The capital

Arko forcefully pushed through the crowds, milo and alena close behind.

People were everywhere refugees and citizens alike.

"he said under the south western wall right ?"

"What did you say ? I can't hear you, the city is just to full." Alena replied, her voice barely audible amidst the noise.

"Nevermind, we've arrived now."

Before them stood a structure resembling a small castle, the city's military ward.

Arko walked up to the entrance, and approached one of the guards.

"Hello, we've been told to announce ourselves here. We are soldiers from Haitan-dma."

"More of you huh ? Enter and go to the large stone building in the back."

Looking around, Arko realized the military quarters were much larger and busier than he expected. Halls and barracks sprawled out in an organized manner, filled with soldiers coming and going.

The place was almost as crowded as the main city, but here, the soldiers were the ones filling the streets.

Some were clad in basic gear and weaponry, while others bore large longbows. A smaller number of soldiers were outfitted in gleaming plate armor.

"Move out of the way, Make space !"

Abruptly, a knight in full plate armor rode through the crowd, followed by his entourage. His armor was ornately decorated, reflecting the opulence of his status. With a silver helmet tucked under his arm, he held his head high, his gaze barely acknowledging the common soldiers around him.

Arko gazed up at the rider curiously, noting the man's self satisfied smile.

The man's blond hair fell in perfectly styled waves that framed his face. His sharp, angular jawline giving him an air of confidence, while his piercing blue eyes gazed ahead.

"Move out of our sire's way you grunts !"

Stepping aside, Milo whispered into Arko's ear, "This is why I moved away from the bigger cities for the countryside."

"What do you mean ?"

With a dark look on his face, Milo continued, "In the big cities and especially the capital nearly all the higher ups and commanders are of noble birth. For people like us moving up the ranks is nigh impossible in such places."

Leaving the bustling street behind, the group followed the guard's directions until they reached the imposing stone building. Inside, they found themselves facing a desk where a man, seemingly uninterested, was shuffling through papers.

Arko stepped forward, exchanging a glance with Milo and Alena before speaking up. "Excuse me, sir," he said, his voice respectful.

The man glanced up, his expression hardly changing, his fingers still rifling through the documents before him.

"We've been told to announce ourselves here. We are soldiers from Haitan-dma," Arko continued.

The man's gaze finally lifted from the papers, his eyes meeting Arko's. There was a fleeting pause, as if he was sizing up the newcomers before him. Then, with a bored sigh, he picked up a quill and scrawled something on a parchment.

"Names?"

Arko quickly told him their names, and the man jotted them down without much enthusiasm. His attention seemed to shift away even as he went through the motions of his task.

"Aura users, huh?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disinterest.

Arko nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

The man's hand moved again, this time pointing to a corridor leading further into the building. "Go down the hall. The 21st company is on the second floor. Barracks are clearly marked."

Arko gave a curt nod of gratitude, and with Milo and Alena close behind, they followed the corridor to the stairs.

Leaving the building, Arko and his companions made their way to the designated barracks.

Upon entering, they were greeted by the sounds of snoring and clinking armor. A man sitting on a bed stood up to welcome them.

"New guys, huh? Free beds at the end," he said, pointing towards the back of the building.

"Try to get some sleep. We're on night guard duty tonight at the sunrise gate."

With nods of acknowledgment, Arko and his group settled in, finding their places among the sleeping soldiers.

***

Lying in his bunk, Arko slowly flipped through the pages of his old, worn book. The characters on the pages were ancient and incomprehensible, a language he had tried to decipher countless times as a child. He had read this book many times before, poring over its contents with a mixture of curiosity and frustration.

As a young boy, he had been endlessly intrigued by the book's mysteries. In the beginning, he had dedicated weeks to investigating its secrets.

The book spanned nearly 400 pages, its pages filled with words that held little meaning to him. Yet, what had captivated him most were the drawings scattered throughout. They depicted peculiar individuals engaging in peculiar activities.

These people appeared human, save for the pair of horns adorning their heads. Some images displayed them in a cross-legged position, their hands forming intricate shapes, while others showed them wielding weapons in a sequence of strange movements.

Arko had meticulously copied these positions and symbols countless times, however, all his efforts had been in vain.

He vividly remembered a day when traveling traders had visited his village. Eager to unravel the book's enigma, he had spent his hard-earned pocket money to hire a boastful bard who claimed to be knowledgeable in various languages and cultures. The bard had perused the book, only to shake his head and declare that he did not recognize the language within.

Now, Arko turned back to the first page of the book. It contained the image of a man seated cross-legged, fingers forming a peculiar triangle. Curiosity tinged with fascination swirled within him as he contemplated the image.

As he was about to close the book, a sudden flash of inspiration struck him. He examined the illustration with renewed intensity, and something caught his eye that he hadn't noticed before.

A faint, almost imperceptible blue glow seemed to surround the sitting figure. He blinked, convinced he was hallucinating, but the glow remained.

Sitting up on his bunk, Arko mimicked the man's posture, positioning the book on his lap and replicating the hand gesture. He brought his index fingers together and raised both middle fingers to form a triangle. Yet, nothing happened.

His mind raced, pondering what could have changed to unveil the mysterious glow. And then it struck him like a lightning bolt. "Aura," he murmured, realization dawning. "I didn't have aura before."

Without hesitation, he assumed the position once more, fingertips forming the triangle, and he focused his aura.

A surge of energy flowed through him, and he directed it into the triangle formed by his fingers. Almost immediately, he felt a subtle, tingling sensation as his aura began to seep from his fingers and into the book's pages.