The lesser guards came back before they could process things over.
Ryn straightened instinctively, posture settling back into neutrality as the guard office door creaked open again.
Two soldiers stepped inside.
The older one of them stopped short when he saw Fritz.
"…You alright?" the guard asked.
Fritz didn't answer.
His eyes were still unfocused, jaw tight, like he was holding back through sheer will.
The guard hesitated, then shut the door behind him. Lowered his voice.
"First time seeing it up close?"
Fritz swallowed. "Seeing what?"
The guard huffed softly, not in a mocking tone. Just…tired.
"The part we don't talk about."
He leaned back against the wall, helmet tucked under one arm. Close enough now that Fritz could see the faint discoloration along his neck.
"Pure Bloods," the guard went on. "Can be cruel sometimes."
He shrugged.
"They say it's tradition. Strength. Bloodline." A pause. "But damn if I know."
Ryn watched without speaking.
