The imperial military compound was divided into four main zones.

The first was the central building, housing accommodations, break rooms, and duty quarters for soldiers. This building also contained the Supreme Commander’s office and was the area most frequented by the troops.

The second zone served as storage and maintenance for military supplies and weapons. The third was the training grounds, divided into outdoor and indoor sections. Both comprehensive military drills and individual training sessions took place here.

These training grounds were quiet only twice a day: before dawn and during lunch breaks. However, even during these hours, there were always a few who refused to slack off.

At 5:30 in the morning, sharp sword strikes echoed through one of the private training rooms. The sight was anything but serene, contrasting starkly with the stillness of the dawn.

Captain Theo, leader of the First Division, was already deep into his training. Agile and precise, his movements were impeccable as he lost track of time.

“Captain,” came a voice.

Philip Sayman, a member of the First Division, approached with a respectful salute.

“It’s almost time for the morning drills to begin.”

Theo nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. Every time Philip saw this routine, he couldn’t help but marvel.

On average, morning drills were held five times a week, barring major events. Yet Theo consistently rose at dawn, regardless of the schedule, to train with his sword. Rain or shine, snow or storm, he never wavered. The sheer discipline was astonishing—enough to make even a seasoned soldier shudder at the thought.

“What’s the schedule for today?” Theo asked.

“After the morning drills, there’s an afternoon opera viewing hosted by His Majesty, the Emperor.”

The mention of "opera" made Theo’s brow twitch ever so slightly. The current Emperor of the Heinel Empire, Cedric Roelard, was famously nicknamed "The Opera Fanatic." Renowned for his deep appreciation for culture and the arts, he often invited prominent figures from noble families and influential officials to group opera outings. It was a peculiar hobby—or rather, a bothersome quirk.

What bothered Theo most wasn’t the opera itself but the Emperor’s insistence on involving the military. It was clear the gesture was a thinly veiled display of authority. What I enjoy, you must enjoy, the Emperor seemed to say, dragging soldiers into his cultural pursuits.

“Understood. I’ll see you at the training grounds.”

“Yes, sir!”

After dismissing Philip, Theo gathered his belongings and left the training room. Left alone, Philip set aside his salute and walked over to a corner where a whiteboard was propped up. Grabbing a marker with practiced ease, he began updating the board.

May Dawn Training

Theo | Luke
14 | 15

Philip erased the "14" under Theo’s name and replaced it with a "15" to match Luke’s total. A satisfied smile crept across his face as he admired the now-equal scores.

“What are you doing?”

A sudden voice from behind startled him so much that he nearly fell over. Turning, Philip saw Theo standing there, his towel in hand.

“C-Captain, sir…!” Philip stammered, scrambling to his feet.

Theo had returned to retrieve the towel he’d forgotten, but his attention was quickly drawn to the conspicuous whiteboard. On it, familiar names and cryptic numbers were boldly displayed.

“And this is…?” Theo asked, his gaze narrowing.

“Well, that is…” Philip faltered.

“Philip Sayman,” Theo said, lowering his voice, causing Philip to straighten reflexively.

“Sir! It’s a record of the days you and Captain Luke have trained at dawn, marked each time you’ve been here!”

“And why, exactly, are you keeping such a record?” Theo’s brow furrowed further.

Of course, he knew the nature of his "relationship" with Luke, or at least how the imperial soldiers perceived it. But this? This bordered on absurd. Someone had clearly decided to waste time documenting their movements, and Theo wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Well… Captain Luke ordered it, sir.”

“What?”

“Captain Luke said to mark it every time you trained at dawn…”

At this revelation, Theo sighed in exasperation. Of course, it was Luke—who else would come up with such a petty competition?

“Ridiculous,” Theo muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

***

On the grand stage, a soprano performed an aria, her graceful gestures and voice weaving an exquisite tapestry of art. The audience, including the Emperor and the heads of prominent noble families, sat entranced, their eyes closed as if savoring every note.

“Ugh, I’m going to die of boredom.”

Among them, only Luke suppressed a yawn, his expression a mix of apathy and fatigue. He couldn’t refuse the Emperor’s invitation, but this was far duller than he had anticipated. The early dawn trainings, his self-imposed rivalry with Theo, had worn him down. After all, wasn’t it the duty of a rival to contest every trivial thing, ensuring the other trained harder in response?

Luke tilted his head slightly to glance at the back of Theo’s seat. Unlike his own slouching posture, Theo sat upright, fully engaged. The sight irked Luke enough to straighten up and refocus his energy, determined not to appear lax by comparison.

At last, the seemingly endless performance concluded. The Emperor and other dignitaries erupted in thunderous applause, their appreciation filling the grand hall. Luke, his spirit barely holding on, clapped along with mechanical enthusiasm.

"Five more minutes of this, and I’d have fainted," he muttered under his breath.

As the Emperor and other high-ranking officials began leaving their seats, Luke prepared to make his own exit, eager to return to the barracks for some much-needed rest. Before he could leave, however, a middle-aged man approached him from across the hall.

“Captain Luke.”

Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Luke quickly composed himself and stood to greet the man.

“Good afternoon, Duke Raiden.”

Sion Raiden. The head of the prestigious Raiden Ducal family.

“I heard about your recent mission. A solo ambush success, is that correct?”

Luke, accustomed to this by now, offered a smug smile. A proper villain aspiring for grandeur should always crave the approval of the powerful, and Duke Raiden was no exception.

“You flatter me, Your Grace.”

Luke could feel the disapproving glares from a few Imperial soldiers nearby, their disdain palpable. He ignored them, maintaining his polished façade.

“Do you have time later today?” the Duke inquired.

“Today, sir?” Luke tilted his head.

“Yes. My daughter has recently taken an interest in the military, oddly enough. How about joining us for some tea? I recently acquired a rare batch from abroad.”

At that moment, a young lady approached, offering Luke a polite nod. Luke returned the gesture with a charming smile, though inwardly, he wanted to bolt. All he desired was to collapse in bed, exhausted from his efforts to drive the protagonist toward greatness.

“I appreciate the offer, but—”

Before he could fabricate an excuse, he felt a piercing gaze from across the room. It was Theo, staring directly at him and the Duke.

An idea struck Luke like lightning. Perhaps this scene—him engaging with a powerful duke and his family—might spark some jealousy or competitiveness in the protagonist. While the position of Supreme Commander was earned through skill and leadership, appearances and alliances still carried weight. Theo might not overlook this.

“Actually,” the Duke prompted, raising a brow.

“Actually… I adore tea,” Luke said with an effortless smile.

The Duke’s face lit up, and the young lady by his side beamed with delight.

“Excellent. I’ve already arranged a carriage out front,” the Duke announced.

As Luke nodded and turned to follow, he cast a glance toward Theo, his expression daring the protagonist to act. What will you do, Theo? Stop me? Intervene with the Duke? Scramble to form your own alliances?

To his surprise, Theo began striding toward him. Luke’s eyes widened slightly. Well, well, seems I’ve finally lit a fire under him.

“Captain Luke,” Theo called out, his tone even.

To Luke’s bewilderment, Theo ignored the Duke and his daughter entirely, addressing only him.

“…Yes?” Luke asked cautiously.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten about this afternoon’s duel?”

“Duel?” Luke echoed, stalling. Had they scheduled one? His sleep-deprived brain struggled to recall.

“This time, I’m curious to see if you can beat me,” Theo added with a hint of a challenge.

Luke’s brow twitched. Fine. If it’s a fight you want, I’ll give it to you. Proving my superiority through skill will leave a much stronger impression.

“Ah, yes, I nearly forgot,” Luke said, turning back to the Duke with a contrite expression.

“My apologies, Your Grace, but it seems I’ve overlooked an important commitment. As a soldier, I must prioritize my duties.”

Though the Duke looked somewhat displeased, Luke’s repeated apologies managed to mollify him. Only then did he escape the suffocating atmosphere, leaving the opera house alongside Theo.

As they walked back to the barracks, Theo’s expression remained unreadable, but Luke couldn’t help feeling a strange satisfaction. This, too, was progress—pushing the protagonist toward his destined role.