Brom rose with the first light of dawn, the cool morning air brushing against his skin as he stirred from sleep. His broad frame cast a long shadow across the polished floor as he stood by the window, watching the sun climb and spill gold across the sky.
"Another day, another chance to grow stronger," he muttered to himself, already planning out his training in his head.
He moved with practiced ease through his morning exercises. Push-ups, stretches, stance drills—each motion sharp and precise, his muscles straining in a way that felt both punishing and satisfying. Discipline was everything.
"Perfect form is the foundation of perfect combat," he reminded himself, flowing into a flawless stance he had practiced for years.
Afterward, he showered. Warm water poured over his body, washing away sweat and sleep. He let the steam curl around him, closing his eyes and savoring the rare moment of peace before duty claimed him again.
Clean and refreshed, Brom sat at the dining table. Fresh bread, eggs, and broth were laid out before him, and his stomach growled in agreement. He picked up a spoon, thinking to himself, Simple food, simple pleasures. That's the good life.
Just as he lifted the first bite, a voice echoed through the house.
"BROTHER!"
Brom froze mid-bite, the spoon hovering near his mouth. He sighed, shoulders dropping. "Here we go," he muttered.
Heavy footsteps pounded closer. Moments later, Vey burst into the dining area, hair sticking out in all directions, her face red with frustration.
"What is it now, Vey?" Brom asked, his tone already weary. "The sun's barely up and you sound like the house is on fire."
Vey planted her hands on her hips. "It feels like it's on fire. Do you even know what happened?"
Brom set down his spoon with a sigh. "Clearly I don't, but something tells me you're about to make me regret asking."
Vey fidgeted, then clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels like a child about to confess to mischief. "I washed your clothes this morning."
Brom narrowed his eyes. "All of them?"
Vey brightened. "Yes! Even the smelly ones. You should be thanking me."
A silence hung in the air. Brom's jaw tightened. "Vey… did that include the uniform I set aside for today's training?"
Vey blinked, then gave a sheepish nod. "Well… yes. But it'll smell wonderful when it's dry!"
Brom dragged a hand down his face. "Vey…"
"What?" she said defensively. "I was trying to help!"
"You always say that right before ruining my plans."
Vey puffed out her cheeks. "So you're angry?"
Brom sighed, looking at her tired but softening. He couldn't stay mad—those eyes had looked up to him since she was little. "No, I'm not angry. Just… mildly betrayed."
Vey giggled nervously. "That's better than very betrayed."
"Next time," Brom said firmly, "ask before you wash everything in sight. Especially uniforms."
"Fine, fine," Vey said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. Then, after a pause: "You can wear your old clothes today. I already folded them for you. They look… vintage."
Brom raised a brow. "Vintage? They're just worn out."
"Exactly! Vintage."
Despite himself, Brom chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright. I'll make it work."
Vey's smile brightened. "See? I fixed it!"
"You caused it and fixed it," Brom corrected, standing up.
"Same thing," she said with a shrug.
Brom gathered his things. "Watch over the house while I'm gone. And please—don't burn it down."
Vey placed a hand over her chest, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I've only almost burned it down once."
"That's once too many."
"I promise, I won't," she said more sincerely. "Good luck today, brother!"
"Take care, Vey," Brom replied, his irritation replaced by a faint smile.
Soon after, Brom arrived at the dormitory where his new apprentice was staying. He straightened his shoulders, knocking three times.
"Aelar. Your training begins now."
No response.
Brom frowned. He tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and pushed the door open cautiously. The room inside was spotless—bed neatly made, belongings perfectly ordered. Even the air smelled clean.
Then his eyes landed on a bag by the wall. Inside lay several swords. Curious, Brom leaned down for a closer look.
"Sir," a calm voice said behind him, "may I ask what you're doing?"
Brom turned. Aelar stood at the doorway, posture straight, eyes sharp.
"These swords," Brom asked, lifting the bag slightly, "they're yours?"
"Yes, sir," Aelar replied, stepping into the room.
"For what purpose?"
Aelar clasped his hands behind his back. "They mark my progress. I've made one each year since I was old enough to lift a hammer."
Brom studied him. "Dedication. I value that in an apprentice." He straightened. "You'll need it for what comes next."
"I'm ready, sir," Aelar said, his voice steady though his shoulders were tense.
"Good. Wear this." Brom handed him a bundle.
Aelar unfolded it, eyes widening. "It represents both honor and responsibility. You'll train as one of us."
Aelar bowed his head slightly. "I understand. Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet," Brom warned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "The hard part hasn't even started."
He stepped into the hall to wait. Moments later, Aelar emerged wearing the uniform. It was slightly loose on him, but he carried it with pride.
"Sir," Aelar said, standing tall, "I'm ready for whatever lessons you think necessary."
Brom nodded, satisfied. "Then let's begin. Today, you'll learn what it truly means to serve Lord Rodel."
"I look forward to it," Aelar replied, his voice firm with anticipation.