Chapter 33

The next morning found Nick walking down the hallway to Devon’s room just as the sun was rising. The house was quiet, save for the soft clatter of his parents in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He knocked once and opened the door without waiting for a response.Devon was sprawled across the bed, one arm thrown over his face, blanket tangled around his legs. A wooden bowl sat precariously on the edge of his nightstand, stained with fruit pits and juice. Nick rolled his eyes and walked over, giving his brother’s shoulder a shake.

“Get up. We’re leaving soon.”

Devon grumbled incoherently and swatted at him with surprising force. Feeling a significant displacement of air, Nick ducked just in time, and the offending limb sent the bowl flying. It hit the wall with a loud crack, shattering into pieces and leaving a dent.

Nick froze, staring at the broken shards scattered across the floor. “What the—how are you that strong half-asleep?”

Devon groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction. “What’re you yelling about?”

“You just broke a wooden bowl like it was nothing. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

His brother squinted at the mess on the floor, then shrugged. “Guess all this training is paying off. And don’t blame me—you’re the one who woke me up.”

Nick sighed, resisting the urge to argue. Instead, he grabbed a discarded cloth from the corner and tossed it. “Here. Clean it up before Mom sees.”

Devon grumbled again but grabbed it mid-air, muttering something about obnoxious little brothers. Nick smirked, turning to leave. “Hurry up. Breakfast is ready.”

Soon enough, the family was gathered around the kitchen table for a quick meal. Elena had prepared a simple spread of bread, cheese, fresh fruit, and a pot of tea. Eugene was already dressed for the day, working the straps of his leather armor with one hand while sipping his tea with the other.

Luckily, they didn’t bother to ask what the sudden noise had been. Living with two boys had a way of teaching parents that some things were best left unasked.

As they ate, Eugene laid out the plan for the day. “Once we get to the wall, I’ll have you two join the recruits for their drills. It’ll be good practice, and you’ll get a sense of what the guards go through daily. Afterward, you’ll each accompany a patrol through the outer perimeter.”

Devon perked up at that, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Finally, something that doesn’t involve packing or hitting a dummy for hours.”

Eugene chuckled. “You’ll still have to go through the training, though admittedly, it might not be too bad considering you have been under your mother’s tutelage.”

Elena placed their lunch basket next to him and bent down to kiss him on the cheek before turning to her sons, “We’ll see if you complain again once you see the results of my training.”

Devon elbowed Nick playfully. “Bet you’ll need a dozen breaks. Everyone knows magic classes don’t get nearly as much constitution or strength as martial ones.”

Nick didn’t rise to the bait. “Maybe, but I think I’ll hold my own.” His level was on par with his brother now, and he knew few other teenagers put as much effort into growing as the two of them did. Though he might be physically weaker than Devon, he was pretty sure he could handle teenagers who could barely grow facial hair.

Devon snorted. “We’ll see.”

Elena watched the exchange with a small smile, “Remember not to show off. Not everyone is lucky enough to have two parents who can teach them how to fight. Most kids only learn when they get recruited.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Eugene promised, standing and adjusting his sword belt. “Let’s head out.”

Nick hurried to drink the last of his tea and grabbed the lunch basket, quickly followed by his brother.

The walk to the other side of town was brisk, aided by the bracing morning air. The town of Floria was just beginning to stir, and the streets were dotted with merchants setting up their stalls and farmers driving carts of produce. With the caravan around the corner, everybody seemed ready to make money.

Nick glanced at Devon, noticing he carried himself with confidence. His brother had always been stronger than other boys his age, but the last period of intense training had given him an edge.

Soon enough, they got to the wall. It was a towering stone and timber structure, tall enough that Nick couldn’t see the trees beyond, though that might be because puberty had yet to hit him. Guards moved along its ramparts, saluting once they noticed them. Their father led them to a small training yard near the wall's base.

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A group of recruits was already assembled. They snapped to attention as Eugene entered the yard.

“At ease,” Eugene said. He gestured to Nick and Devon. “These are my sons, Devon and Nick. They’ll be joining you for today’s drills. I can assure you, they won’t slow you down.”

The recruits exchanged glances, sizing up the newcomers. Nick felt a flicker of competitiveness but pushed it aside, meeting their curious stares with a steady gaze. Devon, of course, seemed completely at ease, radiating confidence.

Eugene exchanged a quick greeting with the other adults before turning back to them.

“Line up!” He barked, and the recruits scrambled into position. Nick and Devon joined the line, standing shoulder to shoulder with the others.

The drills began with a series of warm-ups—push-ups, squats, and laps around the yard. Devon tackled the exercises with ease, obviously not feeling any strain and always doubling whatever Nick was doing who, on the other hand, didn’t bother showing off and only kept pace with the others, holding out surprisingly well despite his brother’s teasing.

By the time they moved on to sparring, Nick was starting to feel the strain. His muscles burned, and sweat threatened to drip down his forehead, but he refused to let it show, summoning a light breeze to dry it out. That kind of freeform elemental manipulation was becoming more manageable as he developed his affinity. It probably would never become battle-worthy, but it was a great training aid.

When Eugene paired him with an older teenager, he squared his shoulders and gripped the wooden practice sword he was given, falling into the stance his mother had drilled into him.

“Remember, no spells or skills. Use only your sword.”

That put a hamper on Nick’s ability to win, but he had known coming in that he wouldn’t be able to throw magic around. That wasn’t what this was about.

“Paul.”

“Nick.”

The bout was quick and intense. His opponent’s strikes came fast and hard, and Nick was forced to cede ground, deflecting with difficulty. Though his basics were solid, his movements were slower and less practiced than his opponent’s. Still, he held his ground, using his air sense to follow Paul’s strikes and give himself some breathing room. It was obvious that his opponent found that frustrating, which, after a while, forced him into overextending. With a shout, he charged, lifting his sword high to slash with all his strength.

Nick punished that mistake, deftly avoiding the surprise attack and striking Paul’s sword out of his hands as soon as he completed the maneuver.

Eugene called the match, nodding approvingly.

“Not bad,” his father said. “But you’ve got to attack if you ever want to win. You won’t always get to goad your opponent.”

Nick nodded, chest heaving as he caught his breath. “I’ll get better.”

Devon, meanwhile, was in his element, sparring with another recruit and holding his own with impressive skill. Nick watched with a mixture of pride and envy, marveling at how far his brother had come.

Eventually, Devon won the bout, but he did not humiliate his opponent. He even helped him up, clapping him on the back and exchanging a few friendly comments.

In times like these, Nick saw how closely his brother resembled their father.

By the time they joined a patrol in the afternoon, Nick felt a deeper appreciation for the daily work his father and guards did to prepare the new generation. The kids weren’t up to his mother’s exacting standards, but they were obviously a cut better than the average teenager, and he could see them handling most monsters on the forest’s outskirts.

Walking along the well-trodden stone path atop the wall, Nick was introduced to the patrol leader, a grizzled man named Darian, who exuded a calm authority that could only come from decades of experience. His armor was old but well-maintained, and his dark eyes constantly scanned the horizon as they moved.

“Rule number one,” Darian said in a gravelly tone. “We’re not out here to be heroes. Our job is simple—keep monsters from getting close to Floria. Most days, nothing happens. When it does, it’s usually not what you think.”

Nick nodded, falling into step beside him. The other members of the patrol—a mix of veterans and a few fresh recruits—spread out in a loose formation, apparently devised to prevent a single stealthy monster from taking them out all at once.

Darian continued, never taking his eyes from the tree line. “What you’ll deal with more often than not is adventurers. Some of them come through here thinking they can take on the world, but the Green Ocean has teeth. Our most common task is pulling their sorry hides out of trouble when they bite off more than they can chew.”

Nick nodded silently. He had personal experience with that type of person.

They walked silently for a while, the sound of boots on stone mixing with the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. The view from the wall was impressive, offering a clear line of sight over the dense forest.

A faint sound suddenly reached them—distant but distinct shouts coming from the forest. The patrol stopped as one, snapping toward the noise.

“Help! Someone, help me!”

The frantic cry echoed through the trees, growing louder with each passing moment. One of the greener soldiers, a wiry teenager named Arlen, reacted immediately. He made for the edge of the wall, preparing to jump.

“Hold it,” Darian shouted, roughly grabbing Arlen’s shoulder.

“But someone’s in trouble!” Arlen protested, flushed in the face. “We have to—”

“Rule number two,” Darian interrupted with a growl. “Don’t assume it’s a man you’re hearing.”

Nick frowned, glancing between them. “What do you mean?”

Darian grimaced. “Not all monsters are mindless brutes. Some nastier ones know that humans are easy prey if you know how to bait them. Over the years, we’ve seen more than a few patrols run out to save someone, only to find themselves walking into a trap.”

Arlen’s eyes widened, and he dropped his sword. “You mean…?”

Darian nodded. “Mimics, most often. Dryads like to play pranks, too. You don’t go charging in until you’re sure.”

He reached into his pack and pulled out a curious object—two tubes mounted on a frame with a series of intricate dials and wheels. It resembled a pair of binoculars, though it bristled with strange mechanisms and faintly glowing runes.

Darian raised the device to his eyes and began cranking the wheels, the lenses shifting and clicking as he adjusted the focus. “This lets us see through illusions, courtesy of the Temple,” he explained. “If it’s a trick, I’ll know.”

Nick watched in tense silence as Darian scanned the forest. The cries grew louder and more desperate, and his pulse quickened. What if it was real? What if they were wasting precious time?

After what felt like an eternity, Darian lowered the device and nodded. “It’s clear. An adventurer is being chased by a forest lizard.”

Arlen let out a shaky breath. Darian snapped his fingers. “Alright, we’re moving in! Keep it tight, and don’t slow down. I’m not going back for you!”