The dawn was blood‑red. Trumpets blared across the city walls, summoning recruits to the yard. Sir Garrick's voice thundered over the clamor:
"The Empire marches. Today, you stop being recruits. Today, you learn what it means to fight."
Kael tightened his grip on his sword, his heart pounding. Rowan smirked from across the yard, his polished armor gleaming.
Tharos pawed the earth, restless, sensing the storm ahead.
The recruits marched beyond the capital walls, their boots pounding the dirt road. Kael's breath caught as he saw smoke rising in the distance where village burned, its people scattered.
Sir Garrick rode ahead, his scarred face grim. "Raiders," he growled. "They test our borders. Today, you'll test yourselves."
Kael swallowed hard. He had dreamed of knighthood, of honor and glory. But now, staring at the charred remains of homes, he saw only death.
The raiders struck fast, their cries echoing across the fields. Steel met steel, shields splintered, and the air filled with the stench of blood and fire.
Kael raised his sword, his arms trembling. A raider lunged, and instinct drove him to block. The impact rattled his bones, but he held. He swung clumsily, striking the man's shoulder. The raider snarled, pressing harder. Then Tharos charged. With a roar, the beast slammed into the raider, sending him sprawling. Kael gasped, adrenaline surging. We're not just surviving. We're fighting.
Across the chaos, Rowan fought with ruthless precision. Yet when Kael stumbled, Rowan sneered instead of helping.
"Fall, peasant. Better you than me."
Kael's jaw tightened. He had expected Rowan's cruelty, but in battle it cut deeper. So this is what he truly is a coward hiding behind pride.
Through the clash, Garrick's voice rang out:
"Hold the line! Stand together or die alone!"
Kael forced himself forward, shield raised, sword steady. He fought not for glory, but for
survival , for the recruits beside him, for the villagers who had lost everything, and for the
bond he shared with Tharos.
A raider leader emerged, towering and brutal, his axe dripping with blood. The recruits faltered, fear rippling through the line. Kael's heart hammered. He looked at Tharos, who snorted, eyes blazing.
"Tharos," Kael whispered, "courage. Fire that never dies. Let's show them."
Together, they charged. Tharos slammed into the raider, Kael's blade striking true. The giant fell, and the recruits roared, surging forward with renewed strength.
When the battle ended, the field was littered with bodies. Kael stood trembling, blood on his hands, his breath ragged. He had killed.
Rowan approached, his face pale. "Don't think this makes you equal," he spat, though his voice shook.
Sir Garrick dismounted, his gaze heavy. "You survived your baptism by fire, Kael.
Remember this , war is not glory. It is endurance. And you endured."
Kael looked at Tharos, who pressed his muzzle against his shoulder. For the first time, Kael
felt not just like a recruit, but like a warrior.
---
That night, as the recruits camped under the stars, Kael sat beside Tharos, staring into the fire.
He thought of the villagers, of Rowan's betrayal, of Garrick's words.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured. "But whatever comes, we'll face it together."
Tharos rumbled softly, eyes gleaming in the firelight. And Kael knew that the fire within him
had been lit, and it would not die.