Yard 4 was a different world.
Cian had passed it a hundred times during recruit training, always noting the obstacles—low walls, balance beams, staggered poles, uneven ground—but never stepping inside. Reachguard trained on flat sand, measuring distance, holding lines. The Skirmishers trained in chaos.
He arrived before the session began. Venn was already there, stretching near the tree line, her bow propped against a log. She looked up as he approached.
"Didn't think you'd show."
"I said I would."
She studied him for a moment, something like approval in her face. "Reachguard doesn't usually cross-train with us. Too proud to learn how to run."
"Reachguard learned how to hold," he said. "I need to learn how to move."
She almost smiled. "Then you're in the right place."
Other recruits trickled in as the morning light spread across the yard. Cian recognized some of them—a few from Reachguard, others from subdivisions he had seen in the campaign. The Skirmisher rotation was popular. Everyone wanted to learn how to move faster.
The instructor arrived without ceremony. He was a wiry man with a sharp face and quick eyes, his uniform worn soft at the knees and elbows. He moved with the economy of someone who had spent his life learning not to be seen. His patch marked him as Skirmishers, his collar as Senior Vanguard.
"Sergeant Kell," he said. His voice was low, but it carried. "You're here to learn how to move. Not run. Move."
He demonstrated without warning. A step forward, a shift left, a pivot, a burst of acceleration. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Then he stopped, exactly where he had started, his breathing unchanged.
"Speed without control is just noise," he said. "You want to be fast? First learn where your feet go."
The drill was simple. Kell called out directions—left, right, forward, back, combinations—and the recruits moved. No weapons. No technique. Just feet and balance.
Cian started well enough. His Reachguard training had given him a solid base; his stance was stable, his weight distributed. But the rapid shifts felt awkward. He was used to controlled advances, not sudden changes. His body wanted to commit to a direction before his mind had finished processing the next command.
Beside him, Venn moved like water. Left, forward, right, back—her feet found the ground without hesitation, her weight shifting seamlessly.
"You're thinking," she said between commands. "Stop thinking. Let your feet find the ground."
He tried again. Left, forward, right—his body moved before his mind caught up, and for a moment he was off-balance, his weight too far forward.
Kell's voice cut through: "Veridian. You read ground better than most Reachguard. Use it."
Cian reset. The next command came—right, back, left—and he let his instinct take over. His Void sense, the quiet awareness of space and gap, showed him the path before Kell finished speaking. His feet moved.
Not fast. Not fluid. But better.
The second drill was a course through the trees.
Kell had set flags along a winding path—sharp turns, sudden drops, obstacles that required quick decisions. The recruits ran it in pairs. Cian was paired with Venn.
She went first. He watched her foot placement, the way she read the terrain two steps ahead, the economy of her movement. She was not the fastest runner he had seen, but she was the most efficient. Every step had a purpose.
Then it was his turn.
He started well, his spatial awareness guiding him through the gaps. He saw the line between the trees, the stable ground beneath the leaves, the place where the path turned before the flag marked it. But at the sharp turn, he hesitated. His body was not used to shifting momentum that quickly. He lost speed, stumbled, recovered.
Kell was waiting at the end. "You see the path. Now trust it."
Cian nodded, breathing hard.
They ran the course again. This time he did not think. He let his intuition guide him—the Void sense that showed him the spaces between obstacles, the most efficient line. His feet found the ground before his mind could question it. He moved faster, cleaner.
Not as fast as Venn. Not as fluid. But when he reached the end, Kell's expression had shifted from neutral to something like interest.
"You read ground like a scout," the sergeant said. "That's not Reachguard training."
"It's not," Cian said.
Kell studied him for a moment. Then he nodded. "Use it. That's what it's for."
The session ended at midday. Recruits scattered to their own preparations—the written exam was only weeks away, and everyone had their own weaknesses to address.
Cian sat with Venn near the tree line, drinking water, watching the yard empty.
"You're better than most who come through here," she said.
"I'm slower."
"You're slower because you're not trained. But you see the ground." She looked at him. "That's not something you learn."
He did not answer. He was not sure how to explain the Void sense—the quiet awareness of space that had always been there, that had sharpened during the campaign, that he still did not fully understand.
Venn did not press. "You'll be back?"
"Tomorrow. Focus Casters in the afternoon."
She raised an eyebrow. "Kael Ardent's people? They don't like outsiders."
"I'll manage."
She stood, gathering her bow. "Good luck. You'll need it."
That evening, Cian sat on his bunk, reviewing his study notes for the written exam. His legs ached from the drills. His mind was full of footwork patterns and terrain lines.
He opened his journal—the one he used for notes, separate from the study guides—and wrote down what he had learned. The footwork patterns. The course layout. Kell's words: You see the path. Trust it.
He thought about the Void sense. The way it had guided him through the blind route, through the basin, through the Skirmisher course. He did not understand it. But he was learning to use it.
He closed the journal and picked up the study guide. Tomorrow, Focus Casters. He was less confident there, but he would go. He would learn.
In an office in the administrative wing, the plain-uniform woman wrote a brief report. Her handwriting was neat, efficient.
Subject: Veridian, Cian. Attended Skirmisher rotation. Demonstrates above-average spatial awareness. Adapts quickly to unfamiliar movement. Maintains comp
osure under observation. Recommendation: Continue monitoring.
She filed the report and turned to the next name.