The barrack gate seemed larger today as Etraon left the compound and walked towards it. About five minutes remained before the afternoon bell would ring, and he had thought it prudent to arrive early rather than exactly on time. After all, Douglas had said nothing regarding when the monitoring would start and leaving a good first impression on his new potential superiors would be a wise move. There was, however, no real need to hurry. Etraon breathed deeply, intent on properly relaxing himself mentally before the tests, which, given that he was outdoors, was not difficult to do.

It was simply too beautiful of a day to be stressed, even taking his pending examination into account. He shunted that unpleasant, intrusive thought to one side and glanced around him. There was a mild breeze in the air and its warmth stirred lightly against his cheek, tugging at his hair. The mountains off in the distance were vast as always, though they were now peppered with new flowers, their sides blanketed in sheets of yellow and green. There were enough clouds in the sky to cool the ground below, but not so many as to cloud the atmosphere and the moods of those outdoors. The crisp scent of the nearby river accompanied the flowing fields of grass, warmed by the sun, and sent rippling in waves. A sharp cry sounded overhead, and Etraon glanced up to see a large bird. Whether it was a kite or a hawk, he could not tell from this distance, but he nodded to the magnificent creature as it passed him. Footfalls from behind caught his attention.

“The Wolves are having their assessments today too,” Aurelius whispered excitedly as he approached. Windsor and Sirena were coming up behind him and Etraon could see the others in the doorway of the barracks, making their way to the gate. “I saw Lance just now.”

“Where are they meeting?”

“General Theodore’s taking them to the other side of the castle for their assessments. Apparently, there’s a commander who has already expressed a vivid interest in a Wolf. He wants him to do something specific to see if he’s cut out for the squad.”

“Lance?”

“He didn’t say. You know how he is, never says a word until he’s absolutely sure that he’s right.”

“Hey,” Windsor greeted them, grinning wickedly.

“Oh no,” Etraon returned the grin. “What’s happened?”

“Does something have to have happened every time I so much as say hello?”

“You’re smirking from ear to ear, Windsor. Any idiot can tell something’s up and that you’re enjoying it much more than anyone with a heart would,” Etraon joked.

“Two of the bands’ assessments are postponed until all the other bands have completed theirs.”

“That’s unfair,” Aurelius snorted.

“Not in the way you think,” Windsor continued slyly. “Do you remember that food fight on our first day here? The one that the Bears and the Sharks started?”

“Oh yes,” five voices chorused fervently. Sirena had been right behind Windsor when he arrived and Catherine and Damon had just arrived within earshot of their conversation.

“The Masters heard about it and were quite vocal about the fact that they disapprove of those who participate in such behavior. They’re going to take their pick from the other bands instead.”

“So none of the Bears and the Sharks will be chosen by a Master? Ouch, that’s rather harsh, don’t you think?” Damon winced.

“Not really,” Etraon shrugged. “If you think about it, it’s for the best. Would you really want someone who throws food at others for no reason at all to be issuing commands that might decide whether you live or die in the future?” Damon grimaced at the thought and shook his head.

“I would think not.” A voice sounded from behind and they turned to see a tall, extremely well-built man approaching.

He had long blond hair that was tied up high and secured with leather strips of some kind into a ponytail. His fringe had grown out long enough to where it could also be tied up with the rest of his hair, leaving his face clear for everyone to see. Gray eyes watched them silently, flickering back and forth as he studied each of them in turn. He appeared young, though he carried himself with the confidence of an older man.

A crest, which Etraon recognized to be that of Zourik, was sewn into the shoulder guard, though with the glare from the sun, he couldn’t quite tell what group the man belonged to or what his rank might be. The leather armor he wore, though simple in appearance, was clearly well-made and well-maintained. The leather shone in the sunlight, and all the details that had been sewn into it stood out vividly against the reddish brown. A large battleax was slung over his shoulder, so huge that it hung down on his back, secured by some unseen straps to keep it from swinging about his legs. Catherine’s eyes were fixated on the ax even as Aurelius’ mouth dropped wide open at the sight of the weapon.

“A real labrys,” Aurelius choked out. “I’ve never seen one up close.”

“Oh, ho!” the man chuckled, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprise. “With that kind of knowledge, you must be young Aurelius.”

“Yes, sir!” Aurelius shouted back in reply, perhaps a little louder than he had originally intended. The man’s smile merely grew wider.

“Sir, indeed. How did you know I was a knight?”

“Uh...come again?” Aurelius stammered.

“You called me Sir.”

“I, uh...didn’t know you were a knight, Sir,” Aurelius paused for emphasis. “I called you ‘sir’ because that was how our trainer had taught us to address those of higher rank. So I called you ‘sir’, not ‘Sir’, if you catch my meaning. Um...Sir.”

“Forget I said anything about the word ‘sir’,” the man relented, holding his hands up in surrender. “The name’s Forde. I’m the commander of the Zourik Knights, First Squad of Corps One.”

“The Emperor’s Guard!” Windsor gasped.

Forde looked down at Windsor with new interest. “And who might you be, young man?”

“Windsor, son of Colonel Harrison, First Squad, Corps Two.”

“Prince Auberon’s Guard,” Forde nodded, his expression now speculative. “Very nice. Oh, don’t mind me, Kites. You carry on your conversation. I’m just going to sit over here on this increasingly attractive bench and wait for the others, who. Are. Late!” He shouted out the last word, startling them all with the sudden increase in volume.

“Really, Forde? Is all that drama even necessary?” a voice boomed from the other side of the gate.

Five figures came through the gate to stand before the Kites in no particular order. Etraon shuddered inwardly, trying to ignore the wave of nerves that threatened to make his knees buckle. If these men and women were to be the ones supervising their assessment, to say that their future rode on it would be a great understatement.

They were of varying ranks, but having worked with each other professionally for many years, shared mutual admiration and respect. Forde grinned at them as they approached and moved to join them in the line that had begun to form. He stood next to Oscar, a knight turned blacksmith. The man had found that his passions lay more in the making and care of the weapons that he had used for so many years. He shocked the empire when he, a young knight with so much promise, laid down his sword to pick up a hammer. Many tried to discourage him from making such a life-changing decision, but then, after seeing for themselves that Oscar was quickly picking up the skills of the soon-to-retire Master Blacksmith, encouraged him to continue in his new line of work.

“Your propensity to arrive early doesn’t mean that those of us who choose to come on time are late,” Oscar said then, addressing Forde once more. Etraon found the fact that his deep voice didn’t at all match the youthfulness on his face a little disconcerting.

Oscar donned a leather vest, belted at the waist and his large, muscular upper arms were left bare. His hands were covered in fingerless leather gloves and reptilian skin wrapped around his legs below the knee, shielding them from the heat of the fires that he stoked. Hanging from the belt was a large leather apron that came down on both sides to protect him from stray sparks and in his hand was a large hammer. It was the basic tool of the trade, and no blacksmith was ever found without one. The implement was so much a part of their daily lives that it was practically an extension of themselves. His bald head gleamed in the afternoon sun, and he scratched at his short beard with one large hand. His mouth opened with a yawn that came off more like the silent roar of a bored lion rather than the sound of the weary. Etraon decided that getting into Oscar’s good graces would be a good idea.

Besides Etraon, only a couple of the others knew of Oscar. The blacksmith introduced himself and the man next to him stepped forward. It was Reed, the cartographer. While it was rare for the cartographers of the army to actually engage in combat, scouting parties always had at least one with them to keep track of their position and to see to it that all appointments be met on time. The empire was extremely vast, and only the best or the suicidal dared to venture out alone. While most who tried to navigate the land went by landmarks or by the position of the sun and the stars, this wasn’t the case for Reed. He knew by some inner instinct the difference between one field and its neighbor by the sound of the rippling grass. The rivers that ran through the empire were not so much remembered by name as they were by smell to him. He looked to be just slightly older than Karina, with brown eyes and a face constantly wreathed in a smile, particularly when outdoors. If anyone loved the lay of the land, it was Reed. Even now, multiple scrolls of parchment were at the ready, belted at the side of his long, flowing leather cloak. He handed one to each of the Kites as a gift, laughing and reassuring them that they would not be using them in the assessment today after a few of them grew a little wild around the eyes.

-----

Author's Note:

xoxo,

Elfarine