The dawn's light had just begun to paint the sky in hues of orange and pink when Darius knocked softly on Lucian’s door. The young warrior was already awake, the events of the previous day weighing heavily on his mind. Without a word, Darius gestured for him to follow, leading Lucian through the quiet corridors of the fortress. The air was still cool, filled with the muted sounds of a stronghold slowly stirring to life.

  They arrived at the main hall, a grand room dominated by a large, ornate seat at its center, positioned against a towering glass window. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting brilliant light across the hall and illuminating the figure of Commander Orin Kael, who sat with an air of casual authority. Along both sides of the hall, six seats were arrayed, three on each side, five of which were already occupied by formidable figures.

  As Lucian and Darius entered, Kael rose from his central seat, his presence commanding and absolute. He gestured towards the figures seated along the hall. “Welcome, Lucian. Let me introduce you to the elite of this fortress, the Guardians of the Crest.”

  One by one, Kael introduced his lieutenants, each nodding respectfully to Lucian as their names and monikers were announced:

  Sir Henrik 'The Shield' Arndt – A towering knight with a broad shield strapped to his back, his gaze as unwavering as the walls of the fortress.

  Lady Mara 'The Swift' Kaelin – A lithe and agile warrior, her twin blades gleaming at her hips, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light.

  Commander Tyra 'The Wise' Orell – An elder strategist with piercing eyes and a calm demeanor, her white hair tied back in a warrior’s knot.

  Lord Jorah 'The Beast' Morn – A burly man with a hearty laugh, his arms as thick as tree trunks, scars testifying to countless battles.

  Dame Alia 'The Silent' Voss – A shadowy figure whose presence was almost ethereal, her eyes observant and calculating.

  As Kael paused before the final introduction, a knowing smile played across his lips. He turned slightly, indicating the last vacant seat beside him. Slowly, Darius walked over to it and seated himself with an ease that spoke of long familiarity.

  “And you already know Sir Darius 'The Steadfast' Gravell,” Kael continued, his voice filled with a hint of pride. “An old friend and a trusted ally.”

  The hall fell silent for a moment as the realization dawned on Lucian. The respect he had observed among the warriors of the fortress, the deference they showed to Darius, it all made sense now. He was part of Kael’s elite, a protector of the fortress, a member of the Guardians of the Crest.

  Lucian’s gaze swept across the group, each member a paragon of martial prowess and leadership, their features marked by the scars of battle and the calm of seasoned warriors. The weight of their gaze was palpable, each assessing the young man who stood before them with a mixture of curiosity and respect.

  Kael’s voice broke the silence, bringing Lucian’s attention back to the moment. “These are the leaders who stand with me to protect this fortress and guide our forces. You will train with each of them, learn from them, and perhaps, in time, stand among them.”

  As Kael finished speaking, the hall resonated with a quiet power, the morning light casting long shadows behind the seated figures, making them appear almost as statues of the heroes of old. Lucian stood there, absorbing the gravity of the moment, the path before him clearer and yet more daunting than ever.

  As the introductions concluded, Kael leaned back in his seat, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Lucian,” he began, his voice carrying a light but commanding tone, “you have the unique opportunity to choose who among these esteemed warriors will begin your training. Who do you pick?”

  Lucian, still overwhelmed by the gravity of standing before such distinguished warriors, felt a surge of excitement mixed with trepidation. The choice was his—a freedom he had rarely experienced. His eyes flitted across the faces of the Guardians, each a legend in their own right.

  Before he could speak, Lord Jorah 'The Beast' Morn broke the silence with his hearty laugh, a sound that seemed to fill the entire hall. “Allow me, Kael,” he boomed, standing up, his massive frame casting a large shadow across the stone floor. “I’d like the honor of starting the young boy’s training. It’d be good to see what he’s made of.”

  A momentary hush followed Jorah’s declaration, then Dame Alia 'The Silent' Voss, her voice as cool and precise as her demeanor, interjected. “While Lord Jorah’s enthusiasm is commendable, perhaps Sir Darius should begin. His prior bond with Lucian might ease him into the rigors of what is to come.”

  All eyes then turned to Darius. He gave a simple smile, one that held a wealth of meaning, and shook his head gently. “I appreciate the thought, Alia, but I believe I should be the last to train him,” Darius responded, his voice steady and sure. “I want to see what Lucian can learn from each of you, how he adapts and grows. It will give me a clearer understanding of how I can best contribute to his training at the end.”

  Kael nodded thoughtfully at Darius’s words, then turned his attention back to Lucian. “It seems the choice remains with you, Lucian. Jorah has made his offer. What say you?”

  Lucian, absorbing the weight of the discussions around him, realized the depth of the training he was about to undergo. Each of these warriors had something unique to impart, and Darius’s decision to train him last spoke to a strategic thought process that Lucian admired.

  With a respectful nod to Lord Jorah, Lucian made his decision. “I would be honored to start my training with Lord Jorah,” he said, his voice firm and more confident than he felt. The prospect of beginning his warrior’s journey under the tutelage of 'The Beast' was as intimidating as it was exhilarating.

  Lord Jorah’s booming laugh filled the hall once more, his approval clear. “Excellent! We’ll see if we can’t toughen you up a bit,” he joked, clapping his large hands together in anticipation.

  The other Guardians nodded their approval, and Kael’s smirk widened into a more genuine smile. “Very well, it is settled. Jorah will begin your training after breakfast. Use this time to prepare yourself, Lucian. You will need to be ready for anything.”

  As the meeting dispersed, Lucian felt a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through him. The path ahead was daunting, but the faith these legendary warriors seemed to have in him bolstered his spirits. He was here to learn, to grow, and ultimately, to find his place among the Guardians of the Crest.

  The morning light streamed in through the high windows of the fortress dining hall, casting long beams across the bustling room where warriors, trainers, and recruits gathered for breakfast. The air was filled with the sound of clattering plates and lively conversation, an everyday symphony that spoke of camaraderie and routine. Lucian, however, felt distinctly out of place amidst the familiar chatter that did not include him.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  After collecting his meal—a hearty serving of porridge, fresh bread, and a slab of salted meat—Lucian scanned the hall for a place to sit. Noticing a quiet corner where a lone table stood empty, he made his way over, grateful for the solitude. Just as he was about to sit down and take his first bite, a shadow fell across the table.

  Looking up, Lucian saw a burly man a little taller and perhaps a year or two older than himself. The man's presence was imposing yet not threatening, and his face bore a friendly, open expression.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” the man said with a slight smile, his voice warm. Without waiting for a verbal response, he sat down opposite Lucian, placing his own tray heavily on the table.

  Lucian, unused to such straightforward social interactions, simply nodded, a bit taken aback by the man’s directness.

  “I’m not much of a talker, really,” the man continued, picking up his spoon and starting on his porridge. “I prefer to keep to myself, but it seemed like you could use some company.”

  Lucian observed him cautiously, trying to reconcile the man’s claim of being quiet with his current forwardness. After a moment, the man looked up from his meal and extended his hand across the table.

  “I’m Cedric,” he introduced himself. “Also a mercenary in training here. I noticed you’re about my age—it’s rare to see new faces around that aren’t already graying.”

  Lucian shook his hand, feeling a flicker of relief at the friendly gesture. “I’m Lucian,” he replied, managing a small smile. “Just started today.”

  “Ah, fresh meat, then!” Cedric chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Don’t worry, Lucian. It gets easier. The first day is always the toughest. Everyone here’s got a story about it. What brings you to the fortress?”

  As Lucian shared a condensed version of his journey—leaving out the more sensitive details about the 12th Scion and his unique predicament—Cedric listened intently, nodding along and interjecting with light-hearted comments that eased Lucian’s initial discomfort.

  By the time they had finished their meals, Lucian felt a surprising sense of ease. Cedric, with his straightforward charm and lack of pretense, provided a much-needed bridge to the world Lucian was just beginning to navigate.

  “Stick with me, Lucian,” Cedric said as they stood to leave the dining hall. “I’ll show you around, introduce you to a few folks. It’s not easy starting out here, but having friends makes all the difference.”

  Grateful for the unexpected companionship, Lucian nodded, feeling a bit more prepared for the challenges ahead. As they walked out together, the weight of the day seemed a little lighter, and the fortress a bit less daunting.

  As they walked through the corridors of the fortress, light filtering down from the high windows, Lucian’s thoughts turned to the day’s schedule. The realization dawned on him suddenly, causing him to stop mid-step. "I actually need to get going," he said, turning to Cedric. "My training starts right after breakfast."

  Cedric, who had been leading the way with an easy stride, paused and looked at Lucian with raised eyebrows. "Training already? That’s early for a new recruit, isn't it?" His tone was one of genuine surprise, mixed with a hint of curiosity.

  Lucian nodded, a bit of apprehension mingling with his resolve. "Yeah, I’m supposed to train with Sir Jorah. He’s my first instructor."

  Cedric’s reaction was immediate and visible. His eyes widened, and he gave Lucian a long, appraising look. "Sir Jorah? The Beast? Training with one of the Guardians of the Crest on your first day?" He whistled softly, a sound that echoed slightly in the empty hall. "Who are you really, Lucian?"

  Lucian couldn’t help but smile at Cedric’s reaction. It mirrored his own disbelief about how quickly things were moving. "Just like you said, I’m fresh meat," he replied playfully, stepping back and preparing to part ways.

  Cedric laughed, shaking his head in amazement. "Well, 'fresh meat' doesn’t usually get thrown straight into the lion’s— or should I say, the beast’s—den. Be careful, Lucian. Jorah doesn’t hold back."

  "Thanks, I’ll need it," Lucian said, his smile fading into a more determined expression. He extended his hand, and Cedric shook it, his grip firm and encouraging.

  "See you around, Cedric. Thanks for the company," Lucian added, feeling a sense of camaraderie that he hadn’t expected to find so quickly.

  "Anytime, Lucian. And hey," Cedric added as Lucian started to walk away, "if you ever need anything, or just want to spar a bit, let me know. I’m around."

  With a final nod, Lucian turned and headed towards the training yards, the weight of his upcoming session with Sir Jorah settling over him like armor. As he walked, the fortress seemed both more imposing and more welcoming than it had when he’d first arrived. The challenge was daunting, but Lucian felt ready to meet it head-on, bolstered by the unexpected friendship he’d found in Cedric.

  As Lucian stepped into the sprawling training yard, his eyes scanned the area, taking in the sights and sounds of warriors in mid-combat and trainees practicing their moves. It didn’t take long for him to spot Sir Jorah—the man's sheer size made him unmistakable, even from a distance. Beside him stood another imposing figure, slightly smaller but no less formidable.

  Walking up to them, Lucian felt a mix of nervousness and determination. Sir Jorah noticed him approaching and greeted him with a booming voice that seemed to resonate through the ground itself. "Ah, Lucian! Right on time. Ready to begin?"

  Lucian nodded, trying not to show his awe at Jorah’s massive stature. However, his gaze couldn't help but drift to the man standing quietly next to Jorah. There was something about his presence that demanded attention.

  Noticing Lucian’s curious glance, Sir Jorah chuckled—a deep, rumbling sound—and clapped the shoulder of the man beside him. "Ah, I see you’ve noticed my left-hand man. This is Malric, one of the strongest warriors under my command. While I did volunteer to start your training, I never said I’d be the first to train you directly."

  Malric stepped forward, nodding at Lucian with a respectful yet piercing gaze. His build was muscular, and his stance exuded confidence and power. "It’s good to meet you, Lucian," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "If you’re to train under Sir Jorah eventually, you’ll need to get through me first. We start with the basics—stance, grip, and movement. Let’s see what you’ve got."

  Lucian, slightly taken aback by the twist, quickly masked his surprise and geared himself up for the challenge. It was clear now that his path through training would be rigorous and full of unexpected turns.

  "Understood," Lucian responded, his voice steady. He appreciated the clarity and directness Malric presented, much like Cedric had shown earlier. It seemed that straightforwardness was a common trait among the fortress's warriors, something Lucian found he respected deeply.

  Malric nodded once, more in approval than anything else. "Follow me," he instructed, leading Lucian to a more secluded part of the yard where they could train without interruptions. As they walked away, Sir Jorah called after them, "Learn well! I’ll be watching, Lucian. Impress me, and you’ll move on to training directly with me soon enough."

  As Lucian squared his shoulders and followed Malric to the designated training area, he felt a mix of apprehension and excitement churn within him. The secluded part of the yard where Malric led him was quiet, away from the clang of swords and the shouts of other trainees, creating a more intense and focused atmosphere.

  Malric stopped and turned to face Lucian, his expression serious. "Here, we’ll begin. Remember, every warrior’s journey starts with a single step. Today, you take yours."

  Lucian nodded, his heart pounding with the gravity of the moment. As he took his stance, mirroring the posture Malric demonstrated, he felt the world narrow down to the space between them—a symbolic arena where he would either forge his strength or falter in the attempt.

  The air seemed to hold its breath as Lucian looked into Malric’s steady gaze, finding a silent encouragement that steeled his resolve. With a deep breath, he readied himself, knowing that the lessons learned here would shape the warrior he was to become.

  As Malric raised his hand to signal the beginning of their session, Lucian's focus sharpened to a razor's edge. The journey was daunting, the path fraught with unknowns, but Lucian was ready to meet it head-on.

  "Let's begin," Malric said simply, the words a gate to the trials ahead.

  And with that, Lucian’s training commenced, each movement and counter a building block in the foundation of his destiny. As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows of the two figures across the training ground, the chapter of Lucian's life as a mere recruit closed, and a new one as a warrior began.