††† Hall †††

Hall felt the tension rise as he neared the barracks of the western districts. He had just been accepted into the Guard of Nemeah— at the young age of sixteen at that. But starting his first day as a guardsman was not what sparked his excitement today. It was the particular squad that he would join, or to be more specific, a member of that squad.

A sinister presence had haunted the City of Nemeah for the past twenty years. Several inconspicuous law-abiding citizens changed into horrendous monsters or developed other lethal abilities and started attacking their neighbours and relatives. They were called changelings by the populace, and the only force capable of standing up to them was the Red Brigade. The holy warriors of the city's patron goddess, Akali.

That was until two years ago, when rumours of a young guardsman who had slain a changeling all by himself came up. And the foreign name Siegfried spread like wildfire through the fourth sector of the city.

Hall entered the front door of the stone-built barracks and headed for the living quarters. A deep, croaky guffaw resounded through the closed door, confirming Hall's new superior, Bolverk, was already in. Despite pushing fifty, the burly squad-leader was still an imposing sight. The grey, short hair and stubble just added the right colour to his boulder-like stature. Bolverk was a widely known veteran in the Guard of Nemeah and Siegfried's mentor, which was why Hall had applied for his squad.

"There he is! Come over lad, time to meet yer new comrades," Bolverk called as Hall entered the room. "Hall, this is Agnar and Eirik, or Rik' for short," he introduced the two other guards sharing the table. Both were in their mid-thirties— brawny types like you would expect from an experienced guard in these times.

Agnar welcomed Hall with a broad grin on his square face. "Nice to meet you, Hall. Must have made quite the impression on Bolverk if he chose you over all the older applicants."

"Just don't let it get too much to your head. Overconfidence is a dangerous trait in our job," Eirik added with a serious expression.

"Never mind Rik', he's got a stick up his ass sometimes, but he's a good guy," Agnar winked at Hall.

"Fuck you, Agnar," Eirik retorted with an involuntary smile forming on his lips.

Bolverk let out a deep chuckle, seeing that Hall wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Don't worry lad, ya will fit in just fine," he assured him.

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to adapt," the young man answered enthusiastically.

"Drop the honorifics, will ya? I lead the squad but 's long as we are among ourselves, I'm Bolverk, not sir."

"Of course, Bolverk, thanks for having me then," Hall replied gratefully. He already came to like the fatherly personality of the older guardsman and the strangely fitting dialect. He had only seen a much sterner side of Bolverk during his trial for the application.

"Sieg 'n Svana should be along soon, and then we'll head out," Bolverk stated.

Hall was already brimming with anticipation. Having lived quite reclusively for the past four years in a city with several million citizens, the young man had never gotten a glimpse at the unofficial hero of the common folk.

"Speaking of Siegfried, I guess ya never heard the true tale of his encounter with that changeling, did ya?" Bolverk grinned broadly at Hall.

"Oh boy, here we go again," Agnar groaned.

"Ya can always leave if ya want," Bolverk snarked and turned back to Hall again. "As yer've likely heard, that changeling was a giant of a man. He was at least double my height with shoulders wider than this table," he spread his arms theatrically. "A monster of muscle and rage, but ugly as the night, with festering sores all over his body. The lumberman's axe looked like a toy in his hands as he swung it at Siegfried," Bolverk jumped up from his chair and drew his sword. "But Sieg just deflected the powerful blow and sliced open the changeling's arm," the guardsman accompanied his story with the respective parry and a swipe of his sword.

And Siegfried took that exact moment to make his entrance, ducking through the normal-sized door. He was even taller than Bolverk, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. The short dark-brown hair complemented the hard lines of his facial features, tainted into a dangerous, albeit intriguing, vision by the faint scar running from the corner of his right eye to the mid of his cheekbone. Really spellbinding though, was the colour of his eyes— the right one was a light hazel while the left was of a dark cyan, and they regarded everything with an unusually intense gaze.

The instant Siegfried's eyes met Bolverk's form, frozen in midst of a defensive sword stance, a broad smile brightened his features. "Aren't you a bit old to play swords with the children?" he mocked, hinting at Hall. He sported a deep but clear voice, matching his stalwart appearance.

"There is my boy," Bolverk boomed, completely ignoring the playful jab. "Sieg, meet Hall, our newest recruit," the bulky veteran introduced, grabbing Hall by the shoulder.

The visibly impressed young man stood up to greet his peer. When Siegfried focused his gaze on Hall, the latter felt as if his very being was laid bare under those odd-coloured eyes. As if his frame was taken apart and his every movement judged.

Hall was taken aback as Siegfried went ahead and grasped his forearm in a firm grip instead of shaking hands. It was a gesture of mutual respect between fellow warriors, something he had not expected to share with a personage like Siegfried.

"It's an honour to finally meet you in person, Siegfried," Hall intoned. "Bolverk was just starting to recount—"

"I heard his yelling from outside," Sieg interrupted the eager boy, his tone harsh. "Old man Bol' likes to flaunt the juicy details while leaving out the important bits. That guy was heavy but clearly didn't know anything about swordsmanship. I would have died back there if he did."

Hall caught the meaningful glare that Siegfried threw at Bolverk. He also noticed the underlying message that the former conveyed to his mentor. Siegfried feared that the embellished tale would spark a dangerous desire for glory and honour while downplaying the dangers.

"I'm well aware of how dangerous different changelings can be, Siegfried. No need to shelter me," Hall blurted out before he could stop himself. "A changeling killed my younger brother when I was twelve." He hadn't really planned on sharing this story so early. But he might as well go all the way, now that he had everyone's attention.

"We don't know for how long he was using his body, and there was no sign of anything wrong," Hall started to explain with a frown. "Ethan, my brother, was only five years old when it happened. Mother was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. My father was playing with Ethan in front of the hearth." Hall's voice turned hollow, his eyes cold, as he lost himself in the memory he recounted.

††††††

The smell of fresh-baked bread permanented the living room. Hall was sitting at the table, working on his wood carving skills. His little brother laughed with glee as their father pretended to wrestle with him and snuck the occasional tickle into the game.

From one moment to the next, the child suddenly started to shake. A web of blue lightning snaked around its body, and Hall's father was stunned in the current. He cried out but couldn't let go of his youngest. Even as he was tortured by lightning, the man recognised what happened and the danger it posed for his wife and older son. He let himself fall forward together with the changeling into the burning hearth. His heart gave out before he touched the embers, his limbs still twitching on his burnt body. The changeling never changed form or even the voice. The heart-wrenching cries of a human boy filled the room until it finally suffocated from the smoke.

††† Hall †††

After Hall had shared his story, the silence in the living quarters was heavy. It felt like the very air itself was weighing down on them. There were no words of condolence that would not feel hollow or sound trite in the face of what Hall had experienced— at such a young age, nonetheless.

The quiet sound of light, feathery steps broke the silence, and the door opened again, revealing a beautiful, girlish face framed by blonde, shoulder-length hair. The young woman had a smile on her lips, so sparkling it made an almost comical contrast to the dark mood around the table. "Hey everyone, are you already—" She stopped mid-sentence as she caught the scowls looking up to her. "What happened to you guys? Has Agnar proposed to cook dinner for everyone again?"

"Ha Ha, Svana, you're hilarious," Agnar deadpanned. But it did bring out a light chuckle from everyone but Hall, who seemed to be lost in his own world as he stared at Svana.

"Svana, that's Hall, the new guy," Bolverk introduced. "Hall, Svana here 's part of our regiment and two years your superior. But don't let that cute face fool ya! The gal 's a feisty one— a wolf in sheep's clothing, ya hear?"

"Oh, Bolverk, you wound my heart!" Svana declared, making a face of mock-injury. "Don't listen to him Hall, I'm sure we will match up just fine," she added with a smiling wink, changing Hall's light red blush further into a deeper red as he closed his mouth.

Siegfried groaned at her antics while Eirik laughed openly. At the very least, she had lifted the gloomy fog from their minds.

"Well, now that we're all here, let's be off to work!" Bolverk said. "Hall, that'll be ya first patrol. For now, ya just watch 'n learn and afterwards, training session in the barracks again. Let's go."