The morning sun had barely risen, but Ark was already awake. Not because he wanted to be, but because sleep never stayed long in a house that carried more silence than people. The small wooden home stood at the edge of the Fenlik fields, worn by time and wind. Ark pushed the door open with his shoulder, carrying a small sack of grain—probably the last he could afford for the week.
His hands trembled slightly as he set the sack down. Food was becoming a question he had stopped trying to answer.
A soft voice broke the silence.
"Ark… you look awful."
Agnes stood by the fence, arms crossed, hair slightly messy from rushing over. She always looked like she had something more important to say but decided to hold it back.
"I'm fine," Ark said, brushing dust off his shirt.
"You're not. Anyone can see that."
Ark only sighed. He had learned long ago that arguing with her was a waste of breath.
"Taxes are due tomorrow," he said quietly.
Agnes' expression softened. "And the debt?"
Ark didn't answer. His silence said enough.
She stepped closer. "You don't have to carry everything alone, you know. You were a kid when it happened. None of this is your fault."
"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Ark replied. "Debts don't disappear because someone feels bad for you."
Agnes fell silent. She knew he was right.
They walked toward town together. The closer they got, the louder things became—merchants haggling, guards shouting orders, horses pulling carts. Fenlik wasn't a big barony, but it was busy enough that nobody paid attention to two teenagers trying to survive.
But when they reached the town hall, the noise faded. Soldiers were lined up. People whispered. Something was happening.
At the front stood Baron Theo Fenlik, wearing a fine coat and an expression that hadn't changed once in the last ten years—bored, cold, and distant. A scribe handed him a scroll. He read from it without emotion.
"By decree of Fenlik Barony," the baron announced, "Ark of the Reinwell family shall enter service as a soldier for failure to repay inherited debt. Service is to begin immediately."
Ark felt his chest tighten. It was as if the entire world leaned forward and pushed into him.
Agnes turned to him, wide-eyed. "No… Ark, say something. You can't just—"
"What do you want me to say?" he whispered. His voice cracked. "That I'll magically find money? That I have a choice?"
The baron moved on to the next announcement, not even looking at Ark again. To him, it was just another name. Another burden passed to someone too young to bear it.
When it was over, Ark walked away from the crowd. Agnes followed closely behind.
"This isn't fair," she said. "You were four years old when the bandits attacked your parents' caravan. Four, Ark. You shouldn't be the one paying for their deaths."
"Fair?" Ark almost laughed. "When has Fenlik ever been fair?"
He sat on the stone steps near the well. His hands curled into fists, but they trembled too much to hide.
"I don't want to be a soldier," he said. "I'm not strong. I'm not trained. I'm nothing."
Agnes sat beside him. "Then become something. Little by little. Strength isn't something you're born with."
Ark stared at the ground. "I don't know if I can."
"You don't have to know right now," she answered. "Just try. Even once."
For a moment, the world quieted. The weight of his debt didn't disappear, but it shifted—just enough for him to breathe.
Maybe this was how it began. Not with glory. Not with courage. Just a boy who couldn't run anymore.
A boy pushed into a path he never asked for.
A path he would soon learn to walk.
Night came quietly to Fenlik Barony, but Ark barely noticed it. He sat on the wooden floor of his small house, knees pulled up, staring at the single candle flickering beside him. The room was empty—no photos, no mementos, nothing left from his parents except their debt.
He pressed his palm against his face and rubbed his eyes.
It didn't stop the heaviness in his chest.
Tomorrow, he would be a soldier.
He didn't even know how to hold a sword properly.
The wind blew through the cracks in the walls, carrying the faint sound of people laughing in the distance. Ark wondered how people could laugh when the world felt this heavy.
He lay down, but sleep didn't come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes—his parents' caravan leaving the gates years ago, the baron reading his name aloud today, Agnes' worried face.
He eventually fell asleep sitting up, the candle dying on its own.
Morning came too soon.
Fenlik's roosters crowed loudly, like they were mocking him. When Ark opened his eyes, his neck was stiff and his back ached.
He splashed water on his face from a bucket near the door and froze for a moment, staring at his reflection on the surface.
A tired boy with sunken eyes stared back.
"This is it," he whispered to himself. "No turning back."
He slung his small bag over his shoulder—just a change of clothes and a piece of bread Agnes gave him yesterday "just in case." He didn't have anything else worth bringing.
As he stepped outside, the morning air felt colder than usual. Or maybe he was just nervous.
Agnes was already waiting near the path, hands behind her back. When she saw him, she tried to smile, but it came out a little shaky.
"So… today's the day."
"Yeah," Ark said quietly.
"What time do you have to be there?"
"Before the sun reaches the town's watchtower," he answered. "They said new recruits need to gather early."
Agnes nodded. She walked beside him in silence for a few moments before speaking again.
"You scared?"
He didn't even try to pretend. "…Yeah. A lot."
"Good," she said. "Means you're normal. Only idiots aren't scared before doing something big."
He breathed out, almost laughing. "Thanks… I think."
As they reached the town entrance, Ark noticed the guards watching him. He knew why—they already received the baron's orders.
One of them spoke.
"You're Ark, right? The debt recruit."
Ark felt the words hit him harder than expected.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Report to the barracks. Commander will handle your assignment."
Agnes shot the guard a glare, but Ark gently shook his head. It wasn't worth starting anything.
They walked a little further until the barracks came into view. The stone building wasn't large, but it felt intimidating all the same. Weapons hung on the racks outside—training spears, wooden swords, shields with dents from years of use.
Other recruits, all older and stronger-looking, were already gathering. Some seemed excited. Others bored. No one looked like him—thin, quiet, unsure.
Agnes turned to him.
"You got this," she said. "You're not the strongest now, sure… but you don't stay weak forever unless you decide to."
Ark met her eyes. "What if I fail?"
"Then stand up again," she replied. "It's not about being great tomorrow. Just be better than yesterday."
He swallowed hard, then nodded.
A soldier stepped out of the barracks, voice sharp and commanding.
"New recruit! Ark Reinwell!"
Ark straightened up instantly.
"That's me."
"Time to enter," the soldier said. "Once you walk through this gate, you're officially part of Fenlik's forces."
Ark looked at the wooden gate.
He wasn't ready.
He knew it.
But if he waited for the day he felt ready, he would wait his whole life.
He took a slow breath.
Agnes placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go," she whispered. "And come back stronger."
Ark stepped forward. Each footfall felt heavy, like the earth was making sure he understood the weight of his choice.
When he finally crossed the gate into the barracks courtyard, he didn't feel brave.
He didn't feel strong.
He just felt… determined.
Maybe that was enough for now.