Cassian's POV
"Cassian Thornwell! Present yourself!"
The messenger's voice cut through the chaos in the courtyard. My legs felt like stone, but I forced myself to move. Servants and stable hands crowded around, all of us staring at the soldiers in their polished armor.
I stepped forward. "I'm Cassian."
The messenger looked me up and down with disgust. "The bastard?"
Heat flooded my face. Even strangers knew what I was.
"Yes, sir."
He made a mark on his scroll. "You're conscripted. Report to the armory." He moved on to the next name without another glance.
This was it. I was going to war.
My heart pounded with something I hadn't felt in years—hope. This was my chance. In war, nobody cared if you were a bastard. They cared if you could fight. If you were brave. I could prove myself. I could become someone.
Maybe I could even become a hero.
"Roderic Thornwell!" the messenger called.
My half-brother strutted forward, chest puffed out. The messenger's face changed immediately—respectful now.
"Ah, the lord's legitimate son. We have a special position for you, young master. Officer training. You'll command a unit."
Roderic grinned. "Of course. That's where I belong."
My hope cracked a little. Of course Roderic got to be an officer. Of course he got the easy path. But I pushed the bitterness down. It didn't matter. I'd prove myself anyway.
The next hour was a blur. They lined us up—twenty men from the manor and nearby farms. The armory master came with a wagon of equipment.
Roderic got fitted with proper armor—shining chainmail, a real sword with a leather grip, and a helmet that actually fit. He looked like a knight from the stories.
When my turn came, the armory master barely looked at me. He tossed me a rusty sword that had chips in the blade. "That'll do for you."
I caught it. The handle was rough and worn. But it was a sword. My first real weapon.
Then he threw leather armor at my chest—so old and cracked it had holes in it. "Put that on."
"Sir, this armor has—"
"Take it or go naked. We're short on supplies." He was already moving to the next person.
I strapped on the worthless armor. It smelled like mold and barely covered my chest. One good hit and it would fall apart.
Roderic laughed when he saw me. "You look like a scarecrow, bastard. Try not to die too quickly. Actually, no—go ahead and die. Save me the embarrassment."
I gripped my rusty sword and said nothing. Words wouldn't change anything. Only actions would.
Lord Aldric appeared as we were finishing. He walked down the line of conscripts, inspecting each one. When he reached Roderic, he actually smiled.
"Make me proud, my son. Show them what a Thornwell can do."
"Yes, Father." Roderic beamed.
Then Lord Aldric came to me. His smile vanished like it was never there.
We stood face to face. This man who gave me life but never gave me love. Who let me be beaten, starved, and humiliated for twenty-one years.
"So," he said quietly, so only I could hear. "You're finally leaving."
"I'll fight for the kingdom, my lord. I'll make you—"
"Don't." His voice was ice. "Don't bother coming back, Cassian. There's nothing for you here. There never was."
The words hit harder than any punch. I'd known he hated me, but hearing it out loud—on the day I was marching to war—it made something inside me break.
"I understand, my lord," I whispered.
"Good." He leaned closer, and his next words were so soft I almost missed them. "The front lines are very dangerous. Accidents happen all the time. It would be a shame if something... unfortunate... happened to you."
My blood ran cold.
He wasn't just hoping I'd die. He was planning it.
Before I could respond, a new voice called out: "Wait! I'm conscripted too!"
I turned. Lyria was running across the courtyard, a healer's satchel over her shoulder.
"Women with healing skills are being drafted as army medics," she said breathlessly, joining our line. "I registered."
"Lyria, no—" I started.
"I'm going, Cassian. Someone has to keep you alive." She smiled, but her hands were shaking.
The messenger checked his list and nodded. "Lyria Ashwood. Confirmed. You're with the medical unit."
Relief and terror mixed in my chest. I wasn't going alone—but now Lyria was marching into danger too.
"Move out!" the captain shouted. "Fort Grimwatch is three days' march. We leave in one hour!"
One hour. One hour until my life changed forever.
The conscripts scattered to say goodbye to families. Roderic swaggered off with Celeste, who was crying proud tears. Lord Aldric walked away without looking back at me once.
I stood there with Lyria, holding my rusty sword.
"Are you scared?" she asked quietly.
"Terrified," I admitted. "But also... excited? Is that crazy? This is the first time in my life I might actually matter."
"You've always mattered, Cassian." She bumped my shoulder. "Now other people might finally see it."
An hour later, we marched through the manor gates. I didn't look back. There was nothing behind me worth seeing.
The road stretched ahead, dusty and long. Twenty conscripts from Thornwell Manor, plus hundreds more joining from other estates. An army being born from farmers, servants, and bastards.
As the sun began to set, we made camp for the night. Guards were posted. Fires were lit. Men talked nervously about orcs and war.
I sat with Lyria near our fire, cleaning my rusty sword.
"Do you think the orcs are really as bad as they say?" Lyria asked. "The stories say they eat people."
"I don't know. But we'll find out soon enough."
A shadow fell over us. Roderic stood there with two other officers, all sneering.
"Well, well. The bastard and the half-breed, sitting together. How touching." Roderic crouched down to my level. "Let me give you some advice, brother. In battle, stay far away from me. I'd hate for my sword to accidentally end up in your back."
"You wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't I?" His smile was poison. "Father and I had a long talk before we left. He's very concerned about your safety. So concerned, he paid me extra to make sure you get the most... dangerous... assignments."
My stomach dropped.
"You're going to kill me."
"I'm going to let the orcs do it. Much cleaner that way." Roderic stood up. "Sweet dreams, bastard. Hope you survive the week."
He walked away laughing.
Lyria grabbed my arm. "Cassian, we have to tell someone—"
"Who? Everyone here thinks I'm worthless. Roderic's an officer. Who would believe me?" I stared into the fire, my hands shaking. "I'm going to die out there, Lyria. My own family is going to make sure of it."
She didn't argue. We both knew it was true.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I lay on the cold ground, staring at stars I might never see again.
Tomorrow, we'd reach Fort Grimwatch. The day after, we'd march to war. And somewhere in the blood and chaos, my brother would make sure I never came home.
Unless I survived.
Unless I became strong enough that he couldn't kill me.
Unless I became someone even a bastard-hating family couldn't destroy.
I gripped my rusty sword in the darkness and made a silent promise to myself:
I would survive. I would prove them all wrong.
Even if it killed me.
But as I finally drifted off to sleep, I heard something that made my eyes snap open—
A scream. Distant but clear. Coming from the woods beyond our camp.
And then another scream. And another.
"ORCS!" someone shouted. "ORCS IN THE CAMP!"
War hadn't waited for us to reach the fort.
War had come to us.