Riven arrived the next morning with scraped knees and defiant eyes.
Maverick noticed both immediately.
They stood in the inner courtyard of the Marshall estate — a space designed less for leisure and more for discipline. Polished stone tiles formed geometric patterns across the ground, bordered by low walls etched with the sigil of House Marshall: a blade crossed over a broken chain.
The amber sun of Chukdem hung low, warming the stone beneath their feet.
Kaelira stood nearby, silent as ever.
Riven's mother hovered at the edge of the courtyard, uncertain whether she was permitted to remain. She wore a simple grey dress, sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms. Her eyes moved constantly — protective, wary, grateful.
Riven did not look at her.
He looked at Maverick.
The wolf-line boy was slightly taller despite being the same age. Dark hair fell messily across his forehead. His ears — charcoal tipped with silver — twitched restlessly. His eyes were sharp, too sharp for a child who had not known war.
"You nearly died," Riven said by way of greeting.
Maverick blinked once.
"That was the rumour?"
"It was more than rumour," Riven replied. "My mum cried."
Honest. Direct.
Maverick appreciated that.
"I did not die," Maverick said.
Riven folded his arms.
"That's not the same thing."
A pause.
Maverick studied him carefully.
No bow.
No formal address.
Good.
He did not want obedience.
He wanted equal footing.
"You scraped your knee," Maverick observed.
Riven glanced down dismissively.
"Fell from the wall."
"Why were you on the wall?"
"To see the patrol rotations."
Maverick's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Why?"
Riven hesitated, then shrugged.
"In case they come back."
They.
The Empire.
Five years old.
Already watching for invasion.
Maverick nodded once.
"Good."
Riven blinked.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"You're not going to tell me it's dangerous?"
"It is," Maverick replied. "Which is why you should not fall."
Riven stared at him for several seconds, then grinned — a wide, unfiltered expression that made him look younger than he acted.
"You're weird since you woke up."
"I was ill."
"That's not what I meant."
Maverick tilted his head slightly.
"Explain."
Riven stepped closer.
"You look the same. But you're not. You talk like my mum's old stories. Like someone who's already seen everything."
Maverick held his gaze.
He did not deny it.
"Do you want to train?" Maverick asked instead.
Riven's ears shot upright.
"Train?"
Kaelira's voice cut in smoothly.
"Light movement only."
Maverick ignored her tone.
"Yes. Train."
Riven's grin widened.
"Course I do."
Maverick turned towards the open stretch of courtyard.
"Then we begin with walking."
Riven blinked.
"That's boring."
"Incorrect," Maverick replied calmly. "Walking is structure."
He stepped forward deliberately.
Heel.
Toe.
Weight balanced evenly.
Shoulders aligned.
Head level.
He felt the weakness still in his muscles. The tremor in his calves. The slight instability in his ankles.
He despised it.
But he did not rush.
"Why are you doing it like that?" Riven asked, copying him awkwardly.
"Because if you cannot control your centre of gravity," Maverick replied, "you cannot control a blade."
Riven nearly tripped mid-step.
"I'm five."
"Yes."
"That's ages away."
"Is it?"
Riven considered that.
Maverick continued slowly across the courtyard.
"When the lights go out," he said quietly, "what remains?"
Riven frowned.
"What?"
"If the power grid fails. If the drones fall from the sky. If the armour locks. What remains?"
Riven thought harder now.
"Us?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Our legs?"
Maverick allowed the faintest smile.
"Correct."
Riven straightened slightly.
"So this is for when everything breaks?"
"Yes."
"Is everything going to break?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in the answer.
Riven absorbed that.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
They continued walking in silence for several minutes.
Kaelira watched without interference.
Maverick altered his pace subtly — accelerating half a fraction, then slowing again. Testing Riven's awareness.
Riven noticed.
"You sped up."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To see if you were paying attention."
"I was."
"Good."
Riven frowned again.
"Is this what the soldiers do?"
"No," Maverick said.
"This is what they should do."
Riven liked that answer.
He liked Maverick's answers in general.
They felt different from the way adults spoke — not wrapped in softness or false reassurance.
Direct.
Clear.
Real.
After several passes across the courtyard, Maverick stopped.
His legs trembled faintly now.
He did not let it show.
"Now balance," he said.
"Balance on what?"
Maverick pointed to the narrow edge of a low stone wall lining the courtyard.
Riven's ears twitched excitedly.
"Finally."
Riven hopped up first, arms out for stability.
Maverick followed more slowly.
The stone was warm beneath his bare feet.
He adjusted his stance carefully.
"Why do you care so much?" Riven asked suddenly.
Maverick did not answer immediately.
The question was not simple.
"Because someone must," he said eventually.
"That's not an answer."
"It is sufficient."
Riven grinned again.
"You're going to be a commander one day."
Maverick glanced sideways at him.
"How do you know?"
"You act like you already are."
Maverick considered that.
Commander.
Leader.
Target.
He shifted his weight deliberately, testing his recovering muscles.
"I will only command those who can stand on their own," he said quietly.
Riven wobbled dramatically in response.
"I can stand!"
He nearly fell off the wall, catching himself at the last second.
Maverick did not reach to steady him.
Riven recovered independently.
Good.
"You tell the best stories," Riven said after a moment.
Maverick looked forward again.
"Which ones?"
"The Starfall ones."
Ah.
There it was.
"The Order that never abandons its own," Riven continued. "The ones with the light blades."
"They are discipline myths," Maverick replied.
"They're brilliant," Riven countered.
"You changed them," Riven added suddenly.
Maverick's gaze flicked towards him.
"What do you mean?"
"My mum says they sound like old Earth tales. But you tell them different. Darker. Smarter."
Maverick stepped carefully along the wall.
"They are ours," he said simply.
Riven's grin softened.
"I'd make a good Starfall."
Maverick did not laugh.
"I know," he replied.
Riven blinked, surprised by the seriousness of the answer.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you watch walls for patrol rotations at five years old."
Riven's chest puffed slightly with pride.
"And because you do not bow when you speak to me."
Riven tilted his head.
"Should I?"
"No."
Riven smiled slowly.
"Good."
They reached the end of the wall and stepped down.
Maverick's legs shook more noticeably now.
Kaelira approached silently.
"That is enough," she said.
"For today," Maverick agreed.
Riven frowned.
"We've only just started."
"You will train every day," Maverick replied. "That is how doctrine is built."
"Doctrine?"
"A way of thinking that does not break when everything else does."
Riven looked at him thoughtfully.
"You talk like you've seen it break."
Maverick's eyes shifted briefly towards the horizon.
He had.
Once.
And he would not allow it again.
"Perhaps," he said quietly.
Riven studied him for a long moment.
Then shrugged.
"Well. When I'm a Starfall, I'm getting a blade first."
"There are no blades," Maverick replied.
"Then why tell the story?"
"To teach loyalty."
Riven considered that.
Then nodded slowly.
"Fair."
Kaelira placed a steadying hand at Maverick's shoulder.
"Inside," she said softly.
Riven hopped back from the wall and landed lightly.
"I'll come tomorrow," he declared.
"You will," Maverick replied.
As Riven ran towards the archway where his mother waited, Maverick remained still for a moment longer.
He watched the wolf-line boy speak animatedly to his mother, describing the balance exercise with exaggerated gestures.
Alive.
Present.
Unbroken.
Maverick felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest.
Responsibility.
Not abstract.
Not political.
Personal.
He turned slightly to Kaelira.
"Ensure the guards adjust their patrol rotations," he said.
"They already have," she replied.
"Rotate again."
She studied him.
"Why?"
"If they are testing internal weaknesses, they will expect the adjustment. Change it twice."
A pause.
Then:
"You are five."
"Yes."
"And already you think like this?"
"Yes."
She did not question further.
They walked back towards the estate interior together.
The banners of House Marshall shifted gently in the courtyard breeze.
A blade over a broken chain.
Riven believed in stories of the Starfall Order.
Maverick believed in training.
One day, those two things would become the same.
For now, it began with walking.