Once again, I stand outside the Center Hall, staring at large signs proclaiming the team registration areas. My team is gathered around me, some more awake than others at the early hour. Alana insisted we leave early to avoid the crowd. That failed. Every initiate in the Hall must be here, likely with the same plan. Saints, the people at the front of the three lines must have been here at dawn.

“Fuck!” Arthur swears. After the drunken dare to let us cut his hair, he looks much cleaner. A woman of the male persuasion might call him handsome but the visage is ruined the moment he opens his mouth. “You pulled me out of bed for nothing! Could have come whenever we wanted if we’re going to wait anyway.”

“We’re here now,” Alana says. “Let’s get in line. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can relax.” Her voice is tired but that’s understandable. I only meant for our ‘training’ to get everyone familiar with one another and working with a bit of cohesion.

Being the strict knight-to-be, Alana took it to a new level, insisting on running drills and playing through mock scenarios. Grew into her role giving commands quickly after her drunken mishap, which she again claims to not remember. Real convenient.

“I’m not waiting an hour to put my name on a piece of paper!”

“Hey!” Alana swears softly as Arthur stomps toward the closest line. Marthe is the first to follow him with a bored expression. William drags his feet after them, used to his friend causing trouble. “That idiot.”

“Relax,” I say, hooking her arm with mine as she tries to rush forward. I walk leisurely and she’s forced to match my pace. “Isn’t it a good thing if Arthur can clear the way? I don’t want to stand out here all morning either.”

“Except for the fact that he’s likely to start a fight with everyone to do it,” she grumbles. “Do you think we’ll be disqualified if one of our teammates is banned from the Hall?”

“You’re being ridiculous. They’re not going to punish us for something he does. Besides, he’s made it a full year without getting kicked out. Even if he was, would it be that much of a loss?”

“It would. You may be enough when it comes to combat but he has an important role. You are the vanguard, I give the orders, and he guards our rear. I’m not good at defense. If I’m forced to look after Marthe and William, I’m going to be overstretched and all three of us will be vulnerable.”

“You’re forgetting my elementals.”

“Weren’t you the one who said that we’re all being evaluated individually?”

“Heard it from Miss Alyssa personally.”

“Then having Geo and Bell swoop in to save the day isn’t going to do our team any favors. We have to work together and part of that means controlling Arthur.” She jabs me with her elbow. “You said I give the orders. Here’s one. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I grin at her. “That’s all you had to say. Bell.”

The imp who has been quietly following behind us rushes forward. With a powerful leap, she latches onto Arthur’s back, climbing onto his shoulders. He tries to shake her off but quickly settles down with a string of muttered curses, having already learned not to pick fights with my succubi. “Oi! Get out of the way!”

He's kicking up quite a fuss. Most of the initiates shrink away from the rude seaman, balking at the promise of violence in his sneer and tense shoulders, but there are a good number who glare at his passing back. They shy away from the confrontation, not him. I have a feeling if unsanctioned duels weren’t frowned upon, they would have already spilled blood. Arthur clearly doesn’t care about the consequences.

Sometimes, the man who’s willing to lose the most comes out on top.

“Halt!”

Arthur’s tyrannical push to the front of the line is brought to an abrupt stop as a group detaches from further up the line.

What a heroic figure. The man, or should I say boy because there is no way he’s over 18 with the baby fat n his face, has an impressive height and strong, square features taken right from a bard’s song. His golden skin and curly brown hair make me think he’s from the west, near the Rosefield duchy.

I don’t think he grew up farming though. Standing in front of Arthur, he’s got the confidence of someone accustomed to violence or trained for it. His loose beige shirt and dark trousers blend into the crowd but my eye used to noble extravagance can tell that they’re made of a better quality, speaking to money.

Combined with the way he confronts Arthur, I’m going to guess he’s the son of a knight. Low noble house. A high noble wouldn’t be bothered with the comings and goings of those beneath them. The four people behind him look like proper followers. Not a single one of them looks perturbed giving up their place and are ready to support Mr. Hero completely.

Alana drags me along as she speeds up. I don’t fight her but I bet we’ve got different motivations. I’m interested in what promises to be a good show.

“Hah?” If Arthur was a dog, his hackles would be raised and his teeth would be bared as he takes in the newcomer. “Look what the deep washed up.” He licks his lips in anticipation as he steps into the wannabe hero’s personal space. “A hero. Heh, I love heroes. They always beg the loudest.”

“I am Robert Quintana, son of Manuel Reis Quintana. Identify yourself, cretin.”

“Ha! Arthur, son of the Deep Dread, not that his name means anything to a mudlegs like you. I’ve seen ponds that could swallow you up. Get out of my way before you get hurt.”

“The way you speak. A man from Graywatch, I bet. My teacher spoke of those like you.”

“Oh. Must have met a grayman in a dark alley one night. Sure he had quite the tale, eh?”

Robert grimaces at the implication. “He described the entire city as a breeding ground for criminals and morally bankrupt men of opportunity. However, this is the Grand Hall. Your presence here means you aspire to be more than what you were exposed to. All men have greatness in them but it must be cultivated. Turn to the path of the saints, Arthur. We, loyal citizens of the crown, are all comrades, and there is no need to quarrel amongst one another. Take your place in line and wait your turn.”

“…hah? Are you dumb? What I want is for you to get out the way, idiot. Why don’t you take your place in line and get out of my way before I send you to meet your precious saints.”

The boy, or Robert, huffs, squaring his shoulders. “As my teacher says, all men can walk the path of the saints…but some must be dragged.” His eyes begin to glow.

“Finally! If you wanted a fight, you should have—gahhh!!”

His words are choked off as Bell wraps her tail around his neck and yanks him backward. Arthur desperately claws at his throat as he backpedals. He trips over his own feet and hits the ground hard, squirming like a fish pulled from the water as he tries to get the imp off.

“Stay down, Arty,” I say as Alana and I step past him. My turn to face the pillar of righteousness. Or it would have been but Alana is faster, slipping free of my arm. She inclines her head toward him.

“Alana James. My teammate has caused you trouble.”

The way he looks down on her makes me grit my teeth. “I’ve heard of you. You’re quite famous amongst the initiates. Along with another.” He looks past her to me. I wave but he doesn’t respond, retuning his gaze to Alana.

“I expected more. If you’re going to align yourself with these people, I would expect you to be a positive influence, not to sink to their level.”

Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘these people’? I should break his jaw for daring to compare me to the talking human waste struggling to breathe behind me.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Return to the back of the line and take your dog with you.”