So this is it...
I scanned the room carefully. Every book I had read and left scattered about was gone. I opened the wardrobe; it was stripped bare. My clothes, my shoes—everything had been confiscated. The chamber was a hollow shell. I had hoped to at least pack a change of clothes, but apparently, even that small mercy was denied to me.
So it's truly final. I'm not staying here.
I heard footsteps beyond the door.
"From this moment on, I will no longer be able to assist you. Obey Zoltan. Deep down, he has always been a good man."
Hilda remained on the other side of the heavy wood. I could only see her shadow filtering through the crack underneath the door.
"One day... perhaps, if you make a name for yourself, our paths might cross again..."
I lowered my head, entirely unable to find the right words. I felt her presence beyond the door slowly fading away.
Hilda... I don't want you to leave. Not again.
I stood completely frozen, my gaze anchored to the floorboards.
I wanted to run after her, to cry, and to hug her at least one last time. But I knew that if I did, I would never be able to accept the brutal reality of what awaited me.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug painfully into my palms, then drew a slow, trembling breath and approached the window.
Beyond the courtyard and the inner walls sprawled the citadel of Tia, bustling with the endless flow of aristocratic carriages. Further out, past the grand estates, I could just make out the borders of the training camps. I locked my eyes on them for a long moment.
Who knows what awaits me down there. It could be the beginning of something new... or the beginning of my true nightmare.
But then why did Hilda tell me to survive? What did she expect me to find out there?
I wished I had so much more time to prepare for this, but I didn't have a choice.
Suddenly, a sharp pang lanced through my head. For a split second, my mind flashed back to that evening—to the exact moment right before I lost consciousness.
That void... What was it?
How was I unconscious for six whole days?
I grabbed my head, crouching down onto the cold floor.
"Ghk! Six days... Six whole days... Damn it," I muttered, clutching my hair.
My gaze fell to the door, and I immediately noticed the broken latch on the handle. My eyes widened, and a faint smile touched my lips.
I caused you way too much worry.
"Hilda... Thank you," I whispered, pressing a hand over my heart.
A few minutes later, the heavy thud of boots echoed down the corridor, stopping right outside my chamber. The lock clicked open. Two guards strode in, halting at the threshold without offering me the slightest gesture of respect.
"Luthian Eisenhart, from this day forward, you are categorically forbidden from initiating any direct contact with the main family unless expressly ordered by them. Therefore, you are to be transferred to the lower sector of the outer walls. Your new life awaits you there."
I grabbed my canvas bundle, tucked it securely under my arm, and touched the metal bracer with my other hand. I didn't look back at my room, but I cast one last glance toward Hilda's quarters down the hall. The door was wide open.
The two guards didn't utter a single syllable for the entire journey. They escorted me through the sprawling stone corridors of the west wing, marching me down hidden flights of stairs until we reached a service exit that opened directly onto the servants' courtyards.
It was an exit I had never seen before in my life. It completely bypassed the grand staircases and the reception hall, depositing us straight onto the ground floor.
Waiting for me there was a wooden wagon drawn by two sturdy draft horses. Holding the reins was an elderly man with a thick gray beard and a face etched with deep wrinkles that gave him a remarkably gentle demeanor.
"Please, Young Master Luthian. Climb aboard," he said, gesturing kindly toward the back of the wagon.
The fact that he used my given name—and attached a noble honorific to it, no less—made me narrow my eyes.
I clambered onto the rough wooden planks, clutching my bundle tightly to my chest. The wagon lurched forward, rolling slowly toward the massive iron gates that separated the main estate from the rest of the world.
I didn't want to leave this place behind. But just before we passed through the archway, a sudden emptiness gripped my stomach, instinctively forcing me to look back at the towering spires of the palace where I was born.
My gaze slid down the facades of the lower loggias. There was a lone figure leaning over the balustrade. Even from that distance, I recognized her.
It was Hilda. She raised a hand to her face, and for a fleeting second, a ray of morning sunlight caught something glistening on her cheek before she turned and disappeared.
My eyes went wide. I looked down at the bracer on my wrist and gripped it tightly.
A painful tightness choked off my breath, but I actively chose not to cry.
"I can do this," I whispered to myself.
The wagon passed through the heavy gates, and the palace vanished behind me. That was when my attention was entirely hijacked by a world I had never laid eyes on. I had never once stepped foot beyond that archway.
Before me opened a sprawling labyrinth of packed-dirt streets, flanked by multi-story houses with plastered walls and exposed wooden beams, their sloped roofs packed tightly against one another. Endless, chaotic alleys wove between the buildings, teeming with a ceaseless flow of people.
But the market square was the true beating heart of the settlement.
I was hit by a massive wave of intense, alien scents. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, mountains of raw vegetables piled high on market stalls, damp earth, and a dozen other aromas I couldn't even begin to identify.
I was so entranced by this entirely new world that I completely missed the old man's eyes studying me.
"This is your first time seeing the real world, isn't it, Young Master?" the old man asked, slowing the horses to a crawl to avoid trampling the dense crowd.
"You look a bit shaken. Is there something in particular catching your eye?"
I turned to face him, remaining silent for a few seconds.
"Oh! Forgive my lack of manners, you may call me Sebas."
Sebas...
I let my gaze sweep over the tightly packed, vulnerable houses, and a passage I had read a couple of weeks ago flashed into my mind.
The manual on modern defensive architecture.
"Mister Sebas, the logistics..." I murmured, lost in thought.
"Mhm... and the hazard exposure."
Sebas arched a bushy gray eyebrow.
"Pardon?"
"I mean the defenses. They are totally inadequate."
I pointed toward the distant outer walls.
"If monsters attack from that direction, these houses will be the very first to fall."
Sebas's gentle smile instantly froze.
He scrutinized me in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly. His fingers tightened their grip on the leather reins.
"Oh ho ho," he chuckled finally, though the underlying tone had entirely shifted.
"A sharp observation... perhaps a bit too sharp for your young age, Young Master. Hmm, how to put it? The commoners know full well that the stone walls are not their true defense. Their actual security lies with the recruit corps training just beyond this town. They place their absolute faith in the men who, when the time comes, will stand before them to defend what they call home."
No one had any pity for the weak. That was the cruel reality of the world, and it was the exact reason I had been deemed worthless and discarded.
Then why does it feel so different out here?
The faces of all these commoners... they look genuinely happy.
I don't understand them.
"They live relying entirely on others, knowing they could be slaughtered at any given moment... and they actually accept living like this? What kind of life is that, if someone else's mere failure is enough to end it?"
No... that's exactly the point. It's precisely because they live with that fear hanging over them that they are able to live like this.
For a moment, Sebas turned his head to look at me, a single eyebrow inching upward. Then, he smiled.
"Because that is simply how the world works, Young Master," he said, pausing briefly.
"Not everyone possesses the strength to defend themselves. And yet, they continue to live. They work, they eat, they fall in love... they have children."
I heard him hesitate.
"Perhaps... it is precisely because they know they cannot control everything that they learn to put their trust in others."
I fell silent. Sebas turned his eyes back to the dirt road ahead.
"I have never heard anyone ask a question quite like that."
The wagon rolled onward, passing the final row of clustered houses. It was then that Sebas cleared his throat, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"Pay very close attention over these next few days, Young Master. You are an unusually sharp boy, but down in the Lower Sector, intellect alone isn't enough to survive. The Commander of the Order is a man forged of iron, and he gives absolutely no quarter to anyone."
"I will keep that in mind," I replied, my grip tightening on the canvas of my bundle.
"And should you ever find yourself in a... complicated situation," Sebas added, scanning our surroundings to ensure no one was eavesdropping, "seek out a man named Kael. You will often find him loitering about, or perhaps hiding out and catching some sleep near the stables."
"An instructor?" I asked, furrowing my brow.
"Him? Not in the slightest!" Sebas shook his head, letting out a resigned sigh.
"He is a first-class slacker. A deadbeat who spends his time sleeping or leeching off the hard work of others. A scoundrel, that's what he is."
The old man laughed openly, his shoulders shaking. Then, a flash of absolute seriousness cut through his gaze.
"But believe me," he finally whispered, staring straight ahead. "That man knows exactly how to stay alive."
I asked no further questions, but I carved that name deeply into my memory. Kael.
Shortly after, the crowded civilian streets gave way to patches of small fields woven between dirt paths. For the first time, I could see the outer walls up close. Just ahead, at the edge of a sprawling, desolate training ground, the wagon rolled to a halt.
Off in the distance to the left stood an incredibly long row of low-slung structures. Poking their heads out from within them were abnormally massive horses—true beasts of war.
To the right loomed a formidable main building, enclosed by a vast courtyard. Behind it, the training fields were absolutely swarming with boys.
They looked to be around my age, perhaps a little older.
"We have arrived. Those boys, Young Master, are all the sons of knights and low-ranking nobility, sent here for specialized training," the old man explained, climbing down from the driver's bench to help me to the ground.
"Sebas, what are those?"
He shot me a sideways glance.
"I've never seen anything like them." I pointed at the low structures.
Sebas let out a brief chuckle.
"Those are simply the barracks. The other structures you see scattered around are the recruits' dormitories."
A moment later, Sebas adjusted his cap and offered a deep, formal bow.
"Our journey ends here. But allow me to say one thing."
"You demonstrate a remarkable maturity, Young Master. You are truly nothing like the venomous rumors in the palace make you out to be," he said.
"I hope to see you again in the future."
"Thank you for everything, Sebas," I replied, meeting his eyes.
The man climbed back into the driver's seat and snapped the reins, steering the wagon away in a cloud of dust. I was left standing alone at the edge of the courtyard. I didn't even have a second to take in my surroundings before a massive shadow eclipsed my vision.
I whipped around. A gigantic man, built as broad as a fortress wall, was towering over me.
I swallowed hard.
He wore a heavy, weather-beaten dark green coat draped under a black mantle. I stared at the jagged scars carving up his face and thick neck. A violent shudder ripped through me, and I braced my shoulders.
"Eisenhart," he thundered.
"Y-yes, sir!" I jumped, my entire body trembling.
"I am Zoltan, Commander of the Crimson Order. From this exact second onward, you will have to earn your keep."
"Y-yes!?"
That's it?
I tried to look him in the eye, but I simply couldn't hold his gaze. He let out an indecipherable grunt and turned his back toward the yard.
"Theo! Move your fucking legs!"
A figure broke off from the line of grunts. It was a boy just a little older than me, with messy blond hair and a fiercely bright, lively expression on his face. He sprinted over to us, snapping to attention in front of the gigantic instructor with a hilariously sloppy military salute.
"Take the fresh meat to the dorms. Show him his cot," Zoltan barked, before pivoting on his heel and storming off toward the fields.
Theo sized me up from head to toe. Then, to my absolute surprise, his face split into a beaming smile.
"Nice to meet ya! I'm Theo," he chirped, thrusting out a hand caked in dirt and sweat.
"You're the new guy, huh? Come on, I'll show you the way."
I stared at his hand for a second. It was littered with tiny nicks and cuts, the skin looking rough and painfully chapped. I didn't know whether I should shake it or just take a step back.
"L-Luthian."
I hesitantly offered my own hand, pausing halfway. Theo grabbed it anyway, squeezing it with an iron-like grip and yanking me forward.
Huh!?...
"W-wait a second..."
I practically slammed into him, completely losing my balance. He possessed a terrifying amount of physical strength.
How is he this strong? He isn't even that big...
I was left momentarily speechless. Against my palm, I felt the thick, abrasive calluses on his skin.
Aristocratic etiquette... I have a feeling it's going to be completely useless out here.
I sighed.
As we walked toward the row of dormitories on the left, Theo began talking a mile a minute, explaining how the duty rosters worked and where to draw fresh water.
The more I watched him, the more something drew me in. It pushed me to accept these new mannerisms, this entirely new, abrasive way of living. Yet, something still didn't sit right with me. I just kept nodding, maintaining a strict emotional distance.
I had just been disowned, shipped off to a cutthroat military camp, and my very first peer was acting like we were at a festival?
"Hey, by the way..." Theo stopped just before pushing open the heavy wooden door of the barracks, suddenly turning dead serious.
"Zoltan doesn't mess around. Starting tomorrow, you're in the mud with the rest of us. Wake-up call is at five o'clock sharp, before the sun even breaches the horizon. Not that you'll have a choice—you'll wake up whether you want to or not!"
My eyes widened, completely caught off guard.
"A-at five!? What do you mean—"
"Yep. And a word of friendly advice: do not be a single second late when the horn blows," Theo added, dropping his voice to a whisper and checking over his shoulder.
"Otherwise, you don't eat for the rest of the day. And trust me, with the kind of training we do, you won't survive till sunset on an empty stomach."
I swallowed hard. A moment later, he pushed the door open, revealing the interior of the barracks.
It was a barren, freezing room. Eight rigid wooden cots were lined up against the walls, topped with impossibly thin straw mattresses. The air hung heavy with the stale, trapped stench of male sweat.
I took a step forward. Behind me, the heavy door slammed shut with a final thud. My old life was now permanently locked on the other side.