The King's Guard

Chapter 23

It all happened within a twinkle of an eye on a fateful morning during a training session.

The blade missed by half a breath.

Too wide. Too late. Too fast.

The trainee stumbled back with a sharp hiss, clutching his forearm. The dull practice sword clattered to the floor, and the room tensed as one.

Kael froze mid-step, his eyes wide open.

Blood didn’t spill, but the fabric split along the edge, thin red surfacing just beneath. The medic instructor was already moving. So was Reyna.

“Stop! Fucking stop, Kael!” she called with a piercing voice, and Kael stepped back out of reflex.

“Oh, goodness…” Kael mumbled as thoughts filled his mind.

“This is fucking messed up.”

The trainee was helped off the floor and out the arena without any further ado. His face was tight with pain, but he didn’t say anything. Kael didn’t even try to follow.

The hall emptied. One of the younger recruits cast a wary glance back. No one else did.

Then it was just him and Reyna.

She didn’t raise her voice. There was absolutely no need to.

“You’re not here, Kael.” she said plainly.

Kael didn’t meet her eyes. “He dodged late.”

Reyna stepped closer. “That’s not the point. You know what I'm saying, Kael. What's up with you, dude?”

Kael ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course, you weren’t meant to. That’s exactly it. You’re losing hold, Kael. Get a hold of yourself.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’ve been off all week. I let it slide because I thought you’d work it out. But this? This wasn’t a bad step. It was something else.” She paused. “You need to talk.”

Kael let out a long breath. “Of course. But not here.”

Reyna nodded once. “Fine. Meet me at the West chamber in ten minutes.”

He knew the one: the chamber which was older, half-used, quieter than the others.

The west training chamber echoed with the low creak of the heavy door shutting behind them. It smelled of stone dust and old wood polish, and the torchlight barely reached the corners.

Kael leaned against the far wall. Reyna crossed her arms but didn’t press.

He let the quiet stretch.

Then finally, he spoke.

“I lost her when I was just six.”

Reyna didn’t move.

“My mother,” Kael said, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor. “It was fast. Sickness no one caught in time. We lived outside the city then, deep in the village. By the riverline. We couldn’t afford the good healers.”

Reyna didn’t say anything.

Kael pressed on. “After that, he—my father, he tried. I think. But he wasn’t ready for loss or for me.”

Reyna’s gaze softened.

“Damn! That must have been so hard and harsh. I'm so sorry, Kael. Your mother lives on… in you.”

“Yeah right… Well, my father… he hit me once as I had lost control of my ability. Afterwards, he stopped going to his shop where he worked as a blacksmith, and kept his distance, as if touching anything might break it.” He paused. “Or me.”

Silence.

“I started doing odd jobs when I was fourteen. Uncle Fred let me do stuff like stocking shelves, lifting crates, cleaning glass and so on. He said I had strong arms for a boy who barely spoke.”

Reyna’s brow lifted slightly at the name. “Uncle Fred. The wine shop guy you talked about the other day?”

Kael nodded. “Yes. He stil owns it, but he still won’t label a single bottle.”

Reyna almost smiled. “You still barely speak.”

Kael looked away. “Old habits die hard, you know.”

She leaned against the opposite wall. “I lost someone, too.”

Kael looked over.

“Your brother? You told me the other day.”

“No, not him.” she sighed and said afterwards. “My childhood friend: Leo. He was older by three years. We were close. He even taught me how to throw a blade.”

“What happened?”

“Didn’t come back from a forest run. Pack of devourers, they found what was left.”

Kael’s mouth set in a line.

Reyna didn’t dwell on it. “Everyone thinks I’m good because I train. But I train because I remember.”

There was a stillness in the room now. Kael exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry about Leo. Hopefully, he's in a better place. Thank you for everything by the way.” he said.

Reyna nodded. “Don’t make me pull it out of you again.”

Kael allowed the faintest grin. “You might.”

A few days later, visitors were allowed past the outer gates. Not many came, it wasn’t a public day. But a few families filtered through under watch, name-checked and wand-cleared by perimeter guards.

Kael didn’t expect anyone.

He sat under the stone archway facing the east courtyard when he heard the voice first.

“Well, well. Look at you. Broad shoulders. Sharpened jaw. Is this what academy living does to a boy?”

Kael turned, startled.

Fred stood in his usual half-wrinkled tunic, squinting against the light like it had personally offended him. Behind him, Kael’s father: Karius Estaran stood stiller, arms behind his back.

Kael rose slowly. His throat caught. “Uncle Fred?”

Fred stepped forward, already waving a hand. “No hug? After all the glass I let you break?”

Kael snorted and let himself be drawn into the man’s half-gruff embrace.

“You really grew into that face,” Fred muttered as they stepped back. “Still scowling, but now it works for you.”

Kael’s father stood a little further off, silent.

Kael crossed the few remaining steps, unsure for half a beat. Then he embraced him.

Karius held still at first. Then slowly, he returned it.

“You look well,” Karius said after a moment. “Thin but steady.”

Kael stepped back. “You came.”

“I had to make sure the stories were true,” Fred said, breaking in. “That you were still alive. And terrifying.”

“I’m not terrifying.”

“Try telling that to the new bottle boys,” Fred replied. “They still flinch when I mention you.”

Kael laughed genuinely.

They found a shaded bench near the edge of the garden strip, far from the main trainee path.

Karius glanced at the surrounding walls. “Stronger than the old compound.”

Kael nodded. “More guards, too.”

Fred leaned back. “Any good wine in this place?”

Kael shook his head. “Not a drop.”

“Savages.” Fred muttered.

They caught up in simple lines. Karius shared updates from the outskirts—local shortages, road repairs, the rising tax on herb imports. Fred talked about the shop, about old customers, about the spider infestation that cost him a week’s worth of corked red.

“I had to sleep in the back room. With a stick,” he said, grim. “I’m traumatised.”

Kael smiled faintly. “Still don’t hire help?”

“I’ve got a boy now. Sort of. He trips more than he lifts.”

“He’s seventeen,” Karius added.

“Don’t defend him. He dropped an entire cask.”

Kael let them bicker for a while. It felt distant, and strange—but not unpleasant.

Karius watched him more than he spoke. Not quite studying. More like… checking. Matching the memory to the now.

When they rose to leave, Fred clapped Kael on the shoulder. “You’re doing better than you think.”

Kael nodded once. “I know.”

Karius lingered behind a moment.

“You’ve grown into her face,” he said. “Same brow when you focus. Same pause before you speak.”

Kael didn’t respond. Karius didn’t expect him to anyway. He gave a nod. “Stay sharp.” Then they were gone.

Kael stood at the edge of the stone path long after, watching the sun shift shadows across the gravel. The Academy walls felt quieter, and somehow less distant.

That night, Reyna passed him in the mess line. She stopped beside him without invitation.

“You look different,” she said.

Kael glanced up. “How?”

“Not worse.”

He nodded. “My father came, and Uncle Fred too.”

Reyna tilted her head. “The wine guy again?”

“He never changes.”

“Good,” she said.

Kael looked at her fully. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“The other day.”

Reyna shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

They stepped forward in line.