A solemn aura flooded the courtyard, filling it with expectation and overflowing pride.
One by one, everyone present was called, answering with great emotion.
When it ended, Rorik returned to the front.
"During the next few weeks," he announced, "you will receive basic instruction for squires."
"Physical, martial, tactical, and doctrinal training."
Aren felt his stomach tighten.
"But listen carefully."
The captain raised a finger.
"You will not remain together forever."
Hal frowned.
"In a few weeks," he continued, "the Selection Tournament will be held."
A murmur ran through the line.
"In that tournament, the knights of the Order will observe your performance."
The knights behind him seemed to gain more presence.
"They will choose their own squire."
Silence fell completely.
"Those who are chosen," he added, "will continue their training under the direct guidance of the knight who selects each one."
Aren clenched his fists.
'So that is the real filter…'
"And those who are not…"
Rorik left the sentence unfinished for a second.
"…will continue training. But understand this: not everyone is destined to advance in the same way."
The captain's gaze hardened.
"That tournament will define your path within the Order."
An instructor stepped forward and distributed small new emblems. They had no numbers, only the symbol of a sword piercing an incomplete circle, representing the Order.
Aren took it carefully.
It was simple.
But it felt heavier than the plate.
"Place them."
When Aren fixed the emblem to his chest, he felt something close… and something open at the same time.
Rorik took a step back.
"From today," he declared, "you will obey as squire aspirants."
"You will have assigned tasks, minor guard duties, logistical support, and constant training."
He raised his voice.
"And you will make mistakes."
Some swallowed nervously.
"And you must be ready to face them and learn from them."
The captain looked over them one last time.
"Be worthy of wearing that symbol."
He gave a brief salute.
"Rest today and enjoy the celebration of your promotion."
All the aspirants cheered, grateful for having a free day.
"Do not get used to it. Formal training begins tomorrow at dawn."
The horn sounded once more.
Not as an order.
But as a beginning.
Aren remained still for a few seconds longer, looking at the emblem on his chest.
He did not know which knight would choose him, or if he would even be chosen.
But he knew one thing.
'I can't turn back anymore.'
And somewhere in his mind, the promise he had made as a child felt a little closer.
—
The murmur took time to fade.
Even when the horn stopped echoing and the instructors began organizing them at large tables for a banquet, many kept staring at the emblem on their chest, unable to believe it.
Hal was the first to break the stillness, leaning toward Aren with an exaggerated smile.
"Do you realize it?" he whispered. "Squires! Or at least squire aspirants. That sounds way better than 'recruit."
Bromir let out a low grunt but did not hide the satisfaction on his face.
"It's a good first step," he said. "Even if we're still far from wielding real weapons."
Lysander stared at his emblem with a dangerous mix of pride and determination.
"In the tournament…" he murmured. "I'll do my best so a knight chooses me."
Aren did not respond right away.
His attention was on another part of the courtyard.
Aveline stood a few meters away, speaking with an instructor. Her posture was firm, but Aren noticed something different about her: she was not smiling or celebrating.
When their eyes met, she gave a slight nod.
It was not a gesture of celebration.
It was recognition.
Hal noticed it.
"There she is," he said with a sly smile. "Your favorite blonde."
Aren frowned.
"Don't start."
"Alright…" the halfling insisted. "Though I won't deny the tournament will be tough with her as an opponent."
Bromir gave him a light tap on the shoulder.
"That's true. We'd better rest properly," he added. "Because tomorrow the new training begins."
Eryndor, who had remained silent, finally spoke.
"The tournament will not measure strength alone," he said calmly. "What matters will be standing out and showing that you will be useful to one of those knights."
Aren clenched his fingers.
'That's the problem,' he thought.
It did not take long for the banquet to begin. All the aspirants laughed and toasted, others simply ate eagerly, and a few withdrew early.
Aren turned his gaze toward the Order's banner, which waved imposingly in the breeze.
When he looked back in Aveline's direction, he realized she was sitting off to the side, eating alone.
Instinctively, he approached, noticing that his expression was hesitant and a little uncomfortable.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
She looked up, surprised for a second. Then she shook her head and slid the bench slightly to make room.
"No," she replied. "Sit."
Aren did, with a strange feeling in his chest. From that distance, he noticed she had barely touched her food.
For a few seconds, they ate in silence, surrounded by the noise of the banquet: laughter, improvised toasts, and the sound of mugs clinking.
"You don't like it?" Aren asked at last, pointing at her plate.
Aveline shook her head slowly.
"It's not that," she said after a brief pause. "I'm just… not used to it."
Aren frowned.
"It's okay to eat," he said without thinking too much. "And you don't have to do it alone. You could have sat with us. My friends can be annoying, but… they're good people."
She smiled faintly.
"I know," she replied. "And I appreciate the invitation. Truly."
She took a small piece of bread, broke it carefully, and brought it to her mouth.
"It's just that…" she continued. "Eating like this makes me feel guilty."
Aren stayed still.
"At the orphanage," Aveline explained, looking at the bread as if it were something fragile, "the children don't get the chance to eat something like this. When we're lucky, there's only one meal a day. But usually, it's less than that."
Her fingers closed slightly.
"And now I'm here, with meat, fresh bread, and wine I could eat until I burst."
She let out a soft, almost bitter laugh.
"I guess it's absurd."
"It's not," Aren said immediately.
She looked at him, surprised.
A few seconds passed before she nodded.
"At least one thing comforts me," she added, forcing a light tone that did not completely convince. "I sent all the free night money to the church."
Aren blinked.
"All of it?"
"Yes," she replied, eyes shining with clear emotion. "Do you know how many sacks of tubers and vegetables that fortune could buy?"
The word lingered between them.
"With that, the children can eat more than what we find in the forest," she continued. "Maybe even some oil and flour for the winter."
Aren lowered his gaze to his own plate, still half full.
For him, that pay was little more than a symbolic gesture. Something he would never miss. For Aveline… it was a fortune.
The contrast struck him with uncomfortable clarity.
'I've never lacked anything,' he thought. 'I always had what I wanted just by asking.'
Without saying anything, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the coin pouch he had not touched yet. He held it for a few seconds… then gently placed it on the table between them.
Aveline looked at it, confused.
"What are you doing?"
Aren swallowed.
"It would be wasted on me," he said, averting his gaze slightly. "Besides, the children might need new clothes… right?"
She frowned.
"I can't accept that."
"Of course you can," he replied softly. "It's something I want to do."
Aveline studied him for a long moment. Her eyes did not show wounded pride, but something more complex.
Finally, she took the pouch.
"Thank you," she said quietly, forming a small smile. "I won't forget this."
Silence settled again, but it was not uncomfortable.
It was close.
Aveline leaned back slightly.
"In the tournament," she said suddenly, changing the subject, "I'll push myself harder than ever."
Aren looked up.
"I want to be chosen as a squire," she continued. "I won't waste this opportunity."
She glanced at him.
"So train."
Aren smiled faintly.
"Is that an order?"
"It's a challenge," she replied. "I wish to face you again. That will be my way of paying you back."
A familiar warmth stirred in Aren's chest.
"Then I'll do everything I can not to disappoint you."
Aveline stood up and took her plate, now a little emptier.
"I'm glad I came today," she said. "Not because of the promotion… but because of this."
She paused for a moment before leaving.
"Keep pushing yourself, Aren."
"You too, Aveline."
As she walked away into the crowd, Aren remained seated for a few seconds longer, looking at the Order's emblem on his chest.
The path he had chosen was harsh.
But for the first time, he began to understand that perhaps his motivation was selfish compared to that of others.