I lay on the cold, hard ground, my body throbbing with pain from the assault. My throat ached from the strangulation, and my face felt like it had been smashed with a hammer. But none of that compared to the horror unfolding before me.

Brann's swift, brutal justice left me paralyzed with shock. The severed heads of the three men rolled on the ground, their lifeless eyes staring blankly.

Blood pooled around their bodies, seeping into the cracks in the stone floor. The metallic scent filled the air, mingling with the stench of sweat and fear.

I wanted to look away, but my eyes were locked on the gruesome scene. The prisoners around me were similarly stunned, their faces pale and their expressions a mix of terror and disbelief. Brann's words echoed in the silence, a grim reminder of the ruthlessness that governed this place.

The sergeant's gaze swept over the room, and his eyes met mine for a brief moment. There was no sympathy in his expression, only a cold, unwavering authority. He had made his point, and the message was clear: obedience or death.

And then his gaze shifted to me, taking in the bruises and cuts on my face from the assault. His expression felt like it softened slightly(?), though his voice remained authoritative.

"Soldier Lucavion, follow me to the infirmary. We need to get those wounds taken care of."

I nodded, still in shock from the brutality I had just witnessed. As I moved to follow Brann, he turned to the rest of the prisoners, his eyes hard and unforgiving. "The rest of you, clean this place up. You stood by and did nothing while this happened, so you are all responsible for this mess. If I come back and see any remains of this, every one of you will be whipped."

The prisoners murmured amongst themselves, their faces pale with fear. They quickly began to move, gathering cleaning supplies and starting to scrub the blood-stained floor.

Brann led me out of the room and down a dimly lit corridor.

I couldn't shake the image of the brutal execution from my mind, the cold efficiency with which Brann had dealt with the attackers.

"Are you surprised?" Brann asked, his voice breaking the silence.

I nodded, still processing everything that had happened. "Yes, I am."

Brann glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Are you disgusted? Is your body churning with what you just saw?"

Again, I nodded. "Yes."

He sighed a weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of countless experiences. "Get used to it. Things like this will be a part of your life from now on. Once you're sent to the battlefield, you'll see much worse. Things that are much more churning, more brutal. The battlefield never tolerates hesitation or weakness."

His words were a harsh reminder of the reality I now face. I knew he was right, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. The thought of what lay ahead filled me with dread, but I forced myself to push it aside. I had to survive, no matter what.

We continued walking in silence until we reached a small room marked "Infirmary." Brann pushed the door open, and we stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, with a single lantern casting a warm glow over the space. A woman in her thirties, maybe forties, stood by a cot, tending to a soldier's injuries. Her skin was wrinkled, and her hair fell slightly to the right side, giving her a somewhat disheveled appearance. Her face was ordinary, especially compared to the beauty of Isolde, who I had known for so long.

'Tsk.'

I clicked my tongue inwardly, as just seeing a random woman made me remember her. Now, I feel like anger and disgust rising from my chest. Whenever I remembered her existence, it seemed this was going to happen for a while.

"Laila," Brann said, his tone softening slightly. "Please check this."

Laila looked up, her eyes meeting Brann's with a familiarity that spoke of a long-standing acquaintance. She nodded and turned her attention to me, her expression professional and compassionate.

Somehow, it looked like they were in a relationship. I did not know since I was not familiar with such things.

Even now, when I was in the mansion, I had not attended many social gatherings or events. I failed on that part.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice gentle as she gestured for me to sit on a nearby cot.

"Assault," Brann replied succinctly. "He needs to be patched up for tomorrow's training."

Laila nodded again, moving to gather her supplies. As she worked, her hands moved with practiced ease, first starting with cleaning my wounds. Her touch was gentle yet firm, and I could feel the sting of antiseptic as she worked.

Despite the pain, there was something soothing about her care.

And that made me remember the touch that Mother would give to me…..But then, once again, I was forced to remember what they did to me and what situation I was in.

'Never forget, Lucavion. Never.'

After a few moments, she began to channel her healing magic, a soft glow emanating from her hands as she passed them over my injuries.

As the healing warmth spread through my body, I could feel the pain ebbing away. It was a strange sensation, almost like a gentle wave washing over me, mending the damage from within. Laila's brow furrowed in concentration, and I couldn't help but marvel at the power she wielded so effortlessly.

"You're really young," Laila remarked, her voice gentle and filled with curiosity. "How did you end up in a place like this?"

The question hung in the air, and I felt a knot form in my throat. The memories were still too fresh, too painful to share. I remained silent, my eyes downcast.

Brann stepped in, his voice matter-of-fact. "This kid is a criminal and a fallen noble. Name's Lucavion Thorne."

Laila's eyes widened slightly, and she looked at me with renewed interest. "Thorne? Never heard of that family before."

"It was just a viscounty in the countryside," I replied quietly, the words bitter on my tongue.

Laila nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, Lucavion Thorne, you're not the first noble I've seen fall from grace. But remember, everyone gets a second chance here. It's up to you what you do with it. Either you fall on the battlefield, or you survive and prove yourself."

Her words were kind, but they carried a weight that pressed down on me. The idea of a second chance was both a comfort and a challenge. I knew I had a long road ahead, filled with trials and dangers, but I was determined to seize whatever opportunity came my way.

As Laila finished her healing, the warm glow of her magic faded, leaving my body feeling rejuvenated. The pain had lessened significantly, and the bruises and cuts were now just faint marks on my skin.

"That should do it," Laila said, stepping back to admire her work. "Just be careful next time, as this place will not be this empty in the daytime."

I nodded, rising from the cot. "Understood, Miss Laila."

Laila smiled softly at my formality, a faint hint of amusement in her eyes. "Miss Laila, huh? It's been a while since anyone called me that," she said with a small chuckle. "You can go now. And remember, be careful."

"I will."

She waved her hand dismissively, and Sergeant Brann gestured for me to follow him. We walked back through the dimly lit corridors in silence, the weight of the day's events heavy on my mind.

As we approached the barracks, Brann glanced at me. "Try to get as much sleep as you can," he advised. "I know it won't be easy, but you'll need it. Tomorrow, your training begins, and from what I've seen, Captain Stroud is likely to make things harder for you."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. "I understand, Sergeant. I'll do my best."

Brann gave a curt nod and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Good. Keep that determination, Lucavion. It will serve you well."

With that, he left me at the entrance to the barracks. I stepped inside, feeling the eyes of the other prisoners on me. Their expressions ranged from indifference to curiosity and then to anger, but I ignored them, focusing on getting to my cot.

As I lay down, the events of the night replayed in my mind. Brann's advice and the brutal reality of my new life—all of it swirled together, creating a maelstrom of emotions.

But despite everything, I felt a small spark of hope. I would endure. I would survive. And I would prove myself, no matter the cost.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to relax, willing sleep to come. The barracks were quiet now; the other prisoners settled into their own uneasy rest. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and I needed every ounce of strength to face them.

As exhaustion finally overcame me, I drifted into a fitful sleep, my resolve firm. This was just the beginning, and I was determined to make it through, one day at a time.

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I am open to any criticism; you can comment on things that you would like to see in the story.