The soldier selection took place in the palace courtyard, where the noon sun glared down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the stone. The square was abuzz with murmurs, as the candidates for the royal guard gathered.
They stood in orderly rows, their weapons sheathed but within easy reach, expressions hard and focused.
It was a sea of men muscular, broad-shouldered, and clad in leather armour that bore the insignia of their regions. The sight alone was imposing.
I stood at the platform, gazing over them, taking in each face. There was a palpable tension in the air, a competitive edge that I had come to expect from these selections.
Many of them would have trained their whole lives for this moment, striving to be part of the elite guard who would serve directly under the crown. Yet, among all these men, one figure stood out.
