The mess hall stood silent as a tomb, the only sound the hollow clink of silver spoons scraping against chipped ceramic plates.
Moonlight streamed through the high arched windows, painting the long wooden tables in stripes of pale silver and inky shadow. The scent of lukewarm stew and stale bread hung heavy in the air, mixing with the ever-present aroma of oiled leather and steel.
At the head table, Captain Sage lounged in his chair like a king on a battered throne, lazily swirling his spoon through the congealing gravy in his bowl. His hair caught the torchlight like polished steel as he took a slow, deliberate bite, chewing with the same indifference he showed everything. Around him, the Vigil Squad sat in tense silence - shoulders stiff, eyes darting, waiting for the axe to fall.
"Listen up," Sage finally drawled, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife through fog. He swallowed, the muscles in his throat working slowly. "Change of plans."
Every spoon froze mid-air. Lila's fingers tightened around her dagger. Garrett's usual smirk vanished. Even Noah, half-buried in his sleeping bag against the far wall, twitched slightly.
"Overlord's orders," Sage continued, gesturing vaguely with his utensil. "All captains and vice-captains get a special mission." He took another bite, chewing deliberately before adding, "Which means I'm not going south with you lot."
Clang!.
Taro's spoon hit his plate with enough force to crack the ceramic. "What do you mean?" his deep voice vibrating through the table.
Sage didn't even look up. "Means exactly what I said. You're all getting paired with other squads."
Lock's hands clenched around his tankard, the metal groaning in protest. "Other squads?" he growled, the scar across his nose flushing an angry red.
"Relax," Sage said, waving a dismissive hand. "Mr. Fancy Pants won't be there to piss you off. All vice-captains are coming with us captains."
"That's not—" Lock began, his brow furrowing like storm clouds gathering.
"—what you're worried about?" Sage interrupted, finally looking up with those half-lidded, disinterested eyes. "Doesn't matter. It'll sort itself out."
Across the table, Erin's mind raced.—No doubt Taro's the vice-captain— he thought, glancing at the stoic warrior.
As if reading his thoughts, Sage's voice cut through the hall "Noah. You packed for the mission yet?"
All heads swiveled to where Noah sat slumped against the wall, his sleeping bag bunched around his waist like a cocoon. He gave a single, sleepy nod. "Mmm."
Erin's jaw dropped open with an audible click.His spoon slipped from suddenly numb fingers, clattering against his plate. "You're... the vice-captain?" he squeaked, voice cracking like a teenager's.
Noah blinked slowly, his expression never changing. "Obviously."
Regina's musical laughter rang out, sharp as broken glass. "Oh this is precious!" she cooed, twirling a lock of raven hair around her finger. "Little weakling didn't know he's been trained by the vice-captain all along!"
"How am I supposed to just know that?, nobody told me" Erin muttered, his ears burning.
Regina only laughed harder, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh Captain," she purred, "your mission sounds positively thrilling. I do wish I could come with you."
Sage didn't look up from his meal. "You've got the more important job," he said around a mouthful of stew. "Keep these idiots alive at the Wall."
Regina's smile turned razor sharp. "I won't let you down."
"Sector Six," Sage announced, slapping a worn map onto the table. The parchment unfurled with a crack like thunder. "Three days through the Dead Marsh. Even with the fastest carriages, you'll be knee-deep in shit and swamp rats by sundown on the first day."
Garrett's grin returned, wild and reckless. "Sounds like my kind of party."
"Your funeral," Sage shrugged. "Abandon the mission if you have to. Just don't all die."
"Not a chance," Garrett shot back, spinning a conjured dagger across his knuckles. "Vigil's taught me one thing - always push past your limits."
Sage finally looked up, his gaze boring into Garrett's. "Then you'll probably die," he said simply. "New recruits - go home tomorrow. Say your goodbyes. Pray if you believe in that shit."
Lila's sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the suddenly frigid hall. Her fingers tightened around her dagger until her knuckles turned white.
"Team for the south," Sage continued, counting off on his fingers. "Regina, Lock, Garrett, Lila..." His eyes landed on Erin. "...and the weakling."
Erin bristled but said nothing, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.
"Taro and Noah come with me," Sage finished, tossing the map to Regina who caught it effortlessly. "Meet Commander Roi at Sector Six of the southern Wall. Supposedly he's 'fun'." His tone suggested the man was anything but.
Noah made a noise somewhere between a snort and a groan, burrowing deeper into his sleeping bag.
"Journey starts in five days," Sage said, rising from the table. "Don't be late."
With that, he strode from the hall, his boots echoing like gunshots in the silence he left behind
***
The first light of dawn had barely crept through the barracks' grimy windows when Erin jolted awake, his heart pounding as if the war horn had already sounded. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over his own boots in his haste.
He rushed through his morning chores like a man possessed—scrubbing dishes until they gleamed, cooking a hasty but hearty meal, and then bolting for the toilet, praying it was unoccupied.
Swinging the door open, he froze.
There, perched on the wooden seat like a king upon his throne, was Sage—mid-dump, his expression darkening with every passing second.
"I will kill you now, weakling," Sage growled, his voice dripping with murderous intent.
"SORRY, SIR!" Erin yelped, slamming the door shut so hard the walls rattled. He sprinted away, half-expecting a knife to embed itself in his back.
***
After finishing his chores and dressing in his vigil robe, Erin was finally ready to leave. The mess hall was quiet, save for two figures—Garrett, already dressed and waiting by the door, and Lila, slumped at a table, her chin resting on her palm, her usual sharp gaze dulled by something unreadable.
"Garrett, you live in the south, right?" Erin asked, adjusting his bag.
"No," Garrett replied with his typical stoic nod.
Erin blinked. "But last time we went home together, I saw you walking toward the southern district."
Before Garrett could respond, Lila's voice cut through the air like a whip.
"Ugh, you dummy," she groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Just because someone walks south doesn't mean they live in the south. Maybe they live in the northern part that's closer to the south. Ever think of that, genius?"
Erin's face lit up in realization. "Ohhh! So that's it!"
Lila sighed, muttering under her breath, "How are you even alive…"
Then, Erin finally noticed—Lila wasn't dressed to leave. No bag, no robe, just her usual scowl.
"Wait, Lila… you're not going home?"
A flicker of something—pain? Anger?—passed over her face before she masked it with a scoff. "None of your business."
But Erin knew better. Lila always had a sharp retort ready. This silence? This was her hiding something.
—Lila's father had never hidden his disdain for her.
"An insult to the Rivers family," he'd sneered more times than she could count.
Nobles prized rare magic, and her father was no exception. While her elder sister wielded healing magic—a golden treasure among nobles—Lila had inherited her mother's stealing magic. A thief's gift. A disgrace.
Joining the Vigil had been her rebellion, her desperate hope to unlock something—anything—that would make her father look at her without that crushing disappointment.
But going home now? It would only mean more suffering—for her, and worse, for her mother.
So she stayed—
"Hey," Erin said softly, breaking the silence. "If you've got nowhere to go… you could come with me to my house."
Lila's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Why would I go to your house?"
Erin blinked. "Uh… because you're my friend?"
"Oh, really?" Lila's voice turned dangerously sweet. "So that's your game, huh? Think I'm just gonna follow you home like some—some easy girl? Think again, dummy!"
Erin's jaw dropped. "Wha—NO! That's not—!"
SMACK!
Lila's palm connected with his cheek, the sound echoing through the hall.
"OW! What the—Lila, are you okay?!" Erin clutched his face, staring at her like she'd lost her mind. "I just invited you because you looked lonely! And my sister makes your favorite spiced honey cakes!"
Silence.
Lila's fury evaporated. "…You should've led with that," she muttered, crossing her arms.
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" Erin yelled.
"Nothing!" Lila huffed, her cheeks tinged pink. "I'll go with you. But not because I'm your girlfriend or anything! Don't get the wrong idea!"
Erin tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But… you are a girl. And you are my friend. Doesn't that make you my girlfriend?"
Lila's face turned scarlet.
—H-He just called me his—!—
SMACK!
"THAT'S NOT TRUE, DUMMY!" she shrieked.
From the doorway, Garrett—traitorous, silent Garrett—chimed in, "He's kinda right, though."
Lila whirled on him, betrayal flashing in her eyes. "NOT YOU TOO, GARRETT!"
Erin, rubbing his stinging cheek, sighed. —This is gonna be a long trip—