Three days after his agreement with Prince Ethan, Magnus found himself being escorted to the palace training grounds by his ever-present Black Guard shadows.
His body had improved remarkably—the palace healers truly were exceptional. Burns had faded to pink scars, deep wounds had closed to angry red lines, and his ribs had mended enough for movement without constant agony. His shadow aura had recovered significantly, his dantian pulsing with renewed strength, though he kept it carefully suppressed and hidden.
The training grounds sprawled before him—a massive courtyard surrounded by high stone walls, weapon racks lining the perimeter, training dummies positioned throughout. Morning sunlight painted everything gold, but Magnus felt only cold anticipation.
Five figures stood in military formation at the courtyard's center, and Prince Ethan waited near them, watching Magnus's approach with calculating eyes.
"Magnus!" Ethan called cheerfully, as if they were old friends. "Perfect timing. Come, let me introduce you to your new teammates."
Teammates. The word felt wrong, tasted of control and manipulation.
Magnus walked forward, crimson eyes systematically assessing each warrior with an assassin's practiced evaluation.
Captain Darius Kaine commanded the center position, radiating authority like heat from a forge. The man stood easily six-foot-three, with a powerful build that spoke of decades of disciplined military training. Short-cropped blonde hair styled in a perfect military cut, strong jaw clean-shaven, cold blue eyes that had clearly seen real combat and death. A massive greatsword hung across his back—the blade had to be five feet long, etched with glowing runes that whispered of powerful enchantments. Dark grey armor bore the royal crest prominently on his chest, and his stance radiated absolute confidence bordering on arrogance. Mid-thirties, Magnus estimated, with the bearing of someone who'd commanded soldiers through life-and-death battles and emerged victorious.
To Darius's right stood Lieutenant Sera Ashford. Lean and athletic at perhaps five-foot-eight, she had sharp, angular features that would be beautiful if they weren't so severe and controlled. Auburn hair pulled back in a braid so tight not a single strand dared escape, piercing green eyes that tracked Magnus's every micro-movement with professional assessment devoid of emotion. Twin short swords hung at her hips, handles wrapped in leather worn smooth by years of constant use and training. Her dark grey uniform fit like a second skin, prioritized for mobility over protection. She stood with perfect military posture, weight perfectly balanced, ready to explode into motion in any direction. Late twenties, dangerous in the way a viper was dangerous—quick, precise, absolutely lethal.
On Darius's left towered Brutus "The Breaker" Stone—a mountain of a man, seven feet tall with muscles that looked carved from solid granite. His bald head gleamed in sunlight, thick black beard covering his jaw. Despite massive size, his dark eyes were surprisingly intelligent, studying Magnus with careful, thoughtful attention. He wore minimal armor—just a chest plate over his grey uniform—because his primary weapon was clearly his body and raw physical power. A warhammer rested casually against his shoulder, the weapon's head easily the size of Magnus's entire torso, covered in dents and dried blood that spoke of countless brutal battles. Massive hands were scarred and callused like old leather. Mid-thirties, built like a living siege engine, probably just as destructive.
Next was Finn "The Blade" Corvus—the complete opposite of Brutus in every way. Wiry and lean at perhaps five-foot-nine, with sharp, fox-like features that suggested cunning intelligence over brute strength. Dark brown hair slightly too long, falling into restless brown eyes that never stopped moving, constantly scanning for threats, opportunities, escape routes. Multiple daggers hung from his belt in easy reach—throwing knives, combat daggers, what looked like a poisoned stiletto, specialized tools. Fingers twitched constantly in nervous energy, never still, a tell that screamed professional assassin training. He wore the lightest armor, prioritizing speed and absolute silence over protection. Late twenties, with the look of someone who'd survived more through wit and cunning than raw power.
The final member was Apprentice Marcus Reed, clearly the youngest and most inexperienced. He looked barely twenty, with messy black hair that refused to stay neat despite obvious attempts, nervous grey-blue eyes that darted around like a frightened rabbit's. Tall but gangly, still growing into his frame awkwardly, with pale skin of someone who spent more time with books and scrolls than outdoors training. A staff taller than himself was clutched tightly, inscribed with runes that pulsed with visible magical energy. He wore robes under his grey uniform jacket, multiple pouches hanging from his belt full of spell components. Intelligence radiated from his eyes despite obvious nervousness, fingers unconsciously tracing spell patterns in the air. A mage, clearly talented but painfully inexperienced in actual combat.
"Magnus Caldryn," Ethan announced formally, "meet your squad. For the next six months, these five will be your teammates in reshaping Valisar's future. Together, you'll handle the missions I assign." He gestured to Darius with obvious pride. "This is Captain Darius Kaine, formerly of the Royal Knights' elite division and current commander of my palace strike force. He leads this team."
Darius stepped forward with controlled, purposeful movements. He offered his hand, and Magnus took it. The grip was firm, testing, deliberately trying to measure strength and dominance.
"Red Shadow," Darius said, his voice a deep baritone that carried natural authority. "I've heard the stories circulating through the city. Defeated Hardard the Fury in single combat while injured and outnumbered. Quite an impressive feat... if the reports are accurate." His blue eyes studied Magnus intently, searching for truth. "Though I wonder how much was genuine skill versus fortuitous luck and circumstances."
Magnus met his gaze steadily, crimson eyes cold and unreadable. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"
Darius's lips curved into a slight, predatory smile. "Perhaps I will." He released Magnus's hand and gestured to his assembled team with obvious pride. "My second-in-command, Lieutenant Sera Ashford—best swordswoman in three kingdoms. Brutus Stone, known throughout Valisar as 'The Breaker' for reasons that become obvious quickly. Finn Corvus, our infiltration and elimination specialist with more confirmed kills than years lived. And our mage, Apprentice Marcus Reed, currently studying advanced combat magic under the Royal Court's Master of Arcane Arts."
Each member nodded as introduced, and Magnus read their body language with an assassin's trained eye. They were sizing him up, measuring him, judging whether the legendary stories were truth or exaggerated myth. None looked particularly impressed by what they saw—just a recovering noble in borrowed clothes, no visible weapons, no armor, no obvious threat.
They thought he was weak. Overrated. A political appointment forced on them.
"Your squad has been thoroughly briefed on your... unique situation," Ethan continued smoothly, choosing words carefully. "You'll be joining them as the sixth member, bringing your shadow techniques and combat experience to complement their existing capabilities." He smiled that cold, calculating smile. "I thought it best if you all got properly acquainted through a training exercise. Captain Kaine has volunteered his team to... welcome you appropriately."
Magnus's eyes narrowed with immediate suspicion. This was obviously a test. Ethan wanted to see his true capabilities, wanted these warriors to gauge his skills—and probably to establish clear hierarchy with Magnus at the bottom.
Darius stepped forward, hand moving casually to rest on his enchanted greatsword's hilt. "Here's how this works, Caldryn. You're joining my team, which means you need to prove you can keep up with us in the field. So we're going to spar—you against my squad members, one by one, proper combat assessment. Non-lethal strikes only, first blood or surrender ends each match cleanly." His smile sharpened with anticipation. "If you can hold your own against them, you're accepted in. If not..." He shrugged dismissively. "We'll find another use for you. Perhaps administrative work more suited to your actual capabilities."
"And if I refuse this test?" Magnus asked quietly, dangerously.
"Then you're not a team player who can be trusted," Darius said flatly, authority brooking no argument. "And I absolutely refuse to work with people I can't trust in life-or-death combat situations. Your choice, Caldryn. Prove yourself worthy, or get comfortable with desk work for six months."
Magnus looked at each squad member in turn, reading their expectations. Sera's expression remained professionally neutral. Brutus looked vaguely curious about the outcome. Finn's eyes were already calculating attack strategies and weaknesses. Marcus seemed uncomfortable with the entire situation, nervous energy radiating.
Then Magnus looked at Ethan, who watched with barely concealed amusement dancing in his grey eyes. This whole scenario was orchestrated—a way to measure Magnus's true abilities while establishing clear hierarchy and dominance.
Fine, Magnus thought, shadow aura flickering beneath his skin like caged lightning. Let's play your game.
"I accept," Magnus said, voice steady and cold. He gestured toward the weapon racks. "Do I arm myself?"
"If you want," Darius said with a casual shrug. "We certainly will be armed properly."
Magnus walked to the weapons rack, eyes scanning available options with practiced assessment. His beloved twin shadow sabers were gone—"being carefully repaired" according to palace staff, though Magnus suspected Ethan simply wanted him permanently disarmed and dependent. He selected two practice swords, balanced and well-maintained but nothing special or remarkable.
They'd have to do for now.
"Who's first?" Magnus asked, turning back to face the assembled squad with calm readiness.
Darius smiled like a wolf scenting blood. "Finn. Let's see how you handle a real assassin, Caldryn."
To Be Continued in Chapter 29...