The sea had been calm for three long days of sailing, but the atmosphere aboard the ship was anything but relaxed. The new imperial recruits whispered among themselves—some excited, others silent, their eyes fixed on the horizon as if marching toward the gallows.

  When the massive silhouette of Castle Rock finally appeared in the distance, a murmur of awe swept across the deck.

  Sky leaned over the railing. The dark glasses hiding his eyes reflected the sunlight. It was his first time seeing an imperial port. Dozens of warships were docked side by side, while uniformed soldiers rushed back and forth, each absorbed in their task. The entire scene felt like a gigantic, perfectly oiled machine, every cog in its place.

  Castle Rock was not a simple port. It was a fortified castle built on an unusually small island, defended like an impregnable prison. Along the walls, towers armed with cannons and mortars loomed over the surrounding sea, ready to repel anyone who dared approach.

  At the highest tower, the banner of the Empire fluttered in the wind: a red shield surrounded by twelve golden stars, crowned by a green emblem dominating the scene—a symbol of the Emperor’s absolute power and of the twelve kingdoms that had founded the Empire. The wind snapped it proudly, as if shouting a warning to all who looked upon it.

  For a moment, the sea breeze and the sparkle of the crystal-clear water made the place seem almost idyllic. Almost.

  A sudden boom shattered the illusion.

  A mortar blast, followed by two more in quick succession, shook the air. From the towers, guards were conducting firing drills. The thunder of the explosions reminded everyone that this island was not a tourist destination. It was a stronghold.

  Sky flinched slightly—not so much because of the noise, but because he realized he was standing at the very heart of imperial power. This place was the northern bulwark, the outpost that protected the seas from pirates and bounty hunters who infested the trade routes.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  The ship docked, and the recruits were ordered to disembark in an orderly line. With light, curious steps, Sky followed the others, passing through the thick, dark walls of the castle.

  In the main courtyard, a group of armed soldiers awaited them, along with a man seated behind a table cluttered with scrolls and ledgers: the camp commander. Nearby, other recruits were already lined up, being called one by one to be registered and assigned to their barracks.

  Each received a colored plastic wristband, marking their assignment to a specific unit.

  The commander called out names in a firm, authoritative voice.

  “Tarek Drom! … Mira Falco! …”

  Then he looked up and narrowed his eyes.

  “Sky Light!”

  No answer.

  Sky was distracted, watching a group of soldiers carrying crates of weapons.

  The commander clenched his jaw and grabbed a megaphone.

  “SKY LIGHT!”

  Sky jolted.

  “Huh? What? I’m here!” he replied, raising his hand casually.

  The commander sprang to his feet, furious.

  “Do you think you’re at home, boy? As punishment… one hundred full laps around Castle Rock!”

  A deathly silence fell over the courtyard.

  Sky’s eyes widened. Then he smiled.

  “Really? I get to do that? How exciting! I’ll start right away!”

  The commander froze for a moment, as if he hadn’t processed the response.

  Meanwhile, Sky was already running… in the wrong direction.

  When the commander recovered, he ordered four other recruits to join Sky in the punishment run.

  And so, an unlikely group began circling the castle.

  The first to finish not only completed the hundred laps, but mistakenly ran a thousand, convinced that was the goal.

  Sky, who had started first, came in second, collapsing to the ground exhausted but wearing a satisfied grin.

  The last member of the group didn’t even finish a single lap. He lay down near the rocks, smoking a cigarette as he watched the waves crash against the shore.

  The remaining two kept running until nightfall, driven only by pride and the fear of being punished again.

  From the Tower

  While each of them followed their own fate, a man watched them in silence from the highest tower.

  His gaze was dark, unreadable.

  He wasn’t interested in the laps or the punishments.

  He was evaluating the recruits—studying them like a hunter observing prey before striking.

  —

  Next Episode — Breakfast in Hell