Days blurred into sweat and steel. Training drills, sparring matches, and endless lessons in discipline filled Kael's hours. Yet beyond the training grounds, the Empire demanded more than practice recruits were tested in the field, in small missions that revealed who could endure and who would break.
---
Kael's first task was simple: guard duty at the city gates. He stood in borrowed armor, the weight of it pressing into his shoulders, watching merchants and travelers pass beneath the towering walls.
It was dull work, yet he felt pride. I'm not in the fields anymore. I'm standing where knights stand.
But when Rowan passed by, smirking, he muttered loud enough for others to hear:
"Even the gates deserve better than a peasant."
Kael clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain silent. He had learned that words were wasted. Only deeds mattered.
Later, Kael was ordered to demonstrate mounted combat. The nobles paraded their fine horses, sleek and obedient. When Kael led out Tharos, laughter rippled through the crowd. "That thing belongs in the wild, not the stables," Rowan sneered. But when the signal was given, Tharos charged with thunderous power.
Kael leaned low, striking the practice target with precision. The laughter died, replaced by stunned silence. Sir Garrick's eyes narrowed. "Unorthodox," he muttered. "But effective."
Kael felt a surge of pride. They don't have to like me. They only have to see me.
During these time Rowan's hostility grew sharper. During sparring, he struck harder than necessary, aiming for humiliation rather than victory.
One evening, after a brutal match, Kael lay in the dirt, chest heaving. Rowan leaned close,
whispering, "You'll never belong. No matter how hard you fight." Kael met his gaze, blood on his lip, and whispered back,
"Then I'll fight harder."
Not all recruits despised him. A few began to respect his resilience. One offered him bread after a long day, another sparred with him without malice.
One night, as they sat around the fire, a fellow recruit said,
"You're stubborn, Kael. I like that. Maybe you'll survive longer than the rest of us."
Kael smiled faintly. For the first time, he felt the beginnings of camaraderie.
The fire crackled, laughter rising among the recruits. Kael sat with them, sharing bread, his bruises forgotten for a moment. He realized he was no longer eating alone, no longer an outcast.
Across the yard, Rowan watched him with narrowed eyes, his expression cold. Kael met his gaze, and though his stomach tightened, he did not look away.
I may not be equal yet, Kael thought, but I'm no longer alone.
The night ended not in solitude, but in defiance with Rowan's glare promising future conflict, and Kael's quiet strength promising he would be ready.