The training yard roars with motion — boots striking stone, axes clashing, dust rising in frantic rhythm.
At the center stands Gautti.
Still. Composed. Axe angled low and patient.
A soldier charges. Gautti pivots — hooks the man’s leg with the shaft, not tripping but redirecting. Another rushes. A sidestep. A flat strike to the back of the knee. Controlled. Efficient.
The rest hesitate.
"Anyone else?"
None move. A few groan from the dirt. Some lean against their weapons, catching breath.
Gautti finally straightens up.
“Alright,” he says calmly. “Now you come tell me what I did wrong.”
That earns a few chuckles. But Gautti is serious — walking over to the first soldier who lunged. He squats
beside him.
“You dipped your shoulder too early,” Gautti says. “That’s fine in a panic, but you gave away your intent
before your feet moved. Try planting your heel, then commit.”
He moves to the next.
“Your momentum was good — but you leaned forward, not through. That gives me your balance. Use your
weight to collapse my space, don't give it up so easily.”
He continues, quietly instructing. Correcting. Even the ones who bested themselves get tips. No arrogance.
No scolding. Just presence. Guidance.
The gate bell rings.
All eyes turn.
A caravan crests the road — Serpent banners cutting through dust.
"Major’s back!"
Major dismounts without ceremony. Coat half-buttoned. Axe strapped tight. Inscription tattoos lining the right side of his body, symbols no one else could understand.
He wastes no time.
"Form up."
They move fast.
"Contact north of Morrowridge. Small Ward. No walls. Raiders — maybe worse. They don’t have the force to confirm."
A map hits the dirt.
"Two-day prep. Eight-day rotation. Two-thirds of the force with me. The rest hold this Ward."
Excitement ripples through the ranks.
New mission. More resources. Bigger payment.
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Gautti does not react.
This is bigger than usual. We’ve never sent more than half the Serpent.
He’s already looking over the shoulders of the others, already scanning the faces that will be left behind.
Some look relieved. Others look lost.
They’re not ready either.
Later, in the mess hall, Gautti spreads parchment across a table — ink replacing food.
He sketches new coverage zones.
Small towers. Rotating sightlines. Minimal manning.
If more than half the soldiers leave, the rest can’t cover full rotations, he thinks. But if we elevate the guards —
line of sight can double. And we could integrate a tether system so they can be more agile between viewpoints…
“Of course you’re planning” Lyka says, slipping onto the bench across from him and peeking at his sketch.
He doesn’t look up. “It’ll be thin here. We need efficiency.”
“So... you're going?”
“Yes.”
Frowning. "You don’t seem thrilled."
"It’s not a game Lyka. It’s survival — without us they don't."
“You’re always saying that like it’s a virtue. what about us?” she opens her arms emphasizing the ward.
"What about you?" she pokes to his chest.
“It’s a truth. Its the only thing we can do for them, Its all I know how to do."
She reaches across the table, turning his face away from the ink.
“There’s more to this world than surviving it.”
“Survival comes first.”
Lyka sighs , falling back in her seat angrily looking away and crossing her arms.
Gautti leans back, eyes still on Lyka.
my job is to fill in the gap make sure major isn't slipping but what does she mean by that?
A younger soldier's voice breaks out from another table. “Figures they’d send out a third the Ward. How do we protect what's
ours if we're always spread so thin?”
Gautti glances over.
Another joins in the frustration “the Wards always falling apart and we leave it to fix another wards problem” the soldier adds. “And there's
more bandits everyday we are just a patch that doesn't really fix anything. the problems out of our hands”
Gautti turns back to the sketches. Calmly. “If the Wards around us fall, we burn slower — not safer. Using our hands to protect means we won’t need them to rebuild.”
The words settle. Firm. Not sharp.
The soldier quiets.
Gautti leans back, eyes still on his map.
Why don’t they see it? he thinks. How do I make them see?
"If fire surrounds us, we’re already burning. I may leave — but I’ll protect what's ours."
A laugh cuts through the moment.
“You hear that? Protector?”
Two figures drop onto the bench beside him — one on each side.
Reef, grinning, hair tied back, a single sleeve rolled high. Sonder, quiet, arms folded, scar running just past
his jaw.
Sonder: “You sure we’re talkin’ about the same Gautti? We've seen it out there. Kid fights like a damn demon.”
Reef smirks. “Yeah, even his own shadow stays away from him.”
Lyka exhales, standing from across the table. “You’re all so proud of it.”
She looks at Gautti.
Soft.
“I know you’ll be ok. Just don’t leave your soul out there.”
He looks at her for a moment, then back down at the map.
She walks off before he can answer.
Reef whistles. “That girl’s got your rhythm figured out.”
Sonder stops himself laughing “So, Major’s back. You cook up something new?”
Gautti shifts the parchment toward them.
“A tower above the forge. One on the irrigation line. Lantern mirrors at the schoolhouse. Tether lines for fast
movement— rope tracks across the rooftops, rigged to slide. Runners every third hour.”
He points as he speaks.
“If we stretch our eyes instead of our bodies, we won’t burn out. Minimal movement. Maximum view.”
They both nod — serious now.
Reef first. “We’ll get it done.”
Sonder second. “Thinking two steps ahead and where no one’s thinking — as usual. Let’s get it done.”
Gautti exhales.
It’s not pride on his face.
Just weight, and he was already measuring it.
