The barracks smelled like steel, sweat, and yesterday's bread the holy trinity of soldier life.
Cidney Cavy leaned back in her creaky chair, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a pile of unfiled reports in the other. Her silver hair was tied in a lazy knot, her uniform crisp enough to make the other officers jealous, if not for the permanent scowl that sat on her face like it paid rent.
"Look at this, Furi," she groaned, flipping through a report. "Six recruits failed to tie their belts properly. Six! Are we training soldiers or shrimp?"
Across the room, Furi Wetland didn't look up. His dark skin caught the dawn light through the open shutters, the faint gold outlining his calm features. He was bent over a map, silently marking adjustments with that maddening patience of his.
"They're new," he said softly. "You were once like them."
Cidney shot him a look sharp enough to cut through armor. "Excuse me, strategist, but I was born competent."
Furi smiled faintly the kind of smile that said he knew she was lying, but he'd let her have it anyway.
Outside, the clanging of steel echoed faintly. The sound of training or rather, one man's personal war against perfection.
Vector.
He moved like someone who didn't need to think. Each strike of his blade had rhythm steady, deliberate, dangerous. His coat fluttered behind him, half-unbuttoned, as if he'd forgotten what comfort was.
Cidney watched him from the window. "You ever notice how he doesn't grunt when he swings?"
Furi leaned slightly, curious. "Hmm?"
"He's like some kind of strategic zombie," she continued. "Doesn't sweat, doesn't shout, doesn't miss. Eerie as hell. Like he's fought this same battle a hundred times before breakfast."
Furi's pen paused on the map. "He probably has."
Cidney turned. "You're not joking, are you?"
"No," Furi said simply. "He doesn't fight to win. He fights to learn."
Cidney blinked, then snorted. "Weird. Most soldiers fight to not die. Guess that's what separates him from the rest of us mere mortals."
The door creaked open as Messenger Marvy poked his head in nervous as always. "Captain Cidney, Strategist Furi"
Cidney groaned, rubbing her temples. "What now, Marvy? Another recruit mistake? Someone swallow their sword again?"
Marvy hesitated. "Uh… no, ma'am. Just, uh… Lady Trilla's envoy passed through the southern gate this morning. Rumor says she's taking personal command of the Western Division."
The room went quiet for a second.
Cidney dropped her apple. "Eww… nobles in uniform. Just what we needed."
Furi, still calm, said, "She's young, but I've read her proposals. She's sharp."
Cidney laughed. "Sharp doesn't keep you alive in a mud trench. Mark my words, she'll faint at the smell of gunpowder."
Furi just smiled again. "Maybe this one's different."
Outside, Vector finished his routine. The recruits watched in quiet awe, none daring to move until he sheathed his blade.
He glanced up and for a brief, fleeting moment, his eyes met the upper tower walkway.
A figure was there, framed by sunlight elegant posture, long hair caught by the wind, her gaze unreadable.
Trilla Tortilla.
She didn't linger long. A turn of her head, a flick of her cloak, and she was gone.
But Vector… paused. Just for a heartbeat.
Cidney noticed from the window. "Gosh..did he just stop mid-training?"
Furi looked up too. "He did."
"Think he saw something?"
Furi's smile was faint, knowing. "Someone."
Cidney grinned, half amused, half skeptical. "Ha! The zombie's alive. Guess I will have to file a miracle report."
Outside, Vector resumed his stance but his rhythm was different now. Still sharp, but almost… thoughtful.
As the barracks horn sounded, signaling the next muster, Cidney stood, brushing off her uniform. "Let's hope this isn't another shithole operation."
"War always is," Furi murmured, folding his map.
Cidney groaned. "You really know how to ruin optimism, you bastard."
He chuckled, following her out the door. "And yet, you keep inviting me to breakfast."
Outside, the recruits formed up. Vector stood among them, unreadable, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the morning mist rose like the breath of something ancient awakening.
The dawn before movement.
The calm before entanglement.
And the strange, invisible pull between two souls who didn't yet realize they'd already stepped into each other's gravity.