The recruits returned to the capital weary but alive. Their first battle had baptized them in fire, and though many bore scars, they carried themselves with new weight. Kael felt it too the heaviness of survival, the knowledge that he had killed, and the bond with Tharos that had carried him through.
But the city was not at peace. Whispers spread through the barracks: nobles conspiring, provinces restless, and the
Emperor's grip weakening. Kael overheard fragments in the mess hall talk of taxes crushing villages, of lords plotting rebellion.
One recruit muttered, "The war we fought was only a spark. The storm is coming."
Kael frowned, remembering Garrick's warning. War is not glory. It is endurance.
Rowan thrived in the shadows of rumor. He whispered poison into the ears of other recruits, twisting Kael's victories into arrogance. "He thinks killing one raider makes him a knight," Rowan sneered to a group. "But he's still a peasant. And peasants don't belong in the Empire's ranks."
Some laughed, others nodded uneasily. Kael felt the weight of their stares, the doubt Rowan planted like seeds. Sir Garrick summoned Kael one evening. His scarred face was grim, his voice low. "You've proven yourself in battle. But war is not fought only with steel. Politics will cut deeper than any blade. Rowan knows this and he'll use it against you." Kael clenched his fists. "Then I'll fight him the same way I fight on the field."
Garrick shook his head. "Steel cannot silence whispers. You'll need allies, Kael. Choose wisely."
Later, Kael sat in the stables, resting against Tharos's flank. The beast's steady breath calmed him.
"They'll try to tear me down," Kael whispered. "But you gave me courage. Tharos the fire that never dies. With you, I'll endure whatever storm comes."
Tharos rumbled softly, pressing his muzzle against Kael's chest.
That night, the recruits were roused by the tolling of bells. Messengers raced through the barracks, their voices urgent.
"Rebellion in the east! The Empire calls its soldiers to march!"
Kael rose, heart pounding. Rowan smirked in the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malice.
Garrick's warning echoed in Kael's mind.
The storm was no longer rumor. It was rising.