Fabrian woke up to sunlight filtering past her eyelashes and blinding her for just a moment. She took a deep breath before exhaling shakily. As she sat up, she looked outside the hostel window, where the morning light poured in mercilessly. The little room she’d picked to sleep in with the other guards had warmed up to exceed a reasonable toasty temperature. One could’ve never guessed it was already almost autumn back in Natalez. There were four other beds in the room, all empty except for Cleri’s. Cleri was still sound asleep,; sprawled out like a starfish on their straw mattress. Their blanket tossed on the floor while their sleeping gown was rumpled in all the wrong places. Fabrian chuckled lightly before taking a steadying breath. 

It would be okay. 

Swinging her legs over the bed, Fabrian took her time getting ready for the day, repeating her mantra of “I know what I’m doing” over and over again. 

She pulled back her hair into a high ponytail, and drew her sleeveless tunic over her trousers. Fabrian laced her riding boots, and tightened the belt around her waist. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to forgo her linen cloak, not wanting the excess material to get in the way of any fine movements she’d need during the tryouts. Her hand paused over the ribbon Stella had given her, and after some more deliberation, she decided to tie it in her hair. If nothing else, it’d serve as good luck. 

Fabrian grabbed her stave and left the hostel. Upon exiting the building, she found Netali and Hail talking between mouthfuls of some kind of wrap. Soft and pliant flat bread wrapped around what looked like spinach and some sort of meat. Fabrian’s mouth watered as she wandered over to them to see if they had more.

“Good morning,” she said, eyeing Netali’s food without a hint of shame. 

Netali rolled her eyes. “Go talk to Adel. He’s providing breakfast for everyone. It’s nothing special, but it’s lamb and greens in baan—which is a traditional Aganian flat bread.”

“I will one-hundred percent go do that,” Fabrian said, spinning her toe to immediately track down Adel and this world's version of a gyro. 

“Before you go.” Netali grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her back to her and Hail. “We have something to talk to you about.”

Fabrian pouted. “But breakfast.”

“You can spare a moment.” Netali rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, Hail.”

Hail refolded her breakfast’s  stiff wax paper wrapper and stuffed it away in her jerkin pocket. “I think I mentioned yesterday that I am from Agan.”

“Yes, you did,” Fabrian nodded. 

“Until you receive word on how you place during tryouts, Netali and I think it would be best if you stayed with me and my family.” Hail said. 

Fabrian blinked owlishly. “Sorry, you and your family?”

“Yes. My mothers live in the Center—they are instructors of magic at one of the academies,” Hail explained. “It will be a much easier walk from their home to the knights’ training quarters than from here.”

“I couldn’t impose like that,” Fabrian protested. “Especially since I’ve never met your moms.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Netali and I have already worked out an agreement. So long as you pass the trials, I will be staying here in Agan.” Hail smiled. Her gentle happiness seemed genuine. 

“But what about your work?” Fabrian asked, alarmed. “Why would you leave the caravan?”

Netali answered for Hail. “We both think it’s important for you to have an ally here. And since Hail is from Rotia, it makes the most sense for her to be the one who stays behind. She will resume her contract with me when the caravan returns for the journey to Honria.”

“Besides, I’ve missed my mothers a lot,” Hail added. “And there’s often a shortage of guards here. While I don’t share the same determination as you to serve a liege as a knight, I know my way around this place well enough to find a security job without any problem.”

Netali nodded. “One of Hail’s mothers, Nieke, is a well-known falconer in Agan. Should anything happen, Hail has confirmed that her mother will send word and alert me.”

Fabrian shot Netali an alarmed look. How much did she tell Hail?

Hail gave Fabrian a playful grin. “While I’m sure there’s more to the story, our lovely head merchant only told me enough to keep me informed on the situation…your Highness.”

“You told her?!” Fabrian hissed out angrily. 

“I don’t need either of you being caught unawares.” Netali crossed her arms. “Hail is a trusted guard, and keeps herself level headed in almost any case.”

“So you told her? Without asking me first?” Fabrian had the sudden desire to punch Netali in her smug jawline.

“It doesn’t bother me one bit, for what it’s worth.” Hail gave a placating pat to the top of Fabrian’s head. “You’re far more interesting a person…well, in person.”

“See,” Netali huffed. “And I only told her a little bit.”

“So just say ‘thank you’ for our help and let’s get moving,” Hail said with a satisfied little nod. “You have a tryout to get to.”

“I…” Fabrian paused, and decided that in this case, it would probably be best to not fight back. “Thank you both.”

“That’s better. Now, go get that breakfast!” Netali continued to eat her own meal. “I have one more thing for you, but you only get it if you do well during your tryouts. So, y’know, go hit people or something like that.”

Fabrian found that she could only sigh in defeat, leaving the two as she went to hunt down Adel. 

After she’d eaten her own wrap—stuffed with lettuce, a fried egg, and lamb—Fabrian and Hail began the walk to the Center. Hail had gratefully loaned Fabrian some of her leather armor—vambraces and greaves to protect her forearms and shins during any scrimmaging or one-on-one melee—and the two now made fair work of the trek through the morning road traffic. Fabrian had never worn armor before and found that she disliked how tight the items felt against her skin. But Hail assured her that she’d rather have a large bruise than a welt or cut that could be caused during any duels. Now though their journey was quiet, Fabrian found herself rather uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. 

Unlike Cleri, Hail always carried herself with composure and confidence, never feeling the need to make idle chatter unless she had something important to relay. Unfortunately, it also made it impossible for Fabrian to read Hail’s thoughts eighty percent of the time. Like now. 

“So…” Fabrian trailed off.

“So?” Hail echoed. 

“You don’t, uh, hate me or something?” Fabrian asked finally.

“I just lent you some of my favorite armor and you’re wondering if I hate you?” Hail laughed. “You’re a riot.”

“I mean it,” Fabrian said, gripping her stave a bit. “I’d feel guilty if Netali assigned you to help me and you didn’t—”

“Let me set something straight with you,” Hail said plainly. “I volunteered. Netali then proceeded to inform me of your plight. After which, I confirmed that I’d still like to stay in Agan with you. As your friend.”

“Why?” Fabrian asked.

“I suppose it’s fair that you’re wary. Not many people like you, well, who you pretended to be before,” Hail shrugged. “But I’ve seen how you devote yourself to the caravan. To us. And anyone who’s patient enough to put up with Cleri’s tomfoolery, I don’t think can honestly be all that bad.”

Fabrian let out a sharp, short laugh. “Yeah, fair. Saintly is the one who puts up with Cleri.”

Hail snorted and inclined her head. “Besides…I was there when Cleri and Netali unloaded you after the incident with the Aganian envoy. Anyone who sacrifices themself for a stranger like that…you’re good.” She paused and licked her lips, her breath hitching for a moment in hesitation before she shook her head. “I don’t know the reason for your behavior when you were the Queen of Natalez. And honestly, I don’t care. What matters now is who you are. And who you are, Fabrian, I think speaks for itself. I’m glad to have made a friend like you.”

Reaching out her free hand, Fabrian smiled as relief flooded through her nerves. “Likewise, Hail.”

Hail clutched her forearm and shook it with a fond look.

Shortly after, they made their way to a large arena, guarded by chain walls and a wooden fence. It was maybe two stadia long and half a stadia wide. 

“Welcome to the Knightage Core.” Hail said, jogging up to the front. “This will be where all contenders gather to test their capabilities as knights.”

Fabrian walked up to the front and came to a stop. “Be honest, what do you think my chances are?”

“Don’t doubt yourself, you’ll probably rank pretty high.” Hail patted Fabrian's head again. “Most of the people who tryout are farmers who want stable pay. There’s a lot of…low-skilled people. You have quite a bit of fundamentals behind you, plus you’re very adept at your weapon.”

“My weapon, the cudgel.” Fabrian lifted her brow skeptically. 

“A very nice, custom crafted cudgel.” Hail pointed out with a grin before ushering Fabrian towards the entrance. “Come on, let’s get you signed up.”

When they walked into the training arena, Fabrian found herself at a loss of words—the breath taken straight from her lungs. There was a swarm of people; ranging from tired, sun-worn farmers in stiff cotton clothes, to those who stood out in their fine-silver armor that glinted beneath the morning sun. At the center of the arena was a closed off fighting ring,  lined with more chains like a boxing ring. Along the outer walls of the arena were all manners of training dummies, weapon racks, and other miscellaneous tools including barrels, hay stacks, and water troughs. 

“Pardon, applicants only.” A man dressed in low-grade, steel armor approached Fabrian and Hail. “Unless you two are here for tryouts, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m here to tryout, sir,” Fabrian addressed him with a nod of her head and her posture brought to attention. She noted how Hail watched her curiously from the corner of her eyes. 

“And you?” The man asked, turning to Hail. 

“I’m here as her guardian,” Hail said. “I’d like to watch to see how she places.” 

The man sighed and handed Fabrian a clipboard, one of many in his hold. “You and your guardian, go take this to that knight over there, the one wearing a black tunic. He’ll have you explain which group you’d like to be added to and then you’ll move from there.”

Fabrian and Hail approached the knight the man had directed them to. He looked over the both of them with a distasteful curl of his lip and a cynical flick of his eyes. Crossing his arms, he planted his feet firmly in the ground. “Ugh.”

Hail’s face immediately hardened, and she mimicked his stance, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hazel gaze narrowed and she turned her chin down, sunlight casting a slight shadow along the contour of her hawk-like nose. Fabrian sensed the immediate tension and observed warily.

“I’m here to be directed to my tryout,” Fabrian stated and held the clipboard out to him. 

“I’m sure you are.” The man rolled his eyes, snatching the clipboard from Fabrian. “Most like you say they want to try out and then expect their dualist partners to go easy on them.”

And just like that, the gears clicked instantly for Fabrian. Her hand clenched her stave. “So it’s like that, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Hail growled lowly. “It’s not unheard of for there to be female knights. But it’s certainly not encouraged.”

“Can never escape this shit, not even in a stupid fantasy world.” Fabrian rolled her shoulders and tilted her head side to side, cracking the joints in her neck. “How do I sign up, big guy?”

Again, Hail gave her a curious glance.

The knight let out another exasperated sigh. “You have several options, and can attempt multiple categories. There’s archery and rear defense, magic and support, defense and flanks, and forward charge and vanguard.”

“Vanguard.”

“For someone of your…delicacy, I’d recommend magic and support. Or archery.”

“I said vanguard,” Fabrian had half a mind to smash his skull in. Her voice came out caustic and low. “I will not repeat myself.”

There was something, recognition perhaps, that flickered in the man’s gaze, and for a second, a bemused expression crossed his face before it melted back into I’m not paid enough for this. He made a few scratches on the clipboard with a stick of charcoal. “Very well. For vanguard, you just need to destroy those four training dummies over there within three minutes.”

“That’s only if she were to become a fourth-tier knight,” Hail interrupted. “She wants to rank higher, place her against a dualist.”

Fabrian and the knight shot Hail a look before the man shrugged.

“Anyone in vanguard has to fight Effia. If you can’t last more than ten minutes in the ring with Effia, then you will be automatically disqualified. Are you sure you want to risk that?” He asked. 

Hail’s expression fell and turned grim.

Fabrian grinned, bracing the stave and the socket full of rocks against her shoulder.  “Yeah, I’ll take that gamble.”