The Barrack

Back in the quiet solitude of her inn room, Anna laid out her new acquisitions on the dusty desk. The single, potent vampiric essence—the veil stone—she slipped into a hidden pocket inside her coat, a tool for emergencies only. The single corruption seed from Pietta, “Let’s call this, Pietta stone…” a potential tracking device, she wrapped in a scrap of cloth and tucked into a separate pouch. Finally, the bag from Yarte. She counted them under the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

“Thirty perfectly formed seeds of Morvanium. We only need to plant ten for now,” Anna murmured, selecting a third, empty pouch for the task. “Enough to show progress, not enough to cause real harm before I can reverse it.”

“Are you sure about this, Anna?” Maren asked, her glow soft with worry. “Helping a lich, even as a trick… it feels wrong!”

“It’s a means to an end,” Anna replied, her tone leaving no room for debate. She slipped out into the sleeping city. Maren floated silently above her as Anna quickly and efficiently deposited the ten seeds in the darkest, most forgotten corners of Frola.

“They are all staring?” she murmured, her voice a quiet breath in the cold air.

“Mnnaa, they probably did because you put random stone slowly!” Maren’s voiced in her mind, “And maybe they’re just jealous of your cool coat! Let’s go to the barrack now!”

Anna pulled her hood lower.

She was lost. The winding streets all looked the same in the dim torchlight. She saw a lone guard leaning against a wall and decided to risk it.

“Excuse me,” she began, “I’m looking for the Royal Knight Barracks.”

The guard looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her pale skin with a look of suspicion. “The barracks ain’t a place for stray animals to be wandering around at this hour,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Go home. Before you find trouble you’re not looking for.”

“I have official business,” Anna stated, her patience wearing thin. Also did he calls me an animal?!

“Sure you do,” the guard scoffed, turning his back on her. “Now get lost.”

“Don’t mind him, Anna!” Maren insisted telepathically. “He’s just a grumpy-pants! I think the barracks is that way! It has a very big, pointy roof!”

Anna sighed, “What is wrong with people in this city…”

The knightly barracks of Minilon were less a single building and more a small, walled military district unto itself, a grim fortress within a fortress occupying the entire eastern quarter of the capital.

Built against the city’s main eastern wall for rapid deployment, its sprawling grounds were a city in miniature, complete with their own training yards, stables, multiple armories, and mess halls.

Looming over all of it, set deep within the complex and quite far from the public-facing main gate, was the central keep. This was the true heart of the knights’ power: a monolithic tower of black stone that served as the high-security prison for their most dangerous enemies and the command center for their entire military operation. It was here that the sacred Orivaneia crystal was housed, the heart of the barrack.

“Orivaneia crystal?” Anna asked. Maren moved up and down, “Yeah! I remember before disappearing, Orivaneia made a crystal for the barrack. It’s definitely not wrong! I remember her making it!”

“I see… it may be useful later…”

Even at two in the morning, the complex was alive with the bustle of the watch, with torches burning and sentries walking battlements that seemed to stretch for kilometers. When Anna presented her letter at the main gate, they let her pass with wary reluctance, pointing her down a long, torchlit avenue towards the distant, imposing keep.

“Anna!” he said, his face lighting up with that earnest warmth. “I didn’t expect you so soon!”

He’s awake at this hour? she thought. His dedication is either admirable or foolish.

“The letter said I could claim my reward at any time,” Anna stated simply.

A voice drawled from the shadows of a nearby archway. “Couldn’t it have waited until the sun was up?” Seware emerged, handsome and smirking, leaning against the stone as if he owned it.

“I’m a vampire,” Anna said flatly. “The sun and I have a disagreement.”

Seware’s gaze flicked past her to the hovering sword, and his smirk tightened into a hostile glare. “Right. And you brought your glowing pet.”

Anna looks at Maren, “I guess you can call it that…”

Jarce ignored him, taking the letter and scanning the signature. “This looks like Olomyar’s hand,” he said thoughtfully. “He’s the Vice-Captain, second only to Destrian. This is official. Please, come with me, I’ll take you to him.”

“Hold on,” Seware snapped, stepping forward to block their path. “We are not letting a vampire wander around our barracks. For all we know, you’re a spy for the corruption!”

“For all I know, I killed their Warchief,” Anna countered. “That’s why you’re offering me a reward. Or have you forgotten already?”

Seware’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t argue the point, but the hatred in his eyes didn’t fade. “That doesn’t change what you are.”

“That’s enough, Seware,” Jarce said firmly.

Before the argument could escalate, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the tension. “What is the meaning of this commotion?”

A female knight with a stern face and armor that was more practical than decorative strode towards them. This was Zebril, the barracks’ Quartermaster, a woman who ran her department with terrifying efficiency.

“Captain Zebril,” Jarce said with relief.

Zebril’s gaze swept over the scene, assessing it in an instant. “Sir Jarce, you have a guest. Seware, you are bothering our guest. Apu!”

A younger, skinnier knight-in-training who was trailing her jumped. “Yes, Captain!”

“Take our guest to the antechamber and ensure she is comfortable,” Zebril ordered. “Then inform Captain Destrian that the savior of his life is here to claim her prize.”

“Yes, Captain!” Apu nodded frantically and turned to Anna, bowing slightly. “This way, miss.”

As Apu led her away, Anna glanced back. Jarce looked relieved, while Seware was fuming, silenced by a superior officer.

She was led into a surprisingly pleasant room, furnished with carved wooden chairs and a small, polished table. It felt less like a military barracks and more like a genuine waiting room.

The young knight, Apu, led her with a nervous energy that Anna found almost quaint.

"Thank you," Anna said as he opened the door for her.

"O-Of course!" he stammered, his posture straightening. "Is there... anything you require while you wait? Water? A refreshment?"

Anna paused. What did she want? Her mind calculated the most strategic request, but the other part of her, the part that still remembered being a high school girl, spoke first.

"Do you have anything... sweet?" she asked, the question sounding odd even to her own ears. "Like a macaron? Or a chocolate bar? A hot chocolate drink, maybe?"

She had no idea if such things even existed in this world, but the names felt comforting on her tongue. Apu, however, didn't even blink at the strange words.

"I... I will see what the kitchens can provide!" he said with determined sincerity.

"I will serve it as quickly as possible!" He gave another quick, respectful bow and hurried away, leaving Anna alone in the room.

Maren zipped out from behind her back. The antechamber was paneled with dark, polished wood. Weapon racks lined one wall, on the opposite wall hung a massive, detailed map of the Kingdom of Minilon. And in the center of the room, on a thick, woven rug, sat a plush sofa upholstered in deep burgundy fabric.

Anna ran a hand over the back of it, "A sofa," she murmured. "I didn't think this world's technology had progressed to 'comfortable seating' yet."

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, "Gods," she breathed out, "after seeing so many humans at once, I'm feeling kinda hungry."

"ANNA!" Maren shrieked, her light flashing in alarm.

"Hold it! You must hold it in! Do not, under any circumstances, drink the knights! If you're that hungry, you could have asked that nice boy for some animal blood!"

Anna rolled her eyes, leaning her head back against the cushions. "Not for blood, you glowing idiot," she said, a hint of the exasperated teenager she once was bleeding through her cold facade. "I want something sweet."

She let out another sigh, "I really want some chocolate."

A few minutes later, the door opened. Two men entered. The first was the Titan King himself, Destrian. His massive frame still commanded the room, his posture tall and proud despite the empty sleeve where his right arm had been.

Following him was a much slimmer man with quiet, observant eyes and fine robes. This was the Vice-Captain, Olomyar, a person whose welcoming smile seemed genuine.