Andrellia

6. Alaric

The Queen's laughter faded as Alaric and Phillip turned to walk away. The tension had eased, replaced by a simmering frustration in Alaric's gut. Phillip, ever the opportunist, materialized beside him, a playful smirk twisting his spectral features.

"Well, Captain," Phillip drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "Seems your unorthodox methods have provided the Queen with a good chuckle."

Alaric shot him a withering glance. "Hilarious. Let's just hope she doesn't decide to replace me with you as spectral drill sergeant."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath their boots the only sound. As they rounded a corner, a muffled sob reached their ears. It seemed to come from a nearby doorway, where a young maid was bent over, desperately trying to stifle her tears.

Alaric and Phillip exchanged a silent look. Curiosity piqued, Alaric cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.

The maid's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. Tears streamed down her red cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake. She fumbled for a handkerchief, her voice trembling as she tried to speak.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to"

Alaric approached her gently, his anger momentarily forgotten. "What's wrong, lass?"

The maid hesitated, then blurted out, "One of the new recruits... he... he tried to take advantage of me!"

Alaric's frustration reignited, hotter than before. These were the very same men he'd been training just moments ago. Shame burned in his gut.

"Which one?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The maid pointed a trembling finger down the hallway, towards the direction the recruits had gone. "H-he was the tall one, with the sandy hair. He said... he said he just needed directions, but then..."

Her voice trailed off, choked with a sob. Alaric felt a surge of protectiveness towards the young woman, a stark contrast to the contempt he felt for the recruit.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, his voice calmer now, but still laced with a steely resolve. "I'll handle it."

He turned towards Phillip, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Looks like I have a volunteer to demonstrate the finer points of battlefield justice."

Phillip raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement lingering in his spectral form. "Intriguing. Perhaps a lesson in respect is exactly what these... recruits need."

The clatter of cutlery and boisterous conversation in the mess hall dipped slightly as Alaric and Phillip entered. A hush fell over the room as Alaric, his jaw clenched tight, scanned the faces staring back at him. With a resounding clang, he slammed his fist onto a nearby table, the reverberation echoing through the cavernous space.

"Silence!" he roared, his voice tinged with a dangerous edge that sent shivers down spines. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the nervous fluttering of a trapped moth.

"At ease," he barked after a dramatic pause, the mock regret in his voice as thin as parchment. "Apparently," Alaric continued, his voice dropping to a low growl, "my skills as your drill sergeant have proven... lacking." A humorless smile played on his lips, sending a cold tremor through the assembled soldiers.

Eyes darted nervously between Alaric and the new recruits, who shifted in their seats, a mixture of confusion and trepidation painting their faces.

"It has come to my attention," Alaric continued, his voice low and laden with threat, "that one of you... a fresh face still reeking of manure and misplaced entitlement..." He let the sentence hang in the air, his gaze sweeping deliberately over the rookies, lingering on each one for a beat. "Has forgotten the basic principles of respect that bind a soldier to this very castle."