I arrived in Astafel after journeying from the outskirts known as Fiery Gale. My home lay on the borders of Del Aire and Astafel, making it quite a lengthy journey. Despite my weary feet, I pressed on; this had been my purpose from the start.
Ever since losing my mother, life had grown dull. Survival and fulfilling my purpose were all that mattered now.
As I approached, the cobblestone path came into view, bustling with carts and merchants gathered near the waygate. I quickened my pace toward the nearest knight guarding the entrance to Astafell.
"What's your name, boy? Show us the emblem," asked the knight with a full beard.
I rummaged through my pouch. "Aye, here," I said, handing it to him.
"Young Vesper," the old man recited.
"Welcome to Dragon Horn Castle. You're a lucky one, indeed. I've never seen such a family name. Duke Fyre usually disapproves of unknown bloodlines. Knighthood is special in this empire. The knights you see now all come from families of merchants. Including myself—my father owns a steeds. Fret not; I have a feeling you'll do well here. Your face tells me you've been through many adversities," he said, gripping my shoulder firmly.
My heart ached at his words, and I clenched my fist hard it left marks on my palm. There was no way anyone could understand what I felt. I nodded upon his bias remark, I shift my gaze to the knights' post in front of me was filled with men in armor, preparing for the evening patrol.
My heart pounded with excitement, and the ache in my chest slowly faded; soon, I would ride and train among them to protect the land.
The old man guided me through the busy post to a nearby empty hall, which resembled a cathedral where prayers were offered for the king. He asked me to wait for the others. A golden statue stood at the front of the hall, with rows of benches that could fit hundreds of people. I was awestruck by its delicate structure and design.
After a few minutes, the hall began to fill with young people like me. They looked lavish and clean—unlike me.
One boy in a purple velvet vest sat next to me. His blonde hair shone elegantly as the sun's rays from the window hit him, and for a moment, I thought I might go blind.
"So bright," I mumbled.
"You smell like onions," he remarked, unfazed. I sniffed myself unconsciously. Unfortunately, he was right. I did smell like rotten sour cream.
"My apologies," I said, my head hanging low, face flushed red. I turned toward the wall, trying to hide my disheveled state.
"It can't be helped. Peasants usually walk their way here. You must have come a long way to work for the royal farm. Good luck," he added, brushing his silky hair back.
Before I could respond, another voice interrupted. I jumped slightly.
"Hendry, this boy next to you will soon train with you, so play nice. On the battlefield, we must protect each other's backs," said a red-haired boy, cutting into our conversation.
"Tch—was I speaking to you, tomato head?" Henry replied, quickly moving away and shoving the other boy aside. I felt awkward, left alone in the corner. It dawned on me that we all came from different statuses and beliefs. We might not get along, but to protect this land, we'd have to work together. I was naive; for a moment, I'd thought I could make friends. I leaned against the wall and rested my eyes—I might as well rest while I could. Later that evening, the hall was packed with nearly a hundred of us.
The old man announced, "Aye, now there are enough—99 heads here. I will take you to headquarters for assembly. Wipe your drool and grab your bags. No more fancy wheels. Your training begins now; you will travel on foot for the next 10 miles to reach Dragon Horn. No dinner if you're late." He left the door wide open, mounted his horse, and rode off, leaving us behind. We looked at each other, stomachs growling. I guess we all had to do this. We picked up our bags and started our journey to headquarters call the Dragon Horn Hall.
A girl from a far watches Vesper move by himself.