Save for those of the First Corps, the knights at the palace barracks were busy with their usual training. Austin, now an apprentice, had finished his drills for the day and was occupied with chores. As the second son of a duke, he could have asked for better treatment, but that privilege applied only to the First. In any other corps, he would be expected to do the same grunt work as commoners and low-ranking nobles—and since he aspired to join the meritocratic Seventh, he took to it with gusto.
“All right, done cleaning up. All that’s left is tidying the toolroom. I wonder if Mick’s finished yet.”
Mick had joined the order at the same time he had. Austin’s relaxed nature and strong communication skills made him popular among his seniors, and he’d forged good relationships with the other newcomers. A few whispered that he was relying on his family’s status, but they were a tiny minority.
Pleasantly tired from the day’s work, Austin headed toward the toolroom. His mind drifted, and a sigh escaped him.
“I thought he saw me as his best friend...” he muttered, thinking of the crown prince, whom he’d barely seen lately.
Austin had met Riley when he was still so little he couldn’t even sit up. The king’s youngest brother had married Austin’s aunt, so their families had always been close. Being the same age, the two boys had grown up side by side. As they got older, there were more and more things they couldn’t share with their families, yet they had always confided in each other.
That unshakable trust was why it had cut so deeply when Riley hid something from him for the first time the other day. The prince maintained a perfect facade around everyone else, but in front of Austin, he’d looked utterly dismayed. Haggard, even. Austin could tell his friend hadn’t wanted to speak about whatever troubled him, no matter how desperately he himself wanted to know. So he’d forced himself to be mature and offer advice instead of prying.
Yet the unease kept festering.
If he saw Riley now, he feared he might snap at him. So he’d claimed he was too busy with his new duties and stopped training with him, even though it had always been one of his favorite parts of the day. Still, the gloom lingered.
“Hey, Austin!” someone called from under a nearby tree. Two knights were there, chatting. “Done with your work?”
The speaker was slim but clearly muscular—a knight at first glance. His brown hair and eyes were plain enough, but his features were handsome, and his easy smile made him popular with the palace maids.
“Yes, Captain Calvert,” Austin said. “I was just on my way to help Mick. He’s tidying the toolroom.”
“He just said he’s done,” the other knight chimed in. This one was shorter than the captain but far more imposing, with black hair, a stern face, and sharp eyes that suited his no-nonsense attitude.
Austin faltered, suddenly left without a task.
Dunhill Calvert gave him a surprised look. “You sure work hard, huh? I was nothing like you in my apprentice years. You’re not going overboard, are you?”
“You slacked off too much,” the black-haired knight—Brendon—said in his deep rumble of a voice. “Yet somehow, you still got your captain to like you.”
“Oh, shut it. Don’t embarrass me in front of a newbie.”
“Then get serious about your work for once.” Brendon showed no mercy. Then he turned to Austin, his expression firm as the young apprentice stood at attention. “Dunhill’s right, though. There’s nothing wrong with giving it your all, but you’re overdoing it.”
“I am...?” Austin replied.
He’d always thought of himself as someone who could go with the flow, unlike the stubbornly earnest Riley. He thought he was cutting corners where it made sense, but to these two seasoned knights, he apparently looked frantic.
As he stood there, caught between confusion and embarrassment, Dunhill folded his arms and nodded. These two were said to be among the strongest knights in the entire order; Austin wasn’t about to argue.
Dunhill Calvert was captain of the Second Corps, a unit of mage knights, while Brendon Carey commanded the merit-driven Seventh. Dunhill was the second son of Marquess Calvert; Brendon, a commoner. They were total opposites in birth and temperament, yet they got along better than anyone else in the order.
“Hard work’s admirable, but reckless effort does more harm than good,” Dunhill said. “If it’s a short sprint, fine—go all out. But life’s a long race. There are moments when recklessness pays off, but this isn’t one of them. Keep this up and you’ll burn yourself out.”
Skilled as they were, the two captains were also known for looking after their juniors, which only made the knights respect them more. They regarded Austin with kind, considerate eyes. Dunhill’s words hit home, but the apprentice couldn’t bring himself to respond. The captain of the Second studied him for a moment, then softened.
“If something’s weighing on you, kid, we’ll listen anytime. But if it’s something you can’t talk about... Well, why not come out with us instead?”
“Yes, sir,” Austin said stiffly, still unsure what he was being roped into.
“Good. You’re off tomorrow, right?” Dunhill got to his feet. “Let’s grab some food together. Go get changed and meet us at the gate.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
The offer felt oddly anticlimactic, but Austin wasn’t about to keep them waiting. He hurried back to the barracks and changed at record speed. When he reached the gate, Brendon was already there.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it. This was Dunhill’s idea, and he’s not even here yet.”
The third knight arrived soon after.
“You’re late,” Brendon said.
“You’re just early,” Dunhill shot back. “Taking your time is part of being considerate of your juniors.”
Brendon paused, then turned to Austin. “Don’t mind him.” His flat tone made the young apprentice quickly shake his head, insisting he wasn’t bothered.
With that, Dunhill set off down the road. Brendon followed him through the gate without another word.
“Um, is nobody else joining us?” Austin asked, flustered as he trailed a step behind them.
“Nope. Everyone else is on duty tomorrow,” Dunhill said with a grin.
Austin hadn’t expected to be invited to dinner with two captains he admired, and the realization left him a little overwhelmed.
“So, where are we going, Dunhill?”
“I’m craving herring stew. You’ve been there once before, right?”
“Oh—that place.”
Apparently, those few words were all Brendon needed to hear. He didn’t eat out much, but Dunhill had visited cafés and restaurants all over Hudore.
Once the crowd thinned, the captain of the Second adopted a gossiping tone. “By the way, did you hear the archduke’s back?”
Austin’s eyebrow twitched. “Which one?” he asked quietly.
“The philanderer.”
That could only mean Franklin Slivegrad. He’d served in the order once, and every story that surfaced about him was unflattering. Austin managed not to click his tongue, but he couldn’t hide the bitter twist of his expression.
“Why...?” he asked.
“Says he came to see an old friend and figured he’d visit His Majesty while he’s at it.”
Austin stared at Dunhill with a blend of admiration and disbelief—the man always seemed to catch rumors as soon as they began to circulate.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” the young apprentice asked.
“That it should,” Dunhill replied with a wry smile.
Brendon stayed quiet, though he seemed no less repulsed than his fellow captain.
A shiver ran through Austin like a cold wave. “I wonder who this ‘old friend’ is.”
“I wonder which one.”
“Dunhill,” Brendon cut in before the conversation could stray into indecent territory. He probably hoped to spare their young recruit, but Franklin’s reputation was so notoriously sordid that Austin already knew the gist.
The archduke had once turned up to every social event with a different woman on his arm, seducing anyone who caught his eye—even if she was married or engaged. He would pursue his latest fancy relentlessly until she gave in, only to cast her aside the moment he’d succeeded. Eventually, the former king had grown sick of the scandals and banished him to a royal domain far from Hudore. One could only shudder at how much havoc he might have wreaked if he’d been allowed to stay.
“Depending on who this ‘old friend’ is, the city might have a storm on the horizon,” Dunhill said.
The kingdom’s political climate had been unstable ever since the previous king’s death. Franklin had no talent for politics, but pedigree was its own kind of power. With the right schemer pulling the strings, he could become quite the pawn—assuming they found a way to sidestep his illegitimacy.
Just then, a warm, savory smell drifted toward them, cutting their grim speculation short. They had arrived at their destination: a cheap restaurant popular with commoners. Austin had slipped into this part of town before, but even he had never eaten here.
“Eat as much as you like,” Dunhill said cheerfully, easing Austin’s tension. “Herring stew isn’t the only good thing on the menu.”
Perhaps the two captains had brought him here because they’d noticed how downcast he’d been lately. The thought alone made his lips curve into a small, involuntary smile.