Lord Commander Vance watched from the window as the morning training began.
He'd been standing there for an hour, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. Below, in the yard, William was learning to fall. Aldric had shown him how—the roll, the tuck, the way to let the ground take your weight instead of fighting it. William was terrible at it. He landed wrong every time, his elbows hitting first, his head snapping back, his breath leaving him in grunts of frustration.
He got up anyway. Every time.
Vance watched.
The Duke entered quietly, closing the door behind him. "You've been watching them for days."
Vance didn't turn. "I have."
"And?"
Vance was quiet for a moment. Below, William fell again. Aldric helped him up. Showed him again.
"The boy is serious. More serious than I expected."
The Duke moved to stand beside him. "William always has been. He hides it well."
Vance glanced at him. "I meant the barbarian. The mage. The scout." He looked back at the yard. "They're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
Vance was quiet for a moment. "Soldiers. Good soldiers, maybe, from what the reports said. But soldiers. People who followed orders. People who could be—" He stopped.
"Used?" The Duke's voice was dry.
Vance almost smiled. "Managed."
Below, Grog had joined the training. He was showing William something—a stance, a way of holding his weight. The prince listened, tried, failed. Grog corrected him. He tried again. Better this time.
"They're not soldiers," Vance said. "They're something else."
The Duke nodded slowly. "That's what I was afraid of."
---
Mirena found the Commander in the library.
She'd been looking for Lady Amara, for the texts they'd been studying, for the maps that showed the thin places in the hills. Instead, she found him sitting at the long table, a book open before him, his eyes on the pages.
She stopped in the doorway.
"I didn't expect to find you here."
He looked up. "The mage." He closed the book. "You've been studying the old texts."
It wasn't a question.
"I've been looking for answers."
"Have you found any?"
She moved into the room, pulled out a chair, sat across from him. "I've found questions. Older questions. Questions people have been asking for centuries."
Vance nodded slowly. "The door. The things that came through. The things that are still coming." He met her eyes. "The King has heard the reports. He wants to know what's real."
Mirena leaned forward. "And you?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I want to know what you're planning to do about it."
---
They talked for an hour.
Mirena told him what she knew—the fragments, the theories, the things she'd pieced together from Kevin's journals and the maps and the old texts. She told him about the thin places, about the hills where the veil was weak, about the creature they'd killed on the road.
Vance listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"You think the door is still open."
"I think it moved. The explosion—something happened. The hunters are gone, but the door didn't close. It relocated. Somewhere."
"Somewhere where?"
She spread the map across the table. "The hills near here. The old texts call them the Watching Hills. They've been marked for centuries. Places people avoid. Places things come through."
Vance studied the map. His face was unreadable.
"The King will want proof."
"I know."
"Can you get it?"
Mirena met his eyes. "I can try."
---
Lira found William in the gardens.
He was sitting on a bench, his hands wrapped around a cup of something, staring at nothing. His clothes were still dusty from training, his face still red from sun, his knuckles raw.
"You're hiding," she said, sitting beside him.
He looked at her. "I'm thinking."
"Same thing." She stretched out her legs. "What about?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"My brother thinks I'm wasting my time. He didn't say it, but I could see it. When I was falling. When I couldn't hit the target." He looked at his hands. "He thinks I'm making a fool of myself."
Lira was quiet.
"The Commander thinks I'm a liability. A second prince who wants to play soldier when there's real work to be done." He almost smiled. "He's probably right."
Lira looked at him. "Why do you want to learn?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Why do you want to learn to fight? You said before—you want to be useful. But there are other ways to be useful. You could help the Duke. You could go back to the capital, help your brother prepare to be King. You don't have to be here, falling in the mud, making a fool of yourself."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I don't want to be the prince who stayed safe. Who watched. Who let other people do the things he couldn't." He looked at her. "When I was a child, my father used to tell me stories. About the heroes who fought the Vargr, who held the border, who kept the kingdom safe. I used to think I could be one of them. That I could do something that mattered." He paused. "I know it's foolish."
Lira shook her head slowly.
"It's not foolish. It's—" She stopped. Looked at the garden, the fountains, the peacocks wandering on the lawn. "It's something."
---
Grog found the Commander in the training yard after the others had gone.
Vance was standing at the rack of practice swords, his hand on the hilt of one, not drawing. He didn't turn when Grog approached.
"You don't trust us," Grog said.
Vance was quiet for a moment. "I don't trust anyone."
Grog leaned against the wall. "That must be lonely."
Vance almost smiled. Almost. "It's useful." He drew the sword, tested its weight, set it back. "The King sent me to see if you were worth the resources. If what you're building is worth supporting."
"And?"
Vance turned to face him. "You're not soldiers. You're not heroes. You're not anything I've seen before." He paused. "You're something that's been forged in a fire the rest of us don't understand."
Grog met his eyes.
"The fire isn't over."
Vance nodded slowly.
"I know."
---
That evening, the Duke called them together.
The small dining room again, the table set for a handful. The princes were there, the Commander, the Duke's children—the boy building something with blocks on the floor, the girl drawing on a napkin with her finger dipped in jam.
The Duke raised his glass.
"To our guests. To the heroes of the valley. To whatever comes next."
They drank.
William leaned toward Aldric. "Will you train me tomorrow? In the morning? Before the others come?"
Aldric looked at him. "You'll be there?"
"I'll be there."
Aldric nodded. "Then I'll be there."
Gwen appeared at Aldric's elbow. "You're teaching the prince to fight."
Aldric looked at her. "I'm teaching him to fall."
She smiled. It was a good smile, real. "That's the same thing."
---
The Duke's children were put to bed eventually—the boy screaming, the girl laughing, their nurse chasing both.
The princes excused themselves. The Commander went to write his report.
Grog stood at the window, looking out at the dark gardens.
Lira joined him.
"What are you thinking?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"About the old timeline. About the things I should have done differently."
She looked at him. "You did what you could."
"I could have done more."
She shook her head.
"You carried it alone. For years. You came back. You warned us. You fought when you should have been dead." She met his eyes. "You did enough."
He looked at the stars.
"I hope so."