The tolling bell echoed over Hawk Town, breathing a hint of life into the long-dead settlement. Like swarming ants, the townsfolk gathered in droves outside Hawk Castle.
Simon was among them. Seventeen years old, he'd lived in Hawk Town for as long as he could remember.
His father had died of illness five years ago. Since then, Simon had become the main provider for his family—his aging grandmother, his mother, and his little sister. He had quickly grown into a capable farmhand.
Today was the first time in his life that he had heard the castle bell ring. Right after, the guards announced an order: the new Baron would be selecting personal guards.
It was a huge opportunity!
Simon had heard the old folks in town say that if you were chosen as a Baron's personal guard, you'd be freed from backbreaking farm work. Your food, clothes, and housing would all be covered by the lord. On top of that, you'd receive thirty kilograms of coarse wheat flour each month.
Thirty kilograms!
That was enough to ensure the three people left in his family could have black bread with every meal instead of surviving on thin gruel.
Simon had arrived early and was among the first at the castle gates, but as the sun climbed higher, more and more people joined.
One, two, three…
Simon started counting on his fingers. Soon, even his toes weren't enough. So many people!
For the first time, he realized just how many men lived in Hawk Town. Even with ten people's hands and feet, you probably couldn't count them all.
And every one of them was a competitor.
Clink. Clank…
The sound of armor caught Simon's attention. He looked up quickly and saw Sir Eric, the chief guard, emerging. Walking beside him was a young man with black hair and eyes, dressed in fine leather armor.
There was no mistaking it—that was the new Baron, Lord Rus.
Simon straightened his back and lifted his chin high, hoping the Baron would notice him.
But Lord Rus didn't look his way. He leaned toward Eric, whispering something. Soon after, Eric stepped forward with Link and Gaul, and began driving people out of the crowd.
Old Huck, Little Velen, Young Wales…
One familiar face after another was dismissed, making Simon's heart tighten with anxiety. He silently prayed to the Lord of Light—please let me stay.
Eric finally reached Simon, paused for a moment, and gave a small smile. He thumped Simon lightly on the chest before moving on without a word.
Simon let out a long breath, heart pounding.
He had made the cut!
Relaxing a little, Simon began to piece together the Baron's criteria. Those who were turned away were either too old, too young, or too short. Among those who remained, Simon wasn't the tallest or strongest, but he ranked near the top.
That realization filled him with renewed confidence.
Soon, the once-crowded area thinned out. Simon guessed he could probably count the remaining people using four or five people's hands and feet now.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Footsteps echoed as Lord Rus climbed onto a makeshift wooden platform, one hand resting on his sword hilt.
"Congratulations on passing the first round," he declared. "By ordinary standards, you are already qualified to become my personal guards."
"But I, Rus, am no ordinary noble. My standards are higher—but so are the rewards."
"Today, everyone standing here, whether you pass the next round or not, will receive five kilograms of coarse wheat flour."
"And if you do pass… not only will I provide for your daily needs, but each of you will also receive an additional fifty kilograms of coarse wheat flour every month!"
Simon's breath hitched. His heart thudded wildly in his chest.
Fifty kilograms!
An average person in Hawk Town only got about 200 kilograms of food a year. He alone could earn enough for three people's yearly rations!
That wouldn't just feed his family—it would let him trade the surplus for other necessities. A blanket for his grandmother's aching knees in winter, a sun-shading scarf for his mother, and with a few months of saving, maybe even a new dress for his little sister Nina—poor girl, already ten, and she'd never owned new clothes in her life.
Simon glanced around. It wasn't just him—everyone's eyes were blazing with determination. No one wanted to miss out on a chance at such generous treatment.
Led by Eric, Simon followed the crowd into the castle grounds.
The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, but a cleared space had been prepared. Various items were set up across the area.
On the western side, large stone blocks lay neatly arranged by size. The smallest looked about thirty kilograms; the largest might weigh a hundred.
In the center stood a wooden beam, like a narrow bridge, raised a meter off the ground and stretching over twenty meters long.
To the east, a table held three longbows and two quivers of feathered arrows.
Standing beside the stones, Eric barked, "Follow me—start here! One at a time!"
Eric had his doubts about the tests but chose to follow orders. The selected townsmen had no clue what was going on. Nervous but obedient, they did as Eric instructed.
Only Rus seemed completely at ease, lounging in a chair at the castle hall entrance.
"Lord Rus," said old Gordon, stepping forward. "Isn't your selection standard a bit too low? There are ninety-three people here. At fifty kilograms of flour per person, that's 4,650 kilograms a month—55,000 a year…"
Rus interrupted with a smile, "You worry too much, Mr. Gordon. Frankly, I'd be satisfied if a third of them make it through."
Gordon frowned. "My lord, I don't mean to question your judgment, but… with only a few tests like this…"
He trailed off, but the implication was clear.
"I understand," Rus replied. "Those three stones weigh thirty, sixty, and ninety kilograms respectively. Anyone who can lift the middle one and set it down five times in a row passes. It's true—most will be able to manage that."
"The archery test is just to see if anyone has natural talent with a bow."
Then he pointed at the narrow wooden beam. "But that middle challenge… is a different story."
Gordon remained skeptical. "But my lord, these townsfolk are all serfs. They're used to walking in rice fields without stepping on seedlings. Why would—"
Thud! A sudden cry interrupted him. Someone had fallen from the beam, landing hard on the ground.
Another stepped up—only to tumble off shortly after.
Then a third—he made it farther, nearly to the end, before slipping.
"What on earth…" Gordon adjusted his monocle. "My lord, what is going on?"
Rus smiled. "That's a secret."
He already had a clear plan in mind for selecting his troops.
These people were farm laborers, so they had the physical strength needed for battle. By standard noble criteria, nearly all of them were eligible.
But Rus couldn't afford to take them all.
It was peak harvest season, and these serfs were the backbone of the agricultural workforce. If he recruited too many, this year's crop yields would suffer.
Farming might not make a profit, but it was the foundation of every land and country. Ensuring self-sufficiency in food was a basic responsibility of any lord.
So Rus had to pick only the best.
There were no medical checkups in this era, but years of hardship often left hidden ailments—especially in the back and legs.
The balance beam test was designed for exactly that. After exhausting themselves with the strength test, they had to calm their minds and walk with precision. Any lapse in focus—or any lingering injury—would cause them to fall.
"Ah—ow!"
"Damn it—!"
One after another, people failed the second test. The soft grass cushioned their fall, but it still hurt—and their cries rang out over the yard.
Inside the castle, Elaina was working on documents when she heard the noise through her window.
She wore a light silk dress today, her hair draped casually over her shoulders. Hearing the commotion outside, she frowned, tossing her quill back into the inkwell and reclining in her chair, revealing a wide swath of pale skin across her chest.
With a sigh, she rose and walked to the window. Looking out at the cluster of townsfolk in the yard, she raised an eyebrow and muttered with disdain, "A thug can only raise more thugs. The Claydon family's reputation is surely ruined now."
She shut the window and flopped back onto her bed.
Then came the nightmare.
In it, Rus had successfully trained his soldiers. He and his men roamed Hawk Town, bullying men and harassing women, going house to house in search of prey.
She cowered inside the castle, helpless as the town descended into chaos, unable even to flee.
Rus's ambitions grew. He even claimed the town priestess, Lux, as his toy—and finally, he and his men cornered Elaina in her room.
Bang. Bang. Bang…