Morning crept into the barracks like a reluctant guest slow, pale, and half-asleep. The courtyard still smelled of metal and dew. Vector sat cross-legged beneath the old banner pole, his eyes half-closed, a small flower perched behind his ear.
Cidney Cavy stood a few steps away, arms crossed. Her expression was the usual blend of authority and silent disapproval. "You know, Lieutenant Brentford is already yelling at recruits while you're out here pretending to be a monk."
Vector opened one eye. "Meditating is not pretending, Cidney. It's preparation."
"Preparation for what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "A nap?"
He chuckled. "You're not wrong."
Cidney sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're impossible. We have drills to attend, and you're out here talking to flowers."
"I wasn't talking to it," Vector said, standing and brushing the dirt off his uniform. "It was listening."
"Eww. You're weird."
He smiled faintly, then turned toward the field. "Weird keeps me alive."
The recruits lined up in uneven rows as the sun finally broke the horizon. Lieutenant Brentford was already red-faced, barking orders that echoed across the grounds. "Formations! Formations, damn it! You look like a bunch of zombies staggering home from a bar fight!"
Marvy, the messenger, darted between them like a sparrow, tripping over his own boots. "Lieutenant! The new schedule...gahhh!" He nearly collided with a post but managed a clumsy salute. "Message from the upper brass!"
Brentford snatched the note, muttering, "These bastards in command sure love their paperwork." He tore it open and frowned. "Another evaluation, huh? Great. Just what I needed more eyes watching me babysit you lot."
Vector watched from a distance, leaning on his spear. He wasn't part of the recruits' mess anymore, but his presence drew glances. The soldiers respected him and occasionally feared him. Not because he was cruel, but because he didn't seem fully there.
Furi Wetland appeared beside him, calm as always, a clipboard tucked under his arm. "They're improving," he said. "Slowly. But that's better than chaos."
"Slow and steady," Vector murmured. "That's how the world moves before it breaks."
Furi glanced at him. "You always talk like that,like you're halfway between a poet and a prophet."
"Or a bastard with too much free time."
Furi chuckled. "Both, maybe."
A whistle blew. The recruits began sparring. One by one they stumbled, cursed, and got back up. Tobara, the nervous girl from before, hesitated at the edge of the group. Vector walked toward her, slow and patient.
"You're holding the spear like it's going to bite you," he said.
"I...I'm trying, sir," she stammered. "It's just heavy."
"Then make it lighter," he said simply.
She blinked. "What?"
He demonstrated shifting his stance, loosening his grip. "You don't fight the weapon. You fight with it. Feel it move. Let it breathe."
When she tried again, her motion flowed smoother, cleaner. A small grin flickered across her face.
"Better," Vector said. "Now keep at it until you don't have to think."
Brentford called from the other side. "Hey! Stop flirting and train her properly!"
Vector groaned under his breath. "Damn loudmouth."
Furi smirked. "He's not wrong, though."
"Shut up," Vector muttered, half-smiling.
By afternoon, the sun hung high and merciless. The recruits dragged themselves to shade, exhausted. Vector remained in the field, twirling his spear in slow, deliberate arcs. His movements were calm almost meditative until a stray gust carried a voice from behind.
"Show-off."
Cidney stood there, arms crossed again, watching him. "You do realize you're supposed to teach them, not make them feel like worms."
He paused. "Worms become butterflies, eventually."
"Unless someone steps on them first."
"Then they become soil," he said, grinning.
She groaned. "You're insufferable."
"Admit it," he said, lowering the spear, "you'd miss me if I left."
"Maybe. Like I miss a headache when it's gone."
Vector laughed. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Cidney rolled her eyes. "You're such a bastard."
The evening wind carried a faint chill. As the barracks quieted, Furi joined Vector near the overlook that faced the valley. Lanterns flickered below, scattered like stars on earth.
"Tomorrow's orders," Furi said softly. "Deployment toward the northern perimeter. You, me, Cidney, and the squad."
Vector nodded slowly. "So it begins."
"Do you think she'll be there?" Furi asked.
Vector hesitated. "Who?"
"The Commander's daughter. Trilla. She's rumored to oversee the council's coordination in person."
He didn't answer at first. Then, with a faint sigh, "Maybe. But it doesn't matter."
"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Furi said, smirking.
Before Vector could reply, the faint sound of carriage wheels echoed through the night. A group of riders approached the outpost below the council's insignia glinting under moonlight.
Among them, Trilla.
Even from that distance, her posture was unmistakable composed, yet curious. Her gaze swept over the encampment until it caught his. For a heartbeat, neither looked away.
Then she turned, disappearing into the light of the barracks gate.
Furi folded his arms. "Well," he said quietly, "looks like tomorrow just got interesting."
Vector didn't answer. He just stared at the gate, the night breeze tugging at his hair, a small smirk forming on his face.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Interesting… or a damn headache."