The next morning, Corvin woke before dawn. The house was still and quiet—too quiet. He ate a modest breakfast while the sky slowly brightened through the windows. His mother fussed quietly with his pack, his sister sat silently, and his father stood near the door with arms crossed. When the time came, Corvin gave each of them a firm hug, lingered a little longer with his mother, then walked out the door without looking back.
The town square was already brimming with life. Hundreds of people had gathered—young and old, men and women. The original members of the town guard stood out, wearing proper armor and carrying military-issued weapons. But most were clad in simple cloaks and work clothes, their eyes full of uncertainty and forced bravado. Some looked excited. A few were even smiling.
Corvin spotted Moxa, wearing his guard uniform—light leather armor with a sword—leaning against a wall at a corner, half-asleep with his arms folded. Catherine stood beside him, upright and alert. As Corvin approached, Moxa opened his eyes.
"Look who's finally joined the brave and the doomed," he said with a smirk. "I was starting to think your breakfast got emotional."
"I'm here, aren't I?" Corvin replied, his voice quiet as usual.
"Yeah, yeah. No need to yell."
Catherine gave a nod, arms crossed. "We're still missing half the square. Maybe we won't march until lunch."
Corvin offered a small smile. "Wouldn't mind one more meal."
More and more people flooded in as the sun climbed. It was strange—this feeling of waiting for something huge to happen, surrounded by laughter and idle conversation. Corvin felt like he should be pacing, or praying, or running. Instead, he just stood there, arms at his side, and watched.
Then the crowd hushed.
A figure clad in full-body iron armor arrived.
The Captain of the town guard, Thorne, stood head and shoulders above most, his black hair tied back, armor gleaming despite wear. He strode through the square with a few of his colleagues, all clad in full-body armor.
"Listen up!" His voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. "You've all been assigned roles already. You will receive orders from the captain of your respective unit."
Groups began to form under the instructions of the captains across the square. Thorne continued:
"You all should know who I am. I'll be in charge of this army and the recon unit. I won't tolerate any disorderly conduct. Understood?"
A wave of nods and "Yes, sirs" followed.
Weapons came next. People were ushered to the side of the square where racks and barrels of arms were laid out. Chaos seemed imminent—but surprisingly, the line moved fast. Most received whatever could be spared: swords, spears, bows, even pitchforks. Not nearly enough to go around.
Moxa already had his weapon since he was part of the town guard.
Catherine inspected her new gear—light armor, a standard-issue sword, nothing fancy. "Better than nothing," she said, testing the sword's balance with one hand.
Corvin received a short spear and a plain cuirass. Serviceable.
Once weapons were distributed, Thorne gathered the recon unit—twenty of them total.
"Your job is to scout ahead. Roads, forests, hills. You find problems before we do. You fail, the army suffers. We will be moving in groups of five. You all should organize among yourselves."
"Well," Moxa said, "I'm picking the two people least likely to get me killed."
Catherine gave him a flat look. "So… us?"
"Exactly. I'm sentimental like that."
Corvin looked around. Most people were already huddling into groups—mostly friends or fellow guards. The three of them naturally fell in together, but they needed a fourth.
They didn't have to wait long.
A boy—slight, dirty, and probably younger than the rest—approached them hesitantly. His clothes were worn, his boots barely holding together. He rubbed his hands together nervously.
"H-Hey… uh… do you—do you have space?" he asked, his voice quiet but urgent. "I—I can follow orders. I-I don't talk much. J-Just need a group…"
Moxa blinked. "Is he… lost?"
The boy looked ready to run.
"I-I'm Branik," he stuttered, clearly forcing himself to speak. "I—I got assigned here. Please, I—I can keep up, I promise."
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "He's barely more than a kid."
"So are we," Corvin replied, then sighed. "Fine. You're in."
Branik looked relieved—and immediately tripped slightly over his own feet while nodding.
"Y-Yeah! I—thanks! I—I won't be troublesome, I s-swear."
"Sure, kid," Moxa said, patting him on the shoulder. "You break your ankle, though, I'm not carrying you."
Branik paled a little but nodded again.
Thorne returned, checking off the groups. When he got to them, he handed Catherine a rolled-up map. "Group Four," he said.
"You're assigned night scouting—dusk to midnight. Stick to the route."
Corvin winced internally.
'Night shift. Right. Of course I'm in the most dangerous job with the most dangerous work shift.'
He exhaled slowly.
'Whoever picked these assignments better pray that I never return.'
Catherine opened the map immediately. "Looks straightforward enough. Who's leading?"
"I am," Catherine said.
Moxa and Corvin gave her a sideways look.
"You sure?"
"Of course. I'm the most competent here," she looked at Moxa before continuing, "excluding you, of course."
"What's wrong with putting me in charge?" Moxa retorted.
"Look at yourself again."
Moxa looked at himself and thought for a second, then sighed.
"Fair enough."
"Agreed," Corvin added.
Catherine grinned.
"It's settled then."
Thorne nodded and moved on to the next group.
Moxa stretched.
"Night shift, huh? Just what I wanted. A nice moonlit walk with some horrific monsters."
"Don't jinx it! " Catherine shook her head.
"Don't what now—?" Corvin muttered to himself.
Branik shuffled behind them.
"N-Night's fine. I—I mean, I—I can see okay in the dark. A-As long as there's… you know, not too much… screaming."
Corvin almost cracked a smile.