The garrison buzzed like a hive the moment Klein stepped through its gates. Knights in blue armor moved in perfect formation, pages ran with scrolls and swords, and the clang of steel echoed from the training yards.
Commander Lucien, with his easy stride and disarming smile, guided Klein through the chaos as if leading a parade.
"Men," Lucien called out, his deep voice booming across the courtyard, "this little one is Klein. He'll be staying with us for a while. Treat him as you would your own—minus the hazing."
The soldiers paused mid-drill to look at the boy. Some nodded politely, others snickered.
"Sir, he's smaller than my sword," one knight whispered.
Lucien's gaze flicked toward him. "And twice as sharp, so mind your tongue, Roderic."
That earned a round of laughter, and Klein, for the first time since arriving, felt something close to warmth.
They led him through the barracks, where he met a broad-shouldered cook who shoved a loaf of bread into his hands ("You look half-starved!"), a grizzled blacksmith who gave him a wink ("If you break a blade, bring it to me. But don't tell me how you did it."), and a pair of young knights who kept asking if he was Lucien's secret apprentice.
'They're loud,' Klein thought. 'Too loud.'
"Mortals always are," Paros replied lazily from within his mind. "Noise is how they pretend to be brave."
Despite the chaos, Klein found himself smiling faintly. There was an odd energy here—disciplined but human. Every soldier respected Lucien, yet they joked freely when he passed.
It was… strange.
After the introductions, Lucien clapped him on the shoulder. "You've been through enough for one day, lad. Go up the stairs at the end of the hall. First door on the right. There's a bath waiting for you. Take your time."
Klein nodded, clutching the towel and small bundle of soap someone had handed him. He followed the corridor up a flight of stone steps, the scent of pinewood and soap growing stronger.
The door creaked open, steam spilling out into the hallway.
Klein stepped inside—
And froze.
There, in the middle of the room, was a woman.
A very naked woman.
Her back was turned at first, long dark hair cascading down her shoulders as she poured hot water into the bath. She turned, saw him, and blinked.
"Oh?" she said in a calm, lilting voice. "You're… not the Commander."
Klein stood there like a statue, brain short-circuiting.
'Oh no. Oh no no no—'
Paros' laughter rang like bells in his skull. "Oh, master, your luck is truly divine."
The woman tilted her head, utterly unfazed. "A child? In the Commander's bathhouse?"
Klein opened his mouth. "I—I think I took the wrong door."
"Clearly," she said, hands on her hips. "This is the Commander's private bath. You shouldn't be here."
Before Klein could bolt, the door opened again. Lucien's voice filled the steamy room. "Ah, there you are, Klein. I see you've met Lyra."
"Commander!" Lyra exclaimed, snatching a towel and wrapping it around herself with practiced ease. "You could warn me when you send people here!"
Lucien looked momentarily surprised, then laughed. "You're the one who insisted on cleaning the baths early."
Lyra huffed, cheeks pink. "You said you wouldn't be back till dusk."
"Plans changed," Lucien said easily, then turned to Klein. "Apologies, lad. Lyra is one of our attendants. She's usually more… clothed."
Klein's ears burned. "I—I didn't see anything!"
Paros snorted. "Liar."
Lucien gave an amused sigh. "Lyra, would you be kind enough to help him get cleaned up? The poor boy's been running through goblin muck."
Lyra blinked, then softened. "You want me to—Commander, he's a child."
Lucien shrugged. "Then treat him like one. Clean him up, give him fresh clothes, and send him to my quarters afterward."
Before Klein could protest, the Commander was already halfway out the door. "And don't let him escape through the window," he added.
The door shut behind him.
Silence.
Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes. "You heard the man. Sit."
Klein obeyed, muttering, "This isn't fair."
"Life rarely is," she said dryly, pouring hot water into the tub. "Now strip and get in before it gets cold."
Klein hesitated, cheeks red.
"Oh, please," Lyra said, turning around to give him privacy. "You're the size of my nephew. I'm not interested."
'She's terrifying,' Klein thought, slipping into the water.
"Terrifyingly efficient," Paros agreed. "If you survive her, you can survive a hydra."
The warmth of the bath seeped into his bones. For the first time in days, his body relaxed completely. Lyra, now fully dressed, began scrubbing at his hair with professional precision.
Klein closed his eyes. 'This isn't so bad.'
Paros chuckled. "Enjoying yourself, master?"
'Quiet,' Klein warned.
She rinsed his hair, humming softly. "You've got good reflexes for a kid. Most boys your age flinch at cold water."
Klein smirked faintly. "I've faced worse."
"Goblins, I heard," she said. "That true?"
Klein nodded.
Lyra paused, her tone softening. "Then maybe you deserve this bath more than anyone."
For a brief moment, there was only the sound of water.
Then Paros whispered, "You are thinking about it, aren't you?"
'Thinking about what?'
"Oh, you know. Warm water. Beautiful woman. Romantic music. The classics."
'Paros!'
The coin's laughter nearly made him choke on the steam.
Lyra leaned over to hand him a towel, and Klein—panicking, flustered, trying to grab it—accidentally flung out his arm in the wrong direction.
His hand brushed against her breast, its tender skin gracing his palm.
Lyra froze.
Klein froze.
Even Paros went silent for a heartbeat.
Then Lyra's voice cracked like thunder. "PERVERT!"
Her slap echoed through the entire bathhouse, followed by a splash as Klein slipped under the water with a yelp.
"Sorry!" he gasped, surfacing again. "I didn't mean to—"
"Out!" she barked, pointing at the door. "Now!"
Paros was laughing so hard he could barely speak. "Master, your legendary charisma strikes again!"
Klein stumbled out, dripping wet and mortified, clutching the towel around him as he bolted for the hallway.
Somewhere below, Lucien's amused voice drifted up. "I see you've met Lyra properly."
Klein scowled, cheeks blazing. "You set me up, didn't you?"
Lucien just smiled. "Welcome to the garrison, boy. Consider that your initiation."