"Now do it again."
Rain lifted the wooden sword, shoulders protesting the instant the weight settled back into his grip. The rough wood dragged at his palms, skins already raw from repetition, and he forced himself not to flinch as the line moved together. He was still chasing the rhythm, always a fraction behind, always aware of it.
Lieutenant Kael paced in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back, boots crunching softly over the scarred dirt. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The silence he carried pressed heavier than the drills themselves.
"Again."
Rain adjusted his stance, widening it slightly, lowering his shoulders, copying the angle of the trainee beside him. He focused on breathing instead of pain, on timing instead of strength, and let the strike land closer to where it should have been.
Someone farther down the line slipped, the staff scraping wrong against the ground.
Lieutenant Kael stopped.
The entire yard froze with him.
"One more mistake like that, "Kael said calmly, "and you'll be running until your legs forget what standing feels like."
No one spoke. No one dared to shift.
Lieutenant Kael's gaze slid across the line and settled on Rain.
"Bell-boy," he said.
Rain's spine went rigid.
"You're late by a fraction," Kael continued, his tone flat. "fix it."
Rain didn't answer. He couldn't afford to. He adjusted again, grounding himself, and forced the next movement to land in time with the others. Not perfect-but close enough.
Lieutenant Kael moved on without comment.
That somehow felt worse than being shouted at.
The whistle cut through the air, sharp and impatient.
"Water, for 30 seconds."
Thirty seconds wasn't rest. It was permission not to collapse.
Rain stepped back, arms burning as he leaned forward slightly, hands braced on his knees while he fought to slow his breathing. Sweat cooled too fast against his skin in the open air.
A voice beside him muttered, low and hoarse with exhaustion.
"The sun's not even up yet."
Rain glanced sideways. The boy next to him looked half-dead already, hair a mess, eyes narrowed against the cold as he stared out at the yard like it had personally wronged him.
"Why are we alive?" the boy added.
Rain let out a breath that might've been a laugh if he'd had more air.
A girl a step away answered without looking over, fingers already tying her hair back with practiced ease.
"so that you can complain," she said, as she tied her hair.
The boy's mouth twitched into a grin." That too."
The whistle cut the moment short.
"Back in line Maggot."
They moved again, falling into repetition. Strike, reset, breathe, repeat. Rain stopped fighting the ache and let it dull into something manageable, focusing on simple things, the angle of his arms, the spacing of his feet, the steadiness of his breath.
That's when he started noticing patterns.
One trainee farther down the line never wasted motion, every movement clean even through fatigue. Another smiled through the strain like pain was a game he refused to lose.
And then there was the girl near the front.
Her posture stayed straight even as sweat darkened the fabric at her collar, movements controlled and deliberate, as if every action had already been decided before the order was given. When the line shifted, others adjusted around her without being told.
Rain didn't know why he noticed that. He just did.
The whistle sounded again.
"Food. 30 minutes."
The mess hall reeked of smoke and boiled grain. Bowls were dropped onto tables without ceremony, bread sitting hard and dry like a challenge. Rain took a seat where there was space, arms still trembling faintly as he tore a piece free.
Across from him, the complaining boy took one bite and groaned.
"This is worse than training."
Another trainee dipped his bread into the thin broth before answering, voice clam. "soak it in. It's easier to eat."
Rain followed his example. It helped.
A few seats down, the girl from the yard ate quietly, back straight, and gaze forward. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Like this was already routine to her.
She looked up.
For a brief moment, her eyes met Rain's. Not friendly. Not curious. Assessing.
Her gaze flicked once to the bell at his side, then moved on as if nothing about it mattered.
Rain's chest tightened for reasons he didn't understand yet. The whistle called them back outside.
They were lined up again when Lieutenant Kael stepped forward, boots stopping dead at the center of the yard.
"Enough."
The word alone snapped everyone straight.
"You've learned two things," Kael said. "One-you're slow. Two-you're fragile."
No one reacted.
"You don't train alone anymore," he continued. "From now on you move in units. You eat in units. You fail in units. If one of you falls behind, the rest of you will feel it."
He began selecting without explanation, assembling them piece by piece. When his finger landed on rain-
"Bell-boy. with them."
Rain stepped forward, heart thudding harder than the drills had ever made it. They stood together now, still breathing hard.
Lieutenant Kael paced in front of them once, eye sharp.
"This is your unit. Learn it."
He stopped in front of the girl from the front of the line.
"You," he said. "point"
She nodded once, calm and immediate. "Yes, sir."
Rain watched her step forward, not proud, not nervous-ready. Lieutenant Kael turned back to the group. "If you don't like it, die later. Right now, you train."
He raised his hand.
"All unit- Line."
They moved. Not perfectly. Not smoothly. But together.
Rain took his place, shoulders aching, bell warm at his side, eyes forward on the girl leading them.
"strike," Kael said. "Ten. Together."
Rain lifted his wooden sword. This time, he didn't chase the rhythm. His movement lined up with the others, steady and sure.