The Chapter House yard was a sprawl of heavy boots and the sharp, rhythmic crack of wood on wood. Standing at the iron gates, Kai felt the usual prickle of eyes on his threadbare tunic. Normally, an unclaimed ward from the Shenya Orphanage wouldn't be allowed within ten feet of the training grounds, but the "Kin of the Fallen" decree—a dusty, mandatory law honoring the officers lost in the Great Incursion—forced the gates open for him. It didn't make him welcome; it just made him an obligation.
"Move it, charity case," a voice snapped.
Tomas, the son of a wealthy grain merchant, shouldered past Kai. He was decked out in boiled leather and carried a custom-weighted practice blade.
A ripple of laughter followed. Even a few of the older recruits—ones Kai had never spoken to—cracked smiles. He felt his ears heat, but he kept his head down and moved toward the muster line.
Instructor Rael Vantis stood at the far end of the yard, his silhouette unmistakable. He was tall, even by knightly standards, with arms like steel cables and a face carved from old wood. His limp was the only concession to age, and even that looked like it would rather be somewhere else. The blue of his instructor's tabard had faded to a stormy gray, but the silver insignia at his throat caught the light when he turned.
"Form up!" Vantis bellowed. His voice needed no help from the wind; it cut straight through the chatter. "If you're not in line in five seconds, you're running the perimeter until you puke!"
Everyone hustled. Kai slipped into the second row, behind a tall girl from the river district and beside a scrawny boy who reeked of fish. There was a moment of silence as Vantis paced the front, gaze flaying the crowd.
"You're here because you think you're tough. You think you're clever, or fast, or special. Maybe you are. But out there—" He stabbed a finger toward the horizon, where the sky still blushed with sunrise. "—out there, the Gloom doesn't care about your feelings. It doesn't care about your family name. It cares about what's left of you when it's done eating."
A few nervous chuckles. Tomas, to his credit, didn't laugh. He just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched.
Vantis strode down the rows, inspecting. When he passed Kai, he lingered a half-second longer than necessary. His eyes flicked down to the steel pendant, then up to Kai's face. Nothing in his expression changed, but the message was clear: You're on notice.
"All right, recruits," Vantis said, stopping at the head of the line. "Pair up, grab a practice sword, and start with the first sequence. If you're caught loafing, you'll be scrubbing the privies with your tongue."
As the group broke, Tomas intercepted Kai at the rack. "I'll take the left-handed stick, Fischer. Wouldn't want to break your little toy, would I?" He snatched up the heavier practice sword, brandishing it like a real weapon.
Kai kept his voice neutral. "You're stronger anyway. You always win."
Tomas flashed a grin, his white teeth gleaming like daggers. "Damn right I do. But at least you know your place. Your old man was a knight, but you're nothing like him, are you?"
Kai's jaw tightened, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his expression neutral. He stared at the ground, focusing on the rough texture of the dirt underfoot, willing the heat rising in his cheeks to subside.
He swallowed the bitterness, refusing to give Tomas the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he clenched his fists around the hilt of his practice sword, drawing strength from the familiar weight, reminding himself of the legacy he carried.
They took their marks in the sandy ring. The other pairs set to work, the clack of wood and grunts of effort filling the air. Tomas advanced immediately, swinging hard for Kai's ribs. Kai parried, barely, and staggered back a pace. His forearms screamed in protest.
"Come on," Tomas said, circling. "Aren't you're the hero's son? Act like it."
Kai sidestepped, feinted low, but Tomas was ready. Another heavy blow, another jolt through his arms. "You going to cry again, Fischer?" Tomas taunted, voice low enough for just them.
Kai gritted his teeth. "Not today."
Tomas pressed the attack, battering away at Kai's guard. It was textbook, and Kai had seen it a hundred times, but knowing what was coming didn't help if you didn't have the muscle to stop it. After a few more exchanges, Kai's left wrist went numb.
"Instructor said to use proper form," Kai grunted, deflecting a slash with all his might.
Tomas let out a short laugh, his eyes glinting. "You really think the Gloom cares about proper form? It's not going to wait for you to get it right."
Vantis's shadow loomed over the ring, arms folded. "That's enough, Tomas," he barked. "If I wanted to see meat pounding meat, I'd go to the slaughterhouse."
Tomas stepped back, face pink. "Yes, Instructor."
Vantis eyed the pair, then jerked his chin. "Switch partners."
Tomas slunk off, and Kai exhaled, lowering his sword. His hands trembled, and he hoped no one noticed. He went to the edge of the ring, wiping sweat from his brow.
It wasn't about winning. He just had to last the day. Just one more day until the Lumina Test.
The next drill was new—Vantis had warned them to expect surprises, but no one guessed he'd have the armorer rig up moving dummies overnight. They were ugly contraptions: wood and straw lashed onto pivoting axles, with padded shields for torsos and spring-loaded arms weighted at the end. You could see the blacksmith's handiwork in the metal joints and the battered faces. They lined the center of the yard, ten paces apart, each ready to spin or lurch with the flick of a lever.
"Pair off," Vantis ordered, "and approach the dummy as you would a live opponent. Your objective is to disable, not destroy. If I see one limb come off, you're paying for repairs out of your own hide."
The recruits shuffled into pairs again, each sizing up the nearest dummy with varying degrees of confidence. Tomas and his new partner went first, both charging at the same time. The dummy's shield-arm whipped out, catching the smaller boy in the stomach and sending him sprawling. Tomas landed a solid blow to the dummy's "leg," but the mechanism absorbed most of the impact.
"Sloppy!" Vantis barked. "You have eyes, don't you? Use them!"
One by one, the pairs took their turns. Some made decent attempts, going for the obvious target points, but none got past the dummy's defense without taking a solid hit in return. Kai watched carefully, noting the timing of the arm swings, the telltale creak just before the shield snapped out, the slight wobble at the base after a hard strike.
When his turn came, he drew a lighter practice sword from the rack—a risk, but his arms were already flagging. His partner, the river district girl, gave him a quick nod. "Just don't let it break my nose, okay?"
He smiled, more out of nerves than amusement. "I'll try."
They approached as a unit. The dummy's arm swung, but Kai had already shifted right, barely outside its range. He counted the rhythm—one, two, three—and as the shield rebounded, he ducked low, slipping under the next swing. His partner hesitated, momentarily surprised, and the dummy clipped her shoulder before she could react.
Kai saw the opening. Instead of striking the shield, he reversed the blade and drove the point into the join where the dummy's "neck" met the torso. The impact wasn't hard, but the mechanism jammed with a sharp click, and the arms froze mid-swing.
Vantis's whistle split the yard. "That's it! That's how you use your head, not just your shoulders! See, Tomas? I want tactics, not tantrums!"
A few of the recruits groaned, but others looked at Kai with a mixture of annoyance and reluctant admiration. He stepped back, letting the river district girl recover her balance. "Nice move," she said, rubbing her shoulder. "You always this sneaky?"
He shrugged, feeling the pleasant buzz of not having embarrassed himself for once. "Just lucky."
Vantis reset the dummy and pointed at Kai. "You, again. Alone this time."
Kai's arms ached, but he nodded and stepped forward. The dummy's mechanisms whirred louder now, and it pivoted as soon as he came in range. He feinted left, then dodged right, and when the arm swung wide, he waited—just a beat longer than instinct told him. The second swing came faster, but he anticipated it, ducked under, and brought his sword up in a controlled arc, tapping the dummy's "chest" where a real opponent's sternum might be.
The dummy stopped. Vantis grinned, an expression so rare it could have been myth. "Not bad. Everyone else, take note: cleverness will always outmaneuver brute strength."
The rest of the session passed in a blur. The recruits rotated through drills, some trying to imitate Kai's moves, most reverting to old habits. Tomas glared at him from across the yard, but said nothing. Kai did his best to ignore the looks, focusing instead on every tip Vantis shouted from the sidelines.
By the time the bell rang for mid-morning break, Kai's shirt clung to his back, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He stood at the edge of the yard, catching his breath, as Vantis dismissed the group.
"Fischer," Vantis called. "A word."
Kai wiped his hands on his tunic and jogged over, a flutter of anxiety stirring in his chest. Had he messed up somehow?
Vantis studied him, his brow furrowed. "You surprised me today. Not bad for a twig."
Kai blinked, caught off guard by the hint of approval nestled in the critique. "Thanks,."
"Don't let it go to your head," Vantis warned, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "You're still the skinniest sack of bones in this yard, but you've got a knack for observation. That'll keep you alive out there."
The words hung between them, a mixture of challenge and care. Kai nodded, feeling a warmth spread through him, unsure how to respond to the unexpected praise.
"Just remember," Vantis continued, his tone firm yet gentle, "it's not enough to be clever. You need strength too. Keep pushing yourself."
Kai left the chapter house with his head higher than usual. He'd won something, even if it was just a second look from a man who never gave them.