*********

CHAPTER PROLOGUE

‘’You can go out. Tell the attendant outside to wait five more minutes.’’

‘’Yes sir.’’

Ivan looked at the young child forcing a bow. His waist bent, revealing a rather skinny neck and thin shoulders, then rose and revolved to aim for the door. He heard a few words from the child just as the door squeaked close. There was a faint moment among them—no words, no movement; a wind howled outside and brought a chilling cold from the loose wood over their heads.

‘’Old man,’’ His gaze shot to his left, over the pauldron almost as high as his hand’s length. The silver-ish gleam reflected inside the eyes of the Guildsmaster. ‘’Be honest with me.’’

‘’What is wrong with that child? Spouting big words as if he knows what they are...’’

The elderly man let out a sigh. Below his hands rested the shoulders of the Vİllage Elder, who accompanied him with a lowered head. She held one hand up and held her husband’s hand, then they both looked towards Ivan.

‘’His father.’’ Village Elder said. She glanced at the door, then back at him. ‘’He changed when his father died.’’

‘’...I expected that much. No, I didn’t, but I assumed. How could he be fine anyway?’’

Ivan leaned back and crossed his hands together. Free from the weight of the gauntlets, he stretched and pulled them, popping the joints. ‘’But...but he isn’t broken or something. I don’t see him being upset, nor I see any emotional baggage.’’

‘’All I see is a half-lunatic acting like an adult.’’

‘’Lunatic, huh,’’ Village Elder muttered. ‘’That is wrong, m’lord. The boy isn’t a lunatic. He is dead-set on his views. It isn’t that he is acting like an adult, Lord Ivan, but that he is like an adult.’’

‘’There is indeed a difference.’’ Guildsmaster added. He massaged his wife’s shoulders while she rested her messy white head on his bulging stomach. ‘’It is more than obvious, m’lord, and you’ve seen it in the children before. When they act serious and grim, and they show off and act mighty and clever, it takes no more than a glance to know their act.’’

‘’But Kliment doesn’t act grim. His seriousness is no act, even. He seems like an adult because to some extent, he is. He matured after his father's death—he changed, because he had his mother to take care of.’’

‘’Take care?’’ Ivan raised a brow. Even though most women were weaker, he never saw a frail widow. And Agniya was that man’s wife. How could she not be strong enough in his death with a child?

‘’The first year, I think Kliment was around nine, she didn’t get out of her house. She couldn’t take care of the wounded or sick, so we had to call for another doctor from the ministry. So the boy had to live on his uncle’s wages—he wouldn’t accept the grace of anyone else. Except Sir Salim and his family, they had no contact as well.’’

Ivan snorted.‘’He was that proud? What does a kid have the need for pride.’’

The Guildsmaster stopped. He didn’t utter anything, nor did he stop his hands. Instead, the Village Elder spoke.

‘’To not make his mother suffer more, I suppose. He is diligent, we said to you m’lord, and he is bright, because he has pride. He never stops learning, nor does he stop short at helping people. As a good man, he has a certain kind of pride that is not so arrogant—and he knows his mother has the same kind of pride as well.’’

Village Elder had a sharp falling of the gaze in her eyes, and for once a clear tone to her hoarse voice.

‘’Even Yaromir held onto such feelings, whether required by his trade or not. It goes in the family.’’

Yaromir...

Thinking of the extravagant man with the bright smile, of his brown hair barely-grown, and of his calloused grasp mighty enough to crush bones, Ivan closed his eyes. His fingers clutched each other, his mind sounding for the memory of a voice long unmet.

A few seconds later, his hands parted.

Yaromir...poor Yaromir...

Look at what your pride has gotten you, and now look at your son from above.

Pride...

His eyes shot open,

‘’Call the next student!’’

A small voice replied affirmative out the door and left with heavy footsteps.

Glancing towards the door, he thought of the small boy with his small back.

‘’Such a meaningless thing.’’ He whispered.

*********

2-Bitter Taste of Iron and Blood

‘’To secure peace is to prepare for war’’ —Carl Von Clausewitz

The evening came by like a flash and left at the same pace. The two families had an extravagant meal and drank till the eve of night. When Fahri fell asleep, his half-drunk father Salim and sober mother Aisha carried him back to their house, bidding goodnight.

Kliment slept for a while, tossed and turned on the coarse bed, then woke up around an hour later. He knew the reason right away—he was restless. How much he said didn’t matter, nor did it help to alleviate the peculiar feeling.

He turned left to look at his mother, sleeping a few steps away from him on a large mattress made for two. They, she and his father had no bed, since their entire childhood both were poor. The hard floor and its chill was long familiar to them and any softness beyond it would make them unable to sleep.

At least, that's what they told him. To a simple, or a rather wealthy family among the middle class, a half-decent bed was still too big of a luxury. That bedding was all he convinced them to buy, and one side went unused right after.

His gaze moved from her rough hands to the ceiling. There were some stains, and a brown-ish moss spread from the far-right corner. For a few seconds, eyes still on the ceiling, he listened to the village dogs bark and howl.

He stood up and threw the blanket off. Dragging it over from the bed, he covered his mother with it, then walked out of the room towards the kitchen. He stepped out of the closed kitchen door, put on the oversized slippers of his mother, then came beside the fence and hauled himself over it.

‘’Whooooooooooo,’’ He took a deep breath—

‘’Hooooooooooooo—’’then let it out as a thick steam.

His nightwear was neither thick nor thin, but against the onslaught of the cold wind it provided no protection. The chill did clear his mind, however.

For an unknown time, amidst the bark of the dogs and chirps of the few birds that couldn’t migrate south, he watched the moon arc over his back.

‘’...’’ Kliment muttered. Another gust of cold wind scratched his reddened cheeks.

‘’...’’

Melancholic, he stepped down on the ground and went back inside. Right before entering his room, his gaze landed on the broken longcase clock.

Clasping both hands together, he gave a short bow towards it, then went back to sleep.

*********

The day after the interview, the successful ones were called with their families again. Lieutenant Ivan and the Guildsmaster implied more than once that the test and interviews here were enough, but the academy would do another round with the Chiefs of education. After all, Kliment assumed, most parents didn’t know how the general affairs in the capital proceeded. Their family, unfortunately, was one of them to an extent.

The evening of the same day they had another meal with the Chosertian family, and the following three days passed in relative peace. Instead of sticking to his general routine, Agniya allowed Kliment to stay at home and help her around. She herself couldn’t do much work—the only proper one she managed was packing Kliment’s necessities and buying more with their savings.

On October 18th of the Aymonian Calendar, Year 953, their journey would begin.

Which was today.

*********

Kliment wore his thick leather cap while his mother covered him with a large jacket. She threw a thin blue cloak over it, his father’s most beloved color, and strapped his boots tight so that wind couldn’t seep in his feet. She got down on one knee, then unbundled the top three buttons of his jacket. He had arranged them wrong.

‘’...’’

Dragging her hands, she put on his belt around him and clenched it to the core. Her expression, likewise, was forced.

Kliment looked at her messy brown hair, and the visible cracks on her fingers and wrinkles under her eyes. Three days. It took only three days for her to turn this way. He had another pang of regret there. His pupils dilated. He recognized what she felt as a parent in his own right, as he was in his own right.

His mother noticed it right away.

‘’What are you doing?’’

She snatched his fingers away from his palms and opened them up. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t make them bleed—but her sorrow while looking at the deep white in his palms hurt more than it would have.

‘’...’’

His mother caressed his fingers for a moment. He felt warmth from her palm.

‘’You’re already freezing...put on your gloves.’’

He reached out to the bed to grasp at them, but his mother acted quicker. She picked them up, rubbed them against each other to bring more warmth, then took a hold of his hands and slid them inside in order.

‘’Is it comfortable?’’

‘’They are.’’ Kliment nodded.

‘’Is it a little tight here?’’ She pressed on his thumb. ‘’You’ve grown too fast, so I forgot to widen the leather.’’

‘’It is okay, my hands are rather small.’’

‘’Here?’’ She pressed on the tip of his index finger. ‘’Is it good?’’

‘’It is okay. My fingers are thin as well.’’

She rubbed the wrist bands around the gloves.. ‘’What about here? Does wind get inside?’’

‘’No, it is the exact measurement. It is comfortable.’’

Her hands moved further, then a little higher, then a little further more. At last they reached around his neck, and she leaned forward and pulled him from the back into a hug.

‘’Mom...’’ Kliment smiled. ‘’It is fine. I’ll be fine.’’

‘’But...’’ she stuttered for a moment. Her head leaned a little more forward and laid itself on his shoulders. ‘’But...’’

‘’But I won’t be fine.’’

Kliment’s heart shattered at the whisper.

‘’Ahh, no, no no no,’’ Agniya sniffed once and twice, and her eyes turned wet from tears. ‘’I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ll be fine—I’ll be fine. We both will be fine.’’

‘’See,’’ She pressed her head on his right shoulder, and Kliment tilted it to wipe some of her snot. ‘’I couldn’t even lay my head on you back then. You were so little. Your arms and legs were like your nose, they were so tiny and cute.’’

‘’And I couldn’t hug you as much as I wanted—’’ She motioned with her two fingers, as if squeezing a twig. ’’You were too little, too weak. But now you are good. I can hug you as much as I want, and I can rest my head on your shoulder. Its nice.’’

‘’And your hand,’’ She took one of them away from her back that Kliment used to pat, then put it closer to her face. ‘’Look at how big it is. Soon it will be as big as my face, right? You can already hold your weight, and look at your palms. They already are calloused, right? It is nice...it's nice.’’

‘’It's so nice...that...that you’ve grown. It's so...so nice...mm...hm...m....’’

Her voice turned faint, then incoherent, and at last fell into silence. Kliment kept his embrace tight, but she relented. She took both of his arms from the wrists, then with visible ease pushed them away.

‘’I’m okay. I’m sorry darling, I didn’t want to make you sad as well. Please don’t cry.’’

‘’I’m not crying.’’ said Kliment.

He put one hand over his eyes, then felt it warmer than usual. And wet, still flooding with tears dripping from his black eyes. He wiped them away, but another surge came. He wiped, then wiped again, and then wiped again and again and again.

‘’It’s okay. It’s okay.’’

His mom kept patting his head, then gave him another light hug. She pressed at his nape and forced him to wipe the tears on her dress.

‘’It’s okay.’’ He said.

‘’It’s okay.’’ She repeated.

After a while, Kliment calmed down. His heart heavy, and his eyes still burning, he grasped the large bag and the flower-patterned satchel from the door. His mother escorted him all the way to the door, where the ever-bright-donning Salim and his level-headed son Fahri waited for them.

‘’Ah, sorry,’’ Agniya went inside, then came back with a hastily tied headdress on her dark brown hair. ‘’Thank you, Salim. Please take care of him...take care of them both.’’

‘’I will do Yenwi(Wife of my brother),’’ he nodded and took the heavy baggage of Kliment’s hands. ‘’You take care as well. I’ll come tomorrow morning with my wife, alright?’’

‘’Alright.’’ She said. ‘’Now go off, you two. Don’t forget to take care of each other on the journey, and in the school, okay?’’

‘’Of course,’’ Fahri said. With a smirk, he gave a soft pat and pulled the still-shaken Kliment over to his side. ‘’He is my Gashaq(Brother), right?’’

The two adults smiled.

‘’Then...take care.’’

Kliment looked at her eyes. Perhaps they would stare at each other forever,

‘’Kli...let us depart.’’

Salim patted his shoulder and led them away.

While descending the slope in front of their house, Kliment had a feeling that his mother was still in that hallway, staring at the door beside the longcase clock, watching his back shrinking into the baby he once was. As if he felt what went through in her own heart, reliving memories of his long gone family.

‘’How much are you going to cry, Klimal?’’

Kliment turned to Fahri, who swept his sleeve all over his face. His snot and tears left a stain on the boy’s dress.

‘’Now is our time to shine! It is academy time! What awaits us is glory and excellence! Right? Right!?’’

Kliment looked at him, then at the smiling Salim, and at last to the home he left behind in a daze. His mother was nowhere to be seen, and the door was shut.

‘’...right.’’ He said.

‘’Right!’’

*********

The journey began with a rather relaxing start.

The sun hid behind silver-white clouds of massive width, layered like scales of a fish across the blue sky. There was also wind sweeping both trees and the capes of the soldiers, and the hair of the few village children who peeked outside of their carriages. Fifteen kilometers northwest of their village were already new sights for these younglings.

This held true for Kliment to some extent, but was not the case for Fahri.

One was the son of a merchant that saw his fair share of travel in this life, with another forty-some years in a foreign world, while the other was the child of a renowned scholar abroad. And he was blessed with great memory, too, so while he had been three or four years old, Fahri could recount most events they encountered with his family.

‘’...these kinds of trees end around fifty kilometers to our northeast, near Fort Ascendance. Those trees don’t have as many branches, but look like they have skirts with pricking needles. We passed by here when I was five and settled down in the village.’’

So he was five.

‘’How nice...’’ Kliment muttered. ‘’I wish I could remember everything like you.’’

The faces in his memory had long been blurred to gray specks of light. He did not remember the appearance of his parents, nor of his wife’s and daughter’s.

‘’IT isn’t that nice—’’ Fahri, sitting across from him with both arms crossed, pulled his legs together. ‘’Like that bloody affair...the man we met in the forest. I still feel nauseous thinking about it.’’

Their carriage went over another bump and rattled for a few seconds. The roads here were better than usual, but good in this world’s standards were a little too overvalued.

‘’You better get used to it.’’ Kliment straightened his posture and looked outside. He could only hear the clopping hooves of the soldiers’ horses. ‘’We will be military-men. It will be our job to see blood, or make it appear.’’

‘’...’’ Fahri looked straight at him. His gaze, for the first Kliment noticed, held some aversion.

‘’Who told you that?’’

‘’Is it something others need to tell you? What do you suppose soldiers do?’’

‘’I know, but there are more than soldiers in the military. Klimal.’’ Since the carriage was wide enough for both of them to sleep on the couches, Fahri had no trouble laying on his side. Turning his back, with a little more force behind his voice, he spoke. ‘’And stop forcing your ideas on me.’’

‘’Why do we need to see blood as soldiers? Why is it our duty to spill red? Because someone ordered? Because the nation needs cotton, wood, coal, or iron mines? If I need to...if I need to kill someone, it will be when I am defending my family from them—not while standing against people like us.’’

Kliment looked at Fahri’s tiny back, then at his trembling fist half-buried inside his jacket’s pocket.

‘’You see—’’

‘’I won’t see anything. Shut up, idiot.’’

Sighing, Kliment no longer tried to talk to him about it. A tree had its shade, but resting under it was the choice of another. If Fahri didn’t want to understand, and he too could understand why he would not want such things, he had no way of helping. But did it really matter?

Did it matter?

When Fahri turned into another name in his memory, when he was buried in another no man’s land with no grave to his name, and no family to return to like the tens of thousands, would it really matter? He would die, and Fahri would die as well. There was no pushing back that fact. So did it matter?

Does it matter if he dies without knowing, not understanding what he is expected to do here? Does it matter if he inflicts the same pain to his family one way or another, by death or by living? Why should it matter?

It is pointless to force him to listen, and force myself to teach.

In life, five percent of all knowledge could be acquired with effort. Five percent more with money, and the remaining ninety percent with experience. That motto was his everything. And to Kliment, the true nature of war and its consequences were amidst the majority of the ninety percent. He couldn’t expect young Fahri to view things in a pragmatic or rational manner. Or view anything, for that matter. It was not the job of a child to think, though it was better for them to think, but it was to act. Consequences, troubles, all were words belonging to the adults.

But, even if it was only for him to be aware of the possibilities, Kliment wanted to speak as such. Since he didn’t want to listen, however, it didn’t matter.

After all, those who didn’t think of death did not belong to the military.

*********

Carriages sped through patches of land and at some point merged with another convoy of carriages built around the same manner—differing in the colors of the exterior woods with plenty dark brown, chestnut, brown, and gold-lined.

Gold-lined indeed, as a familiar carriage accompanied them—not the convoy but Fahri and Kliment’s carriage, as the road widened and let two sets run side by side. This was the same one that was led by knights, which was still surrounded by them except its leftmost window that faced Fahri and Kliment.

‘’Fahri?’’ Kliment whispered. All he received in response was the ever-sounding soft snore of the boy.

Kliment shielded his eyes from the setting sunlight and peered at the silhouette behind the curtains. It seemed...different. Definitely not of the same height as the old one, nor as thin. And also not memorable, hence his immediate realization that this man was someone else.

A teen, as a voice called out to him.

‘’What a splendid day, is it not?’’

A hand peered out of the curtain’s bottom, wielding golden rings and adorning a sleeve of silk. He was a noble no doubt.

‘’The sun has such a striking, scarlet color, yet is still cold enough to not cause any discomfort. I like it very much. What do you think?’’

‘’It indeed is m’lord.’’ replied Kliment.

‘’So do you like it?’’

Kliment had a feeling that the man smiled behind the curtain. It was his tone of voice, warmer than most nobles that he thought so. He had the chance of meeting some barons, but even they weren’t considered proper nobility by today’s standards— The only difference they had from a farmer was the size of their land, generally a ratio of six to one. So they were much humbler in the face of commoners, yet still carried pride in their voice.

A title was worth a lot, after all. The blood, the name that came with it couldn’t be compared with simple money. In that sense, having a noble address to him with such warm words seemed too disoriented to Kliment. But it belonged to a youth as well, so it was a possibility that he wasn’t too sure of his role in the society.

Kliment inspected the half-roughened hand grasping the carriage’s window. No, sure is the wrong word. He isn’t aware.

Or aware wasn’t the right word as well. He just didn’t care? He wasn’t mindful of it? These two carried different meanings, both only converging at the idea that this noble man, or a half-man evident from the spirit of his voice, felt that speaking to him didn’t need considerations of what he said. Be it pride, ignorance, arrogance, or better yet—and worse for Kliment—cunning, this half-man noble was a proper noble.

Such a contradiction...haha. What would cunning noble-men want from a nobody?

Kliment smiled as well, though the noble couldn’t see from the curtain.

‘’It is great. I like the tone of the Sun—it isn’t quite scarlet, and it isn’t quite cool, so looking gives you neither pain nor trouble. It is the perfect end to a relatively calm day, I say M’lord, as I feel days like this are rare.’’

The other side went silent for some time. The silhouette turned towards the inside, mumbled something Kliment couldn’t hear, then turned back to face him.

‘’It seems that we both hold the same opinion, then?’’

‘’It seems so, M’lord.’’

The other side remained silent for a few seconds more. Then the hand over the window moved up and lifted the curtain over the young face of the blonde noble.

Haughty, dark eyes welcomed him, and the same shoulders with pads bearing three stripes of gold and one silver. One silver was a baron, three silver was a viscount, one gold was a count, and three gold was a duke. Three gold and one silver meant this youth, whom he met under a not so desirable situation, was a barony holder of a duke’s bloodline.

‘’It is good to see someone near my age who has some sense.’’ The baron replied.

Near? Kliment frowned for a moment. Being a child and acting like one made his expressions much easier to read than before. And also a loving family— he had nothing to hide from his family except his past in this life. In this circumstance, it was this perk that allowed the baron to understand his thoughts.

‘’I have come of age a year ago, my new friend.’’

So he was thirteen.

‘’I am older than you by two years.’’

I know. Kliment nodded and gave a short bow from where he looked.

‘’M’lord has...seems much stronger than my age.’’

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

‘’Stronger? Not older?’’

The baron showed another warm smile. ‘’I like your choice of words. I am indeed stronger. Not by a whole lot, but just enough to beat a dozen of my age—but it is not something worth bragging about.’’

Kliment liked the baron’s attitude to some extent, or to the extent that he could put his bloodied image aside for a few minutes. ‘’Boasting does not make your qualities lesser, m’lord. You know the tales from soner-northeast. Warriors who don’t brag are no warriors.’’

‘’If there are no tales, there is no truth, you say. I do agree, though I wonder who informed you that I was not proud? I am not fond of flaunting myself, that is all there is.’’

Kliment smiled at his words as well. But inside, his heart threatened to burst off against his chest. It thumped and bumped at a rapid pace, sending random splashes of red flush over his neck and ears.

‘’Then forgive my rudeness, m’lord.’’

‘’Ah, that was not something rude. No need to worry about that—’’ the baron waved his hand in the air a few times. ‘’You are a friend. A future classmate, and a colleague if Angels of War allow it. There shouldn’t be such reservations between us.’’

Kliment nodded and mimicked another bow from where he sat. He kicked Fahri in the butt, though the boy did not flinch.

The baron held the curtain again ‘’Then...’’

As he spoke a series of shouts rose from the front, traveling down the lines of vehicles. They were to stop soon.

‘’—Well, I was going to take my leave but it seems it shall not be necessary.’’

Kliment peered over the side and saw the trees dwindle further in numbers. They left their place to a large gathering of plains, merging dirt and half-grass roads, and rolling hills suitable for grazing up the horizon. The few figures he saw should be the local shepherds, he assumed, as at most two kilometers away were small dots of four-legged animals running around.

The leading horsemen, among them lieutenant Ivan, rode off under their sight towards the shepherds. In the meantime the string of vehicles veered away from the path and gathered near three mounted lancers awaiting at the side. These three separated at some point and, taking them out from a quiver hanging on their belt, plastered iron rods around the empty plain. In a half-decent order the carriages followed and stopped between these rods, then let their passengers out into the open.

Kliment woke Fahri up and waited for their turn. The young baron’s carriage went further away from the crowd of children and soldiers. A quick glance showed their numbering around hundred total, with the baron’s carriage away from them. It made towards a more secluded spot circled by twenty knights wearing sky-blue capes.

Fifteen minutes passed before the lieutenant returned with another officer of the same rank, called Captain Gustav, from the Timber Pass Fortress to their northeast that merged Aymon-al and Aymon-Besh’s borders. They rained orders on the carriagemen and some soldiers, who all got into work regardless of men or women. Of course, the men still exceeded women in number by three to one, and they were assigned to heavier tasks than female soldiers.

Some of the children helped along the way, carrying the tents and the stones, and some went alongside the soldiers to find dry timber and more materials for the campfire.

Right after Fahri left for Lieutenant Ivan’s call for another help, a knight approached Kliment and tapped his shoulder.

‘’His Highness Maksim Zaftor calls for Yaromir’s son.’’

Kliment’s eyes glanced at the dull blue eyes of the knight.

He nodded.

*********

Maksim smirked at the confused Kliment.

‘’How fancy to meet you so soon!’’

‘’It indeed is, m’lord.’’

‘’Alright then,’’ without any mention of...anything, nor speaking to the knights and the old-looking noble towering over them, Maksim Zaftor turned around.

‘’Come with me, friend. Let us hunt a few hares to eat tonight.’’

Kliment cast a look behind, but several knights and their neighing mounts cloaked the campsite. It took a few seconds more to ponder what happened, what he could do, and what could happen. His line of sight was blocked, so he had no chance to send glances to Fahri or Lieutenants. A fight was not even in his mind, and fussing like a child or crying would just do nothing but make his situation worse.

All left to him, of course, was to follow. He feared what a noble was capable of to some extent, both for himself and for his family.

Stepping right behind the noble, they walked out of the entourage’s scope and came before one of the few trees leading into the forest. They walked a minute more, and the surroundings grew darker, and more grim, full of dark-green pines rising further as they delved in. If he counted the steps right, a habit of the forces, at most five minutes had passed since they left the encampment.

It should be around now, right?

Kliment raised an expectant glance, but the back of the young lord remained steady. His pace still fine, but now a little softer on the steps, he kept walking.

Another two minutes went by, and now all he could see was Maksim’s back and the few different kinds of trees that he resembled to oak.

‘’Here.’’

A little unnerved, but not distracted by the long silence, Kliment raised his hand forward to hold...a small, gold-adorned dagger in a sheath of the same-manner.

‘’You do not need it, or will not need it, but it would be improper of me to let danger come your way. Mister Yaromir would be troubled, I assume.’’

‘’Ah...thank you?’’ Kliment raised a brow. He pulled the dagger closer to his jacket and put it near his waist, clenching with the right hand. ‘’And...may I ask a question, m’lord?’’

‘’I call you a friend, but you call me your lord—cease it. But if you feel more comfortable, address me as sir Zaftor.’’

‘’Yes, sir Zaftor.’’

‘’Now, you can ask, but be quiet in voice and feet. I do not wish to have an accident like the last time.’’

Zaftor’s intonation of last was quite peculiar to the ear. In this exact circumstance, Kliment felt it to be threatening, and it was to some extent with its meaning clear. But it also had a taste of amusement.

‘’Thank you.’’

Kliment took the dagger to an overhand grip, in case he had to stab it deep into something fast. His steps faltered as well and rose from his heels, having himself standing on the tip of his toes—or as much as his shoes allowed him.

Zaftor made a soft hum as acknowledgment, then took out his pistol as well. Kliment made to have a better look at it and indeed it was a quite primitive pistol, one of those his father carried around. This one’s cover and marks, the inscriptions on its hammer and the general shape seemed more refined though, and that was to be expected. His father’s pistol was over five years old when he saw it first, and it had been three more years since he sold it.

Eight years of development should have sufficed for some changes.

‘’So? What are you thinking about? Have you forgotten your question?’’

Awakened by the whisper, Kliment apologized. ‘’-sir Zaftor, how do you know my father?’’

‘’Mister Yaromir was a good merchant with excellent morals, well-known by the few families here and there, and most familiar with ours. He also was one of the few that dealt with weapon trade among other commodities, so he had a little fame in the noble circle.’’

‘’But that is what you might call an official description of your father, my friend.’’

Kliment repeated the words in his head.

Weapon trade and excellent morals?

He knew his father sold some weapons; but he mostly dealt in seashells, salt, sugar, and textile from overseas. To be known by nobles as a war merchant? With excellent morals? He never heard such contradictory words used together.

‘’Are you curious?’’

‘’...I am, sir.’’

‘’Then join me with your friend over the evening—an acquaintance of mine mentioned your friend was son of Salim The Black?’’

‘’He indeed is.’’

‘’Hm, good.’’

A few seconds passed with silence. Zaftor kept his eyes all around, and Kliment kept his eyes all around where Zaftor glanced at. Another moment passed—Zaftor whipped his pistol right and pulled the trigger.

Gunpowder exploded, his ears rang, and smoke filled his vision. A squeal came right after, and with it Zaftor’s loud laughter.

‘’It worked this time!’’

He took quick strides to the direction of his shot and Kliment followed. The smoke didn’t last long in this weather, so he noticed the collapsed hare. Its gray-ish fur had blood all over the hind-legs. The bullet, somehow, either pierced both legs or pierced one and exploded over the other of the poor animal’s.

‘’You see, with utmost concentration and a good sense of distance, it is a good weapon.’’

Zaftor kneeled and patted around his clothes, then turned to look at him; he frowned at his way of holding the dagger, and smiled. ‘’Can I borrow that back, friend?’’

‘’Here you go, sir.’’

‘’Thank you.’’

While the noble boy kept himself busy with taking care of the hare, Kliment had more than a few questions about the situation they were in. And he also needed something to divert his mind from; he knew himself well, and he knew he didn’t really have the skills to predict people— adults, in the narrower sense, as he once had a daughter to reference for children. Reading their nature was all he could do.

He cultivated that ability in terrific moments of his life that he did not want to reminisce about. He overcame his past life a long time ago, on chilly nights spent on trade carts with his father, but the heavy burden of theirs weighed on his heart. For that reason, and to get away from the peculiar state between him and the young noble, he voiced a concern most natural about him.

‘’Sir Zaftor, sir, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to have your retainers handle the carcass?’’

The young noble twisted his head and gave him a bright smile. ‘’I do not trust them.’’

This admittance was quite gutsy.

‘’But they are your knights?’’ Kliment pressed a little. A young noble he might be, and a person who could topple the entire balance of his life at a word. Yet he understood there was some sort of a circumstance that didn’t allow for such an outcome. His father’s name being the most obvious, but still lacking, he thought it would be the best to try and see what it was.

‘’Knights are noble people as well, my friend. They could not exactly take care of a bloodied corpse with good manners, or skin it good enough for me to eat fine meat.’’

‘’Then...may I ask why?’’

‘’Why?’’

Zaftor let out a laugh. He raised the furless carcass of the rabbit above with his right, and the dagger with his left.

He thrust the sharp blade out of the rabbit’s skull.

‘’Because they are all humans. They are all nobles. They like to betray, they lean for betrayal. Do you know how many times my esteemed father suffered from poisoned meals? Random accidents, falling chandeliers, angered drunkards? Or how many times I got stomach aches, bloodied coughs, fever-ridden illnesses?’’

He took the blade out and stabbed the earth with it.‘’It is commonplace for treachery to abound between them, so it is only I who can do this. Only I can procure my own food, prepare my own meal, feed myself.’’

The boy’s heaved breaths came to a halt when their eyes met.

‘’Ah, pity?’’ Zaftor smiled again. ‘’Indeed, it is a pity. The fine rabbit went to waste, didn’t it? Now it won’t last back to the camp. What do you say, should we eat it here, friend?’’

Kliment had no reason to refuse. He knew the boy was aware of repercussions, whatever they might be, and since he didn’t feel concerned about it Kliment had not one reason to do as well.

‘’I’ll get some dry wood.’’ said he. Zaftor nodded, got up to his feet, then took a turn to gather some himself from the opposite side.

Kliment did not need to go far away. A few paces away and all around them were seasonal trees and their fine-quality dry branches ripe to collect. He took as much as he could stuff under one arm and picked up two hand-sized stones laying around. He put them aside, strolled around the perimeter to get a few more stones, and returned to see Zaftor already producing sparks on a pile of wood juxtaposed between stones.

‘’Wait a little, sir,’’ said Kliment.

Alongside the stones, he took out the yellowed wild grass and twisted them upon each other.

‘’Ah, forgot about them. My gratitudes.’’

Kliment left him to do what he wanted to do. He took a seat across him and watched the young noble procure the beginning of a small flame.

‘’My first warm meal was like this.’’

Zaftor’s attitude took a small turn. The tone same, but the expression a little peculiar. He smiled, but it also seemed like he wasn’t smiling at him. Kliment took a second to smell out the artificial nature of this mood.

‘’A man with a bright smile came to our estate that day. I was six. My father had been weary from the matters of state and the duchy, and he always had the worst manners when tired. His language turned less refined...and he cursed a lot. Even then, when that man came he smiled like him.’’

‘’They both had gutsy smiles. They talked alot about matters that I couldn’t understand then, matters of state and trade and responsibility. I still do not grasp the depth and range of their discussion, but seeing my esteemed father so free and relaxed left a deep impression on me.’’

‘’While I sat beside them for over hours and meal time came, the man stopped my father from ordering the servants. He had us wait for well over fifteen or twenty minutes, then came back with one of our reared rabbits in the estate’s garden. He had guts, truly, like his smile presented. They were worth several hundred just for their fur alone.’’

‘’He did not even get utensils—he cooked it in front of my father’s fireplace and had us eat it with our bare hands.’’

‘’My father did not complain once. He ate like it was the most delicious thing in the world.’’

‘’I also took a bite—and I hated it.’’

The flame in front of them shot up in blazes, roared, then settled to a calm crackle that kept the forest bright.

‘’But it was warm.’’

Kliment made no sound nor comments. He knew who the man was by now, and why Zaftor supposedly remembered his father.

‘’Your father, Mister Yaromir, was a fine man. I saw him thrice in my life, and in all three, be it old or young, or wounded and fine, he showed the same gutsy smile. And when the news of his death came I remember my father retreating to his estate...he remained silent for a week, spoke to no soul. He was a dear friend to him, I would like to assume.’’

‘’...thank you, sir.’’

‘’It is nothing to be thankful for.’’ said Zaftor. He put down the water flask and wiped several spots on the wet rabbit meat. ‘’Up until my eleventh age, I ate warm meals only from his hand. They are good memories for me. You also seem like a fine fellow, my friend Kliment. You lack the warm and gutsy smile of your father, but your looks seem like a replica of somesorts.’’

‘’My eyes are gloomy, sir.’’

‘’His were as well, yet he smiled.’’

Zaftor gave him another smile, then got on to the cooking part. The crackle of the flames accompanied their silence.

‘’...that is why, if you need anything, come find me. Or I will come find you...is what I would very much like to say.’’

‘’But there is no need, sir. Do not feel troubled about it.’’

‘’Indeed...there is no need!’’ Zaftor laughed. ‘’Your father might have had rivals, but be assured that he had no enemies. He was friends with everyone, and brothers with some. That lieutenant Ivan of yours, our teacher-to-be in the academy, is also someone who received his graces for the longest time. And some more nobles, and more commoners all around the capital and beyond. You can even say that half of Aymon is Yaromir’s work.’’

‘’You might face prejudice, and the life ahead of you in the military will be full of thorns and walls. But you won’t fall. There are too many that would like to pay back for his deeds, after all.’’

Kliment remained silent for some time. He raised both eyes, met gazes with the young Zaftor, and gave him the hearthiest smile he could muster.

‘’That is the Yaromir spirit! Now, take a little bite. I’m sure it tastes better than your father’s peasant-level food.’’

Kliment took the extended rabbit thigh from Zaftor and bit down.

He munched a little, swallowed, then licked his lips to savor the taste. It truly tasted better than the charred skins and chipped bones he remembered.

‘’Even mud was better than his cooking, sir.’’

*********

The duo returned to the camp post-haste after the meal. Young lord had a chew stick he used to brush his teeth while Kliment had nothing of sorts. So when he arrived at the designated campsite for him and Fahri, the boy made some unsavory remarks he preferred to forget. Kliment made sure to remind Fahri of the young lord’s notice of him.

Mentioning Zaftor, he had no such quarrel with anyone. His guards were silent, circling him from the sights of all around their fire and providing no company. And they did so on their feet with their weapons quick at bay. —Too tight— Fahri commented, and Kliment found him right as well. How suffocating it looked must have been but a fraction of how the young lord felt.

But this matter did not last much on their minds. The two quickly found things to talk and comment on, and at some point their friends from the village came to their side and joined the conversation. Any semblance of serious topics they had, as it is with many children, descended into talks of the much greener sights and taller trees, and of the soldiers around and the small interactions children had with them.

The difference between a guard and a soldier, and a knight made themselves evident here. Their village guards were militiamen in essence, patrolling the villages and towns they belonged to and dealing with local public order. Soldiers committed professional duties and trained most of the time, and if a bandit problem occurred they would set out led by Knights, who remained nobles in name but not in status.

The bearing of each, however, had such stark difference that the profound imagination of the children could make quick work of how it would be like to become one. Igor, ever boorish like his father, thought only of martial arts and swords. Fahri told of the guards at their village, port-bellied and drunkards, while Katrina supported his statement. Anya kept poking Igor with a stick and went off on a rant about how most knights were better-looking than the village-people, and the violent Vladimir nodded his head at whatever the others threw his way.

Kliment couldn't keep up with their conversation. How the amount of individual discussions that happened kept being a coherent whole wasn't something he could fathom, nor understand in real time. So he copied off the poor Vladimir and nodded throughout the hour.

Instructor Ivan told them off after a while and led everyone back to their sites to sleep in. Throughout the night, the soldiers and knights both would take watches to ensure safety—though nothing existed to threaten them in these parts.

Before getting onto his bedding, Kliment saw young lord Zaftor looking their way. Their eyes met, and the young lord gave him a short nod. Kliment bowed back. Then when he made to get into the bed again, the young lord nodded once more. He gave another bow, then he saw a wide frown form on Zaftor’s face.

A moment passed and he remembered his words.

‘’Fahri, get up.’’

The boy crawled out of the sheets and looked at him. He was the most active one tonight, beside Igor and a girl from another village called Maria. Igor was the same old Igor, playful and too energetic, while Maria was an astonishingly intelligent girl when it came to religion. If he knew his stuff, and Kliment knew he sure did, she was most likely an orphan from a monastery.

Fahri was the son of Salim The Black, so his rich repertoire of folklore and legends of Chosertia kept all children excited. Some of the soldiers paid attention too, so he had a bit of a haughty air in him.

Kliment slapped his nape and signaled behind. ‘’The baron is looking for us. Get up.’’

If there was any sleep left in him after that slap, now Fahri did not know a word of it. He shot to his feet, trembling, and held Kliment by the shoulder.

‘’What do we do? What is he going to do to us, Kli? Is he...Is he seeking to silence us?’’

‘’If he wanted, he would have done so back then. Don’t be paranoid.’’

‘’But we ran away so he couldn’t!’’

‘’I mean earlier in the day, when I accompanied him.’’

‘’You accompanied him? Kliment, are you insane? He took you to the woods with force! That is not how accompanies work!’’

‘’What was I to do, Famal?’’

‘’Shut up! Oh Great God, help me on this journey. What does he want from us?’’

‘’Since you ran off your mouth for so long, maybe he seeks to test your mettle?’’

‘’Oh Great God forbid, Kli!’’ Fahri scruffed his hair left and right. ‘’What if he knows some of them? I—’’

His voice turned into a whisper.

‘’I made some of them up from scratch! There is no way I could remember them all! What will I do if he realizes it?’’

Kliment was...surprised. He did not doubt for one second any of Fahri’s tales were untrue, if not over the top.

Was his memory not that really good? Or was it the excitement of the situation? Either way, he felt impressed by the vivid imagination and narration of his friend.

So he pushed a little more out of him.

He put one hand on his shoulder and turned him towards the campsite of Zaftor. ‘’Now now, you can just say it is a different telling from another region.’’

‘’No, Klimal! You don’t understand!’’ Fahri pushed the earth with his legs, but Kliment did not stop his movement. They dragged soft dirt after them as the flames grew brighter in their front. He was weaker than Fahri, but with how sluggish he was, though unaware of it, he did not put up much resistance. ‘’He is a noble!’’

‘’Yeah, he is a splendid noble.’’

‘’No! I mean, yes!’’ Fahri glanced to see if anyone had heard him. ‘’But he is cultured! He knows all stories, all words, all rules! He also knows law, so if he realizes I fabricated them he will have me hanged and drawn and quartered!’’

‘’Unless you betray the nation, no such punishment will be given.’’

They both cast a look forward and saw the young lord standing in front of them, arms crossed. He had none of his accessories on him, with his hair recently soaked. He had a fresh look. Also, they were still a few dozen steps away from his campsite, so he must have moved toward them.

‘’I presume you will not?’’

‘’Ah, oh...aah, of course not! No, I love Aymonia Union and all of its prefectures and regions!’’

‘’I appreciate the depth of your love and passion for my country, but such passion is not appropriate at this hour.’’

Indeed, most children shook, sleeping, and some of the entourage too. If not for the young lord’s presence, Kliment knew they would get scolded by lieutenant Ivan or Captain Gustav.

‘’I!—I understand. Thank you my lord.’’

‘’Good, now would you spare me some time of your own? I would very much like to speak with the son of the acclaimed Salim The Black.’’

‘’I...’’ At the mention of his father Fahri calmed down. Kliment saw Fahri a little irritated. ‘’I may not be as great as he is, but I will try my best.’’

‘’Do people try their best when they speak? I learn new things everyday in countryside.’’ Baron Zaftor took a turn and signaled with his index finger to follow after him. ‘’There is no need to try, of course. I would not adore a conversation catered to my tastes— and the purpose I have asked for you is not because I expect your father’s company from you...you have never given me your name.’’

Kliment was sure Zaftor knew Fahri’s name. He cast a glance at the young lord’s retracted shoulders, then something clicked.

This realization made him more alert, and also judgmental of the teen.

‘’Fahri, my lord.’’

‘’Fahri. Your company is your own company, you do not need to be your father’s replacement.’’

‘’But you...’’ Fahri did not end his sentence.

Zaftor did not seem interested in finishing it, nor answering it for Fahri. He led them and that was all he did for a while until they settled beside the cackling flames. A sea of stars streamed above them, no clouds in sight.

Kliment watched the red glow wash over the two children and felt pity.

‘’What do you think, Fahri?’’ Zaftor asked.

‘’About what, my lord?’’

‘’As of right now. What goes on in your head?’’

‘’Nothing.’’

‘’What is nothing? Did you not think of anything else, in a trance, or did you not think of them worthy enough to tell?’’

‘’I...I was in a daze, my lord.’’

‘’Why were you?’’

‘’It is so late at night and,’’ here Fahri stopped speaking and shut his eyes with a hiss. ‘’I mean, I have a lot to think about now that I am away from my home.’’

‘’So you were thinking.’’

Fahri grimaced. Kliment smiled at that.

‘’And what about you, Kliment?’’

He took notice of the knights a little away from them. ‘’For me, m’lord, I just appreciate the scenery.’’

‘’Is it so terribly interesting?’

‘’It is, m’lord.’’

‘’How so?’’

‘’It is rare to see a foreign scenery.’’

‘’How is it rare? These trees are not just in Aymon-al but in Aymon-besh and in Aymon-Birh as well. The ground is the same brown and red wherever you go, and the wind is nothing so different.’’

‘’But I will not be in this place any soon, m’lord. I will be away for years unless Angels forbid I return on some misfortune, and no place will have the exact same company here even if the scenery is.’’

‘’I see.’’ Zaftor nodded. ‘’You like living in the moment, Kliment?’’

‘’I do like living in general, m’lord.’’

Fahri let out a small retort. ‘’Don’t we all?’’

Zaftor laughed out loud before Fahri could regret his honed backfire reflexes. ‘’Well said, Fahri. Though I am amused by how different you two are. It is more common among us to find friends alike than unlike.’’

‘’Are we?’’

‘’We are?’’

‘’Hm.’’ Zaftor nodded. ‘’No doubt. One of you is a soldier, the other is a commander.’’

Kliment and Fahri exchanged glances.

‘’He must be the commander.’’

‘’This guy is a commander.’’

Zaftor laughed again, not caring for the sleeping bunch or the watch-holders. ‘’Are you two doing this on purpose to entertain me? Please do not do so. I can not be so improper to disturb the rest of my future colleagues.’’

The young lord continued his chuckling for a while, then threw his long golden hair back on his shoulders. ‘’But I see. Kliment might be a commander as well if it is like this.’’

So I was the soldier? That strangely made him happy.

Even if he did not intend so, Fahri showed joy at that realization as well. Then he covered his blush with his gloves.

‘’No need, no need. Do not take my words to the heart, anything can happen in this world.’’

Young lord cast a glance to his knights, then turned back to them.

‘’So, let me ask about those stories I heard...’’

*********

‘’...it feels somewhat exciting.’’

‘’...why?’’

Kliment heard two whispers behind him. He woke up quick. On the battlefield where lived and died, he never enjoyed a deep sleep. Now in this life, perhaps in his toddler-age alone he did, there was no free slumber for him to enjoy. He woke up at the slightest of sounds and vibrations.

Since he recognized the voices, his eyes remained shut.

‘’My heart is beating. I am afraid of going there...seeing it with my own eyes.’’

‘’It doesn’t feel real, does it?’’

‘’It does not.’’

The duo let out a deep sigh inflicted with age. They had seen more than enough to know where they went, what to expect. Same broken things all over again.

‘’I...I feel the same. Even if I am afraid, there is this small excitement in my heart.’’

Kliment, for some reason, felt a sense of dejavu.

‘’I feel, I feel. This is all we have been saying these past few days.’’

‘’It is all we are capable of, Ivan.’’

‘’That is that, but it is starting to annoy me.’’

‘’Are you afraid of facing yourself?’’

‘’What about myself?’’

‘’You do not want to acknowledge, do you? But I do. I know my own heart. We are excited at the thought of fighting. It is thrilling when I think of all those scenarios in there.’’

‘’...I can’t control it.’’

‘’I know.’’

‘’It maddens me. I don’t want to feel like this. It is fucking disgusting to know I want to kill my own kind, out of my will.’’

‘’That is what propaganda does to you.’’

‘’Nah, I don’t believe that bullshit.’’

Another silence overcame the duo. Kliment felt cold in his back, a chill crawling inside his ears. He tried to move, pull the covers on himself, but his body did not budge.

‘’I understand that feeling, but unlike you I've accepted I will feel that way. I don’t know why I feel that, though I know I am supposed to. It gives me assurance. I won’t break down in the middle of gunfire.’’

‘’It would be funny to see you cry.’’

‘’Would it?’’

‘’...it wouldn’t.’’

‘’It would be funny to see him cry, though. Never breaks that ice-cold face. Right?’’

‘’Right, Lieutenant Kliment Smirnov!’’

Kliment felt a pair of eyes on his back, then trembled. He knew this conversation. It did not end this way. It did not end with him. They noticed him awake long before, then came over him and—

*********

Kliment stared at Lieutenant Ivan holding his blanket.

‘’Kliment Smirnov! What is up with you, boy?’’

He took a look around and saw almost everyone up and tidy, Fahri watching over him, and the young lord Zaftor climbing to his carriage.

‘’I’m terribly sorry, sir.’’ He said. ‘’I don’t know why I slept that deep.’’

Lieutenant cast him a questioning frown, then leaned for a whisper.

‘’I will ask you later why you called my name.’’

Then he raised his head and shouted.

‘’Now go into your vehicle!’’ He turned around and addressed towards the general crowd of children hubbling inside their carriages. ’’You are all no longer mere children, but candidates for military officers! Let me announce beforehand, we will inspect your discipline all journey long until the academy itself—your manners and speech and contribution to workforce will all be noted down for the next evaluation!’’

‘’Take care!’’ He made a fist. ‘’And beware! A soldier is not what we need from you, so act in that regard!’’

Kliment regarded the words for a few seconds before meeting up with Fahri. They went into the carriage, sat across each other and waited until the entourage returned to due course. The rattling wheels and neighs of the horses drowned any other across the winding path. Another forest came into sight from far afar, and a mountain range to their north-east separating Aymon-al from Aymon-Besh.

There, he regarded the dream.

Is this a sign?

But signs were not so potent in this world. Not every dream amounted to something here. Sometimes all they did was to mess up his day with useless scenarios. Then some other times they were just fragments of his past life with no purpose to them.

This seemed much relevant to pass on with usual nonchalance.

Conflict of a soldier...those two idiots were talking before the assault on Novgorod. They weren’t afraid of death, but of killing. They were still struggling to resolve themselves to be a soldier in its essence. So am I still that way? Am I having doubts after a peaceful childhood, or is there something I am not aware of that will force me down the same spiral of self-destruction and hesitance?

Did the young lord’s comments make me vulnerable? Was it his ties with my father that sprang up the specific memory? I went along with his sympathy play for now, but his manipulative nature is too apparent for me to believe his story. Does my subconscious want to believe him, then?

The manipulative genius of the young lord did not lay in his vague skewed interpretation of truth, as most politicians would cultivate, but in the contradictory statements that relied on sentimentality to stand solid. His father’s military trade and ethics was one point he thought long into the night. On one side, being friends with someone who regarded his father fondly made him feel assured. He felt safe, and thought warmly.

On the other side, weapons trade was no business for the weak-hearted. Weapons trade was the business of the corrupt and the heartless, who fed the flesh and gnawed the bones of the living. His father could never be someone like that.

Or could he be?

A sense of unease filled him. A weight laid down on his shoulders, curling him back into the hard couch of the carriage. He stared outside the sunny window and saw a few of the children peek through their carriages, watching the knights in shining armor. Their horses, stallions, were in a league of their own. Unflinching under the weight of plate armor, they did not neigh. They roared. But also silent most of the time, trotting.

Majestic beasts, he regarded them, and saw the children focus on the knights’ armor more than the horses.

Kliment realized a serious issue before his thoughts died there.

He was regarding everything with his experience. His experience from a different world.

Then dread felled his tree of confidence. If he were unable to rely on his own judgment, what was he to rely on? All he had in this life was his experience. If he did not have that, the wisdom and the gains of his past, what was he to be?

‘’Fahri.’’ He spoke out. ‘’What kind of people deal in weapons trade?’’

Fahri flinched at his sudden voice, recoiling back. ‘’What is the problem?’’

Kliment fell silent, then turned to gaze at him. ‘’I...am just wondering. What kind of people are they? What kind of background do they need?’’

‘’Why ask me?’’

‘’You are smart.’’

‘’It is my father that is smart, not me. I just know what he taught.’’

Kliment raised a brow.

‘’What you know is what you know, not others’. What kind of logic is that?’’

‘’It is how it is.’’

‘’Have the young lord turned you into a fool, Famal?’’

‘’You stupid donkey.’’

‘’Manners.’’

Fahri breathed out of his nose. He glared at Kliment, then let go of his fury.

‘’...mostly nobles. For the most part, access to weaponry requires a permit from the nearest city council for commoners. If you hold a position of security or military significance, even after you retire you can hold onto the right to arm. So it is elderly military-men or militia that supply villages like ours.’’

‘’Only villages?’’

‘’They can’t do much else. Nobles hold the rights to arm themselves and others, a grace given by the Angels. Though Great God forbid, if it is true. So they claim smithies and workshops and sell their products by themselves to their territory. There is a known saying about it: Blades are a devil’s arm, forging is the devil’s will, swinging is the devil’s work.’’

Religion shuns them, and the monopoly is on the noble houses...

Was this not a direct confirmation of the status and character of weapon peddlers?

Then his father could not be a weapon merchant. What was the point of lying to him about that, anyway?

‘’Interesting.’’ He said, and said no more. He came forward, laid his body onto the door and watched the scenery pass by. For a while they remained silent, listening to the rattles and the few chirps of the migratory cranes that flew over before winter.

‘’Thank you, Fahri.’’

‘’’You’re welcome. It is nothing.’’

He laughed at that.

‘’You really underestimate your worth, don’t you?’’

Fahri snorted at him and turned his back. The rest of the journey progressed the same.

Then a week later, the entourage arrived at Fort Ascendance.