The King's Guard

Chapter 11

Two days passed before the next announcement came. Most of the recruits spent the downtime in basic drills or silent meals. The Academy grounds remained quiet except for the distant clatter of sparring from the combat yards. No one had been told what came next.

Kael kept mostly to himself. He didn’t visit the simulation hall again. He didn’t ask where Kyna had gone during breaks. The others noticed, but no one asked. Even Reyna gave him space.

On the morning of the third day, a bell rang through the northern tower. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to get attention. Shortly after, a short message was delivered to every room.

> Report to the central hall. Squad assignments in effect.

Kael folded the parchment and slipped it into his pocket. He grabbed his gear and made his way out, boots tapping against the narrow stone floor. The other recruits moved in loose lines toward the central chamber.

Inside, instructors stood around the perimeter. Archon was already at the front platform. Drax leaned against a pillar nearby. Ember stood off to one side, arms crossed.

No one spoke.

Once everyone had gathered, Archon raised one hand.

“You’ve passed the entrance trials and completed your first exercise. From this point forward, you will no longer operate as rotating teams.”

He looked around the room.

“Squads are now permanent.”

A low murmur passed through the crowd, but it died down quickly.

“You’ve been evaluated—individually and in groups,” Archon went on. “From here, you train and operate in assigned units. Each squad will report to an instructor. Each squad will carry its own burden.”

He raised a scroll and read the list.

Kael stood still as names were called and matched into groups. He didn’t listen to most of them. Until:

“Squad Seven: Reyna Voss. Jared Varion. Kael Estaran.”

Kael didn’t react outwardly, but he felt a low and slow exhale escape him.

Reyna glanced sideways. Her face didn’t change much.

Jared who was across the room, smirked just a little. He looked like he’d expected this outcome already.

Archon lowered the scroll.

“Your instructor is Darius Grey.”

A few people shifted uncomfortably.

Darius moved forward. He was older than most of the others. He was in his mid-forties, maybe even older. He had broad shoulders, grey hair, and an expression that didn’t change. His uniform looked worn-in but clean. He had no ornament, no rank badge, nothing that set him apart visually. Just his presence.

He didn’t even smile.

“Squad Seven,” he said. “To the courtyard. Now.”

Kael didn’t ask questions. None of them did. The three of them followed Darius out through a side hall.

Once they were out of earshot from the others, Darius stopped beneath one of the large trees that bordered the courtyard. The ground was dusty from wind. A few training dummies stood off to the side, untouched.

“I don’t train favourites,” Darius said. “I don’t reward excuses. I don’t care who your family is, what trial rank you earned, or which ability you think makes you special.”

He looked at each of them.

“You’re Squad Seven now. That’s the only thing that matters. You work. You learn. Or you’re gone.”

No one answered.

“Good,” he said. “Training starts in twenty minutes.”

He turned and walked off, leaving them standing beneath the tree.

Reyna exhaled quietly. “So that’s him, heh.”

Jared chuckled. “Doesn’t waste time, I’ll give him that.”

Kael said nothing.

“Still,” Jared added, turning to Reyna, “could’ve been worse. Some of those squads look unbalanced. We’ve got a decent line-up.”

He glanced at Kael. “Mostly.”

Reyna didn’t respond. She looked between the two of them. “I’m not interested in babysitting arguments. Let’s just get through the day.”

Kael didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked around the yard. A few other squads had come out for drills. He spotted Kyna across the northern fence, talking quietly with two others he didn’t recognise. She didn’t notice him, or even if she did, she didn’t show it.

They trained under a woman named Lira. Kael had seen her once during the trial prep: tall, broad-shouldered, with pale eyes that gave nothing away. She didn’t bark orders like Darius. She didn’t need to, because her presence alone held weight. She was much more reserved, but there was no mistaking who had control of the room.

Kyna didn’t say much when they arrived. She simply listened carefully, nodded once, and stepped over to pick up a training staff from the rack: balanced, made of ash wood, and marked faintly from past use.

Reyna stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders with a soft crack. “Let’s not be late.”

Kael followed them without a word.

Their first task wasn’t combat. It was silence drills.

Darius led the group through the outer barracks and into a long hall Kael hadn’t seen before. It was narrow, windowless, and without visible guards. The air was cooler here, the walls made of darker stone. Darius handed each of them a sealed scroll, identical in weight and appearance.

“You’ll take this to the inner archive,” he said, his tone as flat as ever. “You’ll place it in the designated drawer and return. No speaking. No eye contact. No ability use. Time starts now.”

No further instructions. Just that.

They moved.

The inner archive was on the far side of the Academy. Kael remembered passing it once during orientation. Back then, it had seemed like a place for scholars and records: irrelevant. Now, under task, it felt like a test hidden inside a routine.

The corridors leading there were long and echoing, lined with bronze wall-lamps. The light flickered with the faint irregularity of poor wiring, casting occasional shadows that twitched at the edge of one’s vision.

Kael kept the scroll tucked against his chest and walked in silence ahead of Reyna. Jared, as expected, strode in front with an almost theatrical sense of purpose, as if daring someone to match his pace.

They reached the archive without incident.

Inside, rows of polished drawers stood in neat lines. Kael slid his open, placed the scroll inside, then shut it without hesitation. He didn’t linger. None of them did. The return trip was just as quiet.

Darius stood waiting in the same spot with his arms folded.

“Again.”

The second run was quicker. The third more precise. The silence wasn’t just about sound. It was about intention…control.

After that, they were moved to the lower ring for partner drills.

The training grounds here were bare, filled with dust, stone, and practice weapons.

Darius handed out plain staffs: smooth, balanced, and blunt. It was time for some real training.

“You’ll spar,” he said. “Three rotations. No strikes above the collarbone. No crying if you fall.”

The matches were straightforward. Nothing flashy or elaborate.

Reyna fought like she thought in layers: every step was calculated, and every shift was efficient. Jared was faster and more aggressive, trying to dominate with momentum. It worked, at first, until he left himself open mid-spin and took a clean hit to the ribs.

Kael held his own with his steady footwork and strong stances. Darius didn’t say much. He just threw in terse comments occasionally. He made a correction in Kael’s elbow angle, and gave a sharper nod toward Reyna’s footwork. Well, that was all.

By the third round, the ring floor had collected a thin coat of dust. Footprints and staff scuffs marked the edges.

Darius surveyed them briefly. “You’ll train here daily,” he said. “You’ll clean it yourself.”

At the end of the session, he dismissed them without fanfare. “Tomorrow… by dawn.”

Jared rolled his neck as they stepped out of the ring. A few vertebrae cracked. “Not bad, Estaran. For someone who trips over air.”

Kael didn’t respond.

Reyna glanced over with a sigh. “He’s trying to get a reaction. Don’t bother.”

Kael slowed slightly. “I’m not bothered.”

She studied his face for a second, as if trying to measure whether he meant it. Then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

They split paths not long after.

Kael walked alone for a while. The halls were mostly empty now. The Academy's upper levels filtered in the last rays of daylight through the tall arched windows. The light hit the stone in long golden lines. Nothing looked different, but it felt changed.

Later that night, Kael sat alone on the upper terrace, his knees drawn slightly towards his chest, and his arms resting on them. The torchlight from below danced gently against the stone walls, casting broken shadows.

The wind was light and dry. He could hear the faint flicker of flame along the walkway.

He didn’t think about Jared, Darius, or the drills. Not even Reyna’s comment stayed with him.

He thought only of that moment when his foot hit the stone in the last mission. That split second when reality had slipped, folding in on itself like cracked glass.

The breath he hadn’t caught in time. The readiness he didn’t have.

He rested his back against the wall, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, and closed his eyes.