Joost looked at his reflection in the glass of the double doors that led from the house to the side garden. His mother was right. Even with his new uniform, he still looked like a baby. He gently ran his finger over his upper lip. If only his mustache would grow. It certainly looked thicker than yesterday. He had been serving in the Guard for less than six weeks, but it wasn’t as exciting as he had hoped. He thought he would be chasing thieves in the Barrel or patrolling the docks, and that he would be among the first to see the cargo arriving at the wharves. But after that ambassador was murdered at the town hall, the Merchant Council kept complaining about security, so where was he? Making rounds at some lucky merchant’s house. Not just any merchant, though. Councilor Hoede had the highest rank in Ketterdam’s government that anyone could have.

Joost straightened his coat and his rifle, then patted the club at his hip. Maybe Hoede liked him. Observant and quick with the baton, Hoede would say. This guy deserves a promotion.