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Monarch Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-11-27 04:26:03 +0000 UTCChapter 3
The hard, impatient, and thunderous knock almost made Rayne trip over the stool as he made his way toward the door. He picked up a rusty dagger he had found thrown on the floor and hoped it would be enough to keep the angry man at bay.
Another rap on the door made him frown. “Who’s there?” he asked, still feeling odd at how Valerian felt on his tongue.
“Open the door, forsaken, or you will get my wrath.”
“Identify yourself.”
Rayne heard the sound of teeth gritting before the raps stopped. “Kenzo. I have orders for you from Captain Edran himself. Open it and take it so I can go back to my breakfast.”
He finally took a sigh of relief, but his vigilance didn’t drop as he swung the wooden door open with a creak. Out in the entryway, a young man stood with hints of beard on his face. He held vicious, angry eyes alongside a scroll in his left arm.
But Rayne didn’t get to have a good look at him as the man rushed at him in a tackle.
Having prepared for it, Rayne lurched back, planting himself on the wall.
The man passed by his eyes. Kenzo stumbled, falling over the stool and barely caught himself on the windowsill.
He turned back soon and barked, his voice a sharp edge. "You fucking forsaken! you almost made me fall!”
“Next time, try not to start the conversation with a tackle,” Rayne spat, having had enough of the men's treatment of him simply because of what his family had done.
If he simply took everything without a fuss, then he would have a harder time than what he was already having. Army life wasn’t for pushovers, and he certainly wasn’t one.
Kenzo frowned and tossed the scroll to him. He caught it with one hand and untied the ribbon binding it.
Rayne moved his eyes to read over the order. It seemed to be written by quill and ink, and whoever had scribbled it had given it no more than a minute by how messy it read. Some words were entirely missing. He had a guess in his head about who it was.
“What’s written in it? I’m sure you were informed,” he asked, hoping to confirm what he was reading.
Kenzo scoffed. “Surely, your traitorous house had tutors to teach you common.”
“I was raised on a farm,” he countered, smiling at the slight surprise on Kenzo’s face. “Bastards don’t really get privileges.”
That was not true in entirety. He indeed had educators, even if he hadn’t been taught how to assimilate into noble society like the main house children. But his fellow soldier didn’t need to know that.
“Captain Edran has assigned you to Axel’s squad,” Kenzo said after a second. “You have to report tomorrow morning sharp and introduce yourself to Squad Leader Axel first thing. Or you’ll be liable for punishments. You also have to get new armour and a weapon from Quartermaster Kiyan. That’s all.”
Rayne nodded. He had made out all that from the scroll, but the part about the Quartermaster was absent, making him wonder if the intention was for him to go there in his current, bloody and broken armour.
“Thanks,” he said, putting the scroll back on the bed. “A bit off topic, but what do you know about Axel?” he asked, and Kenzo curved his lips—no humour on his face.
“Why should I tell anything to a traitor?”
“Because I’m not one. My father is,” Rayne replied, pulling out a silver coin from a back pocket he had accidentally found. “And I believe an extra silver would do you good.”
Kenzo simply stared at him before his palm opened, and Rayne promptly tossed the coin toward him. He put it in his own pocket before crossing his arms.
“Drunkard, unruly, and cursed—that’s who Axel is. There’s your information,” he said, jumping over the stool and landing next to Rayne, who stiffened, but the man didn’t try anything. “His squad is known to have one of the higher casualty rates and is the place a lot of forsaken go to. That should be enough for you to know that your days are numbered.”
“We’ll see about that,” Rayne replied.
“You might not be a traitor yourself, but the blood of one flows in you. And you’ll have the same fate—the guillotine.”
And with those last words that Rayne hadn’t paid for, Kenzo vanished into the corridors.
Rayne promptly shut the door and locked it, slumping over the bed and taking out the scroll from beneath him. He read it again, and again, but the words never changed. The orders were absolute.
He wondered if he had offended Edran unknowingly, for he had sent him to what seemed like the suicide squad—just less cool and more grim.
His status, titles, unique skill, and the quest—all these thoughts swam in his mind as he closed his eyes, but above all, there was one:
Should he run away?
A suggestion of his mind that he really wanted to follow, but had no way to. His memories had revealed enough for him to know that Rayne was marked. A wizard had marked him with a spell that would always show his location to that man until either he died or the branding wizard did.
If he tried to run away, he would have a dagger down his throat before he knew it.
Rayne wanted to avoid death at all costs, and it was getting more and more likely that the only way to do it was to charge headlong toward it. Gain experience, level up, and hope he stole enough good skills to reach the strength to face anything in the world.
Even the kingdom itself, if it came for him.
For now, Rayne had to start from the first step—which was to finally get out of his current armour that had already started to stink—and pray that Quartermaster Kiyan had a better spare for him.
***
It turned out that Kiyan actually didn’t have a better spare.
Rayne stepped through the dirt streets of Fort Algar, shifting in his new armour that hadn’t fitted him as well as he had hoped. He studied the brown leather breastplate strapped on his body and greaves that were actually taken from a soldier who had died recently, according to Kiyan. He would have rejected it if not for it being the last one available.
At least the padding was quite nice, and even the helmet was new and sturdy. He wore it to not get recognized by anyone in the streets.
He also quite liked the bracers on his arms and how the whole armour was a patchy mix of green and brown, sufficient to hide in the forest that surrounded Algar from three directions.
Checking his sword and shield for one last time, Rayne hurried his pace, seeing the sun slowly rise in the sky. He had to report soon and check his new squad for himself.
He had already confirmed the location, and it was at the western edge of the fort. Axel’s squad lived in one of the smaller towers rather than barracks or camps like the majority of the army.
Even he himself was allocated a room in the North Tower instead of living in a tent or barrack with others—not because of generosity, but because Edran had moved to isolate him from the rest of the army. And it was only on the day of the goblin raid that he had come out for anything other than morning drills and training.
Rayne guessed that the Captain had expected someone to kill him if he was allowed to roam freely in the camp. Hence, he was allocated a room of his own.
Slowly, the tower he was looking for came into view after he passed two barracks and soldiers on a morning drill. It was three stories tall and barely reached the wall, with moss growing around it.
He gave it a good look and stepped inside, not noticing any soldiers guarding.
A man sat in the entrance in front of a hearth, roasting some bacon. When he entered, the man turned around to see him, and Rayne took a good look at his face. Bearded, with long blond hair tied in a ponytail, and tall. Taller than him by at least two inches.
He chewed on the bacon and raised an eyebrow at him. “What business do you have here?”
“My name is Rayne. I’m here to report to Axel for joining his squad on the order of Captain Edran.”
“Frayser?”
Rayne winced, having hoped to not give away his cursed surname so early.
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You don’t look much like a noble warrior.”
“I’m a bastard and haven’t been trained before getting imprisoned by the crown and forced into training.”
The man didn’t react and simply moved toward him before patting his shoulder. His touch was heavy and Rayne flinched. “Name’s Hobbs, kid. Deputy to Axel. Don’t die and you’ll fit in quite nicely. Few might have a problem with you, but I’m sure you’ll be able to deal with it.”
“Will you be one of those, sir?” he asked. He’d not expected to meet the deputy first thing in the tower.
Hobbs laughed. “I’ll only be out for you if you can’t do your job well, which is to kill monsters and stay alive. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just call me Hobbs. Now, I think you need to go inform Axel of your arrival. Go up a floor and turn right, and knock on the last door. If he doesn’t open, just get inside.”
Rayne nodded, letting Hobbs enjoy his bacon as he moved up the stairs. This early in the morning, there was no one out, and he easily found the door that led to Axel’s room.
It was made of ironwood, its grey color a clear indication of it. That alone was enough to confirm the status of this room, since ironwood wasn’t cheap.
Rayne noticed a boot stain on the door as it had been kicked repeatedly. He glanced around once again before rapping on the door once. Then again, and even after the fifth time, there was no sound from inside.
Following Hobbs’ order, he simply opened the door and stepped inside.
Immediately, the scent of cheap ale, rotten biscuits, and something sour assaulted his nose. The room was a mess of the highest order. Files and yellow papers were scattered everywhere. Ink was splotched up on the floor, drying for hours at this point, and a man sat in front of a desk made of the same ironwood as the door.
He was older than most people he had seen in the fort, easily touching his 50s, with grey hair and beard. His bloodshot eyes moved up and down, looking over at him before he took out a mug of ale from underneath his desk and gulped it down. Half of it splashed his shirt, but he seemed unbothered.
“Who the hell are you… never seen your pretty face here before?” Axel asked, his speech slurred.
“Rayne Frayser, reporting to join the squad on the orders of Captain Edran,” he said, thinking back to Kenzo’s words. The man looked both drunk and unruly, but he wasn’t sure about cursed yet.
“A Frayser? I ask for some… replacements and they send me a bastard of a traitor. It’s really… ‘bout time for everyone here to meet the forces of nine hells.” He slammed the mug on the desk. “Can you swing a sword? What’s your level? And class skills? And how old are you? I don’t wish a child’s death on my conscience. There’s no space left there.”
“My level is seven and I have [Sword Mastery] and [Formation Knowledge],” he said without missing a beat. “I’m twenty-one summers old.”
Axel clicked his tongue. “And Yyou’ll die this winter with that kind of level. You are a complete fucking greenhorn. Even if the monster exodus is to train newbies, I already have enough of your lot. I don’t want another one.”
Rayne’s heart hammered. He couldn’t be rejected. He didn’t like Axel and everything about this squad felt like bad luck, but if he got rejected, worse luck would surely befall him. His talks with Kiyan had revealed that most squads were already filled with greenhorns like him—both forsaken and regular recruits—and he might not get a place there.
There was a good chance that Edran might just order him to move with any squad that marched out to hunt monsters. That was as bad as it would get, since he would be all alone then.
“I also have [Unarmed Mastery], [Footwork], and a few other skills,” he hurriedly added. “I’m also proficient with maths and other sorts of paperwork. And could help around.”
He gazed across the scattered paperwork. Not every recruit knew how to read and write—much less numbers. They were only taught the words that would appear in their status, and if they didn’t understand anything, they could simply reflect it to their superiors.
It was mostly because, with so many people dying—most of them being new—the kingdom didn’t see it as a good investment. And that worked in his favor.
Axel took another, smaller sip. “That eager, huh.”
“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
“Very well then,” Axel said, placing down the mug. “I’ll take you in and you’ll work as an assistant. Not an official position like Adjutant. A glorified clerk, if you wanna put a title to it. No extra pay, but I might slide you cheap ale once in a while. Sounds good?”
“Yes, sir,” Rayne said. He didn’t like it, but he would take some paperwork over wandering around the fort with resentful soldiers.
“Good. Go find Hobbs. He’ll get you a room. There’s one or two that aren’t taken, but the guys use it when they have slaves over. Clean it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rayne turned to get out of the alcoholic, suffocating air. But Axel’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
“Also, get some practice in and write any will if you haven’t. Though I doubt you have anything to pass down to anyone.”
“Why is that, sir?” Rayne asked, having a sinking feeling suddenly.
“Oh, it’s because we have a mission, new recruit. We’re going to scout and kill the trolls that massacred our fellows in the goblin raid,” he said, a grin covering his face.
