Matias went from the office of his lord and into the halls. His face was twisted with concern. His meeting with the lord had confirmed his suspicion. The red smoke billowing into the sky was no mistake. He had to set out now.

He hoped he was not too late.

Nodding to the servant who had opened the door for him, he continued his way outside. Standing on the base of the estate, he swept his gaze and noted the increase in personnel. People were flocking here, and not in trivial numbers. He knew well that many more were to come. And their equipment on full display, they were here for the lord, just the same as him.

Certain emotions swelled in his heart. He grasped the pendant dangling from his neck with a tight grip. He reeled his emotions in and settled his breathing. He swore he would never let the same incident happen again.

He crossed the courtyard and back into the main road while greeting some of the people he knew. He could not waste what little time he had left in idle talk. He had more pressing concerns.

Beyond the main road, were the gates of the outpost’s heart. He calmly walked by, nodded at the guards, and arrived outside.

He stood there, contemplating on what had to be done. His eyes swept around, trying to clear his agitated mind. After a moment, his face turned resolute. He turned his head east, and made his way.

Thinking back to his time at the lord’s courtyard, supplies were already being made. They would then be sent to the eastern gates for him to procure. He just needed men for his trip.

But he frowned at the task at hand. Although he was a captain of the outpost, Sateya had a unique tradition amongst its guards. He found it amusing at first, but when he grew... from his youthful self, it proved to be a troublesome thing. It made his temples throb ever-so slightly. He sighed.

He just had to be done with it.

He could now see the outer wooden walls. He was close, and the realization made him feel a range of emotions. His blood boiled, like it would before a fight. He tightly grasped the pommel of his sword. His excitement was growing. He was itching for a match.

But in the end, his enthusiasm died down. He settled his breathing once more. A fight was just a minor part of what he had to do. The rest was something he would rather not give the time of day. It annoyed him. The tradition. In the end, he had no choice but to play along.

Responsibilities... Matias wryly thought.

Soon, the eastern gate was in sight. He was only a minute from his destination. He strolled along the street leading to the gate before stopping a few meters away. He turned to the building by his side. It occupied five houses worth of land, and stretched half the length of the street. He walked under the eaves supported by dozens of beams. He then made his way for a set of double doors.

The doors were made from a material similar to oak, while strips of steel traveled down its length. Large bolts held the steel in place, and its reinforced hinges glimmered under the scant light. It seemed to be a piece of art, but Matias knew it could easily bar strong men. It had to be capable of at least that, he proclaimed in his thought.

As if he had experienced doing so countless times, he set one of the doors apart and walked in. He did not knock to let his presence be known. Here, action spoke louder than the sound of words. The barracks was such a place.

He stood in a large chamber that had little decorations on the walls nor furnitures to settle the eyes. It only had one thing, and it was a counter to greet the people who had found themselves unlucky to stumble in these halls.

He calmly walked over.

Before he could greet the soldier by the counter, three wizened men came from a wide door from the side. Matias stared wide-eyed.

“Matias!” shouted the leading man, welcoming him with arms outstretched. He had grey short hair and a wrinkled square-jaw face with a gruffy beard. He seemed like a kind-hearted old man who had unknowingly found himself in these barbaric halls. But Matias was clear, that underneath the grandfatherly smile, something beastly lurked within.

The old man drew near with solid footfalls as if the full-set of steel armor he wore did not bother him at all. Laughing heartily, he extended his hand out.

The captain shook his head at the sight. Smiling wryly, he trotted over and reached out a hand of his own. He then shook hands with the old man.

“Old friend,” said Matias. “It’s been long.”

“Indeed it has,” replied the man. “But it seems we do not have time to indulge ourselves.”

Matias nodded drearily

“Come,” said the old man as he turned. “The lord had already sent word.” He then made way for a wide hall, and Matias followed along. Soon, an antechamber came to be. Not unlike the room before, it was lacking in style and taste.

They stopped in front of another set of double doors. It seemed to be similar to the ones Matias had seen a moment ago. But the doors before him were more marked with age as it was riddled with shallow cuts and the musky scent of wood.

Memories spun in his mind as nostalgia overtook him. He would always feel a sense of pride every time he stood before these doors, but now... It was overwhelmed with a feeling of annoyance of doing a tedious task.

Good times, they were... Matias recalled his time of being a young lad. Back then, he only had to grip the handle of a sword tightly and fight for his life. It was a simple time, but now...

He casted the thoughts away and turned to the old man by his side.

“The tradition of the guards,” he said, his face irksome. “Is there no hope to abolish such a thing?”

“Do not jest, my friend,” said the old man, his face wreathed with smiles. Although time was of the essence, he looked perfectly at ease. He even seemed to revel in Matias’ grievances.

“You can not fault the tradition for your slothful ways. You only have yourself to blame,” he said as he looked at Matias. “Let us go, we have no time to waste. It’s time to let the guards know once more the name of Matias, the Helpless.” He put one hand on the doors.

“You have to remember...” The old friend paused as his eyes turned sharp. He still had the same smile, but Matias could not help but replaced it with the grin of a beast that had found its prey.The good-natured old man was no more. Exchanging his place was a warrior who bathed in the blood of his foes.

“Here, authority is earned.” The old man pushed his hand forth and light slipped in. He strode forward the double doors, followed along by his two cohorts.

It seemed his case had failed again. Matias sighed. With a shake of his head, he walked in as his eyes adjusted from the change in lighting. He swept his gaze and his eyes glinted with familiarity. He softly said, “It had not change at all.”

A spanning mess hall was laid before him. It was filled with long tables, their numbers almost occupying the entire hall, with each one hosting two dozen men. The men ate heartily while exchanging tales of how they bested their foes, or the sweet sensation of a woman’s flesh. Some were playing games, displaying the skills of their craft with dices and cards.

At a glance, more than a hundred of the guards were arrayed before him. It was the perfect place for him to finish the first of his tasks.

As they stepped into the mess hall, eyes began to gather on them. In an instant, the guards visibly flinched. As if ordered by an unseen hand, the guards stood up as one. Seats were pushed out and thuds echoed about as feet were snapped together in a cascading choir. Without pause, the mess hall boomed with the voices of a hundred men.

“Captain Nito!” the men shouted, their backs straight and hands set to their sides. Their voices bounced across the mess hall, striking wall after wall.

The old man smiled. “At ease,” he said. The men then sat down, their heads bobbing like waves. Nito nodded to himself, and turned to face Matias once more.

When Matias saw the look on his old friend, he knew what the despicable fool wanted to say.

Come! Give me a good show!

Matias’ temples began to throb in dull pain.

While cursing his friend in his thoughts, he removed himself from Nito’s side and took a step forward.

The time wasted... All because of this annoying tradition.

Recomposing himself, and a hand on the pommel of his sword, he swept the hall with an icy glare. A moment after, his voice blasted out.

“A hundred men,” he said calmly. “Step forth for your captain.”