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Kal was tired.

His standard military cape protected him from the night’s cold, but the dolikos he carried on his shoulder was starting to feel heavy.

Luckily, it was almost dawn. Soon his shift would be over. If he fell asleep while he mounted guard on the tower, he would never be able to look his father in the eyes again.

Considering what he was guarding, one small laxity in his vigilance wouldn’t have been the end of the world: ever since he was born, the border had always been quiet. And it seemed the Three Kingdoms had no intention to break the Long Truce today either. But for Kal it was a matter of principle. He had been given a duty and he would never allow his weaknesses to prevent him from fulfilling it at the best of his ability.

He looked at the scenery before him, the still slumbering city of Elis. Its roofs, their color muddled in the grayness that precedes sunrise, sloped softly down to the shore of the Tuon river. And beyond that vast, dark furrow he could see a great forest, at the moment still shrouded in darkness. Somewhere beyond that, to the north-east if he remembered correctly what Ark had told him, there was Istak, one of the three capitals of the Three Kingdoms.

Kal brought his gaze back to the city he was watching over. Soon it would start to wake, beginning with the harbor, down there. At that very moment, right under him, the watchers were leaving the fortress for the first patrol rounds of the day.

The boy heard the footsteps of someone walking up the tower’s steps. He thought it must be Barys, coming to start his own shift and let Kal go home. Although, if it actually was Barys he would be coming early: a very bizarre occurrence, knowing that man.

But once that person emerged on top of the steps, Kal immediately straightened up to attention.

«Already awake, my Exarch?»

«I wish.» exarch Stefan answered him with a bitter laugh, motioning him to be at ease. «No, tonight I did not go to sleep either.» He then headed to the parapet and his eyes set on the horizon, but toward the west, opposite the border. In that direction there was only a vast plain, in which a single faraway light shone: a telegraph tower.

Kal easily realized what had kept the Exarch awake all night. Only a scant few days had passed since, through that very telegraph, the news had come that delegate Timios had been arrested, sentenced to death and executed for conspiracy. And a few hours after that, a logothetes had come, directly from Arlis, the capital. Kal hadn’t been present to the meeting between that magistrate and the Exarch: he had heard they had talked about simple tax collection, nothing out of the ordinary, and that the visitor had accepted the host’s generous offer to prolong his stay and enjoy the Rook’s hospitality. However, there were disquieting rumors spreading among the citizens, and throughout the city there was a growing unease.

Kal approached the Exarch. Whatever the truth may be, the expression on the man’s face, adorned by a thin mustache and a short beard, plainly showed that somber thoughts were on his mind. And yet even in that gloomy mood his figure, clad in dark green clothes barely less plain and practical than the uniform Kal was wearing and wrapped in a cloak of the same color, radiated unbending confidence.

«How old are you?» he suddenly asked Kal, turning his attention to the boy. In his deep voice there was a note of sincere curiosity.

«Seventeen, my Exarch.» rispose lui.

«You are young.» the Exarch looked at him with admiration, or at least that was what Kal felt. «What is your name?»

«Kal… I mean, Kalos. Kalos Aregonid.»

«Ah.» the man exclaimed, as if that name had cleared some unuttered question. «I know your father. He must be proud of you.»

The compliment made Kal feel a little embarassed. He managed to only say: «I… I hope he is, my Exarch.»

The Exarch gave him a fatherly smile, so tender and reassuring that the previous harsh seriousness on his face almost seemed to have been a trick of the light. «Is it the first time you’re on watch here at this hour?»

«Uh… Yes, my Exarch.»

«Then come, this morning we will enjoy the spectacle together.»

Having said that, he moved to the opposite side of the tower, looking at the border. «There are clouds too. It will be even better than usual.»

Kal followed his gaze and looked at the place where the sky was changing color. The night’s dark blue gave way to gradually brighter hues against which, little by little, the jagged contours of the Egul Mountains became visible in the distance.

Then it was the clouds’ turn to change color, which they did much faster, while the ground was still dark. At first they grew red, as if a great fire had been lit in the sky. After that they turned rosy, of the color of those precious stones Kal had sometimes seen worn by visiting dignitaries. And then finally they took on a pale golden sheen.

And it was only then that the shimmering globe of the Sun startet to peek from behind the horizon, bathing with its light the top of the tower and of the fortress and revealing the shining white color of its sturdy walls.

Kal turned his gaze downward and watched the light climb down the long shaft of the tower and then spread in every direction: the roofs of Elis lit up of many different colors. The Tuon’s dark furrow became a deep blue. And the vast forest beyond it, now caressed by the Sun as it started to rise in the sky, was an intense green.

The Exarch was right. Kal wouldn’t know how to describe it, if not by using the word “spectacle”.

«No matter how many times I watch it, I never get bored of it.»

He heard Stefan talking to him, but neither looked away from the scene in front of them.

«A fitting reward for a sleepless night, do you not agree?»

---

One glassturn later Barys came, late as usual, to begin his shift, and Kal was free to go rest.

Once he left the Rook, the boy took a moment to look back at it. Seen from below, the building made him feel all its imposing presence. It was the work of architects who lived thousands of years ago, long before the coming of Man. The scholars said that its appearance, a sort of ellipse stretched from east to west with the large circular tower at one extremity rising high over the walls, brought to mind an ancient animal with a long neck and covered in white feathers. Yes, a “swan” if Kal remembered correctly. It had to be a truly majestic creature; if it actually ever really existed, of course.

He heard a door opening and closing behind him. Turning again toward the city, he saw a drowsy-looking woman leaving the house to his left and heading to the building on the opposite side of the road, that had its facade partially covered by a wooden panel. In a little while, that panel would be lifted, showing the merchandise it was covering. The other shopkeepers of the main street, a straight line that connected the Rook to the harbor, were likewise starting to open their stores.

Kal took a right turn and left the main street, passing by a man who carried a large empty sack. Soon, a line of people just like that man would form in front of the Rook, waiting for the monthly distribution of grain. Kal didn’t envy the colleagues assigned to that duty: it was far from rare for disorders to spark during the distribution, and this month they would probably be worse than usual.

But he’d rather not think about it now. He needed to sleep. And to eat something before that.

He knew that taking another right turn he would find the West Wall Tavern, where the food was pretty good, but there was a place he thought was even better, so he kept going straight.

To his left, the walls of the houses prevented sunlight from reaching the alley, except for the narrow intervals between the buildings. They were rich houses, but not extremely so: houses of the kind a family like Kal’s could afford.

He reached the end of the road. After the last two houses he had to turn left. But suddenly, from the second to last house he heard noises. Dry, knocking sounds, repeating and yet devoid of any discernible rhythm.

Kal smiled: he didn’t expect her to be awake already. Breakfast could wait.

He passed through the entrance arch into the square front yard surrounded by walls that separated the house proper from the road. The days the owner was present, he could usually be found there, but at the moment that man was away, stationed far to the north. Right now, the house was in the care of the man’s aged parents, who despite the noise were probably still asleep in their bedroom.

While the source of that noise was right in front of Kal, who watched her silently, careful to not make her lose concentration: the fourth and youngest inhabitant of the house, currently training with the practice dummy that stood near the left wall.

Fyra was wearing loose pants fastened at the ankles and a sleeveless gilek over a white kamisa, clothes that didn’t impede movement, and she had her control band around her forehead. Both her hands and her feet, otherwise naked, were covered in a thin film of silvery metal.

Though she was too far from the dummy for her arm to reach it, the girl moved as if to attack it with the edge of her left hand in a slicing motion. And the blow reached its intended target, as a short blade emerged from her hand, covering the remaining distance. Quickly drawing her arm back and leaving no trace of that blade, Fyra launched a second attack, this time kicking with her right leg. Another blade grew out of her foot and reached the dummy with a dull thud.

At the moment the blades were blunted, but Kal knew they could become sharp as razors and cut flesh and sinews like soft cheese if necessary.

Anyone who was able to use sklerygron had their own specialty: most people psychically shaped it, through a control band, in tools for work, such as hammers, hatchets, hoes.

Then there were those who used it for fighting, and Fyra was among them: she covered her hands and feet with it, turning all four into lethal weapons with a range that was hard to guess for an enemy in the middle of a battle.

Making sklerygron change form almost constantly like she did was harder than it looked, not everyone was able to: Kal himself preferred to turn his armband into a long staff and keep it in that form while fighting. He had heard there were people capable of manipulating it in far more complex patterns, but he had never seen them in person.

Fyra seemed ready to hit the man-shaped dummy a third time, but she instead turned suddenly and saw him. For a single instant she looked startled, but the surprise on her face was immediately replaced by an ominous grin.

«Enjoying what you see, Kal?»

She loved to tease him like that. He opted to ignore her.

«Aren’t you afraid of waking your grandparents?» he asked.

«Of course I do. That’s why I’m making as little noise as I can.»

As she said that last sentence, she started hitting the practice dummy again.

«But, I can’t, help it.» She seemed apologetic as she spoke between attacks: «I, have to keep, training. It keeps me, used, to the feeling.»

Kal thought to himself that it would be much easier to have a conversation if she just stopped for a moment.

But he understood what she meant. In the end, the purpose of training was just that: to get body and mind “used” to each other, to maintain awareness of one’s self, one’s abilities and limits. Before military service, he had always thought training meant memorizing sequences of moves, attacks and counterattacks, like a math problem: “if they move like this, you answer like that” and so on. Reality was a bit more complex: it was less about “answering” and more about knowing how to parry or dodge, limiting damage to a minimum, while at the same time being ready to attack, taking advantage of any opening the opponent presented, without getting bogged down in preconceived patterns.

Fyra’s blows had no regularity, she threw them from ever-changing directions and at wildly varied intervals, making it very hard if not impossible to recognize any pattern. She wasn’t teaching her muscles a precise and predictable series of movements one after the other: each attack was an isolate element, perfectly interchangeable with any other. Her purpose was teaching her mind to get rid of hesitation, while maintaining alertness and focus on the present moment.

Her period of obligatory military service had already ended one year ago by now, and yet she kept training like this every morning.

Kal felt the need to ask, even if he already knew how she would answer: «If you really feel this need to “keep yourself used to the feeling”, Why don’t you join the City Watch?»

«And, be under, the command, of braggarts like Elef? No, thank you.» Fyra said without either turning or stopping.

In his heart, Kal felt she had a point, however he also felt obligated to defend his colleague and superior: «Oh, come on, Elef is a friend: we all grew up together. And, by the way, not everyone is like him.»

This time Fyra stopped her movements, sighing. As the sklerygron on her hands and feet condensed in two bracelets and two anklets, she stepped back from the practice dummy and turned toward Kal, giving him the patient look of somebody who understands they need to be clearer.

«Like him or not, I don’t like being under the command of anyone but myself. Especially when I’m also kept in the dark about what’s really happening.»

Fyra had no sympathy for authority, Kal knew that very well. She had always been like that, ever since they were little. And yet, maybe because of his fatigue after the long night, he took offense to the second part of her answer: «Don’t tell me you believe those rumors now.»

She snorted: «You don’t tell me you really believe the story about the “taxes”.»

«Why shouldn’t I?»

«Because the harvest isn’t over yet! Don’t you think the logothetes came a bit too early, if his purpose was to collect the yearly quota?»

Kal was left momentarily speechless. Fyra wasn’t wrong, actually.

«Well, but maybe that’s the reason he hasn’t left yet.» he said, though, after thinking about it: «He’s waiting for the harvest to be over, and in the meantime he’s enjoying his stay.»

«Oh, sure.» she replied, in a mocking tone: «He must be enjoying it very much, since he never leaves his room and there are two guards in front of his door day and night.»

«Those are for his protection.» Kal said immediately. «And how do you know this anyway?»

Fyra gave him a compassionate smile: «You’re not the only member of the City Watch I talk to, you know? You’re not even the only boy in the City Watch I talk to, just so you know.»

As he heard those words, Kal felt a weird emotion, one he could not really comprehend or describe.

Whatever it was, though, it must have appeared on his face, because Fyra opened her eyes wide, seemingly noticing something in his expression. Then, as if she understood better than he himself what he was feeling, she grinned in her malicious way he knew so well.

«Oh, did I hurt you with that? You really thought you were the only one?»

She got closer, passing a hand through her chestnut hair. Kal instinctively made a step back.

«Even now that you’re taller than me, deep down you’re still the same little kid you were all these years ago.»

Kal didn’t like being reminded of his childhood, the fact he had always been the smallest of their group of friends. And she knew that. Knowing her, he felt he needed to brace himself.

Fyra kept talking, getting ever closer: «Little shy Kal, who is always afraid of making the others angry…»

She put her hands on his shoulders and whispered softly in his ear:

«…and who needs his big sister Fyra all for himself.»

As he expected.

«Don’t joke about this!» Kal drew himself back, as she burst into laughter.

«You should see your face right now!» Fyra said, while she took her breath. «And I am not joking. You wouldn’t have turned red up to your ears if that weren’t the truth! And I’m sure that’s also the reason you want me to join the City Watch! As big and strong as you are, you still want me to be with you and protect you!»

«That’s not true!» Anger and embarassment made Kal feel all the fatigue he had accumulated. He remembered that his plan for the morning was to go eat something and then get home and sleep. And he was more than glad of having remembered that.

«We’ll talk about this some other time. I have to go now.»

«Sure, sure. Why don’t you just admit it? Do so, and maybe I’ll consider your proposal!» she told him while he was already leaving through the arch.

As he put as much distance as he could between himself and that house, Kal thought back to Fyra’s words and the effect they’d had: why did they make him lose his cool like that? Was it because she still treated him like a little kid? Or was it because there was a grain of truth in what she had said, that he didn’t want to admit? Or was it maybe because of both reasons? He wondered: did he really want to be the only boy she talked to? It made no sense, it would be unfeasible. And plus, what was the problem if she treated him like a child? She had always done so.

He felt that if he kept thinking about it he would realize something uncomfortable, so he stopped asking himself useless questions. Luckily, he had just gotten to his destination.