The horn announcing the arrival of a new day echoed through the entire compound, waking every recruit.
Aren sat up on his bunk, letting out a short yawn.
"Good morning," Eryndor said politely.
The elf was leaning against a column, reading a leather-bound book.
"At least one of us returned from his nightly excursion," he added.
Those words confused Aren. He stood up and looked around for the rest of his group, only to find their beds empty and no sign of them anywhere in the barracks.
"Where are they?" he asked with concern, looking to the elf for answers.
Eryndor shrugged indifferently, shaking his head.
"I thought they had gone with you," he replied.
A chill ran down Aren's spine as, for a few seconds, he imagined the worst.
That was when they heard firm, heavy footsteps in the hallway.
The dormitory doors burst open and, almost immediately, three lumps were thrown inside, as if they were sacks.
"Let this be the last time we find you passed out in an alley!" one of the instructors shouted angrily, slamming the doors shut again.
Everyone turned to look. Aren and Eryndor quickly realized those lumps were their friends, who looked rather miserable.
Hal was the first to get up, his hair messy, clothes wrinkled, and a smile so wide it bordered on obscene. Lysander followed, walking with great difficulty, eyes bright and expression unfocused. Bromir came last, swaying from the hangover.
For a few seconds, no one said anything.
Aren looked them over slowly.
"What happened to you…?"
Hal dropped onto an empty bunk on his back, stretching his arms.
"It got late," he said casually. "And we ran out of money."
Bromir snorted and sat down heavily.
"And almost out of dignity," he added. "But at least we're still alive."
Lysander nodded enthusiastically.
"It was… it was incredible."
Eryndor calmly closed his book.
"I would rather not know the details."
"Too late," Hal replied, sitting up suddenly. "Because last night I confirmed several important theories about human anatomy."
Bromir glanced at him, holding his head.
"If you keep talking, I'm throwing you out the window."
Hal's smile only grew wider.
"One was a redhead," he continued, ignoring him. "Another said she liked short knights. And the third one… better not talk about her, for the sake of your hearts."
"Enough," Aren interrupted firmly.
Hal blinked and looked at him.
"What?"
"I don't want to know."
"Oh," Hal replied, tilting his head. "Right. You were busy."
Aren frowned.
"Busy?"
Hal stood up slowly and walked closer with a dangerous smile.
"With the blonde."
The air in the barracks changed.
Bromir raised an eyebrow.
"Blonde?"
Lysander blinked several times.
"The goddess of war?"
Eryndor slowly turned his head toward Aren.
A knot formed in Aren's stomach.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
Hal crossed his arms.
"Come on, Aren. You left with her and didn't come back with us. And now you look calm, in a good mood, and with that weird guilty face."
Bromir scratched his beard.
"That sounds suspicious."
Lysander stepped closer, genuinely curious and a bit nervous.
"So… how was it?"
Aren stood up abruptly.
"Nothing happened like what you're thinking."
Silence fell instantly.
Aren's answer had been immediate and defensive.
"Uh-huh," Hal murmured with a satisfied smile. "That's precisely what someone who did have something happen would say."
"No—" Aren stopped and took a deep breath. "I didn't go with her for that."
"Then…" Hal tilted his head. "What did you do?"
Aren hesitated.
And that hesitation was enough.
"I knew it!" Hal exclaimed. "The lucky guy had his night."
"It wasn't like that," Aren insisted.
Bromir crossed his arms.
"I don't usually meddle in others' business, but that sounded like a lie."
Eryndor intervened, his voice cold.
"Whether something happened or not is irrelevant."
He looked directly at Aren.
"But if nothing happened… you should learn to control your reactions better."
Aren clenched his teeth.
"We just talked," he said at last.
Hal opened his eyes wide, making a disappointed face.
"You're so boring," he said, sticking out his tongue. "Later you can tell us your love story."
"Idiots," Aren said, letting out a small laugh and shaking his head. "What do you know about love?"
Laughter filled the barracks.
Even Bromir smiled.
Lysander, however, stayed quiet for a moment. Then he spoke, with a strange smile.
"I… I think I fell in love."
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" Hal asked.
Lysander sat down carefully, his face so red it almost looked like a tomato.
"Her name is Mira," he said. "And… she shouldn't be there."
Aren watched him closely.
"I'm going to become a knight," the gnome continued, a new determination in his voice. "I'll earn money. And I'll get her out of that life."
The silence this time was different.
More serious.
Bromir cleared his throat.
"You're an idiot," he said. "But a brave one."
Eryndor stood up.
"If you're done sharing romantic tragedies," he said, "we have training."
Little by little, the rest of the recruits went back to their routines, while others approached Hal to hear more about his "feats."
Aren looked toward one of the windows.
Aveline's image crossed his mind without permission.
Her direct gaze. Her firm voice. And the way the moonlight had outlined her face in that abandoned chapel.
'Nothing happened,' he told himself.
But it was also true that remembering that moment put a strange pressure on his chest.
The second horn sounded.
'It really begins now,' he thought.
Hal stood up, rubbing his face.
"This can't be happening," he muttered. "We didn't even get a break."
Bromir was already on his feet, a bit more sober, adjusting his belt.
"Well," he replied seriously. "Looks like duty is calling."
Lysander swallowed, looking at the metal plate with his number resting on the trunk.
They went out to the courtyard in an almost spontaneous formation.
There was no pushing or running. Most walked with straight backs, as if their bodies understood before their minds that this moment had to be remembered.
The central courtyard was arranged differently.
The banners of the Order hung lower. The torches were lit even in daylight, giving the courtyard a solemn look. In front of them, a long table had been placed, and behind it stood Captain Rorik and several knights in full armor.
Real knights.
Aren felt a chill.
'So this is the next step…'
"Formation," Rorik ordered.
This time, no one trembled.
When everyone was aligned, the captain stepped forward.
"From today on," he began in a firm voice, "you are no longer recruits."
A contained murmur ran through the courtyard.
"You are not knights," he continued without pause. "Nor squires yet."
He paused briefly, just long enough for the weight of his words to settle.
"But you have been accepted as formal aspirants of the Order of the Solar Blade."
The knights behind him remained motionless, watching them with seriousness and curiosity.
"This is your first official call."
With a gesture, one of the instructors stepped forward carrying a wooden box.
"Hand over your plates."
One by one, the young men stepped forward and placed the metal discs with engraved numbers inside. The sound of metal hitting wood rang louder than Aren expected.
When he placed his own, he felt something strange.
As if a part of him was being left behind.
The instructor lifted the box.
"From this moment on," Rorik said, "numbers have no value."
The captain began walking in front of the line.
"From now on, you will be called by your names… or by your surnames, if you have them."
He stopped in front of Aren.
"Valenfort."
Aren lifted his head at once.
He was no longer "two hundred seventeen."
He was no longer just another recruit.
At last, since arriving, he could finally be himself.