Riven held his new sword in his hands, examining it closely—he had nothing better to do. The handle was made of a common metal alloy and had a rough texture. It felt sturdy, reliable in his grip. The sword had a thin, short crossguard; at first glance, it would seem useless, but the way Riven used a sword differed from the usual. He prioritized speed and precision over strength, often manipulating his movements in weird, almost unnatural ways. A longer, heavier crossguard would shift the center of gravity and limit his movements, so he preferred to have none.
His father, however, insisted that having something was better than having nothing.
Riven smiled, thanking his father in his mind.
Pulling the sword out of its simple, hard sheath, he gazed upon the shining blade. The craftsmanship amazed him. It looked sharp—incredibly so—like it could cut air itself. The blade was exactly how Riven liked it: slightly shorter than a typical longsword, the form almost resembling a rapier with how thin it was. Despite its looks, it was probably extremely durable. Riven recognized the metal and knew which smith had forged the blade—it was a family friend who would come over for dinner from time to time. He and Riven were quite close.
The fact that he didn't come to say goodbye would've made Riven sad—if it wasn't for the fact that he was just holding a modern masterpiece crafted specifically to his needs by that same friend. Even the metal used was an expensive one, tainted by energies not of this world.
Riven quietly thanked him and thought about his immediate future. As a knight-in-training, he—along with several others—would be assigned to a combat group under a true knight. After earning enough merit, he would gain the right to become a true knight himself and lead soldiers to victory in this cruel war.
He sheathed the sword and looked outside the window. The grass was greener, and the sky was clearer as they got closer to the castle and further from the battlefronts.
'I wonder if our town will become this pretty and colorful when the war ends.'
Riven got lost in thought, and before he even noticed, he had already arrived in the capital city—and thus, the castle.
After stepping off the carriage and thanking the coachman, he was approached by a tall gentleman wearing a uniform. He was instructed on where to go and where he would sleep while at the castle. He was also told to gather at the main courtyard in an hour.
Riven nodded and, without asking questions, left. He was filled with excitement at finally making it—at taking the first step to truly becoming a knight.
He soon arrived at his designated room and noticed two other boys standing in the middle, arguing about something. He moved closer, not wishing to intrude, but also wanting to hear what it was they were arguing about so soon after arriving.
"Listen here, you little shit, I was here first, so I get the top bed," the taller boy with auburn hair spoke in an assertive tone—as if speaking to someone of lower standing... literally.
"I don't care who was here first. I thought we had an agreement before coming here that I would get the top bed, and you would figure it out with the other guys," the shorter boy replied angrily.
Riven listened to them argue for a few moments before letting out an exhausted breath and simply walking past them to the bottom bunk. He calmly sat down and placed his sword next to his leg while still holding onto the bottom of its handle with one hand.
The two boys both stared at him, bewildered, before the taller one said, "And what the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?"
The new black-haired boy didn't seem to want to answer. He just shrugged.
"Alright, enough of this shit. You're gonna get off that bed before I make you," he said, his jaw clenched, much like his fist. He took a step toward Riven—but as soon as he was in range, Riven unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his head, the blade stopping just before his eyes, cutting off a small amount of hair.
The blade moved so fast neither of the boys had time to react. Even the wind moved with a small delay.
"This bed is mine, and unless you can convince me otherwise, you can get that one." Riven pointed at the lower bed of the other bunk.
The tall guy froze for a moment before bursting with laughter.
"I can tell that we'll be great friends!"
The shorter one came up to Riven and offered him his hand. "I'm Nicolaus, and that idiot is Roger. Glad to meet you."
Riven looked at him and gave him a warm smile.
"I'm Riven. Glad to meet you both."
He shook his hand firmly, his intense gaze piercing through Nicolaus, making him shiver. Riven lingered for a moment before letting go of his hand and shaking Roger's hand.
"Looks like we'll be serving together." A fourth voice sounded from a shaded corner of the room. A shiver ran down the spines of the other boys. They all turned toward the new voice at the same time.
"Since we're introducing ourselves… I'm Allen. Pleasure to meet you."
They all started laughing.
"The pleasure is ours," they all said in unison as they looked at each other and let out another loud laugh.
"So, Allen…" Nicolaus began, but Allen cut him off.
"No chance. The other top bed is mine. You'll be sleeping under me—unless you wish to settle this another way."
Riven looked at him with a smirk. Allen nodded in response.
"Ah, whatever. I wanted to be at the bottom anyway," Nicolaus said in a subdued, defeated tone, almost pouting.
After the four put their equipment away, they headed out toward the main courtyard, where they were told to gather.
"Do you really think we'll end up in the same unit?" Roger asked, a nervous edge in his voice.
Allen shrugged. "Probably. Not like it matters."
"Yeah. We'll still be stuck with each other either way," Riven replied.
For a second, no one said anything—then all of them chuckled.
Soon they were standing on the rough sand in front of the knights. The knights-in-training were standing in perfectly straight lines, waiting to be assigned their unit and captain. The trainees had already been waiting for half an hour without anyone speaking a single word. The heat was starting to get to them when suddenly a strong pressure pressed down on them, and a tall, broad man clad in armor walked out into the courtyard and stood before all the trainees.
The other knights stood in a way that paid respect to the person in charge.
It was one of the army's generals, a warrior and a hero who served the Knights of the Roundtable directly.
It was Sir Lucan.
Seeing him in person made Riven shiver.
Sir Lucan stood on a raised platform above the trainees. To his left and right, the other knights gathered, also looking down, awaiting his orders.
"I greet you all and welcome you to the castle. As of this moment, you are servants of Britania's military force. You are the greatest talents this country has to offer—but make no mistake: you are all expendable.
"You will be sent on missions which you aren't expected to survive. But if you do survive, and you bring glory to the Knight King, you will be rewarded. You will be granted the title of knight and will attain the chance to become transcendent."
The trainees were quiet, but each of them could feel the flame of ambition burning within them, as if the words spoken by Sir Lucan weren't mere words.
Sir Lucan looked up from the trainees, lingered for a moment, turned around, and slowly left—as if the entire ceremony bored him beyond words.
A younger, more frail-looking man dressed in simple court robes took his place and unwrapped a parchment.
"I will now announce the individual unit groupings. Once the entire group has been called, you may leave with your unit captain. They will have further instructions for you."
He looked at the knights before returning his gaze to the trainees.
"Sir Ewain will lead Unit 48, which includes trainee Aldric Halwen, trainee Branric Vale, trainee Cedric Marrow, and trainee Elric Dorne."
Riven looked around and saw that the four mentioned trainees were being led out of the courtyard by a young knight of smaller stature.
Time was passing slowly, with neither Riven's nor his friends' names being brought up. The group numbers were getting lower and lower.
"Sir Dinadan will lead Unit 12, which includes trainee Garen Thorne, trainee Luthen Crowl, trainee Meric Faelwyn, and trainee Rowen Cael."
Riven tried to hide his yawning, but it was getting harder as more and more trainees kept leaving. Soon, it was only him and his three new friends left.
"Sir Gareth will lead Unit 0, which includes trainee Nicolaus Thorm, trainee Roger Thorm, trainee Riven Livehardt, and lastly, trainee Percival Pellinor."
Riven froze for a moment, almost recalling something. It was a weird feeling, but it was quickly washed away. He looked toward Allen—Percival—and saw the Thorm brothers also staring at him. They looked betrayed, but Riven paid them little to no attention. He didn't feel betrayed—he was shocked and in awe without even knowing why.
Percival turned to him and gave him a small smile, as if mocking him for not figuring it out sooner.
Almost immediately, a tall man clad in armor appeared before them.
"Welcome to Unit 0. We are the ones who get to do all the dirty work that no one else is qualified to do."
He smiled at the four trainees and started walking toward the castle gate.
The man who had been announcing the unit groupings had already left.
The four trainees were confused as to why they were walking toward the castle and not away from it, like all the other units—but they soon followed behind their new captain.