Page 7 of The Broken Dawn

"Morning assembly is held here daily at 0600," Christian explained, his voice taking on the crisp tone of a military briefing. "Full uniform, white gloves for inspection. Cadets stand by year, with first-years at the back. You'll be expected to memorize the academy's anthem by the end of the week."

Freddie walked a few paces behind them, occasionally exchanging pleasantries with faculty members who joined their procession. Hal could feel his brother's presence like a shield at his back, but it was Christian who commanded this space.

"The library," Christian continued, pushing open heavy oak doors to reveal a towering, wood-paneled hall lined with leather-bound volumes. Iron sconces cast flickering light over long tables where a few senior cadets were already studying, their posture straight and elegant even in solitude. "Study hours are mandatory from 1900 to 2100 every evening except Sundays."

The smell of aged parchment and pipe smoke hung in the air, and despite himself, Harald felt a flicker of interest. At least here were books—thousands of them, from floor to ceiling.

Christian noticed his gaze. "Military history, tactics, and approved literature only," he said, dashing Harald's hope. "Your personal reading material will be inspected, of course."

They moved through classrooms with their rows of desks polished to a dull sheen, past maps of Europe pinned like battle plans on the walls. In each room, Christian detailed the rigid schedule Harald would follow: Mathematics, Military History, Languages, Physical Training...

"You'll be expected to maintain top marks in all subjects," Christian added as they left the academic wing. "As a royal cadet, anything less would reflect poorly on the family."

Outside, the rain had intensified, but Christian led them across the courtyard regardless, pointing out the parade ground where cadets drilled daily, the obstacle course that first-years ran before breakfast, the shooting range beyond the tree line. Water dripped from Harald's cap onto his collar, but he didn't dare adjust it—not with Christian watching his every move.

"Physical standards are non-negotiable," Christian continued as they sloshed through puddles. "Five-mile run every morning, regardless of weather. Strength training three times weekly. Swimming in the lake on Thursdays—even in winter."

Harald, who had always preferred books to sports, felt his stomach tighten. Freddie caught his eye again and gave an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.

"The dining hall," Christian announced as they entered another building, this one smelling of polish and yesterday's cabbage. Long wooden tables stretched the length of a candlelit hall. "First-years sit at the far end, furthest from the fire in winter." His smile was sharp. "Tradition."

By the time they reached the dormitory wing, Harald's head was spinning with regulations and schedules. Christian led them up three flights of stairs to a corridor where the doors were spaced further apart than in the main dormitories.

"Senior cadets and... special cases," Christian explained, stopping before a heavy wooden door. "Your quarters, cousin."

The room was larger than the standard cadet accommodations Harald had glimpsed on their way, but still spartan by royal standards. A narrow bed with military corners, a desk and chair, a small wardrobe, and a washstand. The only concessions to his status were a slightly larger window and the absence of a roommate.

"Your trunks arrived yesterday," Christian said, gesturing to where Harald's belongings had been neatly unpacked and arranged. "I took the liberty of ensuring everything meets regulations."

Harald's books had been stacked on the desk, and he noticed immediately that several volumes were missing—likely deemed unsuitable by the academy's standards. His personal items had been arranged with military precision, all signs of individuality carefully minimized.

"The uniform regulations are posted here," Christian continued, indicating a framed document on the wall. "First-years are subject to random inspections at any hour. Infractions result in demerits, which translate to additional physical training or loss of privileges."

He moved to the wardrobe, opening it to reveal Harald's uniforms hanging neatly, hangers spaced evenly apart. "Daily uniform must be spotless, brass polished, boots shined to mirror finish. Parade dress for Sundays and formal occasions. Field uniform for outdoor training. Winter kit will be issued in October."

Harald nodded, feeling increasingly like he was being prepared for prison rather than education.

His brother's face peeked around the door. "Nice room," Freddie commented. "When I was here I had to share."

"Lights out at 2200 hours," Christian continued his discussion, seeming to enjoy Harald's discomfort. "First bugle at 0530. Any questions, cousin?"

A thousand, but none Harald dared ask with Christian watching him like a hawk and his brother looming over him. "No. Thank you for the tour."

Christian checked his watch. "I should report to the Commandant before dinner. Freddie, will you be joining us in the officers' mess?"

"Not tonight," Freddie said, speaking up for the first time in what felt like hours. "I need a word with my brother before I return to Stockholm."

Something flashed in Christian's eyes—annoyance, perhaps—but his smile remained fixed. "Of course. I'll leave you to it, then." He bowed to Freddie, nodded to Harald, and departed with measured steps that echoed down the corridor.

As soon as the door closed, Harald's shoulders slumped. Freddie crossed to the window, looking out at the rain-lashed courtyard.

"He's enjoying this a little too much," Freddie said quietly.

"Oh, you think so?" Harald said, sarcastically as he sank onto the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. "I knew it would be strict, but this is..."

"Riddarhuset." Freddie turned back to him with a rueful smile. "It's designed to break you down and rebuild you. That's the point."

"And Christian gets to oversee the breaking." Harald ran a hand through his damp hair, no longer caring about appearances now that it was just the two of them. "Why did Father insist on this place? Why not the naval academy, or university, or⁠—"