CH1048 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1048: The Surprising Presiding Officer

Had Sanko hit the ground from panic, or been knocked off by someone else?

Disorientation could do that—a flailing arm in the wrong direction, and a neighbor was gone. The stools were close enough. Luck had been part of staying seated. Good did not know whether to feel the satisfaction of having fewer competitors or the quieter loss of facing whatever came next without the one person he had come in with. Before he could decide, a guard moved him to the next compartment.

The second test space was similar in size. Ten chairs again at the center, but this time arranged in a circle and bolted to a shared iron ring that sat on a pivot, free to rotate.

“Same rules,” the tester said flatly. “Sit steadily. Hold to the end.”

Nobody said simple this time.

They climbed carefully onto the ring and found their chairs. The officer gave the signal. Two guards stepped forward, gripped the handles behind the seats, and began to push.

The rotation started slowly. The testees weathered it without much trouble. Then, under the officer’s direction, the guards pushed harder. The iron ring picked up speed. The tent filled with the creaking of stressed metal.

Good’s vision began to smear.

The sky and earth are spinning.

That was all that remained in his head. The phantom from the first test had not quite cleared his body, and now the rotation layered on top of it, grinding at his stomach. Acid climbed toward his tongue.

What kind of test is this? Are they recruiting monsters?

He tried to fix his eyes on the guards as a diversion. The guards were staring at the roof of the tent, looking at nothing, pushing with rote mechanical motions. Their hands just repeated the same simple arc. They were not looking at the ring at all—not being affected by it at all.

This isn’t fair.

Good cursed silently. The officer had said hold to the end without specifying when the end was. If the rotation lasted an hour, he would pass out in the chair. He tried to focus harder. The effort worsened the dizziness. His stomach gave up the argument and he vomited.

“Ou—!”

The sour smell hit his nostrils before the sound had finished leaving him. A chain reaction: one, then another, then three more. The air inside the tent became a biological disaster. Half-digested food and flying fluid found faces at random. Good felt something land on his cheek and stopped caring.

“I can’t take it—”

“Stop it—Ou—I’m done!”

Now Good understood what they had heard from outside.

Too harsh. And for what purpose? What is this actually testing?

Every second was an argument against staying. He wanted to quit. He wanted to stand up and walk out. He did not. His hands stayed locked around the back of the chair until the iron ring slowed and finally stopped.

Three testees remained.

The officer let a rare expression of approval cross his face. “Well done. You’re one step closer to qualifying. Five minutes to rest. From this point on, the difficulty decreases. Treat the remaining tests seriously and you’ll be fine.”

The three survivors did not trust this. They had learned not to. They wiped their faces with their sleeves and walked into the next compartment with braced expressions.

The officer had not lied.

The third test: enter a hollow ring and roll across the tent on all fours. Everyone passed.

The fourth: browse a sheet of pictures, patches of similar colors blending into each other, and identify the hidden animal shapes. Everyone passed again.

Good’s doubt only deepened.

The fifth test was a nude medical examination. The sixth required identifying the directions arrows pointed on a luminous pane of glass. Everyone performed differently on those, but nobody was eliminated.

After the sixth, the officer led the three survivors out of the back of the main tent. A smaller tent stood close by, surrounded by black-uniformed guards standing close together. Someone important was inside.

“Sir—are we—?” one of the other survivors started.

The officer smiled—something Good had not seen from him until now. “Forgot to say: congratulations. The tests are over. You all passed the preliminary filter. Wait here. You’ll be received shortly.”

Only the preliminary filter. Good’s mouth opened before he could stop himself: “About the treatment listed in the notice—”

He caught himself. Asking about pay immediately. The army doesn’t want recruits who came only for the money, same as knights who mention honor the moment they open their mouths. I’ve already marked myself.

But the officer showed no dissatisfaction. He looked at Good carefully, with something that might have been recognition.

“Are you in serious need of money?”

“I…”

“Don’t worry about it. The high treatment of the First Army is well-known in Neverwinter. To be honest, that was also my reason for joining.” A shrug. “The education subsidies, living allowances, and pay listed in the notice will all be honored in full. The remaining tests determine how far you can go—they’re not a pretext to cut your benefits. As I said: there is still much to learn before you’re a real soldier.”

Good felt a wave of something he couldn’t name—relief, gratitude, simple joy. A payment better than Uncle Bucky’s. Subsidies enough to cover Rachel and me both. It’s real.

What he had suffered inside the tent suddenly felt like nothing. Looking back at it, there was almost a sweetness to it.

“Thank—thank you, Sir!” He bowed, the words crowding out of him. “I’ll give everything I have to join the First Army as quickly as I can.”

The other two did the same.

“There is one thing worth knowing.” The officer’s voice had shifted—still easy, but with something underneath it. “A lot of people join the army for the treatment. That isn’t what keeps them. Inside the army, there are things worth pursuing that make the pay seem small by comparison.” He paused—the briefest pause, the kind that comes when someone is remembering something specific. “All right. More people need to be tested. See you on the other side.”

Good blinked. Not cold after all. Not an indifferent machine.

“Sir—we passed. May we know your name now?”

“I’m Van’er.”

He turned and went back to the main tent.


Through the afternoon, other survivors emerged from the back of the tent and joined Good’s group. The recruitment did not conclude until late in the day.

Sixteen preliminary soldiers selected on day one.

Guards bracketed them and escorted them to the last tent. Inside: a long desk, nothing else. The guards were visibly tense, the other recruits around Good breathing in short, careful draws.

“Oh? So these are the knight candidates?” A tall man beside the desk looked them up and down with frank interest. “Knights” was what he had said.

Good stared. Knights?

The First Army recruits knights?

Knights were for noble bloodlines. Squires came from families with connections. I could not get a squire’s post—how could I possibly—

“Air knights?” A clear, melodic voice came from somewhere in the room. “That’s a title my brother invented. They’re nowhere near that yet. Take it easy.” A pause. “All of you—move to the sides and clear the center.”

“But—” the lead guard started.

“It’s all right. I’m protected.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Your Highness.

The people before him stepped aside, and a girl appeared.

Good had seen beautiful faces before. He had not seen this one. Eyes bright as cut gemstones, features composed with the kind of calm that belonged to someone who had grown up being looked at and had long since stopped noticing. Anyone who saw her would not soon forget. He wished he could simply keep looking—

He stopped himself. He bowed.

The long gray hair told him everything before he needed to think it through.

Even as a recent arrival, he knew that color.

It was the mark of the Graycastle royal bloodline.

In Neverwinter, only one girl carried it.

His Majesty Roland’s sister: Tilly Wimbledon.

“Respects to Your Highness!” The whole group dropped to their knees.

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