Soma Locke awoke at precisely three o'clock in the morning.
And immediately regretted eating eight dragon wings.
He lay perfectly still beneath his blankets, staring at the ceiling while his stomach issued a series of complaints that sounded suspiciously like an approaching thunderstorm.
I regret nothing.
A particularly aggressive gurgle followed.
All right. Perhaps the eighth wing was unnecessary.
For the first time in years, Soma had slept poorly. His thoughts had wandered through the night, returning again and again to the two strangers his father had introduced only hours earlier.
Captain Jaspar.
Master Kara.
Five years of training with people whose experiences stretched far beyond the walls of Highmere.
It was precisely the opportunity he'd wanted, yet the prospect of surrendering his carefully established routine to a stranger was irritating him more than he cared to admit. Jaspar had already made assumptions about him without so much as watching him train.
That didn't mean the man was incompetent.
It meant Soma had something to learn about him.
And, perhaps more importantly, Jaspar had something to learn about Soma.
He climbed from bed, dressed in his usual training clothes, and opened the door.
Samantha stood waiting with a towel and waterskin.
"Good morning, young master."
Soma regarded her.
"You're persistent."
"And you're awake at three in the morning after eating enough dragon wings to feed an entire barracks."
"A remarkable accomplishment."
"A deeply concerning one."
He stepped into the corridor.
Samantha fell into place beside him, carrying a small satchel over one shoulder.
"You seem tired," she observed.
"I didn't sleep particularly well."
"Too much excitement?"
"Too many unknown variables."
She glanced down.
"You're worried about Captain Jaspar."
"I'm evaluating him."
"Of course you are."
"He doesn't know me. I don't know him. And now I'm supposed to spend three days every week following his instructions."
"Your father trusts him."
"Which is the only reason I'm entertaining the arrangement."
Samantha smiled faintly.
"Perhaps you should try approaching the situation with an open mind."
"My mind is open."
"Your face disagrees."
Soma sighed.
"You're becoming exceptionally difficult."
"I learned from the best."
The training grounds were quiet when they arrived. Only a few lanterns glowed beneath the barracks eaves, casting long shadows across the packed earth and cobblestones.
The Citadel rose above Highmere like an enormous black needle against the stars. Far beyond the royal grounds, the mountains stood silent beneath a thin silver moon.
Soma settled onto his usual wooden crate while Samantha fetched breakfast from the kitchens.
A few minutes later, she returned with warm turnovers.
"Here."
Soma accepted one.
"If I ever become wealthy and powerful, I'm hiring you to manage everything."
Samantha raised an eyebrow.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"Then my first decision will be to forbid you from eating eight dragon wings in one sitting."
"Your employment has been terminated."
She laughed.
Heavy footsteps approached from the direction of the equipment shed.
"Already firing the help, are we?"
Igor emerged from the shadows with his keys jangling at his belt.
"Morning, old man," Soma replied.
"Don't sound too excited to see me."
"I'd hate to encourage you."
Igor stopped beside the crate, his remaining eye narrowing.
"You look like shit."
Samantha gasped.
"Igor!"
"What? He does."
"He's ten!"
"And apparently old enough to eat himself into an early grave."
Soma finished chewing his turnover.
"Glad to see your charming bedside manner hasn't improved overnight."
Igor unlocked the equipment shed.
"How's the birthday boy feeling?"
"Like my stomach is filing a formal complaint."
"Good. Maybe that'll teach you moderation."
"Coming from the man who drank an entire barrel of ale during the harvest festival?"
"That was different."
"How?"
"I survived."
"An inspiring philosophy."
Igor snorted and pushed open the shed doors.
"Get your equipment, brat."
Soma began his usual three-mile run while the city slept.
Twelve laps around the quarter-mile perimeter trail had become as familiar as the corridors of Locke Manor. He knew which turns collected puddles after rain, which stretches received the earliest sunlight, and where the occasional loose stone threatened an inattentive runner.
His muscles warmed gradually. The unpleasant heaviness left over from dinner faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of breathing and footsteps.
He did not run at a reckless pace.
That was one of the earliest lessons Igor had beaten into his head—figuratively, although the veteran had certainly threatened the literal version often enough.
Training isn't punishment. Training is preparation.
The distinction mattered.
Someone who exhausted himself before a fight had already handed his opponent an advantage.
By the time Soma completed his final lap, sweat dampened his hair and the eastern horizon had begun to pale.
Samantha waited with water.
"How was it?"
"Better than expected."
"Your stomach?"
"Has agreed to an uneasy ceasefire."
She laughed and offered him the flask.
Soma drank slowly, then looked toward the equipment shed.
Captain Jaspar was scheduled to arrive at five.
That left time for the rest of his routine.
He selected a wooden spear first, spending the next portion of his session practicing thrusts, changes in stance, and defensive movements. The weapon's length required a different understanding of distance from the sword he'd used the previous morning.
When his shoulders began tiring, he traded the spear for a practice bow.
Archery had never come as easily as he wished.
Even now, he occasionally released too quickly or allowed his posture to shift while drawing. But his accuracy had improved considerably over the years, and he could identify most of his mistakes without waiting for Igor to point them out.
Usually.
His fourth arrow struck well outside the target's center.
"Your left shoulder dropped," Igor called from behind him.
Soma sighed.
"Good morning to you, too."
"Morning. Your left shoulder dropped."
"I heard you."
"Then fix it."
He did.
The fifth arrow struck much closer.
Igor grunted approvingly.
Soma regarded the target.
"Was that a compliment?"
"Don't push your luck."
A little before five, Soma returned to his crate.
He had finished his run, practiced with two weapons, and completed a shortened conditioning session. Rather than exhausting himself further, he'd decided to preserve some energy for whatever the captain intended.
Samantha handed him another towel.
"You're being unusually sensible."
Soma wiped his forehead.
"That almost sounded like praise."
"Don't get used to it."
He laughed.
Then the atmosphere in the training yard changed.
Several soldiers glanced toward the eastern entrance.
A tall figure had emerged from the barracks passage, walking with the steady confidence of someone accustomed to giving orders.
Captain Jaspar.
He wore dark traveling clothes beneath reinforced leather armor, with a short sword at his hip and a weathered cloak hanging from one shoulder.
His damaged eye was partially concealed beneath an old scar, but the other moved constantly, examining the courtyard.
He noticed the guards.
The weapon racks.
The training trail.
And finally, the small boy sitting beside the equipment shed.
Jaspar approached.
"At least you're on time."
Soma rose.
"Good morning, Captain."
The veteran looked him over.
"Your father tells me you've been training."
"Yes, sir."
"How much?"
"Several years."
Jaspar grunted.
"Fine. Then we'll begin with something simple."
He pointed toward the perimeter trail.
"You're ten. You don't have the strength to stand against a grown fighter, and you won't have the mana to compensate until your limiter is removed."
Soma said nothing.
"If you're faced with something stronger than you, your first responsibility is surviving. Sometimes that means running. And if you're going to run, you'd better have the stamina to do it."
He folded his arms.
"One mile. Start now."
Soma considered the instruction.
He had already completed three.
But Jaspar didn't know that.
And the man was trying to establish a baseline.
Interesting.
"Understood, Captain."
He turned toward the trail.
"Hold on a damned second."
Igor's voice thundered across the courtyard.
Soma stopped.
The one-eyed veteran emerged from the shed, carrying a bundle of practice weapons.
Jaspar turned.
"Is there a problem?"
Igor stared at him.
"Did you just tell the boy to run a mile?"
"Yes."
"Right now?"
"Is there an echo in this yard?"
Soma winced.
Oh, this should be entertaining.
Igor set the weapons down with a loud clatter.
"Well, that's adorable."
Jaspar's expression cooled.
"Explain yourself."
Igor walked closer.
"How about you explain why you showed up here ready to measure your cock against a ten-year-old?"
Samantha made an offended noise.
"IGOR!"
"What? It's a fair question."
Several nearby guards suddenly became extremely interested in their equipment.
Jaspar stepped toward him.
"Careful, old man."
Igor smiled.
It was not a particularly friendly smile.
"Or what? You'll show me how impressive the famous Undead Berserker still is?"
The courtyard fell quiet.
Soma looked between them.
Undead Berserker?
That was new.
Igor continued.
"I know who you are, Captain. Heard the stories. Hell, I've fought beside men who served under you."
Jaspar said nothing.
"And I'm sure you're a terrifying bastard when somebody puts a blade in your hand. But before you come stomping into my yard acting like everyone here is an idiot, you might want to learn a little about the boy you're supposed to teach."
Jaspar glanced toward Soma.
"What time did you arrive?"
"Three o'clock," Soma answered.
The captain's brow tightened.
"And what have you been doing since then?"
"My usual training."
"Which consists of?"
"A three-mile run, weapon drills, and conditioning. Normally I work with one weapon each morning, but today I practiced with both the spear and bow."
Jaspar studied him.
"Three miles?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you said nothing when I ordered another mile?"
Soma shrugged slightly.
"You were assessing me."
"That's correct."
"And I was assessing you."
A few guards exchanged amused looks.
Jaspar's gaze sharpened.
"Go on."
Soma considered his words carefully.
"I don't know you, Captain. But my father and the king trust you enough to put you in charge of my education. That matters. I assumed you had a reason for giving the order."
"And?"
"I wanted to see what you'd do when you learned something you hadn't expected."
Igor barked a laugh.
Jaspar ignored him.
"You could've told me you'd already completed your run."
"I could have."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because you didn't ask."
There was a brief, dangerous silence.
Then Igor began laughing so hard he had to lean against the equipment shed.
"OH, I LIKE THAT ONE!"
Samantha covered her face.
"Soma..."
Jaspar looked at the boy for a long moment.
Soma returned the stare.
He wasn't trying to humiliate the captain. At least, not entirely.
He simply wanted to know whether the man could admit he'd made an incorrect assumption.
Finally, Jaspar exhaled through his nose.
"Fair enough."
Igor stopped laughing.
Soma blinked.
Jaspar turned toward the training trail.
"I should've asked more questions before deciding what you needed."
That surprised Soma more than any threat could have.
"But," the captain continued, facing him again, "you've made an assumption of your own."
Soma frowned.
"Which is?"
"That because you understood my purpose, you understood the lesson."
Jaspar stepped closer.
"Out in the field, you'll sometimes receive an order without knowing everything behind it. You may have information your commander doesn't possess. If keeping it to yourself puts people in danger, that isn't clever. It's irresponsible."
Soma's smile faded.
The captain's tone remained firm.
"You ran three miles. Good. If I then ordered you to run another ten because I didn't know your condition, would you stay quiet just to see what happened?"
Soma considered the question.
"No, sir."
"Why?"
"Because I might injure myself and become less useful."
"Exactly."
Jaspar nodded.
"Being observant matters. Knowing when to speak matters just as much."
Soma lowered his gaze thoughtfully.
All right.
That was a good point.
From the side, Igor made a disgusted noise.
"Gods damn it. He's actually teaching."
Jaspar glanced at him.
"Try not to sound disappointed."
"I was hoping you were just an arrogant prick."
"Give it time."
Igor grinned.
Soma looked between the two men.
Oh, wonderful. They're going to get along.
Jaspar spent the next hour observing Soma's basic abilities.
He tested his balance, footwork, weapon familiarity, and understanding of defensive positioning. Occasionally, he asked questions without warning.
"If three men approach you on a narrow road, what do you do?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"Their weapons, the terrain, whether they're hostile, and whether I can leave without fighting."
Jaspar nodded.
"If they're hostile?"
"I look for a way to escape."
"If you can't escape?"
"Make them approach through the narrowest position available. Reduce the number who can engage at once."
"Good. And if one of them has a bow?"
Soma hesitated.
"Find cover?"
"Before or after he shoots you?"
"Preferably before."
"Then why didn't you mention it first?"
Soma frowned.
Jaspar smiled for the first time.
It was a small, unpleasant expression.
"Questions become easier when the enemy waits politely for your answer."
They continued.
The captain didn't seem particularly impressed by Soma's strength, though he acknowledged that the boy possessed unusual discipline and a good grasp of fundamental technique.
What interested him more was how Soma approached problems.
He rarely answered without thinking.
And when he didn't know something, he generally admitted it.
That, Jaspar seemed to appreciate.
Eventually, he lowered the practice staff he'd been using.
"Enough."
Soma straightened.
"We're finished?"
"With this."
Jaspar looked toward the city beyond the training grounds.
"Your father asked me to prepare you for life outside these walls. Swinging a stick isn't going to accomplish that by itself."
Soma followed his gaze.
"What did you have in mind?"
"A practical lesson."
"What sort?"
"Go get cleaned up. Change into traveling clothes. Meet me at the eastern estate gates in twenty minutes."
Soma's eyes widened.
"We're leaving the manor?"
"Yes."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll find out."
Jaspar started walking away, then stopped.
"And bring Samantha."
Soma blinked.
"Samantha?"
The captain glanced back.
"Is there another one?"
"No, sir."
"Then bring her."
He continued toward the barracks without further explanation.
Soma turned toward his maid.
Samantha stared after the captain.
"Why would he want me to come?"
Soma considered the question.
"I don't know."
She looked down at him.
"That doesn't happen often."
"No."
He smiled.
"Which makes it interesting."
Twenty minutes later, Soma arrived at the eastern gates wearing sturdy traveling trousers, a dark tunic, reinforced boots, and a light cloak.
Samantha followed, carrying a neatly packed satchel containing water, food, spare clothing, medical supplies, and several items Soma suspected she'd included because she believed he was incapable of surviving an afternoon without them.
The sight awaiting them made him stop.
Three covered carriages stood in the courtyard.
Their dark wooden panels bore the silver crest of House Locke, and each was drawn by powerful horses fitted with reinforced harnesses.
Five Vanguard knights waited nearby.
Three carried heavy shields and swords. Another wore a spear across his back, while the fifth stood beside the carriages checking the string of a longbow.
Several attendants were securing supplies.
Kara stood beside the lead carriage, arguing with a knight over the proper way to secure a heavy traveling chest.
"If that strap breaks, you idiot, the whole thing'll come flying off!"
"It won't break, Master Kara."
"That's what the last fool said before I spent three hours digging his equipment out of a river!"
Soma stared.
This seems slightly excessive for an educational field trip.
Jaspar approached.
"Good. You're both here."
Samantha bowed.
"Captain, may I ask where we're going?"
"Haven Port."
Soma's heart gave an excited leap.
Haven Port.
One of Cyradon's important towns, situated beyond the capital and connected to the waterways leading toward Arcaelis's vast interior lagoon.
He'd studied its location dozens of times.
But he'd never visited.
"Why Haven Port?" he asked.
"Because it's far enough from Highmere to teach you something, and close enough that we can return if necessary."
Kara approached, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"That, and I have business with a merchant who keeps trying to sell me garbage iron at the price of royal steel."
Soma smiled.
"I assume you're going to negotiate."
"I'm going to teach him the difference."
"With words?"
"Depends how stupid he is."
Samantha sighed.
"Wonderful."
Jaspar pointed toward the three carriages.
"Soma and Samantha, you'll ride in the rear carriage with me. Kara will take the lead. The remaining knights will divide themselves between the escort positions."
Samantha frowned.
"Wouldn't it be safer for Soma to ride in the middle carriage?"
"Usually," Jaspar replied.
"Then why—"
"Because anyone watching this convoy will expect the Archduke's son to be placed where the protection is thickest."
He indicated the central carriage.
"That's the obvious choice. Sometimes the obvious choice is exactly what you shouldn't make."
Soma examined the formation.
Three carriages.
Five knights.
A predictable royal crest.
A route beyond the city's walls.
"You're using the convoy as a deception," he said.
Jaspar nodded.
"Partly."
"What happens when we leave the city?"
"We'll reassess the formation."
That answer was interesting.
Not a rigid plan.
A changing one.
Soma looked toward the carriages again.
"And the guards?"
"They know their assignments."
Samantha adjusted the strap of her satchel.
"Captain, is there a particular threat we should know about?"
Jaspar regarded her for a moment.
"Travel always carries risks. That's why we're prepared."
It wasn't the reassurance she'd wanted.
Soma could tell.
But she nodded.
"Understood."
Jaspar motioned toward the rear carriage.
"Get aboard."
The interior smelled of polished wood, leather, and faintly of cedar. Cushioned benches lined both sides of the cabin, while a small enclosed compartment beneath one seat contained emergency supplies.
Soma immediately inspected the windows.
Jaspar noticed.
"Looking for something?"
"Visibility."
"And?"
"Good to the sides. Poor toward the front unless I lean out."
"Correct."
Soma looked toward the door.
"One obvious exit."
"Also correct."
Samantha settled beside him.
"Could you please stop identifying reasons this carriage might be dangerous?"
Soma smiled.
"Would you prefer I wait until something happens?"
"Yes!"
Jaspar let out a low chuckle.
It was so unexpected that Soma looked at him.
The captain noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Then stop staring."
Soma turned toward the window.
He does have a sense of humor.
Unfortunately, it's probably terrible.
Outside, the final supplies were loaded.
Kara climbed into the lead carriage while the knights mounted or took their escort positions. The drivers gathered their reins.
Jaspar tapped the carriage wall twice.
"Move out."
The convoy lurched forward.
For a moment, Soma felt the familiar movement of a carriage crossing the Locke estate grounds.
Then the enormous gates opened.
Beyond them lay Highmere.
But not the Highmere Soma knew from maps, books, and carefully supervised visits.
Today, someone intended to show him a different side of the capital.
And eventually, the world beyond it.
He leaned toward the window, unable to hide his excitement.
The white walls of the royal district rose around them. Beyond their gates, the city spread outward in broad rings of crowded streets, merchant quarters, homes, military compounds, and bustling markets.
Above everything stood the Citadel.
Its shadow stretched across rooftops and avenues, turning entire neighborhoods cool beneath the morning sun.
Soma watched as they passed through the first guarded gate.
The soldiers saluted.
The carriage rolled onward.
He glanced toward Jaspar.
"Captain?"
"What?"
"What's the first lesson?"
The veteran looked out the window.
For several moments, he didn't answer.
Then he spoke.
"That the world you've been studying from your father's library isn't the same world most people live in."
Soma followed his gaze.
Beyond the gleaming streets, the city continued.
Crowded homes.
Narrower roads.
The distant smoke of workshops and crowded market stalls.
"Keep your eyes open, boy," Jaspar said quietly.
"Today, we're going to talk about what it actually means to be an adventurer."
Soma settled back against the seat.
He'd spent ten years reading about extraordinary creatures, dangerous ruins, famous heroes, and legendary battles.
He knew the names of distant towns and could trace the trade routes connecting Cyradon's cities.
He understood the basic principles of a dozen different weapons.
But for the first time, he found himself wondering how much of that knowledge truly mattered to the people who lived outside the walls of Locke Manor.
The carriage continued through Highmere.
And the first real lesson of Soma Locke's new life began.