The steady clinking of tools against stubborn soil filled the air as Gabriel, Jordan, Sorin, and Alexander worked in strained silence. The farmstead, though modest, demanded relentless effort to yield anything from the unforgiving land of Kyros. Sweat dripped down Alexander Veridan’s face as he struggled to keep pace with the others. His noble upbringing had ill-prepared him for the grueling labor, and it showed.

Gabriel leaned on his hoe, watching Alexander fumble with his tools. “You planning to fight the dirt, or are you just hoping it’ll give up out of pity?”

Alexander straightened, glaring briefly before resuming his efforts. “I’ll get it.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour,” Sorin said with a smirk, leaning against the fence they were trying to mend. “It’s almost impressive how consistently bad you are at this.”

Jordan, working methodically a few paces away, tied off a bundle of stalks. “Maybe lay off him,” he said without looking up. “He’s trying.”

“Trying is cute,” Sorin replied. “But results are what keep us fed.”

Gabriel sighed, shifting his focus to the fence. “Look, farm work isn’t for everyone, and I don’t expect miracles. But if you’re going to stay here, you’ve got to at least pretend you know what you’re doing.”

Alexander didn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he hammered another nail into the wooden beam.

By midday, the group had gathered beneath a crooked tree at the edge of the field for a brief reprieve. Sorin flipped through his notebook, scribbling figures and notes, while Gabriel leaned back against the tree, shading his face with his hand. Alexander sat apart, his breathing still uneven from the morning’s labor.

Jordan was the first to break the silence. “So, Alexander, what’s the plan? You’re here now, but what’s your next move?”

Alexander hesitated, his gaze fixed on the dirt beneath his boots. “I... I want to reclaim my honor. My family, the Veridans, cast me out after I failed. I need to prove I’m not... worthless.”

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Gabriel snorted softly, though there was no malice in it. “Good luck with that. Around here, honor doesn’t mean much unless you can eat it.”

Sorin glanced up from his notebook, his expression serious for once. “If you’re serious about staying, you’ll need to pull your weight. This place doesn’t exactly care about honor either.”

“I’m aware,” Alexander said, his voice steady. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll prove myself.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow but pushed off the tree with a shrug. “Alright. Prove yourself. Just don’t break anything while you’re at it.”

Sorin smirked. “Including yourself.”

Alexander’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t reply. His resolve seemed unshaken, even if his body wasn’t quite keeping up yet.

Later that afternoon, the group resumed their work, repairing the fencing around the farm’s perimeter. Gabriel worked alongside Jordan, the two of them sharing an unspoken rhythm born of years spent together. Sorin managed to make himself useful by holding planks in place while Gabriel hammered.

Alexander, however, struggled to keep up, his frustration evident in the harsh clanging of nails against wood. Gabriel noticed but didn’t say anything, his green eyes flicking to Sorin, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Not bad—for a noble.

“You’re holding that hammer like it owes you money,” Sorin finally said, breaking the silence. “Might want to dial it back before you break something.”

Alexander glared at him, but this time, he bit back a retort. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, his grip on the hammer tightening.

Jordan’s quiet voice cut through the tension. “It’s not about strength. It’s about control.”

Alexander glanced at him, surprised, but Jordan didn’t elaborate. He simply continued his work, his steady movements a quiet example to follow.

Gabriel sighed. “He’s right. No need to kill the fence—it’s already dead.”

The corners of Alexander’s mouth twitched, though he didn’t quite smile. Instead, he nodded and adjusted his grip, his swings becoming more measured.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the group finally called it a day. Alexander collapsed onto the ground, his arms trembling from the unaccustomed exertion. Sorin plopped down beside him, tossing his notebook onto the grass.

“Not bad,” Sorin said, surprising Alexander. “For your first full day, anyway.”

Alexander looked at him, his exhaustion evident. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Sorin grinned. “Take it however you want.”

Gabriel, standing a few steps away, shook his head. “Don’t let him fool you. Sorin doesn’t give compliments. He just likes to mess with people.”

Jordan, leaning against the cart, added quietly, “You did alright.”

Alexander blinked, clearly taken aback. He nodded, his expression softening. “Thanks.”

Gabriel stretched, his back cracking audibly. “Alright, let’s get inside before Sorin starts writing poetry about how tired he is.”

“Hey,” Sorin protested, “I’ve got a way with words.”

“Sure you do,” Gabriel replied dryly, leading the way back to the house.