The border camp loomed ahead, a hive of activity framed by towering stone walls that shimmered faintly with protective enchantments. Larin and his companions—Rinku, Gwendon, and Ngieri—exchanged glances, their excitement tempered by the weight of their new responsibilities.
Tyrs and Mynta took the lead and as they approached, the gates automatically opened for them. "Welcome back boss." someone on the tower shouted. Tyrs just smiled and walked in.
Mynta,with a more relaxed demeanor, nodded. "Follow us. And don't wander—this is a military installation, not a festival."
The group was led through the gates, the noise of bustling soldiers, clanging metal, and crackling magical wards enveloping them. After a thorough inspection, they reached their assigned dormitory—a large, open hall with rows of closely packed living spaces.
"Two-arm lengths of personal space," Tyrs said briskly, gesturing toward the nearest empty bunks. "No walls. Privacy is a luxury you'll learn to live without. Your uniforms and gear are on your beds. Make yourselves presentable by the time the evening bell rings. Questions?"
Larin glanced at the uniforms: dark grey blazers reinforced with enchantments, paired with khaki vests lined with utility pockets. The ensemble was completed by a short sword, a dagger, and an Elderberry wand etched with intricate runes. Beside the weapons lay a gleaming Shardcaster Revolver and two ammunition boxes filled with crystalline shards.
"None yet, ma'am," he replied, earning a slight nod of approval from Tyrs.
"Good," Tyrs said, her voice firm but not unkind. "We don't coddle anyone here, but we're not savages either. Get settled. Dinner's at dusk."
As she and Mynta walked away, Rinku exhaled sharply. "She's intense."
"She has to be," Gwendon said, already unpacking his gear. "This isn't a picnic. We're here to learn, work, and defend."
Ngieri nodded, her expression serious. "Let's not waste time. The sooner we settle in, the better."
The dormitory was already half-full, with about twenty soldiers going about their routines. Some greeted them with polite nods, while others eyed the newcomers with quiet scrutiny. As the group set up their spaces, a woman approached, her stride confident and her muscular frame accentuated by the cut of her uniform.
"Laipui," she said, offering a firm handshake to each of them. Her long hair was tied back in a braid, and her bronze skin glowed faintly in the enchanted light. "Head healer here. If you're lucky, you won't need my services. But if you do, I'll make sure you leave the infirmary in one piece."
Behind her stood Malaa, a quiet man with sharp eyes, and Pius, whose mischievous grin was immediately disarming.
"Laipui handles surgery," Pius explained, his tone light. "Malaa's the medicine expert, and I deal with diseases—mostly making sure you don't catch anything nasty out here."
"And if you do?" Rinku asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Then you'll be my next case study," Pius quipped, earning a groan from Laipui.
"Don't scare them off, Pius," she said, shaking her head. "We're here to keep them alive, not experiment on them."
As the healers left, another trio approached. This group exuded strength and camaraderie. Gaius, a towering man with an almost shy demeanor, introduced himself first.
"Shock troops," he said simply, his deep voice barely above a murmur.
"Which means we smash things," added Meta, her inquisitive eyes contrasting with her sharp tone. "And we do it better than anyone."
"And with style," Pyro chimed in, his grin infectious. "I'm Pyro, by the way. Stick with us, and you'll be fine."
Their banter eased the tension, and soon the entire group was laughing and sharing stories. For a moment, the harsh realities of their new environment seemed distant, replaced by the warmth of camaraderie.
The evening bell rang, and the dormitory emptied as everyone headed to the mess hall. The scent of spiced Megatusk boar soup filled the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly steamed rice. The chefs, despite their military precision, had poured their hearts into the meal.
"This is better than I expected," Gwendon admitted, savoring a spoonful of soup.
"Don't get used to it," Meta said, sitting across from him. "The food's good, but it's earned. Slack off, and you'll find out what ration bars taste like."
"Noted," Larin said, raising his bowl in mock salute.
As they ate, the hall buzzed with conversation. Talk of recent patrols, training drills, and the ever-present threat of the Kirat Empire's encroachment filled the air. Despite Xiaxo's current peace, the barracks were on high alert. The news of Zakop's recent attack had heightened tensions, and patrols were more frequent than ever. Anti-missile wards shimmered overhead, and true mages maintained a constant watch.
After dinner, the group explored the barracks' impressive facilities. The alchemical labs bubbled with experiments, the forges rang with the sound of hammer on metal, and the greenhouses thrived with medicinal and magical plants.
"This place is incredible," Ngieri said, her voice tinged with awe. "It's like a city within a fortress."
"It has to be," Gaius said, joining them. "Out here, we're on our own. Everything we need, we make or grow ourselves."
Their admiration was short-lived as Tyrs's voice echoed through the hall. "Lights out in twenty minutes! If you're not in your bunks by then, you'll regret it."
The group exchanged knowing smiles and made their way back to the dormitory. As the lights dimmed, Larin lay awake, the events of the day replaying in his mind. The camaraderie and discipline of the barracks were inspiring, but the underlying tension was impossible to ignore.
"We're in the eye of the storm," he murmured to himself, staring at the enchanted ceiling that mimicked the night sky. "But it won't stay calm for long."
With that thought, he closed his eyes, ready to face whatever challenges the dawn would bring.