"Defeat," the captain said with authority.
That declaration weighed more than the exhaustion.
It was not announced with shouts, public humiliation, or reproaches. Just a dry, impersonal order.
With a signal, they were told to withdraw.
That worsened it.
Aren walked back to the barracks with his group, the training sword hanging heavy from his arm and his body still vibrating with the adrenaline of combat. No one spoke. The sound of boots against stone was the only thing breaking the silence.
They had lost.
Not because of cowardice or lack of effort.
They had lost because the system had decided so.
When they arrived, an instructor stopped them before they entered.
"You," he said, checking a tablet. "Additional duties for the next three days. Cleaning the west courtyard and maintenance of training equipment."
There was no protest.
"Understood," they replied in unison.
The instructor left without adding anything else.
When they finally entered the barracks, the atmosphere changed. The silence was no longer tense but exhausted. Bromir let his shield fall against a wall with a dull thud and dropped onto the lower bunk.
"If I see another shield today, I swear I'll break it in half," he growled.
Hal sat down on the floor, resting his back against a wooden pillar.
"It could have been worse," he said, trying to sound optimistic. "At least we're still here."
Lysander was not there.
The space where he usually sat was impossible to ignore.
"He'll be back," Hal commented casually. "No one likes being the group's dead weight."
Aren left his gear beside his bunk and sat down slowly, feeling his body collect its debt. Every muscle protested.
For a few seconds, no one said anything.
It was Bromir who broke the silence.
"Your technique is good," he said suddenly, glancing at Aren. "Very clean."
Aren looked up, surprised.
"You don't waste movements. That's not learned in a week," the dwarf continued. "It shows you trained properly."
Aren hesitated.
"I just… practiced at home," he replied.
Hal let out a short laugh.
"It shows. That spin you did… I almost wanted to clap," he said, scratching his cheek. "I think that's why I got distracted and got my ass kicked."
Eryndor, who had remained leaning against the wall, spoke without looking away from nothing.
"Even so," he said in a neutral tone, "it wasn't enough."
The phrase landed heavily, but it was not a reproach.
It was a fact.
"That girl," Hal added after a second. "Aveline… she hits like a damn wagon."
Bromir nodded firmly.
"Brute strength, but well used. And endurance. A lot of endurance."
Aren lowered his gaze.
'It's true,' he thought. 'She wasn't holding back.'
"For me," Hal added with an exaggerated smile, "she's strong and beautiful like a goddess."
The comment caused tired laughter.
Aren felt an uncomfortable pinch in his chest.
"Don't exaggerate," he said.
"Of course I'm exaggerating!" Hal replied.
Bromir scratched his beard, thoughtful.
"If only she had some beard," he concluded.
"That again…", Aren murmured, unable to stop himself from smiling.
For the first time since the trial, the mood relaxed a little. They were not just recruits who had failed. They were a group that had gone through something together.
'I guess this is how things start,' he thought.
That was when the barracks door opened.
The conversations stopped immediately.
Aveline entered with a firm step, as if that space did belong to her. Her uniform was marked by use, and her hair was still slightly messy from the fight.
Her eyes went straight to Aren.
Hal was the first to react.
"Uh… hi," he said, clearing his throat.
Aveline looked at them for a second, evaluating.
"You fought well," she said bluntly.
Bromir raised an eyebrow.
"For having lost, that's not bad to hear."
"You didn't lose because of lack of skill," she replied. "You lost because of the rules."
Eryndor let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"Someone who understands," he murmured.
Aveline looked back at Aren.
"I need to talk to you."
Silence fell at once.
Hal was the first to react… by stepping away.
"Well," he said, standing up. "I think we… need some air."
Bromir stood as well, giving Aren a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Don't keep her waiting."
Eryndor simply moved aside without saying anything.
In seconds, the barracks was practically empty.
Aren swallowed.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she replied.
For a moment, neither spoke.
"Your technique," Aveline said finally. "It doesn't look like that of a beginner."
Aren tensed.
"No," he admitted. "I trained before."
"It shows," she replied. "I don't have technique."
Aren frowned.
"That's not true."
Aveline smiled slightly.
"I don't follow patterns. I learned to fight because I had to."
That explained a lot.
"You're strong," Aren said. "More than I expected."
"And you're more precise than you look," she replied.
Silence settled again.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
Just… heavy.
"You hesitated again," Aveline said suddenly.
Aren didn't deny it.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"That doesn't seem to please the superiors."
"Why?"
"Because you think," she replied. "And it seems they want completely loyal knights."
Aren felt a chill.
Aveline took a step back.
"Anyway. I'll see you in the next trial," she said, forming a playful smile. "Good luck cleaning equipment, Aren."
She turned around and left without waiting for a reply.
Aren stayed standing, watching the door close.
Shortly after, his companions returned.
"So?" Hal asked, unable to contain himself.
Aren shook his head.
"It wasn't what you think."
"That's what everyone says," Bromir replied, laughing.
Aren sat on his bunk, letting the air escape his lungs slowly.
He hadn't won, but he had stood out.
And he wasn't alone.
And for the first time since he arrived at the Order, he began to wonder if obeying orders was the only path to becoming a knight.
'What will happen on the day when obeying is the wrong thing to do?'
The question lingered in his mind.