[The Supply Depot]
The quartermaster, a man with grease-stained fingers and a missing ear, glanced down from his high desk. He took Kael in at a glance, expression flattening.
His hand flicked outward, dismissive.
"Servants don't come in here."
Kael placed the iron token Valen had given him onto the ledger.
The heavy seal of the Captain struck the page with a dull thud.
The quartermaster stiffened. His eyes fixed on the mark—the black wolf of Valen's personal command. Color drained from his face.
"Full requisition, specialist issue. Not Vanguard stock."
The quartermaster was already moving, chair scraping back as he reached for the shelves behind him.
"Immediately, sir."
Ten minutes later, Kael stood before a polished bronze mirror in the back of the depot.
The servant's rags lay in a pile on the floor.
In their place, he wore black leather hardened with wax, reinforced with steel studs at the joints. The cut ran long on his frame, straps drawn tight to keep the armor from shifting, the excess leather folded where height should have been.
A dark grey cloak, thick wool lined with fur, hung from his shoulders to mask his silhouette.
Kael looked at his reflection.
He was still too short for it.
[The Barracks - Rear Area]
Griggs was sitting on a crate behind the latrines, sharpening a knife that was already razor-sharp. A half-empty skin of sour wine sat beside him.
He jumped when a shadow fell over him. He grabbed the knife, spinning around with the jittery nerves of a man who had seen too many ghosts.
He saw the black leather. The officer's cloak.
"Gods," Griggs breathed, lowering the knife. "You look like... you look like one of them."
"Pack your kit," Kael said.
Griggs blinked, his eyes bloodshot. "What? I still have three campaigns left before I'm released. I'm supposed to stay with the Vanguard until then."
"Not anymore." Kael tossed a badge onto the dirt. It was the insignia of Valen's new unit—a simple iron dagger. "You're the first pick."
Griggs stared at the badge."I'm a farmer," he muttered. "That's all I've ever been."
"That's enough. I need someone who follows orders."
A brief pause.
"You faced a Centurion. Death was already there. You still struck back."
"Come with me. The odds are the same as the Vanguard's. A slim chance of survival."
"Where do we get the rest?" Griggs asked, standing up. "The veterans are all dead."
"We don't need veterans." He turned toward the disciplinary pits. "We need men with nothing left to lose."
[The Disciplinary Pits]
This was where the Keep sent soldiers who had committed offenses beyond pardon.
Crimes that could not be erased by service, nor balanced by merit.
Men already written off. No honors waiting. No path back.
Kael walked into the sunken mud pit. Twenty men sat around sullen fires. The air smelled of unwashed bodies and aggression.
He folded the roster in his hand and began reading names."Kogan."A man stepped out from near the largest fire, leaving the noise behind him. He had beaten a noble, acting on his own reasons, and lived long enough to be arrested. That single act determined everything that followed. His rank was stripped, he was discarded into this place, and left here to wait for death.
Kogan looked at Kael's small frame, then at the shiny new leather armor. He grinned, showing yellow teeth.
"Look at this," Kogan boomed, his voice like gravel. "Valen sent a boy to play soldier. Did you get lost on the way to the nursery, little lord?"
The men laughed. The sound was sharp and grating.
Kael walked until he stood three paces from Kogan.
"Now, I will give you a chance. A chance to be reborn."
Kogan laughed harder and stepped in close, crowding Kael's space. He stood a full foot taller.
"You?"
A thick finger jabbed into Kael's chest.
"What are you supposed to be? Coming in here talking about giving us a chance."
Kogan leaned closer, grin sharp.
"Do you even know what we did to end up here?"
"You think you've got more power than the noble lords?"
Kogan bent down and seized Kael by the collar with one hand, dragging him close.
"Little runt."
Kael's arm moved in a tight, efficient arc. Steel slid up beneath the jaw, the blade angled inward where flesh was soft and exposed.
Cold metal pressed in.
The movement finished before Kogan could adjust his stance. One inch deeper and the artery would open.
Kogan froze. His grip slackened.
Kael stepped back. The dagger vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Kael reached into the lining of his leather armor, took out a metal token, and let it fall to the ground between them.
It struck the dirt with a dull sound.
Kogan stared at the token, then touched his own neck, fingertips brushing the spot where the blade had rested. He crouched, picked the token up, wiped the grime away with his thumb, and examined it from every angle. Examined it in silence.
"The unit has four slots left. The assignment ahead leads straight toward death. It pays in freedom."
The pit fell into silence. Every mouth closed.
Kael looked at Kogan.
"You choose the remaining three."
"If you refuse to join, turn around and go back."
Kogan held his gaze for a long moment. Then he straightened, lowered his head a fraction.
"I'll join," he said at last.
"Captain."
[Captain Valen's Office]
Evening had fallen.
Kael stood before Valen's desk, presenting a rough list of names.
Valen scanned the list."Griggs. Kogan. Silas the Rat. Jarek. Bren."
His finger stopped at Kogan's name.
"Former centurion. Knows how to command men and break formations.
Valen rolled up the list and leaned back in his chair and looked at Kael.
"You're good at choosing people."
"I thought you'd take men from my personal guard," Valen continued. "If I didn't know your background, I wouldn't believe you were once a servant."
He paused, then waved a hand.
"Go and choose your equipment. When spring comes, six months from now, that's when your unit moves."
Kael brought his left hand up, fist closed against his heart, fingers turned inward.
"As you command."
Valen spoke again, almost as an afterthought.
"By the way. I had your countryman Tom sent to the infirmary. He woke this morning."
Kael had already turned away. His body stopped mid-step, just for a moment, as if the motion had been checked.
He turned back.
"Understood."