CHAPTER 54: SILENT OBSERVATIONS (2)

He made his way back to the barracks as twilight fell, his mind still cataloging, still analyzing. The real work would begin now, in the close quarters where recruits shed the day’s pretenses along with their training gear.

Soren wasn’t sure if Ayren would be proud or concerned by how quickly he’d taken to this task. Perhaps both. After all, a weapon that learns too well might one day turn in its wielder’s hand.

The thought brought a grim smile to his lips as he passed through the barracks door, ready for the night’s observations.

The barracks at night revealed secrets the training yard could never expose.

Soren lay on his cot, eyes closed but ears attuned to every whisper, every rustle of movement in the darkness. The thin blanket did little to cushion his battered body against the hard mattress, but discomfort had become such a constant companion that he barely noticed it anymore.

Around him, the night symphony of the barracks played out in predictable movements, snores, murmurs, the occasional creak of wooden frames as bodies shifted in sleep or restlessness. But beneath these obvious sounds ran currents of information for those who knew how to listen.

Three cots to his left, Marken whispered to Jost, their conversation a barely audible stream of complaints about Kaelor’s newest drills. The words themselves mattered less than the ease between them, the comfortable back-and-forth of longtime allies.

Near the far wall, Tavren’s distinctive laugh cut through the darkness, followed by hushed voices from his circle. Soren caught fragments..."special treatment" and "put him in his place"...enough to confirm Dane’s warning from earlier. Tavren was indeed plotting something, though the specifics remained unclear.

The shard pulsed once against Soren’s chest, neither warning nor encouragement, simply acknowledgment. Valenna was awake, watching through his eyes, listening through his ears.

’This is how you survive,’ he reminded himself as the night deepened. ’Not with steel alone, but with knowledge.’

He tracked the patterns of movement in the darkness—who rose to share whispered conversations, who passed contraband food or drink, who maintained careful distance from whom. The physical arrangement of the barracks, he realized, was itself a map of alliances and tensions. Those who trusted each other slept closer together. Those with grievances maintained space between their territories.

As the hours crawled past, Soren added each new observation to his mental catalog. Kale, the solitary fighter, spoke in his sleep, fragments of what sounded like prayers to gods Soren didn’t recognize.

The twins from the eastern provinces shared a secret language of hand signals, communicating silently across the room when they thought no one was watching.

Most telling were the nightmares. At least three recruits woke gasping from bad dreams, their momentary vulnerability revealing more about their fears than any daytime interaction could. Tavren, surprisingly, was among them, the confident bully apparently haunted by something that left him trembling in the small hours.

’Fear,’ Soren thought, filing this away. ’Everyone has it, even those who seem fearless.’

By the time gray light began seeping through the high windows, Soren had constructed a detailed map of the barracks’ invisible landscape. Who feared. Who desired. Who hated. Who allied. The web of relationships that defined their small society became clearer with each passing hour.

He rose before the others, slipping out to the washing area while most still slumbered. His reflection in the polished metal mirror revealed a face transformed by exhaustion and purpose, the dark circles beneath his eyes lending him a haunted appearance that matched his internal state.

"You’re learning," Valenna’s voice whispered through his mind as he splashed cold water on his face. "Not just to see, but to understand what you see."

’Is that what Ayren wants?’ he thought back at her as he dried his face on a rough cloth. ’Understanding?’

"Ayren wants weapons," she replied, her tone cool and certain. "Understanding is merely the edge that makes the blade deadly."

Soren considered this as he made his way to the training yard for another day of observation. The knowledge he’d gathered already felt heavy, a burden of secrets and vulnerabilities that could destroy lives if wielded carelessly. Was that power what Ayren sought? The ability to break men with information rather than steel?

The thought should have disturbed him more than it did.

The pattern continued for days. In the yard, Soren watched how they fought, the strengths they displayed, the weaknesses they tried to hide. In the barracks, he listened to what they said and, more importantly, what they didn’t say. In the mess hall, he observed who sat where, who shared food, who maintained careful isolation.

Slowly, inexorably, the complete picture emerged.

Tavren was afraid of his father.

The revelation struck Soren as he watched the arrogant recruit fumble a simple parry, his usual swagger replaced by tight shoulders and darting glances toward the barracks. A letter had arrived that morning, Soren had seen the servant deliver it, had noted how Tavren’s face had drained of color as he read the contents before shoving it into his tunic.

’Fear of disappointing daddy,’ Soren thought, adding this to his mental catalog. The irony wasn’t lost on him, the boy who tormented others for their low birth was himself terrified of falling short of noble expectations.

He shifted his position against the wall, wincing as the movement pulled at healing blisters on his palms. Three days of careful observation had yielded a treasure trove of vulnerabilities.

Marken’s gambling debts to older recruits. Jost’s sister working in one of Nordhav’s brothels, a source of shame that made him violent when anyone mentioned family. Kale’s obvious illiteracy, hidden behind bluster and avoided reading assignments.

Each weakness was a blade waiting to be drawn. Each fear a lever that could move mountains, if applied correctly.

The shard pulsed against his chest as Dane approached the water barrel, the big recruit moving with his usual unhurried gait. Soren had been watching him closely, trying to penetrate the careful neutrality that seemed to define everything about the man.