I didn't get to see my friends again. As soon as the meal ended, I was whisked away to Prime Garazal's palace in Jolata. No fanfare. No more praise. Just dumped into the next chapter of my life.

We stepped through into the reception hall, but Warden Anso didn't pause. He led me straight out the front doors and onto the neatly raked gravel path.

The palace sat at the highest point in the Citadel and was designed to impress. Pale stone walls veined with silver. Tower rooftops coated in electric-blue metal that shimmered with enchantments. Wide balconies framed every decoratively arched window, spotless and etched with flowing protective runes.

Below, the Citadel spread out like a perfect model city full of elegant buildings. Tiled courtyards. Glowing lanterns hovering in even rows.

It was beautiful, but cold, almost sterile.

We marched around to the side of the palace where I spotted buildings that could only be barracks—long rows, parade grounds, and training fields filled with soldiers in motion.

Anso stopped and gestured down at them. "Welcome home, Adam. For your placement, you won't need the honor pin." He held out a hand.

It took a second for my brain to catch up, but as soon as it did, I fumbled at the pin until it came loose. He watched me closely, like he'd expected hesitation. There wasn't any. I hoped they kept the damn thing.

As I handed it over, he spoke again. "Put thoughts of Velorian crushes from your mind. You're here to train, and to develop into a soldier. That is your task now. Nothing else."

While he spoke, a golden-armored Archon had marched out of the largest building in the complex. A command center, by the look of it.

We waited at the top of the rise for him to reach us, his footsteps crunching across the gravel like the ground had personally offended him.

He came to an abrupt halt and delivered the crispest of salutes. "Lord Warden."

His armor gleamed. His teeth gleamed. Even his eyes gleamed as they turned on me with a look of pure resentment.

"Lieutenant Polvar," Anso said. "I have your new recruit. Squire Henshaw."

Squire? What's that all about?

I opened my status screen. As expected, my title had reverted to plain old Squire. Had it gone when the pin was removed? While I didn't care, I still wanted to know why."

"SQUIRE HENSHAW!" Polvar barked with enough force to rattle the air. "WITH ME. NOW!"

Great. One of those commanders who thought volume made up for charisma. My favorite type. Bullies built on insecurity. What could possibly go wrong?

He spun on his heel and marched off, and I followed after him like a good little soldier, muttering to myself. It's only twelve cycles, Adam. You can do this.

Once I found a rhythm I could march at and keep up with him, I checked his Stats:

Name: Jerrin Polvar

Title: Shield Lieutenant of Garazal House Guard.

Level: 37

Class: Warrior/Tradesman

We passed the first three barracks before coming to a stop, but before he entered, he turned and sneered.

"I know all about you, and I'll make one thing clear right now." He prodded at where the pin had been. "I don't care about any of it. Leave whatever delusions of capability you have at this door. You're in my world now, and for the next ten cycles, you'll have to earn your place, every single day. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Looking forward to it, sir."

His lip curled. I think it was supposed to be a smile. "We'll see."

I wanted to ask about my time here only being ten cycles, but I already knew I wouldn't get a straight answer, so I kept my mouth shut and hoped I met someone with a little more decency inside.

He finally opened the barracks door and entered, I followed, trying not to let his attitude get to me. For the most part, I succeeded, focusing on the layout of the barracks instead.

The air smelled of polish and Archon arrogance. Soldiers milled around, either sharpening swords or playing dice. Of the few heads that turned, none of them held welcoming smiles.

At the far end, Polvar stopped at a metal door. He knocked once, then shoved it open to reveal a man at a desk, sleeves rolled up, scribbling on paperwork.

"Sergeant Brin," Polvar said. "New placement. Garazal's pet project. Try not to break him on the first day."

Brin looked up and studied me. "Small, isn't he?"

"Seems we're taking all kinds these days. The Seventh has a Salorian!"

Brin's brow furrowed at that. "What next? Will we start promoting our livestock?"

Polvar chuckled, then pushed me forward by the shoulder. "He's all yours now." Then he walked out without another word.

Brin stood, stretched, and cracked his neck. "Take bunk forty-seven. You'll be rotating between morning guard duty and training formations in the afternoon until we figure out what you're good for. If you're good for anything."

"Yes, sir!" I snapped. What else was there to say?

He stepped closer. "I'm sure Polvar's already made it clear, but let me double down since it's important. We don't care who you think you are. You've been sent here as a fresh recruit, and you'll be treated as such. Everyone in my cohort has bled for House Garazal. Every one of them is a pure-blooded Archon and a brother in arms. You are something we've been ordered to endure by our lord, but don't expect us to be happy about it."

I couldn't help feel I might've been welcomed better with the First Cohort. The one I'd already fought with.

I also couldn't help feel that it was an intentional decision made by Prime Garazal. This was clearly meant to be a hazing.

Sergeant Brin walked past me to the door. "Roan! Here, now!"

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A tall soldier appeared seconds later. He must have been seven-five, almost as tall as Prime Garazal himself. His boots slapped loudly on the smooth stone floor as he approached.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Show our new recruit to his bunk. Show him the basics. He starts guard duty tomorrow."

Roan gave a short nod, then looked me over like he was measuring my worth and finding me wanting. "This way, Tinback."

I didn't know what a Tinback was, but I could guess. Sergeant Brin didn't seem to have any issues with the insult. By the time I looked around at him to gauge his response, he'd already gone back into his office.

Roan deposited me at my bed and offered absolutely no further information or instruction. I cleared my throat. "Is there anything I need to know? Guard duty times? Drill times? Meal times?"

He ignored me, which I'd completely expected. This wasn't my first rodeo. I scanned what my bunk consisted of: the bed, a chest at the bottom of it, and a set of drawers at the head that doubled as a nightstand.

I checked the chest first and found my armor stowed inside. I was surprised to see it. So far, it hadn't seemed like much thought had been put into my arrival. Evidently, I was wrong.

I closed the lid again and moved to the drawers. Inside the top one was underwear. Black socks and black pants.

The second drawer down held a uniform laid out for duty, and one that was meant for training: black shorts and a black vest.

The third drawer down contained a black t-shirt and loose-fitting black pants I assumed were bedclothes.

The last drawer was empty. Finally, somewhere to put the gear I'd brought. Weapons and enchantments for my escape through the portal, all stored in my enchantment rod. Plus a change of casual clothes. Plain-lined and forgettable. I placed the storage rod in the drawer and closed it, catching sight of boots under the bed.

Impressively organized. Now I was at a loss over what to do next, and that's never a good place to be in a hostile environment.

I glanced over at the other soldiers, getting a feel for their levels. All of them were high twenties or early thirties. All of them sat in their House Guard uniforms.

While no one had instructed me to change, I figured if I didn't, I'd soon hear about it. It looked around midday outside, so it was safe to assume we'd be carrying out the training formations Brin had mentioned earlier.

Making my mind up, I collected the uniform and went in search of the bathroom. While it was common for soldiers to get ready in front of each other on Earth, I didn't know what the etiquette was here, and I'd rather get chewed out for using the bathroom on my first day than strip in front of everyone if that wasn't how things were done.

Once I was ready, I put my academy uniform away in the storage rod, sat on the bed, and pulled on my boots before lying back and stretching out.

I'd evidently made the right decision, as a few minutes later Brin appeared in the doorway. "It's that time again, boys. Out front now. I'll be along in a minute."

The soldiers all jumped up, donning jackets, slipping on boots before emptying out of the barracks in an ordered manner. I waited until they all filed out and fell in at the end of the line. It was the only way I'd be able to tell what was expected from me, as it was made abundantly clear no one would be telling me anything.

Outside, they filed up in rows. I joined in at the end of the last row, and received a scowling look from the Archon next to me. That was as far as our interaction went.

We spent the next four hours marching nowhere. I mimicked the soldiers around me and listened to the orders. Step, pause, about-face, again. A pointless parade without an audience. It didn't surprise me the Archons would value this kind of show marching and the rest of the unit were sharp and efficient.

I made a few missteps on account of my not knowing the patterns we were following. Each one was met with barked corrections and the threat of a long night on cleanup duty.

It was tedious, yet required concentration and when we finished I felt oddly drained, mentally more than physically. I wondered if my Mental Acuity would improve from the torture.

The rest of the men all marched off back to the barracks, each of them removing their uniforms and changing into their casual nightwear.

They dressed in front of each other, laughing and joking as I would have expected.

Once changed, they carried their uniforms through to the back of the barracks in groups of threes and fours.

I dressed quickly, but waited until the last of them set off before I followed.

They dropped the worn uniforms into a large wooden box, then left through the back door.

I copied and followed them out, heading over to the larger command building, which I soon learned also housed a large dining hall.

I was thankful for the amount of available seating, which meant I could sit out of the way.

The meal was vegetables with a choice of white or red meat and either white or brown sauce.

I chose red meat, brown sauce and all of the available veg. Not because I was a glutton, but I wanted to work out which would be my star players in future meals.

The food was basic and bland. Then it was back to the barracks where the others drank, played dice, or lay on their bunks reading.

I wished I had a book at that point and knew I'd have to look into getting some form of entertainment. As I had nothing to do and it had been made abundantly clear that I wasn't welcome, I lay on the bed and focused my thoughts on the good times in Irala until I dropped off to sleep.

It was still dark when I awoke. Bodies moving silently in the dark, as if trying not to wake someone. I watched them through slitted eyes, prepared to react with force if needed.

No one touched me. No one came close, because it was clearly me they were trying not to wake.

I remained still, keeping my breathing slow and steady until they'd all cleared into the laundry room. I guessed that was where they'd gather their new uniform.

I watched their silhouettes, casting signs of them getting dressed back there. Petty bastards trying to set me up.

Once they cleared out, I jumped up, headed to the washroom to search for the day's uniform.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn't find it, even with a small ball of Fire Blast to shed some light on the matter.

"Shit."

I went back to my bunk and checked the drawer I found the first uniform in. It was still empty.

Bastards. Think, Adam. How do we sort this out?

I looked at Brin's door and marched over. I rapped loudly, but there was no answer.

I peeked inside to find it empty.

Oh, you're really trying to fuck me over here.

If I was a commander, what would I expect? I considered the Irala uniform and shook my head. No. That would be the worst choice. The armor? It was House Garazal at least.

I peeked out of the front door to see all of them lined up, ready to set off. Decision made, I rushed over to the chest and quickly threw on my golden armor. It was amazing gear and went on fast, directly over my nightclothes.

Once done, I slipped out of the barracks and set off after the retreating backs of the 4th Cohort of Wankers.

I started with a jog but slowed before they could hear my approach. From there, I slowly gained on them until I joined the back of the line.

The last soldier either heard me or just felt my presence and turned. The surprise on his face was one I'd cherish forever. He looked me up and down, grimaced, and faced forward, though I heard him hissing out a whisper to the man in front.

The sun was just starting to rise as we reached the palace grounds and Sergeant Brin brought us back into formation. It was clear the message hadn't gotten to him yet, so when he turned and saw me standing at the end of the line in full armor, I got to relive that moment of joy again.

I was powerless here, so I knew it would backfire on me, but I didn't care. Some things were just worth it.

Sergeant Brin's voice came out even. No barking orders in the early morning. "Left wing, rear quarter this morning. You all know your posts. Move out."

He actually tried to walk away without discussing the elephant in the room. I couldn't let it go. Being an absolute asshole to me was predictable. But expecting me to know my post? That was pure negligence.

"Sir," I said respectfully. "As it's my first day on duty, I don't know my post."

He turned his ice-cold eyes on me, beckoned the other soldiers on, and stalked towards me.

"You are in full armor, Henshaw. You are an embarrassment. You can't stand post like that."

"There was no uniform available for me, Sir. I tried to find someone to speak to about it, but there was no one left in the barracks."

"Then perhaps you should have risen on time rather than turning up late!" His voice rose steadily as he spoke.

"I wasn't given a time to wake. I wasn't given…"

"Enough of your excuses," he snapped. "You are not an Archon, so doing your duty efficiently and effectively is understandably beyond you."

I smiled back. "Not at all, Sir. With the right information, I'm more than capable of following any orders, routines, and meeting scheduled expectations. If you and the others in the 4th Cohort aren't required to provide me with the information I need, could you please direct me to someone who can?"

He moved forward to loom over me. "I strongly suggest you curb your tone with me, Squire. You forget your place."

I'd spoken calmly, but I wasn't new to a little gaslighting. "My apologies for my tone, Sir. It wasn't my intention to cause offence."

"It's too late for that. Go back to the barracks and find your uniform. Dress appropriately and wait until we return. We can discuss what is expected of you in greater depth once we have done our duty."

He didn't wait for a reply. Turning sharply on his heel, he marched off.

I headed back to the barracks, content I'd done all I could in an impossible situation.

I was under no illusions this was far from over, and even more acutely aware that I had no recourse. Warden Anso had made it perfectly clear I was under the care of the 4th Cohort now. So I'd just have to suck it up.

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