“Perfect,” Brent said, looking us over. “You’re already ready.”

  “For what,” Rob asked.

  Brent smiled. “Training. Obviously.”

  He turned and started toward the doors without waiting. The others followed, weapons clinking, voices overlapping as they argued about balance and weight. The hall emptied around me, the sound of boots fading down the corridor.

  I stayed behind.

  What remained was scattered across the floor and still tucked into open crates. Cast-offs. Weapons that hadn’t been chosen. I stepped past the bare steel and knelt by the runed items.

  The blade stirred as I drew it.

  The false sheen slid away, leaving the midnight metal exposed, its runes waking along the edge. They didn’t glow. They absorbed.

  The thought settled with unexpected clarity. This was better than any soul blade. Not bound to a single kill. Not limited by origin or form. This blade could take anything. Steel. Runes. Power itself.

  There was no regret in giving the others their weapons. No doubt at all. They needed blades that would carry them through the Trials.

  I already had mine.

  I set the edge against the first piece and pressed down.

  The metal gave way at once. Ash and sparks bled into the stone as the rune unravelled. I fed it slowly, choosing only the core work. Strength. Speed. Conservation. Defensive.

  The hum deepened with each offering.

  Amelia’s words echoed in my head. Runes of the same kind don’t stack. They interfere. They waste power.

  The blade didn’t care.

  It took the duplicates without complaint, each twin mark sinking into each other. Not working together. Accumulating. Empowering. Refining.

  I sheathed the sword and stood. The hall felt colder for it.

  Outside, voices were already calling.

  I stepped through the doors and followed them into the streets of Brookfield, the weight at my side lighter than before.

  I rose and caught Rob’s eye. He was grinning, already half lost in whatever came next. The siblings weren’t. Calum looked stiff. Celeste quiet. Neither argued.

  Brent didn’t wait.

  He led us out through the outer streets of Brookfield. Stone gave way to packed dirt as we followed, the town thinning around us.

  Amelia walked alongside Brent as they headed out, their voices low but animated.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Brent said with a smirk. “Since we didn’t have the chance yesterday… It’s water control today.” He pointed at the waterskin at her hip.

  She nodded once, already adjusting it as if the lesson had started before the words left his mouth.

  They fell into discussion as they walked, trading ideas about pressure, flow, and how to recover lost droplets once a cast broke apart. Amelia listened more than she spoke, fingers absently testing the seal on the water skin.

  A few paces back, Rob practised hand forms as he walked, blade moving in short, controlled arcs. He’d mixed the new armour with his old, same as Amelia. Bits and pieces layered together until the armour looked mismatched but moved the way they needed it to.

  Rob flexed his forearm, testing the bracer again. He swung once with speed, then switched hands, trying to feel the difference. Then he brought both hands together, concentrating.

  “You… beauty,” he said, stepping closer. “If I touch them, my hand’s I mean… I get both. That’s ace.”

  “That’s really good,” I said.

  I still wasn’t used to the elder runes. My modern book failed mention them in any great detail.

  I watched Rob bring his hands together again, felt the pattern settle in my mind. Contact mattered. Not intention. Not proximity. Where rune met rune. Where flesh closed the gap.

  My fingers brushed the hilt at my side.

  The response was immediate. Not loud. Not hungry. Just there. The passive runes stirred, steady and aware, like something opening an eye without bothering to lift its head.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Alright,” Rob called back, jogging a few steps ahead. “Where are we actually going.”

  “I’d like to know that too,” Calum added. He and Celeste had already stripped most of the new armour off, keeping only what felt necessary.

  Brent glanced over his shoulder, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “South. Glenore Fields.”

  Rob nearly tripped over his own feet. “You’re kidding.”

  “No,” Brent said. “And we won’t be alone. Other Aspirants will be meeting us there.”

  “Who,” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

  “A mix,” Brent said. “Some from the barracks. Some outsiders. Glenore’s busy. You never know who’ll turn up.”

  “And nobles?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Unlikely. They’ve got their own places. This is lower-tier ground.”

  Rob’s grin crept wider, the worry missing him entirely. “Hold on. Does that mean Jerald will be there too.”

  Brent glanced back at him, amusement flickering. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  Rob bounced on his heels.

  Calum voiced it before I could. “And what exactly are these fields.”

  Amelia turned as she walked. “They’re the remains of an old settlement. Pre-Roman, I think… Either way there’s nothing left but grass and scrub now.”

  She looked ahead again. “Which makes them perfect.”

  Perfect for what, she didn’t say.

  But the blade at my side hummed anyway.

  “I heard there’s an old hill fort out there,” Rob said.

  “Anything of value was taken long ago,” Amelia replied without slowing. “Excavated down to bare stone.”

  Rob’s grin slipped, but only for a moment. Whatever disappointment he felt didn’t last. He surged ahead anyway, setting a brisk pace and waving us on.

  “Come on,” he called back. “We’re burning daylight.”

  The siblings followed without complaint, though neither looked pleased. I glanced over my shoulder. Celeste was speaking quietly to Calum, their heads close together, eyes lifting now and then to scan the road behind us.

  Further back, their guards followed. Green cloaks. Far enough not to crowd us, close enough to matter. Alert. Still keyed tight after the troll.

  I didn’t blame them.

  Something about it all sat wrong. A troll carrying an amulet tuned perfectly against their abilities. Brent and the guards drawn away at the wrong moment. Jerald summoned back into the city that same morning.

  Too many things lining up.

  We left Brookfield behind and passed by the spirit gates. The tents around them were no longer the chaotic sprawl that had greeted new Aspirants a week ago, but people still moved steadily about.

  Further south, the traffic thickened. Supply wagons rolled past in a constant stream, wheels heavy with grain, timber, and sealed crates bound for the city.

  “The supplies come from everywhere,” Amelia said, nodding east toward the low hills. “Some from beyond that. But most of them.” Her hand swept ahead. “Farmland past the Glenore fields.”

  It took a little over an hour before the land began to rise. The road thinned, packed dirt giving way to grass and scrub. Broken stones surfaced underfoot, half-buried, the remains of something older.

  At the crest in the distance stood the hillfort.

  Its walls had long since fallen, leaving only rings of grass and earthworks, but the height remained. A crimson command tent stood at the highest point, positioned to overlook the entire field. From there, the Glenore fields spread south in a wide, open sweep. Too open to hide mistakes.

  Inside the tent, Jearld greeted us with a broad smile, eyes sharp as he took us in. He clapped Rob on the back hard enough to make him stumble, then turned to the siblings and offered a formal welcome.

  “Good,” he said, once the pleasantries were done. “My Aspirants are already out in the field. Scouting. Drawing things out.”

  Rob’s eyes lit up. “Targets? So, what are we killing.”

  The siblings shot Rob a look.

  “Is this how you train,” Calum asked, voice tight. “By beating things weaker than you.”

  Jerald’s attention snapped to him.

  “This is not your forest,” he said, tone formal, edged with command. “This is hostile turf. We don’t come out here to slaughter beasts or chase defenceless animals.” He paused. “Today we hunt redcaps.”

  Celeste’s eyes widened. A shiver ran through her, and she folded her arms without realising it.

  Of course, I thought. I remembered the notes. The warnings. Spirits that thrived on cruelty and fear. Fitting that Jerald would choose this place for our training.

  Rob frowned. “Aren’t they hard to pin down.”

  “They are,” Jerald said. “Which is why you’re here. Not just you lot, but the barracks recruits and other mercenaries. We need coverage.” His gaze swept the field beyond the tent. “This isn’t about killing. It’s about spotting, tracking, and reporting.”

  Rob’s shoulders sagged. “So, we’re playing hide and seek?”

  Brent stepped in behind him and gave his shoulder a firm thump. “You’d be surprised how quickly it stops feeling like a game.”

  Jerald inclined his head. “Redcaps are rarely alone.” His voice stayed even. “If one presents itself within reach, you deal with it. Cleanly.”

  He let that settle before continuing.

  “But that’s not why you’re here. We’re looking for hovels.”

  He moved down the line, studying each of us in turn, then produced a length of pink ribbon and pressed one into every hand.

  “Alone, they’re vermin,” he said. “In numbers, they’ve wiped out villages. So don’t be reckless.” His gaze lingered. “If you find a hovel, mark it. Withdraw. Report back.”

  His eyes flicked toward the open fields beyond the hillfort.

  “Then we deal with it together.”

  The ribbon felt smooth in my palm.

  The ground ahead didn’t.

  “For scouting we can’t afford to move as a single group.” His finger lifted. “So, we split up, and this is still training, so. I devised a plan you lot will not like…”

  Brent stepped up beside Amelia and rested a hand on the table. “I’m taking this one,” he said easily. “I’ve got a lesson planned.”

  He reached for Jerald’s waterskin without asking and clipped it beside Amelia’s. She shot him a look but didn’t protest.

  “Pairings matter,” Jearld said. “Not just strength. Awareness. Balance.”

  His finger lifted. “Rob. Celeste. Together.”

  Rob blinked. “Wait, what?”

  “You’re a fighter,” Jerald continued, already moving on. “She isn’t. That’s the point. You cover ground. She watches angles you’ll miss.”

  Celeste frowned but nodded once.

  Jerald turned again. “Sean. Calum.”

  Calum’s face drained. “No.”

  I exhaled slowly. Of course.

  Jerald didn’t soften. “You fight,” he said to me. “You think in terms of engagement. Calum doesn’t. He notices what’s wrong before it becomes dangerous and stops you from doing something reckless.”

  Calum opened his mouth, then closed it.

  “That balance keeps you alive,” Jerald said.

  Calum glanced at me again. Not angry. Just measuring. Like he was already running through what could go wrong.

  I exhaled slowly. “This should be interesting.”

  Jerald straightened, gaze moving across all of us. “Watch each other. Cover what the other misses.” He let the words settle. “This is training. If you’re not learning, you’re failing.”

  He stepped back and waved us on.

  “Move out.”