Settling In and the First Orders

By the time training ends, my arms feel like lead, and Elias is grumbling non-stop about how much he hates structured combat.

"Formation drills are a scam," he mutters under his breath, rolling his shoulders as we walk toward the tents. "I move just fine on my own."

I snort, stretching my fingers after gripping my sword for far too long. "You move like a chaotic storm. They're trying to make sure we don't trip over each other when things get serious."

Elias huffs but doesn't argue.

Fergus had drilled us for what felt like hours, ensuring that even if we weren't official guards, we at least understood the basics of unit tactics. Fighting alone was one thing—fighting alongside others was another beast entirely.

And now, after training, came the next step.

Accommodations.

——

"You'll be staying here for now," Fergus grunts, leading us toward a smaller tent tucked away near the edge of camp. It's sturdy, but definitely not one of the officers' quarters.

"Not exactly luxury," he adds, pushing aside the flap to reveal a simple setup—straw bedrolls, a single wooden crate for storage, and a worn-out lantern. "But it's better than sleeping outside."

Elias exhales dramatically, dropping onto one of the bedrolls with a thud. "I miss Velia already."

Fergus snorts. "You're free to walk back if you'd rather sleep on the docks."

Elias grins, propping himself up on an elbow. "Tempting. But we did just walk all the way here, so I guess we'll stay."

I shake my head, setting my weapons down near the crate. "Thanks for the space. We'll make do."

Fergus nods. "You'll get proper food at the mess tent. Just don't cause trouble, and no sneaking into the supply storage."

Elias gasps, mock-offended. "I would never."

Fergus ignores him completely.

"Report at dawn," he says, turning to leave. "You'll be patrolling the outer perimeter first, then taking on smaller assignments. After that, we'll see if you two are actually useful."

And with that, he strides off.

Elias flops back onto the bedroll. "I think he likes us."

I roll my eyes, but there's a small smirk on my lips. "Get some sleep. We'll need it."

——

The next morning is chilly but clear, the sky streaked with soft golds and pinks as the sun rises over the horizon.

By the time we arrive at the central gathering area, the camp is already in motion—guards adjusting armor, sharpening weapons, and preparing for the day's tasks.

Fergus is waiting, arms crossed. "You're on small assignments today. Start simple, earn your keep."

Elias grins. "What do you got for us?"

Fergus exhales, pulling out a small leather-bound ledger. "Couple of things. Let's see if you're more useful than you look."

He flips through the pages, then taps one with his finger.

"First, a supply check. One of the quartermasters, Milos (Quartermaster, Western Guard Camp), needs help sorting rations. Shouldn't take long, but don't screw it up. We need accurate counts."

Elias groans. "Counting supplies? I thought we were here to fight."

Fergus gives him a flat look. "You fight on an empty stomach, see how far you get."

I smirk. "We'll take it."

Fergus nods, then moves down the list.

"Second, a scouting run. We've had reports of disturbances near the southern treeline—movement at night, missing livestock from nearby farms. No confirmed sightings yet, but we need to make sure nothing's creeping too close."

Elias perks up. "Now that sounds more interesting."

Fergus grunts. "Take it seriously. If you find anything, don't engage alone. Report back."

I nod. "Understood."

Fergus closes the ledger. "That's it for now. Report to Milos first, then check in before heading out to scout."

Elias stretches. "Sounds easy enough."

Fergus smirks. "We'll see."

——

We find Milos (Quartermaster, Western Guard Camp) near the storage area, a thin man with sharp features and an even sharper glare. His arms are scarred from years of handling weapons and heavy cargo, but his posture is all business—quick, efficient, and mildly irritated by our presence.

"You're the new ones?" he asks, barely glancing up from the ledger he's flipping through.

"That's us," Elias says with mock enthusiasm.

Milos grunts, handing us a parchment list. "We're running low on certain supplies. You're checking the stock. If numbers don't match, we've got a problem."

I glance at the list—dried meats, medicinal herbs, spare cloth for bandages, arrows, and oil for torches.

Elias squints at it. "So… just counting?"

Milos gives him a look. "Yes. And if you mess it up, I'll make you restock the entire tent by hand."

Elias grins. "I love a good challenge."

Milos does not smile.

——

The work is tedious but necessary.

We go through crates, checking supplies, marking down counts. Most things line up—except for a small discrepancy in the medicinal herbs.

Elias frowns. "We're missing some."

I nod, checking the list again. "Could be a miscount, but if it's gone missing…"

Milos, who had been listening, narrows his eyes. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Elias raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Milos sets his ledger down. "We've had supplies disappear recently. Small things—herbs, dried food, extra water rations. Thought it was just someone miscounting, but…"

He taps his fingers against the table. "If it keeps happening, we may have a problem."

I exchange a glance with Elias.

A different kind of problem than what we expected.

——

After reporting our findings, we gear up and head toward the southern treeline, where reports of disturbances had come in.

The wind has died down, but there is still a chill in the air, the scent of damp earth lingering as we move through the woods.

Elias walks beside me, eyes sharp. "So. Missing supplies, strange noises, livestock vanishing. Coincidence?"

I shake my head. "Doubt it. Something's out here."

Elias grins. "Good. I was starting to get bored."

I sigh, tightening my grip on my sword.

Because something is out here.

And soon?

We're going to find out what.