Gai stirred awake before the others, his body instinctively responding to the thins streams of light creeping through the shutters. The faint glow of dawn cast a soft golden hue over the sheets and faces of sleeping recruits. He blinked away the heaviness of sleep, his eyes adjusting to the dusky gray that still dominated the barracks. Around him, more than half the beds were occupied by weary bodies. Some lay motionless, their breathing steady and soft, while others tossed and turned as if battling some unseen foe.

Gai slid silently out of bed, careful not to disturb his bunkmate. His movements were practiced, almost instinctive—he had learned months ago how to navigate such small areas without drawing attention to himself. The floorboards creaked softly beneath his feet as he slipped on his sandals. He made his way to the door, pausing only to grab a thin woollen cloak he had brought with him.

The air was still cool as he pulled his tunic tighter and made his way to the latrine, situated just behind the main entrance to the barracks.

The latrine stood quiet and shadowed, its damp chill greeting him as he stepped inside. Gai's movements were methodical as he approached one of the marble seats. The cold surface bit into his skin as he sat, but he ignored it, his mind already moving forward to the tasks of the day. He focused on the small, crude brush left behind by a previous visitor, dipping it into a trough of running water to clean himself. Gai finished quickly, hurried by the thought of the morning rush, and washed his hands at the communal basin before stepping out.

When he returned to the barracks, his purpose was clear: movement. He despised idleness in these early hours when his mind felt sharpest and his body yearned for action. Gai made his way toward the foyer of the barracks, remembering it as a space large enough for stretching or exercises without disturbing anyone. The foyer greeted him with its dim light—the sunlight struggled to filter through small, high-set windows carved deep into thick stone walls. Dust motes floated lazily in shafts of light like tiny golden dancers suspended mid-air.

The room was silent except for Gai’s footsteps echoing faintly against stone. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms high above him, feeling his muscles pull taut as he began to warm up. Each stretch was deliberate; each movement chased away lingering traces of sleepiness that clung stubbornly to his body. His focus sharpened with every passing second.

But just as he was beginning to lose himself in the rhythm of his routine, a sudden sound pulled him from his concentration—boots striking stone in unison, their cadence measured and purposeful. Gai straightened quickly, turning toward the source of the noise.

Through the arched doorway strode Oswald and several other soldiers, their presence immediate and commanding. Each man wore a green cloak draped over their shoulders—a vivid splash of color against their otherwise muted uniforms. Their expressions were stern, their postures erect and disciplined. Among them was a man who stood out not only because of his adorned helmet but also because of the quiet authority he exuded. His cropped black beard framed a face weathered by experience yet unyielding in its determination.

"You," barked the adorned soldier sharply, pointing directly at Gai. "What is your name and dormitory number?"

For a split second, Gai hesitated—not out of fear but caution. His mind raced as he assessed the situation. These men were not here casually; their arrival carried purpose and weight.

Rising to his feet smoothly, Gai met the soldier’s gaze without flinching. "I am Gai Lionel from dormitory three," he replied evenly, "bed eleven, sir."

The soldier nodded curtly before pulling out a folded map of sorts—likely a roster or guide to those stationed in this section of the barracks. He scanned it quickly while another soldier stepped forward: Oswald.

Oswald’s voice cut through the quiet like steel slicing silk. "He’s one of mine," Oswald confirmed without hesitation.

The man with the adorned helmet—clearly in charge—turned his sharp eyes on Oswald now. "What were your orders to him last night?" he demanded.

Oswald didn’t falter under the scrutiny; instead, he squared his shoulders and answered confidently. "I instructed all boys to remain within the building unless they needed to use the latrine."

"I see," said the higher-ranking soldier slowly, dragging out each syllable as though weighing them carefully. His eyes flickered back to Gai, scrutinizing him once more before speaking again.

"Be sure to instruct them this morning that they may not leave their dormitory unless use of the latrine is required," he said firmly. "You must be clear in your communication."

"Yes, Sir Maric," Oswald replied without missing a beat.

Sir Maric—now identified by name and title—allowed a brief pause before addressing Gai directly. His voice carried both authority and an undercurrent of curiosity as he said, "Boy, I am Sir Maric, Royal Knight of Arieruro and charged with this green barracks." He paused deliberately, letting his words settle like stones into water before continuing. "It is a welcome sight to see common folk who understand the value of rising early—and exercising." There was something almost approving in his tone now, though it was tempered by formality. "For now," he added brusquely, "return immediately to your dormitory and await Oswald’s command."

"Yes, sir," Gai responded crisply without hesitation.

As he gathered his garments and turned to leave, Gai couldn’t help but overhear Sir Maric’s parting words to Oswald: "Watch that one closely," Maric said quietly but pointedly. "He seems switched on."

Though Gai didn’t linger long enough to hear Oswald’s response, those words stayed with him as he closed the dormitory door behind him.

“There you are, Gai!” Louis’s voice broke through the low hum of chatter in the dormitory as he darted toward his new friend, his wide eyes betraying a mix of relief and anxiety. His sandy-blond hair was tousled, and his tunic hung askew, as though he’d dressed in a rush. “I was worried. You were gone for so long—I thought something might’ve happened.”

Gai turned to face him, his expression calm, replying with an even tone, “I’m fine, Louis. You didn’t need to worry.” He tilted his head slightly, studying the younger boy for a moment. “How did you sleep?

Louis shrugged, his shoulders sagging as if weighed down by the strangeness of their new surroundings. “Um, okay... I guess,” he mumbled, glancing toward the rows of beds crammed into the dimly lit dormitory. “This place is so... different from home.” His voice faltered on the last word, and he cast his eyes downward, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.

Gai placed a reassuring hand on Louis’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “You’ll get used to it,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “This is home now.”

Louis didn’t respond immediately but nodded slowly. He had grown attached to Gai in the short time they’d known each other; the boy’s quiet strength seemed to anchor him in this unfamiliar world. Though they had arrived alongside Roland and Boris from Cemirini, Louis found himself clinging to Gai’s calm demeanor—perhaps too much.

Before either could say more, the door to the dormitory slammed open with such force that it rattled on its hinges. The sudden commotion drew every eye toward the doorway.