A loud, resonant bell rang out across the courtyard, struck three times in steady succession, each note carrying clearly through the open space before a voice followed, announcing the arrival of the High Chief Commander. The sound reverberated with authority, cutting through every lingering distraction and settling firmly over the area.
At once, the courtyard shifted into motion. What had been scattered moments earlier became ordered with remarkable speed as soldiers moved to their positions, forming clean, upright lines with practiced precision. Boots struck against the cobblestone in sharp, synchronized rhythm, while brief shouts and commands overlapped in a controlled urgency that quickly gave way to discipline.
Within seconds, the chaos resolved into structure, leaving behind only the faint echo of movement.
Jurgen, who had been running on little more than endurance, forced himself into position at the very back of the formation. There had been no opportunity for rest after everything he had endured the previous night, and it showed. His posture held, but only just, as fatigue weighed heavily on him. His eyelids sagged, and a long, unrestrained yawn escaped him, stretching wider than he intended as it carried faintly into the surrounding quiet.
At his side, Bubbles remained close, almost instinctively mirroring his movements, though there was an anxious tension in the way he carried himself that Jurgen lacked entirely.
The contrast between Jurgen and the rest of the formation was almost absurd. While the others stood firm and alert, he appeared as though he were barely holding himself upright, his steps sluggish, his presence out of place among the disciplined stillness.
One of the nearby members cast him a sharp, exasperated glance before quickly returning their focus forward, unwilling to break formation further.
Jurgen's gaze drifted lazily across the rows ahead of him, taking in the uniform posture of those present before he murmured under his breath, his tone low and faintly incredulous.
"Why does everyone look so energetic… when I'm on the verge of collapsing?"
Before the thought could settle, a loud, commanding voice broke across the courtyard.
"Damn brats, how are you today!"
"WE'RE UP AND READY, SIR!" the response came instantly, loud and unified, echoing across the space with practiced precision.
Jurgen's expression shifted slightly, his face contorting in a way that bordered on comical as he processed the response.
Who exactly is 'we'? he thought, the collective answer doing little to impress him.
"I hear we've got some fine cleaners this year," the voice continued, followed by a brief laugh.
The remark drew immediate reaction, the tension easing as laughter spread across the courtyard, the soldiers responding naturally to the shift in tone. It was brief, but effective.
The man at the front cleared his throat, the sound enough to settle the space once more. As the laughter faded, his demeanor shifted, his gaze moving carefully across the formation as his tone became more measured.
"I'm sure by now you've heard of the incident that occurred within our area. It is nothing short of a disgrace to the Banjo Division — to allow such a thing to happen, to lose a young life while we stood by unable to act."
The courtyard fell silent.
"It is even more shameful that the Emperor himself had to intervene in a matter we should have been capable of handling."
The weight of his words settled heavily across the formation. His disappointment was clear, not exaggerated, but firmly grounded. He had been away only briefly, yet in that time, something of significant consequence had taken place — within his own division.
"We've really made High Chief Rudolph mad," a voice muttered quietly from beside Jurgen.
The name cut through his fatigue almost instantly. His eyes, which had been half-lidded moments ago, sharpened as a faint resentment surfaced. Though he could not see clearly past the figures in front of him, the realization that the voice belonged to Rudolph only deepened his irritation.
"Rudolph…" he murmured under his breath, the recognition settling in.
"I urge all of you to be better," Rudolph continued, his voice steady but firm. "Train harder. Make yourselves useful. I will not tolerate weakness within my division. You will train until your bodies give out, until you can no longer stand, until you are pushed to the very edge of your limits. Am I understood?"
The response came quickly, respectful, though lacking the force he expected.
Rudolph's gaze hardened, his presence pressing more heavily against the courtyard as irritation crept into his expression.
"You lot seem to think I'm asking," he said, the shift in tone immediate.
This time, the response came louder, stronger, the soldiers raising their voices to meet his expectation, the tension in their bodies reflecting the pressure he exerted.
Even so, it was clear the matter would not end here. There would be further consequences, further discussions, and Rudolph would stand at the center of it, forced to face others of equal standing with the weight of failure resting on his division.
From behind, Bubbles shifted again, trying to catch a glimpse past the taller figures in front of him.
"It's really hard to see the commander," he muttered, craning his neck with mild frustration.
"Oi… Eric, bring me the list of the newcomers," Rudolph said, his tone easing slightly as he extended his hand.
A short parchment was placed neatly into his palm, its surface filled with names written in bold, precise script.
"The rest are dismissed. New recruits, remain behind," Captain Eric's voice carried across the courtyard.
At once, the formation broke in an orderly manner as the experienced members departed, leaving the recruits standing in place. The courtyard gradually quieted as their footsteps faded.
Rudolph lowered his gaze to the parchment in his hand and scanned the list of names with steady focus. His eyes moved down the page without pause, briefly passing over Jurgen's name without fully registering it on his first read.
Once he reached the end, he lifted his head, the list still in hand, and turned his attention back to the group of recruits before him as he prepared to call out their names.