He suddenly didn't seem too sure about his decision to join the army. As a lazy and quiet lad, he would never fit in among these men.

"It's not common to join the Academy in the middle of the year, but a patrol picked up this gifted lad, and it would have been a shame to let him wait another eight moons," Lieutenant Stephen explained.

Thank the Gods! It was neither a lie nor the full truth, and if these men were going to ask questions, he would just say he was from Doe Hill. He didn't want to be associated with Seb. In the army, he could just be Nick, not Lord Sebastian's friend.

"Is he even eleven?" The beefy Serjeant asked. He too had a strange haircut, with braids like rows of corn that had been woven close to the scalp.

"He is, Serjeant Jasper. We haven't completely lost our senses, despite what you may accuse us of." The Lieutenant glanced at Nick and smiled widely. "I guess he's just small for his age. You lads seemed like the most decent of all the scum, so we selected you to teach him the tricks of the trade. Make me proud, patrol seventeen. I know you have it in you to give him a warm welcome."

"We will. It'll be good to have another Cadet in the patrol, Lieutenant." The patrol leader bumped his elbow into a young teen with short strawlike hair. "Won't it?"

"I won't be the youngest anymore." After raising his fist in victory, the Cadet took a step forward, breaking the line. "And I'll have someone to go to the Academy with. I'm Victor, by the way, but you can call me Vic." He stretched out his hand, which Nick accepted.

"Introductions... right..." The patrol leader guffawed. He pointed at the beefy Serjeant with the cornrow hair. "That grumpy face over there is Jasper. He has his good moments too, though they are sparse." His finger wiggled as he moved to the long man with black hair, and the two younger soldiers who were so glued to each other that the concept of personal space must be foreign to them. "Then we have our lethal forces: Sam, Eric, and Dan. Vic's a Cadet too. Oh, and I'm Bart."

"He's the brain. We're the brawn." The slick-haired soldier named Eric flexed his arm.

"Chicken breasts, loser." Jasper crossed his arms, showing off his broad arms through his uniform. Not even King Thomas had muscles this big.

"Nice to meet you all." The God of Diligence kept Nick from staring at the ground. "I'm Nicolas, but Nick is fine. I guess I'll be part of the brain team too."

"Can we call you Nicky?" Dan asked. "There's another Nick in our training group, and it'll get confusing otherwise. And you're smaller than him so..." He shrugged.

"I g-guess." That name had been reserved to Mother in the past, and though he didn't look forward to getting reminded of her every single day, sacrifices would have to be made to forge new friendships.

"That's settled then." Lieutenant Stephen gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Now scram, lads! Your duties, classes, and training sessions are waiting."

Nick didn't get the chance to see where the others were heading to. Vic was very quick to grab his bag and boss him around. "Follow me, Nicky. I know the way. It's a shame the afternoon sessions are cancelled because normally we train together as a patrol. But I guess an announcement from His Majesty is exciting too. What do you think he'll announce? Bart and Sam don't wanna say anything, but they were guarding the eastern gate a few days ago, and apparently, they were the ones who found Lord Sebastian and saved him. Since then, the city has been buzzing with rumours. It's huge news, Nicky! People were worried that there was no heir. But now there is, and..."

Even if Nick wanted, he couldn't manage a word in between Vic's jabbering. He just nodded in understanding and feigned surprise if needed. Fox's yammering about wanting to be the best warrior in the world suddenly seemed heavenly. At least he was being ambitious about something, instead of sounding like a travelling merchant.

Relief came as soon as they entered through the broad Greenlander green door of the three-storey building that was Royal Military Academy for Cadets. In contrast to Sunstone Castle, the interior was sober. There was only one marble statue in the hallway that otherwise consisted mostly of a large staircase that could easily guide the flow of dozens of young men at once.

"We're having Greenlander history. The Captain teaches that," Vic whispered. "He's very strict. I don't know how anyone ever passes his tests. And he's insanely smart too. Rumour has it he knows all three thousand men by name."

"Not all rumours are true."

Vic opened one of the sober stained glass doors, all portraying the Greenlander sycamore. Behind it was a relatively small room with seven rows of benches and tables. At the front stood the Captain with a thick book in his hands. "Well... well... look who Sloth dragged in."

"Lieut–" Vic began.

"I'm not interested in your cheap excuses. Sit down." The Captain didn't need to raise his voice to demonstrate his displeasure. He turned the page of his book. "You too, Cadet Nicolas. There's still room here on the second row, next to Cadet Victor."

"I told you, he knows everyone's name," Vic whispered as Nick took place next to a pudgy teen with a giant pimple on his nose.

"Since you're so keen on chattering like a fishmonger's wife, Cadet Victor, would you be able to tell your comrades all you know about General Nathaniel?"

"Erm... he's the one downstairs, isn't he?" Vic's face grimaced in a thinking pain. He scratched the back of his head "No, he's called Nigel. I just saw."

"I can tell." Nick wanted to help his new friend. He had read the tale countless times in Laneby. "He was the General of King Gerald the second. The magician General is what he is known as."

"Cadet Nicolas. I don't care what hole you came crawling from, but here at the Academy you don't speak unless spoken to." The Captain still had his eyes on the book. He cleared his throat. "But do continue. Show your comrades that farmer boys are more clever than they look."

Nick rubbed the sweat from his palms to his trousers. It was very humiliating how the Captain was treating him, and not in the good sense of the word, like he was no more than that mad Scorian magician that King Thomas had decapitated the evening before. "The year was 1014 or 1015–I don't remember. There had been a long drought. Cattle was dying and many people too. Crops were scarce. It just needed to rain."

The pudgy teen rolled his eyes, but Nick continued. "So he used magic to steer the clouds and bring heavy rain showers to a dying land. Sadly, it flooded."

"A big sin, Cadet Nicolas. Don't make it seem like Nathaniel had no choice." The Captain slammed the thick book on the table in front of him, causing the Cadet with curly brown hair to gasp in response. "King Gerald caught Nathaniel red-handed and sentenced him to die. The edge of the blade had been mere inches from the General's neck when he lashed out and killed his own King. Since the young Prince Ronald was too young to succeed his father, the Magician General took his place as regent, and ruled both crown and army."

Nick nodded. What followed had been one of the bloodiest civil wars in the history of The Greenlands, in which a temporary alliance of town warriors finally defeated an already divided army nearly a year later. The Magician General had been killed with an iron arrow shot from the roof of the temple; iron was the only material that didn't conduct magic, and thus the perfect weapon against magicians.

"For the rest of this class, I want you to read the history of General Nathaniel. You can find feathers and papers in the closet at the back. By tomorrow I expect a thousand-word essay on the events leading to his downfall." The Captain cast his piercing eyes at Nick. "I hope you can write, farmer boy."

"I do. La–" So close to betraying himself, though he wasn't sure how many people would link Lady Karen to Laneby, and knew that she was Seb's mother. "Lately I haven't been writing much, but I think I'll get the hang of it soon again. You can never really unlearn it–it's like riding a horse."

"I didn't ask for your life's story, Cadet Nicolas. I asked for an essay. There are spare books in the back too."

For the rest of the afternoon, Nick read the chapter on the Magician General and much more than that. He couldn't stop at one chapter, when the others dove into exciting topics like the never-ending battles of the southern cities with the Islanders, and King Andrew's heroic final stand against the Silvermarkers at the foot of Whitepeak Mountain.

By the time the Captain announced lunchtime, he hadn't written a single word, but he wasn't worried. He could always finish that tonight in his chamber, without the song of nearly fifty scratching feathers to distract his thoughts.

Nick trailed alongside Vic, and with him a large group of Cadets, that were heading towards the northern part of the city. All of them turned into a street that comprised a single stone building on the right side and a slightly smaller one on the left that had the same stone walls.

"That's the lunch barrack." Vic smiled at him. "We get a free meal every day, but during times of war, the army kitchen is able to provide breakfast and dinner too. Though that hasn't happened in over fifty years."

"I know. A decision taken by King Andrew. I've just read it."

All Cadets entered the bigger building, which revealed a single room that was as chaotically disciplined as an ant's nest. Against the walls echoed the buzzing noises of too many people chattering while scraping the last bits from their plates.

Nick waited in line with the rest of the lads. Despite the large number of people, it didn't take long before he was standing in front of a petite old lady who scooped a mountain of brown mush into a round tin container. She spared him no glance as she handed him the peculiar plate, nor did she seem to care that it was so hot that his fingers burned.

Balancing the container into his hands, he waited for Vic to receive his portion, which, thankfully, didn't take too long.

"You may think this is all chaos, Nicky, but there's a certain logic to where we are seated, so you'll always find us in the same position, in between the second and third pillar, because we are part of the second legion. From there on, you just have to check the table numbers. They correspond with the number of our patrol." Vic held his container with the sleeve of his army jacket, which caused the oily sauce to splatter onto the fabric with every step he took.

Pain or a clean uniform. Nick shrugged and mimicked his comrade. There were plenty of servants in the castle who could wash and iron his clothes. "That's seventeen, right?"

"Yeah."

The first table behind the second pillar was marked with the number three in large white letters on the deep brown wood. Six teenagers sat on the left side, five others a bit further on the right, next to a large number four.

"There, by the window." Vic jutted his chin towards the barred window under which Jasper's cornrows were bathing in sunlight.

The Serjeant stared at his spoon in disgust. After taking a minuscule bite, he splashed the content of his container in Dan's. 

"Great. The Captain did release you two after all," Bart said when they had arrived by the table. "How did you like it, Nicky?"

"It was alright." He squeezed at the edge of the table, in between Jasper and a table-leg. It would be unfair to compare the army lunch to the exquisite banquet at the castle, but he sure hoped that the mush was better than it looked.

He stuck his spoon into the container and scooped up a mouthful. A creamy texture that was a tad too oily for his liking, but the somewhat sweet taste made up for that. All in all, it wasn't worse than some of Mother's experiments with scraps and leftovers.

"You don't have to pretend to like it, Nicky. Everyone knows the food is horrible." Jasper snorted. "Just give everything you don't wanna eat to Dan. He's our personal trash heap."

"And it's for a good cause too," Eric added. "Dan doesn't get a lot of food at home."

"Eric," Dan said through his teeth. "It's Nicky's first day. He's not interested in other people's problems."

"But did you get anything to eat at all yesterday evening or this morning?"

"No." He lowered his head as he moved the top of his mush hill to the side of his plate. "This time I really tried to hide the extra coins I got, but Father keeps on finding them. He's a drunk, but a very smart drunk."

Nick swallowed his food. "Maybe because you put it where he hides his flasks?"

He had seen that before. Right before the summer, George had stolen a bottle of brandy from the tavern. Mother had only found out about when she tried to stash a present for Father under the same loose plank in Abby's bedroom. 

"What?" Dan cocked his head.

"Oh, Nicky is very clever," Vic said with a mouthful of food. "He's definitely part of the brain team."

"Good, because you aren't." Jasper reached for the jug of water at the centre of the table.

"Jas!" Bart spoke up.

The patrol leader was carefully ignored by his assistant, who filled his cup. "Honestly, Vic, do I even wanna know how bad your grades are?"

"They're getting better." Vic avoided the Serjeant's gaze by staring into his nearly full container.

"Yeah, thirty percent is better than twenty, but still a failing grade." Jasper sniffed.

"Maybe Nicky can help, Vic. He might be able to explain the courses in ways that Jas and I can't." Bart briefly glanced at Nick before turning back to the other Cadet. "And it would benefit the both of you. While you get the revision you need, Nicky can catch up with everything he missed."

"But I can't tonight." Nick's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't any of the evenings. Not if he wanted to look after Billy, and eat dinner with the royal family, and spend time with Alex and Seb. Oh, and there was still that essay–possibly the first of many tasks he had to do at home.

Oh Gods, he really had to abandon Sloth and embrace the God of Diligence.

"We could do it on the day of Temperance, I guess." Vic bit his lip as he nodded. "Shall I come to your place, Nicky? Or you to mine?"

"I'll come to yours." Nick's answer came so quickly that it needed a good explanation to keep the questions at bay. "My guardian–he's a very busy man. There are always people coming in and going out, though I don't always know what they are discussing all the time, and why he has so many documents to read. In short, it's not a quiet place. So, yours sounds better."

"Sure. Do you know the Captain's house by the eastern gates?" Vic asked, not a trace of disbelief in his voice, to which Nick nodded. "It's five more houses to the north. My mother always keeps flowers in a bright yellow vase by the window. You can't miss it."

After lunch, the entire barracks went in a nearly stagnant flow towards the main square. The closer they got, the slower they seemed to move. From all over, men, women, and children got out of their houses and joined the crowd.

The news of the King's announcement had travelled fast.

A divine intervention must have occurred to fit every last person on the square. Especially for the occasion, the stairs leading to the castle had been turned into a large wooden construction that would place the royal family at the same height as the highest step. Finally, Nick understood what books had been referring to when they mentioned a stage.

"Bart!" Sam called for the patrol leader, who immediately turned around. "Do you think we'll be able to stand near the sundial? I'm afraid the little ones won't be able to see much otherwise."

"Hey!" Dan pounded the tall soldier's arm. "We can't all be the size of a beanpole or a rake."

"Shut up, Dan," Vic moaned. "Can we, Bart? I wanna behold Alana's beauty. I want to have an image of her imprin–"

Jasper cupped his massive hand over the Cadet's mouth. "Not this puppy love again. My stomach is still turning from the army food, but your bleating is making me wanna hurl. She'll never be yours. Face the fact."

Nick chuckled. The Serjeant was harsh, but he spoke the truth. Vic didn't stand a chance, not in a million years, but at least he didn't have to break the bad news to him. Tonight he would have to ask Princess Alana if she knew how many secret admirers like Vic she had.

"I don't think the sundial is an option anymore. Too many children already." Bart pointed at the temple instead, upon the roof of the extended first floor already stood a few of the younger patrols. "Those that wish to climb the lean-to can do so, but remember that His Majesty and the General will be able to see you. So behave, please."

"Yow the bewst, Bawt," Vic mumbled.

"Ugh, you're disgusting." Jasper let go with a grunt. He wiped his drool-filled hand to Vic's already stained army jacket. Hopefully, he had servants too, or a mother or sisters who liked to wash.

Next to the temple stood other big and strong soldiers or Serjeants that hoisted the younger army men onto a statue of the God of Diligence whose books served as the perfect stepping stone to climb onto the roof.

Nick did so, along with Vic, Dan, and Eric. He wasn't worried that General George and King Thomas would be able to see him. In fact, he couldn't wait for Seb to gawk at his face in the distance. This morning Lord Sebastian had been the secret watcher, and now the roles would be reversed.

The steady chattering of the crowd fell silent as seven trumpets introduced the General and the Captain escorting the royal ladies. They stood in line about halfway on stage, General George next to Princess Alana, Captain Jonathan next to Queen Crystal. Behind them followed a string of Lieutenants and servants, including Alex who wore a dress in light and deep green that looked even prettier than the one she had been wearing the day before.

"Isn't Princess Alana just dreamy?" Vic whispered. "She looks like a Goddess."

"Yeah, she sure is a special one." Nick smiled. Not a lie, but he wasn't gonna talk more. His castle life and his army life would have to be two separate worlds.

As the trumpets played their tune a second time, King Thomas walked on stage. Everywhere on the square people lowered to the ground and kneeled. Even the soldiers and Cadets who were standing behind Nick sunk to their knees and lowered their head. None of his comrades sitting on the first row moved, apart from their gaze cast on their crossed legs, so Nick did nothing either.

"All rise!" the General bellowed. It was the loudest he had ever seen the normally quiet man be.

King Thomas waited for the majority of the mass to rise back to their feet. He rubbed his hands, then hid them behind his back. "People of Sundale, today I bring you news–personal, family news that impacts all of you. The circumstances are not what I would have wanted to be, but our Gods work in mysteries ways; day after day, they can surprise you with all the hardships they throw at you. We must all be chaste, temperate, charitable, diligent, patient, kind, and above all, show humility because the Gods are powerful and they dictate the course of life."

He glanced over his shoulder at the precise moment that Seb appeared through the door in a smaller copy of the greyish black uniform that his uncle was wearing. "It is with both happiness and terrible pain that I confirm the rumours that you have heard in the streets, on the market square, in the shops, and your favourite taverns. Yes, I have lost my brother–my childhood friend–but gained you all an heir. Kneel with me, Ladies and Gentleman, for your future King. My nephew, the one and only, Crown Prince Sebastian."

The same ritual as before was repeated, with the only difference that the King himself sunk to his knees and bowed as well. Nick lowered his head too, but still kept his eyes on Seb, who froze at the sight of the swarm of people honouring him.

"All rise!" the General yelled.

The King put his hand on Seb's shoulder and nodded. A signal.

For what?

Seb opened his mouth but, unlike his uncle, the words didn't come out. His eyes scanned the crowd, revealing a fear foreign to Nick.

"He's scared," Nick said, more to himself than the ears eavesdropping in.

 "Yeah," Eric said. "It's no wonder. Did you hear what he went through? Apparently, he took a dead girl with him all the way from his hometown to here. Just as proof so the King would believe him. I would go mad if I had to do that."

"Same. That's disturbing," said a Cadet that Nick recognised from the Academy, but whose name he didn't know. "We should do something. Can you imagine standing there with all those eyes looking at you? I already hate it when the officers make us recite stuff in front of the classroom. And that's only fifty people."

"We'll get in trouble." Nick tried to be the voice of reason, but his insides screamed that he should help instead of gloat. He was far from forgiving Seb for missing Abby's funeral, but he couldn't stand by and watch his friend suffer. He needed that familiar face in the crowd. "But I'm new, both in the army and in Sundale. And I'm a stupid farmer boy. I don't know all the rules. You lot can blame me for this."

"Nicky, what are you gonna do?" Vic jerked at Nick's army trousers as he got up.

Nick raised his fist in the air and shouted with all the strength that the God of Diligence gave him. "Hail Lord Sebastian!"

Seb immediately shot his eyes towards the temple roof. The entire crowd seemed to disappear into nothingness as Nick grinned at his friend and nodded, his signal to say–I'm here and I got your back.

"I'm already in trouble. They can punishment me all they want." Vic stood up too. "Hail Lord Sebastian!"

Seb beamed as the chant got repeated by more people on the roof. Soon the soldiers down the temple were joining in, their loud voices bringing the words to the rest of the square.

Nick crossed his arms as Alex and Princess Alana convinced the group on stage to participate. General George and Captain Jonathan stoically eyed each other, and even King Thomas didn't seem to know what to think of it. Damn the consequences. His first act as Seb's future General had not been a bad one.

He could be both Nicky the Cadet and Lord Sebastian's friend.