The Camp – After the Group Battle
Night had fallen, yet the echoes of screams and the clash of wooden swords still rang in the trainees' ears. Some sat near the fire, wrapping their wounds; others lay in silence, as if afraid to close their eyes.
None of the trainees had died this time, but several had fainted from the sheer force of the blows. Two were carried to the infirmary with broken bones. One of the bandits bled out on the ground and died, and no one spared him a glance—as if his death were just another part of the lesson.
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Kaizlan sat leaning against a tree trunk, staring at his trembling hands. The blood on his fingers was not his own, but his opponent's. Every time he tried to blink it away, the scene returned: a man twisting in pain, collapsing, life ripped from him with a single strike.
Milo came and sat beside him in silence. After a moment he asked softly:
— "I wonder… are we becoming better? Or worse?"
Kaizlan lifted his eyes but found no answer. Silence was stronger.
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Serin stared into the fire, her face motionless, but her eyes restless. Every spark reminded her of the prisoner she had killed with her own hand.
Suddenly she whispered:
— "I don't see the faces of the ones I've killed… but I hear their voices. In sleep… and when I'm awake."
No one replied. Silence had become part of who they were—heavy, unshakable silence.
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Hark refused to move away from the torch. His small eyes locked on the flames as if they were his only salvation.
Ilda walked around the yard, counting her steps under her breath:
— "One… two… three… twenty…"
As if she was trying to count her way out of the nightmare.
Bartol sat in a corner, whispering to himself:
— "I didn't fall… I didn't fall…"
Then suddenly he raised his head and shouted:
— "But they fell!"
The outburst made several trainees shrink back in unease.
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The Capital
In a dim council chamber lit by candles, Count Altarin sat with a court official. Rain drummed against the windows, deepening the gloom.
The man said:
— "The Silent General… his rumors keep spreading. They say he alone stopped a charge of a thousand men at the border."
Altarin stroked his white beard slowly, speaking with a weary voice:
— "Men like that… they forge legends while still alive. And when they die, they leave a void no one can fill."
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A Distant Place
Adam stood before the graves of his family, rain soaking into the soil. He did not shed a tear, but his eyes were dark, like a sea that had lost its ships.
He whispered:
— "I dreamed of living as a simple man. But you were killed because I tried to escape my past."
Then he turned away, as if even the graves were enemies now—reminders of his failure.