Training Grounds – Guardians of the Kingdom
Location: Kingdom of Ishtara, Royal Capital Viaria, within Elderan Castle
The training grounds of Elderan Castle stretched wide, its gray stones silent witnesses to battles long past. The air was cold, biting like death's breath, wrapping the place in an icy grip. Ashes from old conflicts mingled with the sweat and blood of warriors, scattered over the damp earth, whipped by harsh winds beneath a dim sun veiled by heavy clouds — a pale light that deepened the chill down to the bones.
The recruits stood in uneven rows, their new brown leather armor still stiff on their bodies, daggers gleaming sharp and clean, yet untouched by battle. Their eyes showed fatigue, hearts weighed down by a mix of timid pride and deep uncertainty.
Commander Larissa Valmyre advanced steadily. A woman in her early forties, her features sharp like a blade, her ash-gray eyes void of mercy. Her black hair tied in the warrior's knot, her lean frame taut like a drawn bow. Her iron armor bore the Norval eagle's emblem, her long red cloak fluttered silently behind her — majestic and intimidating.
She raised her head and commanded with a sharp voice:
"Listen closely, recruits! From this moment, you are no longer lost wanderers of the wilds... You are now... Guardians of the Kingdom!"
Her words echoed against the stone walls, met by faint clapping and hesitant cheers. Not all faces showed confidence.
She continued, "You may feel proud, but from today on, your life belongs not to you. Swear your loyalty to the King... the Queen... the Kingdom! Place them above yourselves... above your families... above your mothers and fathers... above everything!"
Some froze, exchanging nervous glances. One bit his lip tightly.
Suddenly, a harsh voice broke the silence.
"Hypocrite!"
Time seemed to stop. Larissa's eyes, cold as death, snapped to the speaker.
"Who said that?"
She stepped forward with growing intensity.
"Have your morals slipped away with your training?"
A soldier lifted his gaze, defiantly.
"No, Commander!"
Larissa laughed bitterly.
"Since when does a lowly soldier oppose his commander? You have stained your honor, son of a— You! Step forward!"
A slight, nervous recruit moved ahead, sweat dripping down his brow. He avoided meeting her eyes.
"I admire your courage."
"I don't deserve it, Commander."
"What's your name?"
"Call me Jamie, Commander."
"Step forward, Jamie. And you?"
"Kazark."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Kazark... the rebellious one. I've heard of you. But the times are different now."
Without warning, she pressed a finger firmly against his lips, silencing him, then jabbed at his eye.
Kazark screamed in pain, stumbling back, writhing.
The soldiers stared in shock. Kazark held his face, panting, a sardonic smile curling his lips.
"Is this my punishment? Sorry to disappoint you."
"Don't worry, this is just the beginning. Now get out of my sight, and wash off that shame."
Kazark retreated, wincing.
"Well done, Jamie."
"Thank you, Commander."
Larissa faced the crowd.
"Any objections? Speak now... no one will be punished. Anyone...?"
Silence.
"Good. Any questions before I leave?"
Jamie raised his hand hesitantly.
"Well done, Jamie. Listen closely... I won't let this place become dirtied any further."
"Excuse me, Commander... what is our pay?"
She raised an eyebrow, her look full of contempt.
"Pay? Is there any reward greater than the honor of defending the Kingdom?"
Jamie lowered his head, voice barely a whisper.
"I understand, Commander... but I have a poor mother and sister... I want only to help them."
She stepped closer, her gaze piercing.
"How dare you speak of your family here? Is your honor not enough?"
He stepped back, hand trembling, a tear shining in his eye. Silence fell so heavy even the wind stilled.
Inside, he thought, "I shouldn't have spoken... Losing an eye might be easier than losing my dignity before my brothers."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed sharply. A guard shouted,
"Attention! Grand Commander Duke Zeyrad, aide to His Majesty!"
Zeyrad entered confidently. His black cloak embroidered with gold threads, silver hair tied back, eyes gleaming with cunning. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"The little ones have grown... eager to soar in the kingdom's skies."
He smirked disdainfully.
"Congratulations on your honor. As for wages..."
He paused.
"You'll receive enough to fill your bellies, satisfy your needs, and silence your hunger."
Then he turned to Larissa.
"Commander."
"Yes, my lord."
"Walk with me."
She followed silently, the recruits exchanging looks—some doubtful, some relieved.
All eyes turned to Jamie, who had wet his trousers from sheer terror.
---
The High Council
In the grand hall, King Lucius da Roman sat—fifty-something, pale, brown-haired—flanked by women feeding him.
Beside him stood Larissa, Duke Zeyrad, nobles, and generals.
A handsome young noble with flowing blond hair stepped forward.
The King raised his hand.
"Welcome. I am Lucius da Roman. In the name of our great crown, protector of the Kingdom of Ishtara, I have summoned you—lords, nobles, princes, and masters.
This council is an honor and proof of my trust. Know that you are held in highest regard."
His tone darkened.
"The Eighth Year approaches... Our lands, people, and kingdom face grave danger."
A heavy silence fell, broken by a bald noble's whisper.
"The end draws near..."
The King slapped his shoulder.
"Silence."
He continued.
"You may think I fear... and I won't deny it. But my fear is not that of a small boat in a greedy sea.
They have plundered our lands, destroyed the noble House of Valud.
This year... will not be like the others.
It will be the year of Absolute Deliverance."
---