At the training camp outside the capital
At the break of dawn, the sound of trumpets cut through the camp. The cold was biting, and the dew made the ground slick with mud, yet no one was given a moment's rest.
More than fifty recruits gathered in the yard, their faces worn from the past days, but their eyes sharp with anticipation of what lay ahead.
Commander Raon appeared with steady steps, four officers following behind. His voice rose above the murmurs:
— "You have all completed the first phase: the test of weapons, endurance, and discipline. Starting today… the second phase begins."
He signaled to the soldiers behind him, who began distributing heavy iron armor, far heavier than what the recruits were used to.
— "You will not only learn how to fight with a sword. From now on, you will learn how to fight when you are exhausted, how to breathe under the weight, and how to keep your balance when your body is about to collapse."
One recruit, a tall youth from a minor noble house, raised his hand:
— "Sir, this armor cannot be worn for hours!"
Raon stepped toward him and locked eyes with him:
— "In war, you do not get to choose what you can endure. If you cannot, then leave your place for someone who can."
Then he barked the order:
— "March!"
The march through the forest
The group moved along a muddy path cutting through the nearby forest. The sound of iron clashed with heavy breaths.
Milo was gasping, barely holding on:
— "It feels like my chest is being crushed!"
Eron, gritting his teeth, replied firmly:
— "If you cannot breathe, then learn to fight without air."
At the back, some of the newer recruits stumbled every few steps, the soldiers' shouts crashing down on them to rise.
Serin spoke no words. Her eyes were fixed on the ground before her, her steps short but steady, as if she measured the weight of every movement.
Kaizlan felt his muscles burning beneath the armor, yet he remembered the long hours back home, training with heavy logs. "I will not stop here," he told himself.
In the capital — Council of Nobles
While the recruits dragged their feet through the forest, several representatives of the great houses gathered in the capital. The discussion circled around the spreading rumors of a northern alliance.
A man from House Altaren said sharply:
— "If this talk continues, the court will be forced to respond publicly. Otherwise, it will be seen as weakness."
Another, from House Korval, countered:
— "Let the court delay. We need chaos — it is the best time to expand our influence."
At the back, Elian Griffin sat in silence, his eyes watching every face, as if weaving each word into unseen threads.
Back at the camp
After hours of marching, the group reached a steep rocky hill. Raon ordered them to climb the slope with their armor still on.
Sweat poured like rain. Some collapsed halfway. One recruit fell to his knees, and Raon himself strode over.
— "Get up."
— "I… I can't, sir."
— "Then go back to your home, and don't stain this ground with your fear."
Kaizlan, who was nearby, reached out and pulled the recruit up despite the crushing weight. Raon said nothing, but his eyes flickered with a moment of silent acknowledgment.
At sunset
When the march ended, the recruits slumped to the ground, drained of strength. The officers handed out dry bread and murky water barely fit to drink.
Torn laughed through his exhaustion:
— "I think this bread is tougher than the training itself."
A few chuckled weakly, but most were too breathless to respond.
In the command tent, one officer spoke quietly to Raon:
— "Sir, half of them will collapse before the week is over."
Raon stared into the fire, his voice steady:
— "And those who remain… will be true fighters."