Lucan wiped the sweat off his forehead and adjusted his grip on the training sword. The sun was starting to lower, signifying he'd soon get to rest. Since morning, they had been drilling formations, and his arms ached as if someone had nailed them to his shoulders.
"Again!" barked the drillmaster.
Lucan bit down a groan. Lucan wasn't used to training under someone other than Thorne, this other man had him doing more rigorous physical training. His movements were still stiff but steady and no longer a flailing mess like in the first week. He blocked. He stepped. He struck. Again.
As they broke for water, a few recruits nearby were whispering about something, and then as more people approached, they got louder.
"They say we took Greenreach," one of them said.
"Not just took it but secured a trade treaty. Grain shipments start next week."
Lucan turned. The tension in the courtyard had lifted, and he saw it now; all the soldiers were walking lighter and laughing more freely. Victory had put spring in everyone's step.
"Did Thorne lead the charge?" another asked.
"He must've torn through 'em like a butcher in a henhouse."
Lucan frowned. That part didn't surprise, Thorne had that air, like killing was a language he spoke fluently. What did surprise him was that something like this could happen without the Count of Velmoor getting involved.
"How's that even allowed?" Lucan asked aloud.
One of the older recruits, polishing a spear, shrugged. "Count Caelonder's got bigger problems. Tensions with Goldmere and Falewind, border fortifications, land disputes, and who gets to tax what road. He's not paying attention to two lords smacking each other over the price of grain."
Lucan rubbed the back of his neck. Since arriving in this world, he'd done nothing but train, wake up, eat, fight, and sleep. He hadn't learned a single thing about the land, the power structures, or even the people he might be fighting for.
"God, I'm an idiot," he muttered.
After supper, his legs were jelly, but his mind buzzed too much to sleep. He remembered there was supposed to be a library somewhere. Naturally, none of the soldiers had a clue.
"The what?" one muttered.
"What are you looking for, bedtime stories?" another replied.
He eventually spotted a maid carrying linens and flagged her down.
"Is there a library in the keep?"
She looked amused. "There's one. For the training wing, anyway."
She led him down a narrow hall, behind a side door, and into a cramped, dusty room that could've passed as a closet. The air was thick and smelled of parchment and boots.
Lucan blinked at the shelves, half empty. "That's it?"
The maid grinned. "The real one's in the main keep. You'd need special permission."
He sighed. "Figures. Emberlily's got the efficiency of a fast-food chain. Cut corners anywhere and everywhere."
The maid raised an eyebrow.
"Never mind," Lucan said quickly, stepping inside. He ran a finger along the book spines, pulling one free at random. "History of the County of Velmoor, may as well start at home."
He dropped into a stiff wooden chair and began to read. The words were dry and formal, but slowly they started to paint a picture of holds and roads, of noble houses and old battles. Emberkeep wasn't a backwater. It was considered a useful military hold, not for its standing army, but because it trained many of the soldiers that filled Velmoor's armies and, sometimes, the kingdom's army.
Lucan leaned back and exhaled. The world outside the sword was vast. Maybe it was time to start learning how to live in it.
Lucan turned another page, deep in his reading. Greenreach was a farming hold, that much he knew. It had seas of grain, windmills, and old roads dotted with granaries. It produced food in amounts the other holds envied. So why, then, why did Ryswald, the man in charge, sound like a pampered brat? That didn't sound like a farmer or even the son of one. There was nothing about him or his family in the book, so his arrival must be a new event. He put it in the back of his mind to ask about later.
The candle on the table had burned low when the door creaked open. The dim light from the hall was swallowed as a figure stepped into the frame.
Lucan looked up.
One of the female attendants stood there. "Lady Lyra has requested you."
He blinked, surprised, then nodded and rose, stiff from sitting. He realized he hadn't seen Lyra once since he began training nearly three weeks ago. Not even in passing. It reminded him too much of before, of how easy it was for him to disappear into routine, into obsession. Back then it had been ambition. Now it was... he stopped himself in his thought.
He followed the attendant through the halls and out into the keep's garden. The night was cool, and the moon hung low, glowing silver across the hedges and stone paths.
"Lucan has arrived, my lady," the attendant announced.
Lady Lyra sat on a marble bench beneath a willow tree, framed in moonlight. She looked serene at first glance, but as Lucan stepped closer, he noticed her chin in her hand, her eyes wandering with the bored gaze of someone trapped in a quiet life.
She perked up when she heard the attendant's words, standing quickly. Lucan bowed lightly.
"You called for me?" he asked.
Lyra looked puzzled and opened her mouth to say something, then glanced sideways at the older man standing a few paces behind her. That must be her butler, Lucan guessed. The man gave a single nod to Lyra.
Lyra's face turned a little sour. She crossed her arms and let out a quiet "hmph."
"Well," she said, "when were you going to visit me if I hadn't?"
Lucan blinked. "Ah, I hadn't really thought about it."
She raised an eyebrow.
He scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "I've been training. A lot. It's kind of… all I've done. I guess I didn't realize how much time had passed."
It hit him again that this was just like before. Tunnel vision, losing track of people while chasing progress. That had cost him a lot in his old life. He didn't want to make the same mistake again.
He glanced at Lyra, really looked at her. "You must be bored, stuck here all day."
She didn't answer, but she didn't need to.
"I'll visit you once a week," he said. "Promise."
That earned a smile, small but genuine. "Good."
They sat together in the garden. The wind rustled through the trees as they talked, moonlight spilling through the branches.
"So," Lucan said, "your father won the skirmish at Greenreach, huh?"
Lyra nodded. "He didn't just win. He embarrassed Ryswald and locked in a trade deal for grain."
Lucan chuckled, then leaned forward. "Can I ask something?"
Lyra looked over and nodded.
"How does someone like Ryswald end up running a farming hold? I mean, the guy doesn't scream agriculture to me."
Lyra smirked. "He's not from Greenreach originally. His father is Lord of Brindlewatch, a prosperous city in Goldmere County. Ryswald's his firstborn, but his father wanted to get rid of him, is the rumor I heard."
"Wait, that sounds like a step up, not a punishment."
"It wasn't meant as one. At least, not officially. But word is his father wanted to pass Brindlewatch to his second son. So… Ryswald was given Greenreach as an 'honor' that removed him from the succession line."
Lucan let out a low whistle. "That explains a lot."
"Politics," Lyra muttered. "It's all just a game."
Lucan leaned back, looking up at the stars. "Then I guess I should start learning the rules of the game. I'm pretty good at them, you know."
Lyra glanced at him sideways. "I'm not sure cats and crows is the same as politics."
Lucan remembered she wouldn't know the games he was good at. "I make a pretty good cat, I'd say," he followed up with to make some light of it.
Suddenly a voice came from the side.
"Cats are diligent, nimble, and precise," Veyne said evenly. "Which you still lack, but I commend your progress, young man."
Lucan blinked. "Thanks."
Lyra stifled a laugh.