Arc 6, Chapter 1

A man, most likely in his sixties, tugged at the collar of his polished Ironguard uniform, adjusting it with the precision of someone who'd worn it for decades. His boots clacked sharply against the wooden floor as he approached the podium, the weight of his presence alone causing a hush to fall over the assembly. With a deliberate pause, he cleared his throat, eyes scanning the room of fresh Ironguard graduates, a sea of determined faces standing in disciplined rows.

"Ironhelm," his voice rang out, deep and commanding, "a city of innovation, steam, and the relentless march of machinery. A beacon of progress in all of Aetheria, more advanced than any other." He let his gaze sweep over the graduates, some standing tall with pride, others fidgeting slightly with the anticipation of what was to come. For some, this city is a haven of luxury, an embodiment of wealth and power. But for most, it is simply home—a place where they toil daily to maintain their lives as working citizens." His hand swept over the crowd, a gesture that captured the weight of his words. "Yet beneath the polished gears and gleaming facades lies a darker truth. The underbelly of Ironhelm festers with thieves, kidnappers, dealers... criminals of every sort. Who would see this city fall into chaos for their own gain. "And standing between them and the good citizens of this city is one organization. One force."

His gaze sharpened, locking onto the assembled graduates as he rested his hands firmly on the podium.

"That force," he continued, "is all of you."

The graduates stood straighter, the significance of their new roles heavy in the air. His hands gripped the sides of the podium as he continued, his voice rising with conviction. "You are the Ironguard. The shield and sword of this city. Its protectors. You have been entrusted with the safety of Ironhelm and its people—whether the threat comes from outsiders, rogue mages, or the criminals lurking within our own walls."

"Yes, sir!" came the thunderous reply, the sound reverberating through the room like a war drum. Among them, one voice—sharp and clear—rose above the others. It belonged to a man with striking red eyes and iron-gray hair, his passion cutting through the collective chorus.

The man on the podium allowed himself a brief pause, scanning the faces before him, before asking again, "Are any of you afraid? Do any of you fear the dangers that lurk beyond our walls—or worse, within them?"

"No, sir!" the officers roared back, once again with the red-eyed officer's voice ringing louder than the rest.

The commander inhaled deeply, letting the weight of the moment sink in before exhaling slowly, calming the charged atmosphere. "Good," he said, his tone softening but no less commanding. "But remember this above all else: our creed. Stay safe and keep others safe. We do not need martyrs. We do not ask for lives to be laid down in reckless sacrifice. Your lives are as valuable as any you protect. You are citizens of Ironhelm first, just as much as those you serve. You are neither above them nor below them. A good Guard saves lives—not just the lives of others, but their own as well."

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they shouted once more, but this time, the red-eyed man's voice was quieter, blending into the collective roar.

The man on the podium allowed himself a moment to close his eyes, absorbing the energy in the room, before nodding slowly. When he opened them again, a small, approving smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Then you all are ready to be Guards."

The officers exchanged glances, their faces lighting up with joy and pride. After four long years of rigorous training, they had finally made it. They were now part of the Ironguard. Some slapped each other on the back in congratulations, while others pulled each other into group hugs, unable to contain their excitement. Amidst the celebration, however, one figure remained rooted at attention: the red-eyed man. He stood tall, still as stone, while the others reveled in their success.

The man at the podium cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the chatter. "I haven't dismissed you yet," he said, his tone light, though there was an edge of authority that made the officers scramble awkwardly back into formation. He allowed a quiet chuckle to escape, his amusement clear. "Relax, I'm not going to punish you," he said, his eyes warm as he remembered a time not so long ago. "There was a time when I stood exactly where you are now. I know the pride, the relief you're feeling. You'll get your chance to celebrate soon enough. But before we conclude, I have one last thing to say."

He paused, letting his eyes settle on the red-eyed man. "Malvin Ashborn, step forward."

Without hesitation, Malvin strode toward the podium, his boots thudding against the wooden floor in perfect rhythm. He saluted crisply, his red eyes fixed forward. "Yes, sir!" he barked.

The man at the podium smiled and placed a hand on Malvin's shoulder. "At ease, Malvin. You're allowed to relax now," he said gently, though his voice still carried an undertone of pride. He then turned to face the rest of the officers, who were watching with curious intensity.

"You all know who this is," the man continued. "Malvin Ashborn is not just one of the best among your generation of Ironguard—no, he is one of the best to ever serve in this force. Today, we recognize him not only as a graduate but as your new captain. Let's all congratulate him on his accomplishments."

A wave of applause erupted through the hall, officers clapping with admiration. Malvin, though usually steady and composed, felt something stir in him. His brow furrowed slightly, his instincts buzzing with confusion. 

"Wait, sir," Malvin began, his voice unsure. "What did you just say?"

The man at the podium raised an eyebrow, bemused. "Is something wrong, Captain?"

Malvin blinked, his mind racing. "Captain? I… I just graduated."

The man's confusion mirrored Malvin's now. "What are you talking about, Captain?" he repeated, his tone firm.

Malvin took a step back, eyes darting around as the applause grew louder, suffocating him. Everyone continued clapping, smiling—celebrating. But something was wrong. His heartbeat quickened. The room around him seemed to ripple.

"What the hell is going on?" Malvin muttered under his breath, his vision distorting.

Suddenly, the room shifted.

"--in."

A harsh voice echoed in his ears. "Is that all an Ironguard can do? How pathetic." The words cut deep, but they were distant, like a memory clawing its way back into focus.

The world around him twisted again.

"--tain."

"You need to take care of yourself more! Did you forget your creed!?" a woman's voice screamed, her words striking like a hammer.

The scene changed once more, hazy and distorted.

"-aptain."

"Stop blaming yourself for everything. You can't be everywhere at once," an older man's voice said with a heavy sigh. The weight of those words pressed down on him, but before he could grasp them.

Reality warped one last time, the atmosphere thickening, suffocating him.

"Captain."

Eyes burning with absolute Hatred locked onto him, searing through his soul as his fists clenched.

"Captain!"

"Wha-" Malvin jolted awake, gasping for breath. His head shot up, and—bang!—he smacked it hard against the lamp on his desk.

"Ugh, fuck!" he groaned, rubbing his forehead, still half-dazed. The pain was sharp, grounding him.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked, filled with concern. Malvin squinted, trying to focus, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. Slowly, the room came into view, and standing in front of him was a red-haired woman, her face flushed with worry.

"Clare?" he mumbled, still rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"I'm sorry!" Clare blurted, her hands wringing nervously. "I've been calling you for a while, but you weren't waking up. I panicked and yelled, I didn't mean for you to hurt yourself!" Her words came out in a rush, her eyes wide with guilt.

Malvin sighed, raising a hand to silence the sergeant. "It's fine, Clare," he muttered, rubbing his temples as the fog of sleep lifted. The memories of the dream still lingered at the edge of his mind. "Just a dream, huh?"

Malvin looked around, blinking away the remnants of sleep as he adjusted to his surroundings. The familiar surroundings of his office greeted him, and the clock on the wall read 10:00 PM. "I fell asleep in the office? Well, that's a first," he muttered, shaking his head. He glanced back up at the red-haired sergeant standing nearby, her lips pressed together in silence.

"You can speak now, Clare," he sighed, waving a hand dismissively.

Clare nodded, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Um, are you sure you're okay? It looks like you hit the lamp pretty hard," she said, her voice laced with genuine worry.

Malvin gave her a deadpan look, annoyance creeping into his tone. "Sergeant, I've been hit so hard before that it lifted me off the ground. Trust me, a fucking lamp isn't going to do anything," he replied flatly. Stretching, he stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he did. "Now, why'd you wake me up?" he asked, his tone shifting back to business.

Clare quickly straightened her posture. "Well, it's getting late, sir. I figured your family might be worried if you're home too late," Clare replied, glancing at the door as if anticipating his response.

Malvin rolled his eyes, waving off her concern. "They'll be fine. Come on, let's head to the break room. The others should be there, right?"

"Yes, Captain," Clare replied, falling into step behind him as he headed for the door. They walked down the hallway in silence for a moment before Clare ventured, "If I may ask, Captain, what were you dreaming about?"

Malvin glanced at her from the corner of his eye, considering her question before answering, "I was dreaming about stuff from four years ago."

Clare tilted her head, her brow furrowed in thought. "After your graduation?"

"Yeah," Malvin muttered, leaving it at that. His mind wandered as they walked, mulling over his thoughts. *I'm probably getting these nightmares because it's been almost a week since Xain left, and with Tori about to graduate soon…* He clenched his jaw, annoyed by the intrusive thoughts. *So damn irritating.*

They soon found themselves standing in front of the break room door. Malvin pushed it open, the hinges creaking slightly as they entered. The break room for the Ironguard was a utilitarian space designed for both relaxation and quick meals. The walls were made of reinforced steel, with a few large windows allowing slivers of moonlight to filter through, though the overhead lights were on, illuminating the area with a warm glow. Sturdy wooden tables and benches occupied the center, surrounded by metal lockers for personal belongings.

In one corner, a large cast-iron stove served as the main source for cooking, alongside a simple counter filled with basic utensils and a sink for cleaning. Shelves stocked with dry rations, canned goods, and a few fresh vegetables lined another wall. Opposite the stove, a bulletin board displayed important notices, mission updates, and a few pinned sketches from the officers. A couple of plush, albeit worn, chairs offered a spot for relaxation, while a small stack of books and a deck of cards sat on a side table, providing a way for the guards to unwind during their breaks.

Currently, the break room was buzzing with activity. Specialist Tores and Specialist Loreen were engaged in animated conversation, while Specialist Aeron sat at the side table, playing cards against a very frustrated-looking man with shaggy brown hair cascading down his back like a lion's mane. This man was Specialist Jos, and he seemed to be losing badly at the game, which likely explained his irritable demeanor.

"Your poker face is too damn good!" Jos exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Aeron's expression remained neutral, as always. "This is just my normal face," he replied deadpan.

Malvin cleared his throat, and all eyes turned toward him and Clare. The group immediately made a move to rise and salute, but Malvin raised a hand to stop them. "At ease."

"What brings you here, Captain?" Loreen asked, her curiosity piqued.

Malvin clasped his hands behind his back and leaned slightly forward. "I've come to abuse my power," he declared, his tone serious but laced with dry humor, causing everyone to blink in confusion.

"Excuse me, what?" Tores asked, his brows knitting together.

Jos turned to Clare, mouthing, "Do you know what's going on?"

Clare shook her head slightly, her face equally puzzled as she mouthed back, "I have no idea."

Malvin continued, undeterred by their confusion. "I've been stressed due to all the shit happening lately and had a nightmare because of it. So, I've decided that in order to de-stress, I'm going to abuse my power by keeping you all here while I vent about the shit I've been through these past four years in the Guard. Understood?"

Aeron, as neutral as ever, shrugged and responded, "Okay... I guess?"

Satisfied with the answer, Malvin nodded, grabbing a nearby chair and dragging it noisily across the room before plopping down into it. He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "Alright then, let's begin."