“By the goddesses of the three realms.” Kyros tosses his backpack by the foot of his bed, and with an exhausted grunt, he slumps onto the stiff mattress, arms and legs wide open like a star.

“Rough day?”

Kyros hears a high mousy voice ask from across the room, and he doesn’t need to look to know it belongs to Timothy, one of the newest editions to the Kesrockian Knights, and his new roommate.

“Week,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “I don’t know what the hell I might’ve done to make Sir Jernal mad, but the man has been the biggest pain to work with this entire week.”

While they’ve never been anything more than acquaintances, in the five years Kyros has worked with Sir Jernal as a Gate Knight, they have never wronged each other, or had so much as a heated argument. Sir Jernal was Kyros’s orientation partner, and a veteran with more than thirty years of experience to boot, so it isn’t like Kyros can ever steal the old knight’s role or anything.

Yet, for every single day since the beginning of the week, Sir Jernal made Kyros fetch Cathra to the gate, for some of the most benign reasons Kyros had ever heard. Today, it was an adventurer who had ‘suspicious teeth when he laughed’. While only yesterday, a pilgrim was ‘suspicious of smuggling in dangerous goods’ because he had a largish bump in his bag.

Of course, all of these ‘suspicions’ turned out to be nothing. Kyros expected them to be nothing, but because Sir Jernal is his senior, he had no choice but to run to get Cathra, who was equally peeved to have her time wasted, even if it meant getting some extra hours of fresh air every day.

Timothy’s voice tiptoes from across the room like he’s almost afraid to speak up. “That must be tough. Sir Jernal is one of the oldest knights at the South Gate, isn’t he? I imagine he must be a very influential figure in our ranks.”

“He isn’t, really,” Kyros replies, huffing an amused puff of air through his nose. “He’s been a Gate Knight for more years than I can count on both my hands, and has been given the opportunity to be promoted to captain four times already. But every single time, he lost it to someone else.”

Timothy makes a sound of surprise. “Four times?”

“Yea,” Kyros laughs. “The last one he lost to Cath- I mean Captain Stelias.” He yawns and stretches, feeling the annoyance of the day already lessening as he recalls how Cathra completely wiped the proving grounds with Sir Jernal's face.

“It must’ve been difficult for him to lose his promotion so many times.” Kyros cannot be sure where Timothy is from sound alone, but he guesses the boy is now at his desk, probably engrossed with a quill and inkpot as he often is at the end of the day. “It's almost understandable. I mean, if I was in his situation, I’d be less than happy with my post.”

“It’s not too bad,” Kyros says, “being a Gate Knight. Not much is expected from you, and no one bothers you. Usually.”

Timothy is silent for a while. With his eyes still closed, Kyros listens to the scratching of quill on parchment. He must've dozed off, because the next thing he knows, Timothy is already halfway through a sentence.

“I’ve only seen my captain twice, I think,” Timothy is saying. “Once, it was at my graduation, and the second time I spotted him in the Black Raven. I wouldn’t want to say what he was doing there.”

“And I wouldn’t want to know,” says Kyros, trying to not seem like he doesn't remember which gate Timothy serves, or in what role. “Better to keep such information to yourself.”

“You know what the funny thing is though?” Timothy’s voice starts to take on a much more enthusiastic edge. “I’ve seen the South Gate captain a handful of times already. She’s your captain, isn’t she?”

Kyros's ears perk up at the mention of Cathra. “Yea?”

"Lucky you."

Kyros sits up. "You've seen her around?" As he deduced, Timothy is sitting under the only window in the bunk room, behind a tiny desk with a quill in one hand, and a sparkle in his eyes.

“The first time I’ve seen her was at our graduation ceremony,” Timothy says, looking up at the ceiling the way one does when reliving a scene. “Let me tell you. I was so surprised, nay, shocked, to see a woman stand up there and address the fifteen of us newbies.” He chuckles. “Not only that, but she was beautiful! The kind of gal you take home to your village to see your ma and pa, not one you see as a knight, let alone a knight captain. So I must admit I did not realize she was our captain until much later in her speech. And when I did, I almost cried out! Right in the middle of our squad!”

Kyros pretends to be busy with his bootlaces, so Timothy will not notice how closely he’s listening. “I’m willing to bet you weren’t the only one who was surprised.”

“You’re right to think so,” Timothy says, his lanky arms animating the rest of his recount. “That night, when we were celebrating in the mess hall, I broached the subject to my fellow graduates. And I am pleased to say I was not the only one who had trouble holding his tongue!”

The dorm door cranks open then, and a boyish man lumbers in, his musky stench preceding him.

“Tiny! Lord Agonston!” The boy-man booms happily when he sees the two. “How’s you all been, friends?”

“Ah, g-good, Danny,” comes Timothy’s startled reply. “How are-”

“Lord Argonston!”

Kyros goes back to lying on his bed. “Danny,” he says, wishing the boy-man can come back later. Timothy's story just got interesting.

“The Meat!” Danny announces with a grin that prominently shows off his missing front tooth. He saunters over to his bed that’s next to Kyros’s, slings his dirty backpack right down on the mattress, and pulls off his shirt to reveal a myriad of bumps and muscles. A fresh wave of stink follows suit.

Kyros can understand why a lot of the older knights have taken to calling this lad ‘Danny the Meat’. What he can’t understand, is why Danny calls himself that as well.

“You gotta lay off the strength potions, man,” Kyros says, closing his eyes and trying to breathe through his mouth. “If you want to draw attention away from that gap in your face, there are healthier, more cost-efficient methods than injecting your body with goddesses-know-what is in those bottles.”

“Nay, friend,” Danny snorts. His bed creaks and groans under him as he sits. “You will not laugh when you see how women looks at me. Their eyes are stars, friend, when they gaze upon my body. This night I go to tavern. Come, you follow. You see.” Kyros can hear the grin in Danny’s voice. “Who knows, maybe you get date too.”

Kyros finds himself torn between grimacing, and applauding Danny’s efforts, misguided as they are.

“No, thank you,” he says, “I already have someone else in mind. But I’ll take you up on the drinks.”

“Ah-hah, Lord Argonston is romantic man. I understand.” Danny's round head bobs while he unfastens his belt, his sausage fingers somehow maneuvering the leather through loops and buckles with ease. “I will meet you at tavern, the one with black bird, once you have finished meeting with Commander.”

At Danny’s last comment, Kyros’s eyes fling open and he sits up. “What did you just say? The Lord Commander wants to see me?”

Danny looks at Kyros like he’s asking something obvious, before it finally clicks. “Oh, yes. I have message, from Lord Commander. Kyros Argonston is to report to headquarters, right immediately.”

“Right now?” Kyros glances out the window, at the sun already on its way down the Dragonspine mountains. “What does the Lord Commander want with me? Did he say?”

Danny just shakes his chunky head. “That, I do not know.” He then smiles, all gap-toothed and amiable. “Do not worry. We order first. You join when ready.” He looks towards Timothy, who just stares back.

“W-what?” Timothy stutters, eyes widening as Danny’s broken speech starts to make sense. “We as in…us two?”

Danny barks out a hearty laugh, and leans down to pull off his boots. The smell of nature and sweat layers the room like cream, and Kyros's eyes water from the acidity. He’s almost certain he can see stars in front of him.

"Bless the goddesses, Danny," says Timothy, holding his nose. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you have a bath first."

Holding back laughter as he pulls on his own boots and sword belt, Kyros says to Danny, "I'll meet you guys at the Black Raven," and from across the room, he makes eye contact with Timothy. Run, he mouths, before making his own hasty escape.

Kyros makes it to the headquarters, still chuckling at the look on Timothy's face, and waits to be allowed in.

"The Lord Commander wants to see you, Kyros," says the knight guarding the main entrance. "He is waiting in the Sovereign Hall."

Hearing those two words, all the laughter dies inside Kyros. "The Sovereign Hall?" he echoes, as if unsure he's hearing it right. "Is he... is someone on trail?"

Not meeting Kyros's eyes, the knight reaches over to the crystal on the wall, and activates it. The torches on either side of the entryway flicker, and a second later, the steel-framed doors begin to shudder open. The knight turns to Kyros, his voice barely audible above the grinding of chains. "You better not keep him waiting."