everyone's attention. “I think it's high time we chose a leader. I’ve waited patiently enough.”
“Leader?” Raid echoed. “As in, this team’s leader?”
“Yes. The lieutenant said every team needs a leader, so they know who to call,” Owen explained. "Everyone agreed to wait until our team was full before choosing among ourselves. Didn't want to be unfair.”
“Shouldn't we wait a bit longer before we choose?” Claire suggested. “They just arrived, barely know any of us, and we don’t know them. Better if everyone familiarizes themselves with each other first, then the votes will be fair.”
“Fair?” Micheal repeated. “We all know I’ll be the leader. I waited for our last two members only for formality's sake.”
“And what makes you so sure you'll be picked?” Claire sneered.
“Because I am the oldest and the most experienced, obviously.”
“You haven't even asked for their ages. Raid, Nova, how old are you two? Please be older than this bastard. Wait a damn minute, I'm the oldest, what are you on about?”
“You don't need to ask!” Michael yelled, “they both look young.”
“And what if they're not?” Claire snapped.
“Then it doesn't matter because I am more experienced anyway. I fought in the Rain War.”
“So did I, and it wasn't much of a war, so that statement doesn't mean much. You probably sat on your ass for most of it, as we all did.”
“Maybe you did, I did not. I fought in every battle! Dueled every knight!”
“Horseshit! There were no battles, only skirmishes and useless patrols. A lot of sitting around and watching sunsets is what that war was.”
“Now, now, calm down you two,” Owen interjected. “We're never gonna get anywhere at this rate. Do we vote or wait for the newcomers to settle in?”
“There will be no votes,” Michael announced firmly. “As I stated before, I will be the leader. Owen, Anna, and Charlie have already expressed no desire for the position days ago, which leaves only me. Are there any objections?”
Claire raised a hand. “I object. You forgot to mention me,” she said, her voice sharp.
Michael’s gaze turned dismissive. “Didn’t you also say you weren’t interested in the role?”
“Yes, I did. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to accept a self-righteous bastard like you as our leader. Also, our newcomers haven't declined the position yet, who said you're the only option? Did fate herself ordain you as her fucking hand? I doubt it.”
Anna raised her hand warily once more, eventually drawing the group’s attention. “Umm, I might be mistaken, but don’t we have a noble among us? Picking a leader seems a bit redundant, don’t you think?”
Everyone’s attention shifted immediately to Nova.
Nova looked thoughtful. “This leadership position… does it come with any responsibilities?”
“Very few,” Claire clarified. “It’s mostly representative. This isn’t a command role. We’re all farriders now, and unless everyone agrees to be ordered around, we’re expected to work as a team. Generally, discussions at the planning level are led by the leaders, as well as communications with the ministry. And no doubt any opinion you may hold will also be considered.”
"Influential representative," Owen added.
“Or… maybe I can just take it if you feel you're not up for it,” Michael suggested meekly. Suddenly and embarrassingly realizing his earlier dismissal of Nova’s status and forgetting her social position in the heat of the moment.
Nova briefly glanced at Raid, who shrugged in response. After a moment’s contemplation, Nova nodded. “Alright, I’ll take it.”