"Knight Commander Kelvin," Lorrie greeted with a bow that Solace thought was a little too deep.

The man was even larger up close: tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. He had a square chin, short black hair, and piercing blue eyes. He stared distrustfully at Solace. "Is it true that it spoke?" He hadn't even acknowledged Lorrie's greeting, which irritated Solace further.

"How rude." Solace stated. He leaned back on his hands to make looking up at the man more comfortable. "No return greeting. No introduction. Is that just how people are these days?"

Kelvin's nostrils flared as he stared down at Solace. "Cleaver trick, woman, but if you think insulting me using this thing will save you from punishment—"

"If you lay a finger on her…" Solace wasn't sure what he could do about it, but he knew he would do something.

"How are you doing it?" Kelvin demanded.

Lorrie trembled in terror. "Sir, I'm not doing anything."

"Soulless cannot speak, woman!" Kelvin roared.

Since he was close enough, Solace lifted his foot and kicked the man's shin. It wasn't anything that would hurt, but it was enough to get his attention. "I'm speaking for myself, dumbass."

Expression turning dark, Kelvin growled. "Leave us, woman. I will speak to it alone."

Lorrie bowed and retreated down the hill. Solace watched her go, irritated by Kelvin's treatment of her.

"Now. Let's hear you speak with no one else around," Kelvin said.

Solace narrowed his eyes.

"What manner of demon are you?" Kelvin demanded.

Solace dropped back to lie in the grass.

"I demand that you release the prince's body at once, demon."

Solace stared at him, wondering if the Knight Commander was kidding or not. "Release his body?" Reminded of how Reed had waved his arms earlier, Solace said, "That's not how demons work." He laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the man.

"Then how would you explain this?" Kelvin asked, gesturing at Solace.

"If I knew, I don't think I'd tell you," Solace retorted.

"Clearly, some demonic creature has been summoned."

"Demons cannot be summoned. Nor can they be controlled. They don't hide in people; they burst out of them, you nitwit. Honestly, if that's what you think demons do, then you wouldn't survive meeting one." He sat up with some difficulty. His core muscles were not used to moving like that. Solace reached back to the wheelchair to pry himself up. Unexpectedly, it toppled onto him. Pinned beneath it, Solace stared up at the tree branches. "Jorhnak's Wrath!" he cursed.

The sound of rubble collapsing interrupted Kelvin. He looked toward the L-shaped building and scowled before turning away. He pointed at Lorrie as he walked down the hill and gestured for her to come to him. Solace fought the chair.

"Come back here, you son of a bitch! Leave her alone!" Solace called.

* * *

 The day just kept getting worse. As soon as Kelvin had dismissed them, Reed had spotted Sir Salvage heading toward the Western Barracks from the north wing door. Hershel had made good on his threat to get the barracks inspected.

He'd sent Patrick to his office to sort out the rejected repair requests. It was a lost cause, though. Salvage wouldn't want to look at those papers. Even if he did, he wouldn't care. A fair chance wasn't what he was there for.

Reed just didn't want Patrick there to witness his inevitable evisceration.

When he got to the entrance of the training yard, Reed found Salvage already writing on his clipboard.

"Barracks Captain. Were you aware that this post is three degrees off level?" Salvage asked, pointing at the offending wooden beam.

Reed dropped his salute and stared at him. "Does three degrees affect the training of my men?"

"So you were unaware."

Reed reminded himself to keep his cool. There were far worse things wrong with the building than a decorative pole. He needed to take Salvage around in circles. "Are they level on the Eastern Barracks?"

"Of course they are!" Salvage shouted.

"How do you know? Have you inspected it?"

"I don't have to!" Salvage retorted. "We repair our building every month. You clearly don't take care of yours." He pointed at the Western Barracks with an accusatory stab of his finger.

Reed snapped back, "I've requested repairs on this building at least once a week. Bass requested repairs just as often. Every last one has been rejected. This shit pile is y'all's fault."

Salvage wrote furiously on his clipboard and flipped to a new page. His eyes were blazing. "You'll be written up for insubordination, Barracks Captain."

Reed rolled his eyes and walked past him. "Shall we start this farce, or do you want to stand and quibble about three degrees some more?"

The balding, overweight knight turned and strode after Reed, huffing in fury. He followed Reed to the equipment storage room and waited for Reed to unlock it before entering. "The floor squeaks." He pulled his pocket level again and checked the door frame. "This door isn't square. The door itself sticks. The staining is worn off." He wrote all these supposed infractions down and continued in. He roughly pulled a drawer open.

The whole unit collapsed, spilling its contents across the floor and piling around his legs. Salvage didn't bother saying anything this time; he just smirked at Reed and wrote it down.

Picking up a piece of equipment that had seen much better days thirty years ago, Salvage turned it over in his hands and made a disgusted face before throwing it aside. He kicked through the mess he'd made and went to the other rack of armor and training equipment. Deliberately kicking the shelf, he waited for it to fall. When it did not, he kicked it again, harder. Unable to withstand the treatment, the shelf collapsed sideways. Layers of paint had been the only thing holding it together, after all.

Reed was forced to stand silent while Salvage stomped on a cheap, pot metal training shield and caved it. He wrote down something. "It seems you don't bother keeping your equipment in good repair. This one is severely dented." Salvage tried to sound casual, but he was grinning.

"I'm sure we could afford better if we were given the budget," Reed retorted.

"You have plenty of money!" Salvage shouted back. "Where did it go, then? Huh? I bet you took it! You should confess now."

"I have the receipts to show that our monthly budget is seventy-six hundred."

Salvage gaped at him. "That's plenty to get updated training equipment!"

"That's just to pay thirty-two people. Equipment and minor repairs budget is one hundred a month."

The man's face turned red. "Quit lying to me!" Salvage roared, spittle flying.

Nightshift wasn't going to get any sleep today, it seemed.

Shoving past Reed, Salvage decided he was done playing in the storage room and went to the barracks door.

He stopped there and took out his pocket level again. He measured it from every angle. "The door is off by six degrees."

"Bullshit," Reed said under his breath. "This building is three hundred years old. What do you expect?"

"We expect you to maintain it!" Salvage snarled.

"Then give me the funding to maintain it," Reed growled back.

"Your yearly budget covers maintenance costs."

"I already told you that we only get a hundred a month!"

"Then take it out of the staff pay!"

"I cut all the staff just to keep paying the knights. The yearly budget is a joke, and you know it. I'll show you the books to prove it."

"I don't have time for that," Salvage dismissed.

"But you've got time to measure the door," Reed said.

Salvage scowled and threw the door open. It banged against the wall and shook the building in an alarming way. Salvage immediately tripped on the warped floorboards just inside.

"Watch your step," Reed said deliberately late.

Writing again, Salvage's face was turning red. He looked around the foyer and homed in on the wall. He stuck his finger into a wet spot. "This isn't regulation white."

Reed folded his arms and silently seethed. "Regulation White" was the exact same as any other white paint. The only difference was that it cost twenty shang a bucket instead of six for a better-quality product. The six-shang white didn't turn yellow in three months. Salvage was correct that this wasn't "Regulation White," but Reed also knew the man wouldn't have known the difference at a glance. That wasn't the point of this exercise, though.

Going to the dorm hall, Salvage started measuring the floor at every angle. At the first door, Salvage threw it open. Marx had already hidden anything that indicated her gender in the west wing bathroom they were using, preemptively saving herself embarrassment as Salvage pawed through her belongings. Salvage turned to scowl at Reed. "There's only one occupant in this room. That's against regulations."

"There are only twenty-nine knights and two squires housed in this building," Reed pointed out.

"This building should have sixty knights," Salvage insisted.

"Okay." Reed shrugged.

Salvage stared at him. "Okay? What do you mean by that?"

"This building houses sixty knights. I don't have sixty knights. I have thirty-one."

Furious, Salvage left Marx's room a mess and went to the next one. He threw open the door so hard it bounced off the wall. "This room is empty."

"Yes. It is. How observant," Reed said as he stopped in the doorway.

Still, Salvage went around every corner with his stupid level. "The floor slopes," he said.

"Probably. The building is three hundred years old. I've got a whole shelf full of rejected requests if you want to look at them."

"I don't need to look at that!" Salvage snapped. "You're just using that as an excuse!" The shorter man came toe to toe with Reed, stabbing him in the chest with his pen, leaving an ink mark on Reed's uniform.

"Regulations state that I'm not allowed to make structural changes to the barracks without approval and budget provided by the financial office," Reed said. "Leveling the floor or fixing warped boards is a structural change specified in section ninety-dot-six-dot-five."

An ominous creak from the ceiling interrupted.

Reed's heart sank. He'd hoped he would get through this without Salvage discovering anything catastrophic.

A crack appeared in the ceiling.

Grabbing Salvage by the collar, Reed spun him into the hall just before the ceiling collapsed in the room. Plaster dust exploded into the air.

Sneezing, Salvage shoved Reed away. "How dare you lay hands on me!" He sneezed again and turned to look at the room. Rotted beams and roofing tiles spilled out the door. He turned to Reed with a malicious grin. "You're going to hang for this, Reed Owen," he said. He flipped his papers back and left the barracks.

Wiping dust out of his eyes, Reed took several deep breaths before heading to the practice yard. Lily's ceiling collapsed as well; he saw through the still-open door.

Furious, Reed shoved his hands into his hair and started walking. He didn't know where he was going but wanted to punch someone. His path took him up the hill toward the trees, where he found Solace. The prince struggled to escape his overturned wheelchair, scowling down the hill where Kelvin had cornered Lorrie.