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Years earlier
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Tomas woke. It was 3 AM in the morning, still dark outside, and he could hear people screaming and crying out for help and struggling for peace.
Tomas hastily went to the window and peered out. His face contorted in shock as he witnessed what was going on - bodies shed on the ground, others being pulled away by the void, and others being slain by the undead people, infecting others. Their eyes were pitch black, surrounded by dark veins. There were people resisting with bows, swords, and anything they could use.
In the distance, the village houses in the village of Brindlemark, located near in the Acinar kingdom (the old kingdom that is already been destroyed by the disaster years before), were suddenly blowing up one by one, spreading everything in flames. Families escaped the village while the rest of the village guards defended themselves as long as they could.
But the undead and abyssals just kept coming and coming, unforgiving in their quantity. Some were already infested, and terror hung in the air as people killed one after another.
Tomas now 12, also rushed downstairs and came across his sister, Lira, she's now 18, because two years had gone by since.
"Sister... what is going on?" Tomas asked, his voice trembling with fear and curiosity.
Lira picked up a metal pipe from the kitchen. "Quick... we must hide," she said gripping the pipe hard, prepared to defend herself.
Suddenly, a corpse collided with their door, screaming horribly as it saw the two. It charged directly for Lira - but in a heartbeat, their father Robert pushed the corpse into the ground, plunging his own metal pipe down into its skull. Blood exploded from the corpse's head as it fell to the floor, dead. Robert, his hands bloody, still clutched the pipe firmly.
"Let's move, kids. No time for words. Something awful is going on tonight," Robert said, alarmed but decisive.
"But Dad." Tomas attempted to say.
"There's no time!" Robert interrupted him, swiftly grabbing his backpack and loading what he could - medical supplies, bottles of water, and other basics, making it light enough to carry.
Lira, standing next to Tomas, quickly loaded her own bag with necessary items.
Tomas stood there, frozen in shock, looking out the window where the world appeared to be shattering into anarchy - fire, running people seeking safety, and in the distance, someone yelling.
Robert went to the window, and so did Lira.
"EVERYONE! GO TO THE EVACUATION CENTER, DOWN THE HILL!" a man cried out, pointing in the direction they could see from their home.
"That's a way further than I thought..." Robert grumbled under his breath. "But we don't have time to stop here. Come along, kids, stay close."
"Sure, Father," Lira nodded, her face fearless and resolute.
"Come along, little brother. Stay close to us, all right? Don't you even think about going off on your own. Understood?" Lira stooped down, grasping Tomas's shoulders, instilling him with courage by her firm stare.
"Understood, Sister," Tomas nodded.
Both of them followed behind their father to the back door. But as they emerged outside, a group of undead approached them, their ghastly cries filling the air.
"They're coming! Run kids!" Robert yelled, whacking at the first undead with his pipe as he ran after them.
"Downhill! Come on!" Robert shouted, gesturing them forward frantically.
"Got it!" Lira replied as they ran downhill, Tomas following close behind.
As they were running, one hand suddenly emerged out of the ground, snatching at Tomas's ankle and yanking him down. Lira, never one to back down, reached behind her backpack and retrieved her metal pipe, smashing it forcibly against the getting-up undead's head, snuffing its life out in an instant.
"Fool monster," she spat, reaching down to pull Tomas to his feet.
"Come on, don't be a wimp," she chided, although her tone was stern, not hot.
"Yeah, I know, Sis... I'm trying," Tomas groaned as he stood up.
They kept running, Robert protecting them from behind.
Around them, others ran frantically towards the evacuation center, screaming and crying for rescue.
"JUST A FEW METERS LEFT!" a man yelled ahead, guiding them.
Out of the side bushes along the route, undead popped out of nowhere, screaming horribly as they spotted the people. The village soldiers resisted, bellowing orders.
"Go ahead, everyone!"
"HURRY! We'll hold them off!"
While the soldiers fought on the flanks to defend the fleeing crowd, others ran straight down the path.
The evacuation center was now visible in the distance - just meters away - but the surroundings were filled with terror and despair. Every breath, every step, was a fight for survival.
People kept running, closing in on the center's borders.
Tomas, although exhausted, had an inexplicable resolve amidst the turmoil. His breathing was tired, but he wasn't going to let it stop now.
"Please, come on... I don't want this to be happening," he muttered to himself, forcing his legs to carry him on.
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The air was thick with smoke, screams, and the stench of blood. Tomas gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to keep moving even as his body begged him to stop.
"Almost there... just a little more..." Lira said, clutching the strap of her bag.
Robert kept looking back, swinging his pipe at any undead that got too close, his face hardened by years of protecting his family. Lira stayed at Tomas's side, her eyes sharp and fierce as she gripped her bloodied metal pipe.
From the distance, the evacuation center's gates were now clearer - a makeshift barrier of wooden fences reinforced with logs, guarded by soldiers armed with swords, spears, and a few old muskets.
"OPEN THE GATES! THEY'RE COMING!" a soldier shouted from the top of the watch post.
The gates creaked open, and the panicked crowd surged forward like a wave. Tomas felt a surge of hope, they were close. So close.
"Father, the gate!" Lira called.
"I see it! Stick together!" Robert shouted back, swiping at another undead that lunged toward them.
A loud explosion echoed behind them - one of the village houses fully collapsed in flames, sending sparks and ash into the sky. More undead poured out of the shadows, drawn by the noise.
"Faster, faster, move it!" a man ahead shouted as the people stampeded toward the open gate.
Tomas tripped slightly on a rock, but Lira caught him by the arm and pulled him up without slowing down.
"Don't fall now, kid," she warned, though a hint of relief flickered in her voice.
They finally reached the clearing before the gate when an abyssal creature - larger than any undead they'd seen - came from the trees. Its form, pitch-black body was twisted and veined with glowing crimson lines. It let out a deafening shriek, causing the earth beneath them to tremble.
"RUN! GET INSIDE!" Robert bellowed.
The soldiers at the gate fired their muskets, but the creature barely flinched. It charged toward the crowd.
"Get Tomas in first!" Robert commanded.
"No way, we're going in together!" Lira shouted back, tightening her grip on Tomas's arm.
Tomas felt his chest tighten as the beast's roar grew louder, but his sister's unwavering grip gave him strength. They dashed through the gate just as the soldiers pushed the tall and thick metal gate closed behind them, locking it tight with heavy beams.
The beast slammed into the gate, causing the entire barrier to shake.
"Is everyone in?!" a captain called out.
Robert stumbled in a second later, bruised and bloodied, but alive.
"We're here," he panted, leaning on his pipe.
"We got most of the survivors," another soldier reported. "Some didn't make it."
Tomas slumped to his knees, chest heaving. He looked around - people were huddled together, some crying, others wounded, all exhausted. The sky was still dark, but the fires in the distance lit up the horizon in shades of orange and red.
Lira sat down beside Tomas, ruffling his hair. "Tough night, huh?"
Tomas didn't speak. He just nodded, eyes wide, still trying to process everything.
Robert knelt in front of them both. "Listen to me... it's not over yet. But you two did good. You're safe for now."
A bell rang from the watch post.
"INCOMING ON THE WESTERN BARRICADE!" a guard shouted.
The soldiers scrambled, raising weapons and taking positions.
Robert clenched his jaw. "Stay here. Protect each other. I'll be back."
"Dad, wait....."
"No arguing, Tomas," Robert cut him off, his voice firm but kind. He gave them both one last glance before sprinting toward the western wall, pipe in hand.
Lira leaned closer to her brother, watching their father disappear into the torch-lit defenses.
"Stick with me, little brother. No matter what happens, we survive together. Got it?"
Tomas finally found his voice. "Got it."
And somewhere deep down, though terrified, Tomas promised himself, he would get stronger. Strong enough to fight back. Strong enough to protect his sister, his father, and everyone.
Even if the world had turned to ruin.
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As the undead continued to swarm the western barricade, their overwhelming numbers pressed them together, forcing some to climb over one another onto the metal walls. The soldiers on the high walls fought back with everything they had, arrows and musket fire lighting up the darkness, but the horde showed no signs of slowing down.
Robert sprinted toward the high wall, snatching up a bow that lay nearby along with a handful of explosive-dynamite arrows.
"Hey, over here!" a soldier shouted, waving him over.
"Right!" Robert called back, quickly pulling out his flint and steel, striking it to ignite the dynamite's fuse on the side of the arrow.
He dashed up the stairway on the side of the high walls. As he reached the top, he paused for a moment, his eyes watching the chaos unfolding beyond the walls. The village was flamed in the distant hill. Thick smoke billowed into the night sky, and the streets below were strewn with broken bodies, both living and undead. The horrifying wails of the infected mixed with the desperate cries of the survivors, creating a chilling symphony of despair.
But there's no time to hesitate.
Robert nocked the explosive arrow, drew the string back, and aimed at a gather of undead trying to scale the barricade.
"Light them up!" a soldier shouted.
Releasing the string, the arrow whistled through the air before striking its target. A brilliant burst of fire and shrapnel scattered the attackers, sending bodies flying and slowing their advance.
"Good shot, man!" another soldier grinned.
Robert gritted his teeth, already preparing the next arrow. "Keep firing! Don't let them climb this wall!"
The undead shrieked, their blackened, veined faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Some of them, pushed by those behind, managed to scramble halfway up the high walls.
Another soldier yelled, "They're breaking through! Bring more arrows! Push them back!"
Robert let loose another shot, this one crashing into a group piling at the base of the barricade. The explosion lit up the night sky, but it was only a temporary reprieve.
"Damn it, they just keep coming," he muttered, sweat trickling down his forehead.
He stole a quick glance at the evacuation center behind them, where Tomas and Lira were anxiously waiting among the frightened survivors. His jaw clenched. 'I have to hold this wall... for them.'
Without wasting another moment, Robert grabbed his last explosive arrow and continued firing into the relentless night.
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But then - the same monstrous creature that had crashed through the tall gates earlier came charging back, this time heading straight for the eastern barricade. Its massive, hulking body pushed aside both the undead and debris as it let out a terrifying roar, its claws shimmering in the flickering firelight.
For a brief moment, everyone stood frozen in place. The ground shook with every thunderous step it took.
From the watch post, a soldier's voice pierced the air, panic evident in his tone.
"THE BEAST, IT'S COMING FOR THE EASTERN WALLS!"
Robert's expression hardened, a blend of frustration and grim determination washing over him.
"Not again," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched tight.
"MOVE, NOW!" the Captain bellowed, rallying the men into action.
"GET THOSE DYNAMITE ARROWS!" another soldier shouted urgently. "It's our only choice to take this big bastard down!"
Soldiers rushed down, sprinting toward the supply boxes stacked in the barracks. The men below grabbed the crates, bringing them up the stairways as quickly as their legs would allow. The sound of boots thundering against the wooden floors mixed with the deafening roars of the approaching beast.
"Here, take them!" a soldier gasped, urgently passing a bundle of arrows to Robert.
He grabbed them without a word, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the weight of what lay ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the evacuation center in the distance, where Tomas and Lira were huddled with the others. His heart raced, their faces fueling his determination to act.
'I won't let this thing get through... not while they're still alive.'
"Light them up!" the Captain commanded.
Soldiers struck flint against steel, igniting the fuse of the dynamite arrows. The flames swayed wildly in the cool night air.
"Hold... hold..." someone urged softly.
The beast unleashed a terrifying roar, lowering its head like a battering ram.
"FIRE!!"
A barrage of blazing arrows soared through the sky, aiming for the massive creature's head. The night erupted in light as the first few hit, explosions of flame and force crashing against the beast's skull. It howled in rage, stumbling back a step but still advancing.
"DAMN IT, IT'S STILL MOVING!" a soldier yelled, panic creeping into his voice.
Robert clenched his jaw, reaching for his last dynamite arrow. His gaze locked onto the beast's exposed, bloodied eye, its vulnerable spot.
"Come on... come on..." he whispered to himself, steadying his breath.
He pulled back the bowstring, his heart beating in his ears.
Robert clenched his teeth and reached for his final dynamite arrow. His gaze fell on the exposed, blood-red eye of the creature, its one weak point. The roars, screams, and terrifying howls, all fading into a faint pulse in his ears, the world around him appeared to drench into silence.
'For everyone.'
Pulling the bowstring back, he felt the strain in his arms and the flaming heat of the dynamite arrow mirrored in his eyes.
'This is it...'
"NOW.... TAKE THE SHOT!" the Captain yelled.
Robert gasped, heart pounding, and silence occured.
Then....
A burst of wind.
Everything went white.
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Miles distant at the evacuation center, Tomas abruptly stumbled, clutching his chest (His age was now current, older). A strong, empty feeling at his heart; the place appeared wrong for a brief moment, and the cries of the survivors seemed change in silence. Under his feet, the floor looked to be dragging him under.
Lira's voice was faraway, "Tomas?..... Tomas?"
He turned his head, but his sister's face softened into darkness.
The world twisted.
He was devoured by the darkness.
Ahead him lay a void of infinite blackness, a quiet so deep it reached his eardrums. He was standing alone in a weary wasteland, where the ground was broken and dead and the skies above swirled with an eerie gray mist.
Weak murmurs filled the place, echoing.
"You can't save them....."
"You're weak...."
Heart pounding, Tomas surveyed his surroundings and yelled out, "Lira? Dad?", but only his own trembling voice responded him.
From a distance, shadowy figures started to emerge. Twisted versions of people he knew, their eyes empty, cracks spreading across their faces. Over and over, their mouths hung open murmuring the same words.
"It's your fault....."
"You're nothing.... You're useless..."
He started to run, but the earth broke beneath his feet, and a skeletal hand shot up from below, grabbing his ankle, yanking him down. He yelled, scratching at the earth, but more hands appeared-pale, chilly, and cruel-dragging him into darkness.
"NO..... LIRA! DAD!" he shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the chasm.
Then, standing before him, a large form came from the mist, the same abyssal monster, only now its face twisted into a terrible, human-like smirk. Its one bloodshot eye stared down at him.
You will pass away by itself.
The beast raised a clawed hand and... Just as it came smashing down toward Tomas.
a brilliant white light.
a sharp gasp.
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The blinding white light dissipated - but instead of waking up, Tomas was somewhere else.
He was in the center of a dead forest.
Trees stood there as only black, lifeless husks. No leaves. No wind. The air was heavy, cold, thick. A faint sound - like a child crying - trailed through the trees.
"Lira?" Tomas tried to call out, his voice faint, cracking.
No response.
Only the sound of footsteps... soft... uneven... going around him.
He turned around, eyes scanning. The fog around him grew dense, forms emerging in the mist.
"Father?!"
Still nothing.
And then - a whisper, just next to his ear.
"You left us..."
Tomas flinched, twisting, but nobody there.
The trees began bleeding suddenly - thick, dark liquid dripping down on the woods. The earth sounded terribly with each step he made, eyes staring up at him from under the dirt.
He attempted to run, but the air itself shoved him back, like a weight as heavy as stone. His lungs breathed. His heart pounded.
Then up ahead - a figure.
It was Lira.
She stood barefoot in a white dress, dripping with blood at the hem. Face pale, lips quivering, eyes brimming with tears.
"Why didn't you save me, Tomas?" she breathed.
"No... no, I tried.. I swear I tried!"
"You lied already, why?" her voice broke, and as she moved forward, her flesh began to discolor, crack, her face contorting.
"I waited for you. Then why did you do this to me? ANSWER ME!"
Behind her, more of them emerged - his father, old friends, soldiers, villagers - all dead, rotten, their faces shattered, eyes gone, mouths repeating the same phrase and others are serious.
"It's your fault."
"Useless being."
"It's your fault."
"You shouldn't lived here."
"It's your fault."
Tomas fell to his knees, holding his head, his own voice cracking. "Stop... STOP!"
Then - a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up.
It was himself.
But phantom, worn, face empty, eyes lifeless.
"You'll always be too late."
And with a violent roar - the abyssal beast burst through the trees behind them, its massive jaws open wide, black mist pouring out like a storm. It lunged for Tomas.
He screamed.
Everything shattered into a million shards of light.
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His eyes snapped open.
Tomas woke with a gasping breath, sweat dripped down his face, and his chest heaving up and down as if he had run an entire mile.
He was back.
The knights' quarters.
Tomas sat up, his hands shaking.
But for a moment, he didn't say anything.
Then, in a cracked, hoarse voice, not quite a prayer, but almost.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to leave you behind..."
He wiped his face, but the tears continued falling.
The outside world may have been quiet, but within Tomas, the memory hadn't stopped.
Not yet.
The room itself was still silent, only the quiet rhythm of breathing from the other knights present filling the air. The nightmare still lingered on him, a heavy, stifling weight in his chest.
He rubbed his face, sat on the edge of his bed. The hard stone floor was cold and made his feet hurt, but he didn't care.
He slowly stood up.
The others remained out cold, Eren slobbering on his pillow, Kellin snoring so loudly that he could rouse the sleep of the others.
Tomas took his cloak hanging on the edge of the bed and stepped outside, moving through the room full of weapons, past rows of spears and swords that received scraps of early light.
He went up the steep wooden steps, creaking one step at a time. His hand brushed against the rough wall as he walking up, his mind still lingered.
When he finally came to the wooden door at the top, he caught his breath and pushed it open.
The early dawn rose in, warm golden light filling the stone corridor and spreading across his skin. The air was crisp and clean, with the refined hint of earth and morning cool breeze.
Tomas blinked at the unwelcome warmth, emerging outside.
The castle grounds were deserted this time of the morning. Just a handful of stable boys grooming the horses and a few guards making their rounds with little enthusiasm.
His belly rumbled, but he pushed the feeling aside.
He walked out across the cobblestone path towards the great dining balcony which overlooked the valley.
There, a man eating alone at one of the long wooden tables, it was Fred.
The old man was already half finished with his breakfast - a plate of fried eggs and bread and a mug of tea beside him. The sun shone soft upon his weathered face, bringing a pale glow to the gray in his beard.
Fred glanced up as Tomas came over and gave a weak, lopsided smile.
"It's about time you walked out in that room," Fred bellowed, his gruffness tempered by a warmth in his voice.
Tomas managed a weak smile and sat down facing him.
Fred pushed a plate of fried egg and bread in front of him. "Eat there lad. You look like a death warmed over."
Tomas ate the bread in silence, chewing slowly.
They sat there for a bit - no long words, no speeches. Just the wind, birds waking up, and knights' murmurs in the distance.
After a few mouthfuls, Tomas finally broke his silence, voice low. "It was just a.... bad night."
Fred nodded knowingly. "I figured it."
Tomas looked out over the valley, the sun rising above the hills, covering everything in gold. "It... lt felt too real."
"Of course, It always does," Fred said, taking a sip of his tea. "It doesn't mean it'll break you."
Tomas didn't say anything, just kept eating.
Fred sat in silence with him for a moment, then reclined in his chair. "You're carrying a lot, kid. But you don't have to carry it by yourself."
Tomas blinked at him. The old man shrugged, unexpectantly small for someone as large as he was.
"Come find me after you're done here," Fred added. "Sun's up now. Good time for training."
Tomas gave a short nod, finishing the last bite of bread.
For the first time since waking, the world didn't feel as heavy.
And he was glad Fred was still there.
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The sun's heat continued to rise higher, dusting over the stone walls and illuminating the castle with gentle morning light. The silence between Tomas and Fred hung, each man in his own thoughts.
Then, the sharp, distant voice pierced the silence.
"Alright, you lazy bastards, get up!"
It was Commander Galen's booming tone, echoing off the walls from the training yard below.
Fred gave a dry laugh. "And there's your morning bell."
Tomas smiled sardonically, getting up and shaking tiny crumbs from his pants. From the balcony, he could see Sir Varun walking across the yard, rapping his shoes against the ground as he shouted to the half-asleep knights stumbling out of the barracks and the basement chamber.
"Get movin'! You soldiers snore louder than a mountain beast. Commander wants you to form a line in ten seconds!" Sir Varun shouted, banging on a helmet which one soldier was still attempting to carry under the arm.
The leathered boots shuffled through the air, accompanied by sleepy grumblings and clanging weapons being hastily grabbed.
Tomas groaned. "I guess... I better go down there before Galen yells my name next."
Fred grinned. "Don't make them wait for you, lad. And listen..... Don't let your nightmare haunt you today. The dead memory don't need you to drag behind."
Tomas nodded slightly. "Yeah... I hear you."
He turned and headed towards the stairway, his rush confident again. The morning felt less oppressive, the sun warmer on his shoulders.
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Down in the court, the men scrambled. Some still rubbing their eyes, some yanking at loose tunics and half-buckled belts. A couple cursed under their breath as Sir Varun walk the stone path before them.
"Ten seconds! I said TEN SECONDS, all of you!" Varun shouted, tapping the bottom of his spear on the ground. The metallic ring boomed out across the basement.
The men stood up in their disheveled line, some still without shoes, one boy holding on to his trousers with one hand and attempting to stand at attention.
"Commander Galen requires you all here sharp this morning, word from the Lord himself. No excuses. No delays." Varun's eyes ran down the line, checking if someone is missing.
Then his brow narrowed.
"Someone's missing..." he said, his eyes narrowing and looking every lane. "Where's Tomas?"
Mutual silence. Nervous glances exchanged.
And then, the side wooden door creaked opened.
Tomas ran out from the down stairwell to the basement, hair still slightly damp from washing up, shirt half-tucked, boots but loosely laced. He slowed as he saw the line, each soldier standing firm and Varun's eyes fixed on him.
"Morning," Tomas muttered with a stiff nod, hurrying to stand into line at the end farthest from where he had emerged.
Varun walked over, stopping inches from Tomas. The keen eyes of the older knight pass into him.
"Enjoyed a little extra rest, didn't you?" Varun said with a steady but firm tone.
"No, sir," replied Tomas, keeping his head held high.
A strained silence.
Then, much to everyone's surprise, Varun grinned faintly. "Hm. Try not to make a late entry next time."
"Yes, sir," Tomas said.
"Alright - you're lucky the Commander isn't here yet," Varun spoke loud enough for all to hear. "Form up properly! Stand straight! Commander Galen speaks in two!"
The soldiers quickly adjusted, feet shuffling on the stone, a few of them sneaking small grins Tomas's way. One of the younger men near him whispered, "Good timing, Tomas."
Tomas gave a faint, tired smirk.
The castle yard calmed again, the clatter and mutteres fading as all awaited the doors of the main hall - the Commander's coming.
Another day. Another day in service.
And this time Tomas was not going to miss a thing.
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The tall double doors to the castle hall groaned open, and all the soldiers came to firm attention. Even the sleepy ones stood like iron poles. Commander Galen emerged, his draping cloak heavy behind him, boots thudding against the stone with every step. His very presence was sufficient to tense the air, the courtyard dropping into absolute, heavy quiet.
Tomas stood his shoulders square, his heart still settling from the previous rush. He could sense the heat of the sun rising over the hills outside, light illuminating the top tower and bathing the yard in pale gold. But inside, no one was willing to move their gaze away from Galen.
The Commander stopped before them, his sharp gaze running over the rows of men like a seasoned warhound sizing up his pack.
"Men of Atlon," Galen began, his voice steady but strong, carrying over the courtyard. "Today isn't one for soft legs or late waking. We've word from the border - caravans robbed, strange tracks in the western woods, and an uneasy quiet in the east. The King demands readiness."
A faint hum went along the line. Tomas breathed in, clenching his jaw.
"We will be dividing squads after dawn, and placing those other traps that we didn't finish last night." Galen went on. "Sir Varun, lead your company to the southern post and secure the merchant routes. Captain Arlen's team to patrol the eastern hills. The rest of you - training drills in the training yard until you collapse. No excuses."
"Yes, Commander!" the troops snapped together.
Galen nodded, his intense eyes focusing for an instant on Tomas at the end of the row - not with annoyance, but with a perceptively piercing look. As if he could see straight through the youth's sleep-worn face to whatever tempest stirred inside his mind.
Tomas stood that much taller.
"Dismissed to your orders!" Galen shouted, whirling about and walking back into the castle corridor.
The soldiers let out a long breath, some grunting quietly, others complaining about the drill they were to face. Sir Varun clapped his hands sharply, returning them to attention.
"You heard the Commander!" Varun snapped. "Pick up your steel and you'll be working today, lads! And keep this in mind: I don't want anyone dragging behind like half-asleep morons."
The courtyard came alive as the soldiers dashed for their swords and formed up in their squads. Tomas fell in line with the rest, sensing the change in atmosphere, from strained immobility to somber alertness.
As they headed toward the training ground, Eren came running up alongside Tomas, clapping him lightly on the shoulder with a smile.
"Close call back there, mate," Eren chuckled. "I thought Varun was gonna eat your head for breakfast."
"Yeah," Tomas sighed a tired laugh. "Would've done me right."
"Next time, wake up with the rest of us," Kellin said from up ahead, looking back over his shoulder with a grin.
Tomas smiled, a bit of warmth seeping through the heaviness in his chest.
This wasn't much before, the morning had started with a shocking bang on the basement door.
"All of you, out! Outside, now!" Sir Varun had bellowed down the head of the stairs. "Better to stand formation in the morning air than stink up this place!"
Muttering words and shuffling footsteps had answered, soldiers scrambling from bunks, pulling tunics over arms, and belting on belts. Eren had muttered, "Could've let us sleep 'til sun was higher..."
Kellin had tossed him a boot. "Up before the sun's high and bad news, you'll see."
Tomas, already halfway dressed, had splashed cold water on his face and hurried after them.
The morning air had been crisp then, the eastern sky streaked with orange as the soldiers formed lines in the courtyard. Sir Varun had paced before them.
"Ten seconds to form up!" he'd snapped.
Men scrambled into position, some still readjusting tunics or tightening sword belts. Tomas had dashed out of the basement door as Varun's keen eyes hit.
"Where's...." Varun had begun, but Tomas had eased into the tail of the line before he could be missed.
"Made it," Tomas had breathed.
"About time," Varun had growled.
And now here they were - the drills starting, swords against wooden dummy posts clashing, sweat already beading on brows, promise of a day long to come.
As Tomas made-up his position for the morning's first exercise, he felt the familiar burden of responsibility rest on his shoulders. The ring of steel, the shout of commands, the steady beat of training and for a little while, it beat back the troubled nightmares of sleepless nights and heavy memories.
And for now... Tomas embraced it.
The ring of metal echoed through the courtyard as drills commenced. Duos of soldiers stood opposite each other, wooden blades clashing on shields, boots digging into the dirt ground. The sun rose steadily in the morning, light glinting on the blades and armor racks ranged against stone walls.
Sir Varun marched up and down between the ranks, his keen eyes never missing a thing.
"Beware, Jarek! If you let your shield drop once more and you'll be cleaning stables for the rest of your life!"
"Yes, Sir!" the young soldier muttered, quickly realigning his stance.
Tomas gripped his hand tighter around the practice sword, its heaviness familiar to his grip. Opposite him, Eren grinned and lifted his shield.
"Ah, latecomer," Eren teased. "Come on then. Let's see if you can hit straight after all that rushing about."
Tomas permitted a moment's smile. "Be careful what you wish for."
They struck with a harsh meeting of wood on wood, the thing thudding out into the morning.
In above, bracing himself against the stonework railing of the balcony overlooking the ground, an older man stood silently. Fred, long-time steward of the castle, was standing there sipping his teacup, his weathered face serene but reflective.
His gray hair was tied back, and although his hands carried the signs of decades of toil, his eyes were keen, watching every swing, every deviation in form, every indication of strain or determination in the young soldiers below.
He focused particularly on Tomas.
The form of the boy wasn't flawless, a practice slow from the hurried wake-up and the burden of something unspoken in his eyes, but there was a natural strength there. A remind that Fred knew, one inherited from bloodlines that carry both burden and valor.
A whispered, knowing smile drew at the old man's lips.
"Still carrying too much in that mind of yours, lad," Fred muttered to himself.
Varun's voice cut sharply through the yard again.
"Switch partners! Move!"
Eren gave Tomas a quick nudge with his elbow. "You're improving. Might even bruise me next time."
"I'll aim higher then," Tomas shot back, breath steadying as they moved apart.
Fred watched a moment longer before turning away from the balcony rail. Duty would call him elsewhere soon - preparations to be made, reports to review, messages to relay. But for now, he allowed himself a final glance down at the boy.
"Stay firm, Tomas," Fred murmured under his breath. "You'll need it before long."
Then, with the facility of a man who had lived too many times of war and peace both, Fred go back from the balcony, out of the scene of practice.
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To be continued
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