I am absolutely average at everything I do. Seriously. No, not like some magic ability to be average at everything – that's abnormal. I am average in an average way.
All I've ever wanted is to be special – at something, at anything. Everyone's got a talent, don't they? But it doesn't seem to be for me.
I'm the second squad supervisor of the first imperial guard unit. Sounds impressive, but the imperial guard units aren't ranked – I just got entered into the first one by chance. See what I mean? An absolutely normal coincidence.
I've worked hard for the last four years. I got promoted two years in, and that was a little faster than normal, which got me excited, but after another two years, it looks like 'captain' is beyond me.
I could probably become squad leader of a smaller unit outside of the capital, but what good would that do? If I want to show my talents, I've got to be at the heart of it all, right?
"What would you do if the princess asked you to be in her royal guard? Wouldn't that be cool?"
This dreamer is my station buddy, Alfonso. The royal entourage is coming through our station in the fourth district, and he's hoping they'll spot us like a penny in the cobbles. Honestly, I'm hoping they'll spot us too.
"Have you ever seen the princess?" he asks.
"Once, I think. From far away."
"You get a good look at her?"
I frown, thinking. "No, not really."
"Shame." Alfonso twiddles with his spear, spinning it on its butt. "Royal guards."
Normal people like us don't get into the royal guard. But Alfonso isn't entirely normal – the same as me, I guess. He doesn't just dream of high positions, he works towards them. I know when he's off-duty, he's waiting tables at evening balls with the top brass, trying to get his face in someone's memory.
In that way, he, too, wants to be special. I say we're not normal, because some part of us believes it might happen, despite all evidence. But maybe that's exactly what makes us normal?
"Station four, attention!"
Horses clatter through the streets as the advance unit of the royal guard scout the way ahead. Alfonso and I stand to attention by our little booth beneath the wall.
"Sir!" we chant, somewhat in unison.
The hooves clack closer to us, and the guards with their high ponytails loom over us.
"Station report?"
"All clear, sir," I say, looking straight ahead, about level with the armored horse's face plate.
"Good." A little pause. "You couldn't clean up your station in time, soldier?"
Clean? In this part of town? Behind me, I know my outpost has holes in it, paint faded away from years of sun exposure. Nothing here's been cleaned in years.
"No, sir," I say. "We couldn't." Not worth making a fuss with someone like that.
"Hm. I see that's all the imperial guard amounts too. Just don't mess up."
Horse hooves clack away, and my eyes haven't moved. Maybe if I was special, I'd have gotten deeply offended, but to my own disappointment, all I can feel is a bit of embarrassment at being shown up.
Alfonso is a little more irked.
"What a bastard. Dirk Canonbury – I know him. He's not even first stream, you know, Nick."
Nick is my name.
"When I'm in the royal guards… I'm going to be first stream. Then we'll see who amounts to what."
I feel that same flicker in my chest that I've had since I was a kid. That feeling of having to amount to something, needing to be somebody. And just like always, it dies back down again.
The rest of the procession come through, and I can't help but feel intimidated by the warhorses and grand carriages as they approach. By my guess, Alfonso's got a twinkle in his eye looking at all the gold.
The warhorses clump past – heavy beasts breathing mist even in this mild weather. I can't help but shudder as I imagine what could go wrong at this very moment, how quickly my career could end if anything happened to the royal family. But I only have one small duty at this point.
Alfonso and I drum our spears on the floor. "Your Majesty!" we chant, as the carriage wheels pass, taller than our heads, and we are able to glimpse the Princess's weary expression through the small windows.
Just from that glimpse, I can feel the weight of her presence. There is a coldness and a firmness to her, one that wouldn't be budged by anything unnecessary. The kind of strength that can endure real change.
The second carriage wheel rolls by, and then the final warhorses, and the low rumble of the procession fades off into the distance, a light bell ringing from the top of the wall, signalling their entrance to the middle city.
Finally, we can look around. There has been no incident. A couple faces have popped out from windows, and a few walkers have stopped to see what the fuss is, but there is no great assassination attempt. No start to the rebellion. The princess has not noticed the two pennies in the gutter.
"I think she looked at me. Did she look at you?" asks Alfonso.
I shake my head. Could she have looked at him? Who knows. But it's just another normal day in the life of Nick Laina.
***
I'm at the training facility, like always. I've been trying to show some talent here for the last six months, but I'm not the only guard who trains every day.
Some of us are looking for a promotion, others are just making use of the state facilities, training up their skills before they make for a solo career out as a hunter.
Being a guard is a strange profession. It picks up all types: those looking to settle down, those looking to rise up, and those just looking for a quick stop before their next gig.
I like the hunter types, the ones that don't stay in the job for long. They're exciting, especially in the short time they spend here. No doubt they do this everywhere they go: tell enough stories for a few months of fun, then switch jobs and start it all again.
I can't help but feel down today. Seeing a flash of the princess through the window was about as close as I'll get to anything special, and I'd done nothing with it.
"You coming for a drink later?"
It's one of the hunter types, Davies. He knows I'll come, he knows I'm the type that'll say no, and mean yes.
"I think I'm going to get an early night," I say, knowing I'm kidding myself.
"Come on, it'll be fun. I owe you one, anyway. You gonna turn down a free drink?"
Why bother trying to persuade me? "No, no, I really don't think I can do this one." I stop hitting the training dummy for a second. "I've been out too much already."
"Alright, alright," he says, "but you won't blame me for asking you again later, will you?"
"You can ask, the answer'll still be the same." I start attacking the dummy again, thrusting my spear at the steel cuirass. Somehow I can't seem to get the hang of puncturing steel.
"Alright Nick, see you later."
As much as I'd really felt that for once I wanted to show my mettle and keep practicing with this dummy all night, or at least get an early night like I said I would, as soon as he walks away, I get that urge to tell him to come back.
I don't, because I know I don't have to.
An hour later, he comes. "How about that drink, Nick?"
One of my blisters has burst open, and that's my excuse to myself. No point injuring myself training the spear – and I've worked hard, so I deserve a little treat.
"Oh, go on," I say, and I walk off with him, his arm around my shoulder, laughing as always. Just another day in the life of Nick Laina.
***
"You two have been selected for the holy dungeon expedition."
The captain is sitting down opposite me and Alfonso, and we can't quite believe what we're hearing.
"Us?" Alfonso says. "Why us?"
I'm a little surprised by Alfonso's reaction. I thought he'd be more eager – but perhaps the randomness of it all got to him. This was just supposed to be a routine checkup, after all.
"The first knight's entourage is busy in the beast mountains, and the second knight's group is a little thin for the expedition. They're looking for numbers from the imperial guard, and I'm recommending you two."
"Thank you, sir!" says Alfonso. "I won't let you down."
That's more like it.
"And what about you, Laina?" asks the Captain.
"Oh, well…" Honestly, I'm a little worried. The group's looking thin? They're padding numbers with the guards? Sounds risky. "Which dungeon is it?"
"The Everlight Moors."
It's not the most dangerous dungeon… I think. I can't quite remember the rumours.
"He's going," says Alfonso cheerily, putting his hand on my back. "We're going, aren't we?"
He gives me a look of encouragement, and I don't really feel like I can say no. "That is…"
"That's good," says the Captain, looking a little tired and wanting to get this over with. He hands over two documents. "Sign these."
We squint at the documents and take the pens he gives us. I try and eye up Alfonso without making it obvious. I didn't think he could read, but could he?
From the look of his serious, but somewhat vacant frown, he can't read any better than I can. But he nods and scribbles something illegible at the bottom of the document.
I look down and see the same empty line on my document, and I splash some ink on it too. God knows what it says, but it's done now.
"Thank you, gentlemen. The expedition departs this Freyday, so gather your things and say your goodbyes. Make sure you're at the royal barracks by Thorsday evening."
The royal barracks. Home to the royal guard. We salute the captain, make our leave, then run to the inn. Holy dungeon expedition? Royal guard? Was our life as normal people about to change?