Morning came with noise.
Not the grinding roar of furnaces like the slave province. This was a different kind of sound. Wagon wheels over stone. Horses snorting. Merchants arguing over prices. Metal tools clanging somewhere deeper in the town.
Lucius walked beside Aelius through the narrow street, watching everything.
The frontier town was rough but alive. Caravan wagons filled the main road. Traders shouted from open stalls. Armed travelers moved through the crowds without anyone giving them a second glance.
People here expected danger.
Lucius still found himself looking over his shoulder sometimes.
Old habits.
He adjusted the bronze tablet hanging from the cord around his neck. It rested flat against his chest beneath his shirt.
The thing felt heavier than it looked.
Aelius walked ahead without slowing.
Lucius finally spoke.
“I thought we were going to the merchant.”
“We are,” Aelius said.
“But first we register.”
Lucius frowned slightly.
“Why?”
“Merchants prefer hiring registered mercenaries.”
They stopped in front of a plain stone building.
No banners.
No decorations.
Just a wooden sign above the door showing a sword stamped inside a circle.
People moved in and out constantly. Some carried weapons. Others wore armor scarred from old fights.
Lucius followed Aelius inside.
The room smelled like ink and leather.
A long counter ran across the center. Behind it, shelves held rows of small bronze tablets hanging from hooks. Clerks sat behind the counter writing on wooden boards while several mercenaries waited nearby.
Stolen novel; please report.
Aelius stepped forward.
“I’m here to register.”
The clerk looked up.
His eyes moved over Aelius once.
Then again.
“How old are you?”
“Old enough.”
The clerk snorted.
“That’s not how this works.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Mercenary status isn’t a toy for bored boys. Merchants rely on us not sending them idiots who get killed in the first fight.”
Lucius shifted slightly.
Aelius didn’t react.
The clerk pointed toward the back door.
“You want a tablet? Prove you can fight.”
Aelius nodded once.
“Fine.”
The clerk blinked.
He hadn’t expected that answer.
“Training yard,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the door.
“Don’t bleed on the floor.”
Outside the back door sat a small dirt yard surrounded by stone walls. Weapon racks stood along one side. Several mercenaries leaned against the wall watching with mild curiosity.
A broad man with scarred knuckles stepped forward.
“You the one registering?”
Aelius nodded.
The man glanced at the rack.
“Pick something.”
Aelius reached out and lifted a plain wooden staff.
The examiner rolled his shoulders.
“First person disarmed loses.”
Lucius moved to the wall with the others.
The man drew a short practice blade and stepped forward.
He attacked immediately.
A fast downward slash meant to end the match quickly.
The staff moved.
Wood struck the man’s wrist before the blade finished its arc.
The strike wasn’t hard.
Just precise.
The blade slipped from the man’s hand and hit the dirt.
The yard went quiet.
The examiner stared down at his empty hand.
Then he looked at Aelius.
“Well,” he said after a moment, letting out a short breath. “That answers that.”
He bent down and picked up the blade.
“You’ve done this before.”
They returned inside.
The clerk looked up as they approached.
The clerk looked up as they came back inside.
“Well?”
The examiner jerked a thumb toward Aelius.
“Give him the tablet. He’ll embarrass the rest of your applicants if you make him swing again.”
The clerk studied Aelius again.
This time the look was different.
He pulled a bronze tablet from the rack and set it on the counter.
Name?”
“Aelius.”
The clerk scratched the name into the record board.
Then he stamped the tablet with a small iron seal.
He slid it across the counter.
Aelius picked it up.
The bronze felt cool in his hand.
The clerk looked at Lucius next.
“With him?”
“Yes.”
The clerk reached for a smaller tablet.
“Apprentice status.”
He stamped it the same way and handed it to Lucius.
Lucius took it carefully.
The bronze disk rested against his palm for a moment before he closed his fingers around it.
His first official mark in the world.
Not a chain.
Not a brand.
Something else.
Outside the building he slipped the cord around his neck.
The tablet settled against his chest.
Lucius looked down at it.
“Feels strange.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Aelius said.
Aelius unfolded the contract notice he had taken from the board the day before.
The ink had smudged slightly but the message remained clear.
Escort needed. Supply wagon. Frontier road.
Lucius recognized the merchant’s name from the bottom of the notice.
Aelius folded the paper again.
“Now we find the man who posted this.”
They crossed the street toward the trading yard where several merchants were loading wagons.
One of them stood beside a cart stacked with supply crates, arguing with a caravan driver.
Aelius walked straight toward him.
The merchant looked up from the wagon when Aelius approached.
“Contract’s already gone,” he said. “Someone grabbed it yesterday.”
Aelius placed the bronze tablet on the wagon rail.
The merchant’s eyes dropped to the seal.
He paused.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Ah. So that someone was you.”
He looked Aelius over once more.
“You planning to stand around or are we leaving today?”
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