Blades.

Chapter Two

Kael

Kael adjusted his stance, his muscles straining as he parried a strike from his sparring partner. Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the dirt of the training yard. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the sandstone walls enclosing the grounds. Around him, the clashing of swords and the grunts of effort filled the air as dozens of trainees fought to sharpen their skills.

“Always remember to stay focused” barked Commander Varik, one of the instructors. His sharp eyes watched every movement with a scrutinizing gaze. “A real enemy won’t hesitate just because you’re tired. Your arms and legs will burn, let them burn".

Kael gritted his teeth and drove forward, forcing his partner back with a flurry of quick, calculated slashes. His opponent—a stocky trainee named Orin—stumbled, barely blocking the final strike before the dull blade of Kael’s practice sword pressed against his throat.

“Well done,” Commander Varik said, though there was no real praise in his tone. “Again.”

Kael sighed but reset his stance. This was his life now—training, fighting, obeying orders. It was better than the mines, better than being an outcast. Here, he had a purpose. Even if the training was brutal, even if some of the instructors seemed to enjoy pushing them to their limits, it was still better than being nothing.

He remembered the day he has been recruited into Lord Lucian's army. That day had started just like every other. His alarm bell rang by four am and after a measly breakfast of oat meal and sausages, he headed to the mines for the day's work. The air of the mine was thick with dust and sweat. The sharp clangs of pick axes against rocks echoed through the tunnels as the workers toiled, their bodies bent under the weight of exhaustion. Kael's back ached from hours of labour, his fingers raw from gripping the pickaxe. The work was grueling but it kept him alive. Barely.

After the day's shift ended, the workers lined up in front of Master Quinn, the plumpy mine manager who oversaw their payments. He stood atop a makeshift platform with a sloppy grin on his face as he addressed them.

"Listen up boys" Quinn announced, his voice thick with arrogance. "I have received orders from above. Payment would no longer be daily but weekly"

A ripple of unrest moved through the men.

"That's not fair". A man yelled.

"I need money to feed my family". Cried another.

Kael stiffened. He had been counting on today's pay. He had nothing left, not even a coin to buy food. Worse, he owed money to Lorrik, one of the most feared loan sharks in Arlindale. If he didn't pay up in time, Lorrik wouldn't hesitate to take his payment in form of blood.

A sudden wave of anger flushed all over Kael.

This couldn't be happening.

The workers argued and soon chants of "No pay, no work" filled the air but Quinn just waved a dismissive hand. "If you don't like the new terms, you can leave". He said with a smirk. "There are a lot of people who would be willing to take your place".

With that, he walked away with the men shouting angry words and curses after him.

Kael couldn't wait till the end of the week. He also did not have the luxury of leaving. The mine has been his only hope since his mother died. With no family and no home, he had been forced into a life of endless labour.

As the rest of the mine workers left looking defeated, Kael lingered. He had to get money one way or the other.

Swallowing his pride, he went to Master Quinn's office. He knocked gingerly.

"And who is that?" Quinn barked.

"It's me Sir, Kael"

"What do you want boy?" Quinn asked rudely.

"May I come in Sir?" Kael asked.

"Suit yourself". Quinn answered.

With a sigh, Kael stepped inside.

"What is it?". Quinn barked.

Kael hesitated but forced the words out. "I need an advance. Just a little. Enough to-"

"An advance?" Quinn barked a laugh. "And why the hell would I do that?"

Kael twisted his jaw. "Please Sir, I would work extra shifts. I will work extra hard, I'll do whatever it takes. Please, I just need enough to-"

"Shut up!" Quinn barked. "You worthless rats are even lucky you're getting paid at all".

Kael clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm. Anger started to rise in his chest but he swallowed it down.

"What do you need it for?" Quinn grinned. "Oh, I know why. Bet you owe some debts, don't you. Just like your worthless mother always did. I know she's proud of you in her grave, isn't she?" Quinn sneered.

Kael froze.

"She died as poor as a church rat just as I'm sure you would too".

Before Kael could think, his fist connected with Quinn's nose. The man stumbled back with a startled yelp, blood spilling from his nose. His shock turned into rage and then he yelled.

"You little bastard". He said, gripping his nose. "Arrest him".

Kael rushed towards him to attack him again just as a group of armored soliders stormed into the room. As he yelled and dealt blows upon blows on Quinn, strong arms enveloped him, yanking him backwards. He thrashed around, kicking and struggling but he was outnumbered. A fist slammed into his guts, knocking the air out of his lungs. Another rammed into his head and everything became blurry and the last thing he saw before everything went dark was Quinn's face twisting into an ugly smile.

After a few hours, Kael regained consciousness and the first thing he noticed was the burning sensation on his wrist. He tried to twist his arms but they wouldn't move. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he looked down and saw that his wrists were shackled. He was in a tiny cell with a dim yellow lightbulb hanging very low that if he stood to his full height, he could grab it. The cell was made of bricks and there was nothing inside except a three legged chair resting against the wall.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps and saw the shadow of a guard approaching. The guard came into full view and he stopped in front of Kael's cell. He fished for the keys on the band around his waist, opened the cell and pulled Kael up.

"Commander Lucian requests your presence". He said in a gruff voice.

Kael didn't argue, he was too weak and defeated to put up a fight. He allowed the guard to lead him through a tunnel and finally they came into a grand chamber. The chamber was very bright and Kael's eyes watered at the sudden brightness. He closed his eyes and let the guard pull him through the room. After a while, they finally stopped and he was pushed roughly to the ground. The only thing he felt was the pain of the shackles cutting into his wrists. He adjusted himself and sat on his knees. The air smelt of parchment and as he slowly opened his eyes, he looked around and saw the stone walls of the chambers adorned with banners bearing the Sigil of king Saran.

Finally, he looked up and before him stood Lord Lucian Alistair. Commander of the King's army.

Kael had heard of him before, everyone had. A ruthless general, second only to the king himself. A man of war, feared by enemies and allies alike.

Now, Lucian stood before him, studying him with piercing eyes.

One of the guards cleared his throat "My Lord, this is the miner who attacked Master Quinn."

"Really?". Lucian asked, studying Kael's expression. "Why?".

Kael wanted to lie but what was the point? Besides, something about Lord's gaze made him feel queasy inside so he just told the truth.

"He insulted my mother and I lost my temper". Kael said, his voice hoarse.

Lucian tilted his head slightly. "That doesn't justify your actions".

Kael clenched his fists. "I know and I don't regret it".

There was silence. The guards shifted uncomfortably. No one had spoken to Lord Lucian that way before.

Then to everyone's shock, Lord Lucian burst into laughter. He laughed for a full minute before he turned to the guards and said " Unshackle him".

"But, my Lord-"

"Now".

The guards sprung into action, removing the iron restraints. Kael flexed his sore wrists to get his blood circulating properly again. Confusion swirled in his mind.

Lucian stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "I like you. You have a lot of anger but you lack control".

Kael swallowed, he had no idea where this was going.

Lucian's gaze darkened as he pulled Kael's face closer. "I could have you executed or sent back to the mines to work without pay but I have a better offer for you".

Kael felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear.

"You can fight for me. Channel all this anger into something meaningful". Lucian whispered.

Kael didn't know what to think. He has expected something else. Punishment maybe. He didn't know what to make of this offer.

"You have a choice boy. Continue down this meaningless path or become something greater. Which would it be?.

Kael hesitated. No one has ever offered something like this to him before. Was it a trick? Maybe it was a trick to gain his trust before they execute him. But what does Lord Lucian stand to gain by playing tricks on him? Kael knew he could execute him easily without question from anyone. He doesn't have to do all of this to get him killed. It definitely wasn't a trick. But should he accept the offer? He really had no other choice. He thought of the mines. Of always starving. Of always having nothing. This was a risk but it was a good risk. Right there and then, he knew his answer.

He raised his head, meeting Lucian's gaze. "I'll fight".

Lucian's lips curved into a smile. "Good boy".

He turned to his guards. "Take him to the barracks. Prepare him for training tomorrow morning".

As Kael was led away, he felt like a lamb being led to a slaughterhouse.

"Kael for God's sake. Focus".

Kael snapped back to reality. The loud clang of his sword as it fell to the ground made him jump.

His friend gave him a questioning look.

"You good?" Orin asked.

He exhaled, shaking of the weight of his memories "Yes, thank you. Again"

As he stepped forward, preparing for the next round, the doors to the training ground opened and Lord Lucian strode in through the open archway, his dark cloak billowing behind him. He moved with effortless authority, and as always, the mere sight of him sent a ripple of tension through the trainees. But today, something was different.

Cradled in the lord’s arms was a body—a girl, unconscious, bruised, and battered. Her face was partially obscured by blood-matted hair, her torn cloak hanging limply over her frail form. Kael frowned, his grip tightening around his sword.

Who was she?

Orin must have followed his gaze because he let out a low whistle. “What’s this, then?” he muttered. “Lord Lucian bringing in strays?”

Kael didn’t answer, but his mind was already racing. He had never seen Lord Lucian bring anyone in personally, let alone carry them like that. The lord was not known for his tenderness. Whoever this girl was, she had to be important.

“Look at her,” Orin went on, keeping his voice low. “She looks half-dead. Bet she tried to steal from the wrong man.”

Kael barely heard him. He was too busy studying Lord Lucian’s face as the man passed. His expression was unreadable—calm, composed, yet his grip on the girl was protective. Not casual.

Lord Lucian did not stop. He walked straight past the training yard and through the heavy oak doors leading into the palace’s hospital wing.

The yard was silent for a moment, all eyes trailing after him. Then, the murmurs began.

“Who is she?”

“Another recruit?”

“She’s too small to be a soldier.”

“Maybe she’s—”

“Enough!”

The sharp bark of a guard’s voice cut through the chatter, and all at once, the trainees straightened.

A tall, armored soldier—Captain Rhyden, Lord Lucian’s right hand—stalked toward them, his piercing gaze sweeping over the recruits. He was a man who commanded respect, and no one dared to meet his eyes.

“I don’t recall giving permission for gossip,” Rhyden growled. “You lot have training to do. Or would you rather spend the evening scrubbing the barracks?”

Silence.

“No?” He took a step closer. “Then pick up your damn swords and get back to work.”

Kael didn’t need to be told twice. He turned back to Orin, raising his blade once more. His friend shot him a look but said nothing as they resumed their sparring.

Still, Kael’s mind wasn’t on the fight.

Who was that girl? And why had Lord Lucian carried her as if she was something more than just another lost soul?