Alton watched with pride as Wolf Company moved through their morning exercises, a synchronized display of discipline and dedication. The rhythmic clash of blades and the grunts of exertion echoed off the cavern walls, a symphony of steel and sweat.

Amelia led the drills, her voice ringing out with clear instructions as she guided the company through a series of intricate maneuvers. Her movements were precise, her form flawless, a testament to her unwavering commitment to honing her skills.

Prian and Letty sparred nearby, their blades dancing in a blur of motion, each strike and parry a testament to their growing prowess. Alton couldn't help but marvel at their progress, recalling the raw recruits they had once been, and the skilled warriors they had become.

Miser and Nelson stood back-to-back, their tower shields raised in a defensive stance, deflecting the mock blows of their comrades with practiced ease. Their movements were seamless, a well-choreographed dance of protection and counter-attack.

Lews, ever the diligent student, observed from the sidelines, his eyes tracking each motion, his mind absorbing every nuance. Alton knew the young mage's thirst for knowledge was insatiable, and he took pride in the strides Lews had made under Jonah's tutelage. Even Seka was making progress with the sword, something Alton had serious doubts about.

As Alton's gaze swept over the assembled company, a sense of pride swelled within him. His team turned company was becoming a lethal force. In the fighting of the recent weeks, they had exceeded all expectations. A long chain of dead fiends littered the tunnels and not a single Agorran.

A sudden commotion from the tunnel behind him shattered the rhythmic cadence of the exercises. Alton spun, his hand instinctively falling to the hilt of Fang, as a breathless scout burst into the cavern.

Alton's heart swelled with a mix of joy and relief as he caught sight of Jonah emerging from the tunnel entrance, his familiar form silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. It had been far too long since he'd last laid eyes on his old friend, and the passage of time seemed to melt away in that instant.

Jonah moved with a newfound confidence, his gait steady and purposeful, despite the absence of his left arm. The sight of the drake scale armor that encased his body was a testament to his resilience and determination.

"Jonah," Alton breathed, his voice thick with emotion as he stepped forward to embrace his friend. The familiar scent of parchment and herbs mingled with the tang of metal and smoke, a reminder of the paths they had both walked.

As they parted, Alton held Jonah at arm's length, his gaze sweeping over the intricate craftsmanship of the drake scale armor that now encased his friend's body. The scales shimmered with a muted iridescence, each one meticulously fitted and interwoven, a testament to the skill of the Thoiri artisans.

"It's good to see you, old friend," Alton said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

Jonah's lips curved into a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And you, Alton," he replied, his voice rich and familiar, like a beloved melody from childhood. "It seems we've both undergone a few changes since our last meeting."

A chorus of footsteps and murmurs signaled the arrival of the rest of Wolf Company, drawn by the commotion of Jonah's arrival. Amelia was the first to step forward, her eyes shining with recognition as she took in the sight of the scholar-turned-warrior.

"Jonah," she breathed, a smile blossoming across her face. "It's an honor to see you again."

One by one, the members of Wolf Company gathered around, each offering their own greetings and words of welcome. Prian clasped Jonah's hand warmly, his eyes alight with curiosity as he took in the sight of the mage's new armor.

Lews, ever the eager student, hovered nearby, his gaze fixed on Jonah's form, no doubt ready to fuss over his health. As the reunions unfolded, Alton found himself swept up in a wave of emotion, a sense of homecoming and belonging that he had not felt in far too long.

* * *

Alton's gaze drifted from one familiar face to another as the members of Wolf Company welcomed Jonah back into their fold. A sense of relief washed over him, tempered by the weight of the trials they had endured in his friend's absence.

As the initial greetings subsided, Alton motioned for Jonah and Thuklu to follow him, the three men falling into step as they made their way to a rock formation conveniently shaped for sitting. The echoes of their footfalls reverberated against the stone walls, punctuated by the occasional drip of water from unseen crevices.

"It's been too long, my friend," Alton said, his voice low and gravelly. "We've faced more than our fair share of challenges since you've been gone."

Jonah nodded solemnly, his expression grave. "I've heard whispers of the battles you've fought." He paused, his gaze meeting Alton's. "But I sense a newfound strength within you, a resilience forged in the fires of adversity."

Alton let out a rueful chuckle. "You always did have a way with words, Jonah. But you're right, we've grown stronger, more united." He glanced back at the members of Wolf Company, their faces etched with determination. "Every one of them is mana awakened now. Most already in the third or fourth tiers."

As they walked, Alton recounted the battles they had fought, the victories they had claimed. He spoke of the fiends that had plagued their path, the relentless onslaught of creatures that seemed to emerge from the very shadows themselves.

Thuklu remained silent for the most part, his keen eyes scanning the tunnel ahead, ever vigilant for potential threats. But when Alton mentioned the difficulties they had faced in navigating the labyrinthine passages, the Thoiri warrior spoke up.

"The tunnels are old," Thuklu said, his voice a low rumble. "Many paths blocked. Fiends nest in dark places."

Jonah nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "I fear our isolation may be more than just a consequence of the fiends' presence," he mused. "There have been no messages from the main army in weeks, and the passages explored have been eerily devoid of any sign of our comrades."

A chill ran down Alton's spine at Jonah's words. The thought of being cut off from the rest of their forces, trapped in the endless tunnels with no way to call for aid, was a sobering one.

"We must press on," Alton said, his jaw set in determination. "If the passages are blocked, we'll find a way through, or carve a new path if we must."

Thuklu grunted in agreement, his hand tightening around the haft of his spear. "Thoiri know these tunnels. We will guide."

As they delved deeper into the heart of the mountain, Alton couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over him. The shadows seemed to press in closer, the air growing thicker and more oppressive with each step they took.

But he pushed those fears aside, drawing strength from the presence of his comrades, his family. They had faced countless challenges together, and they would face this one as well, united and unbroken.

For now, their path was clear: follow the main tunnel, the artery that connected the cities of Thornwur and Aethelwur . Normally, the journey would take a week, but their progress had been slowed by the constant skirmishes with the fiends that seemed to lurk around every corner.

Two weeks had already passed, and still, they pressed on, undaunted by the obstacles in their path. Alton knew that time was of the essence, that every moment they lingered was another moment for the enemy to strengthen their foothold.

But he also knew that rushing headlong into the unknown would only court disaster. They would move with caution, relying on the wisdom of Thuklu and the Thoiri to guide them through the treacherous tunnels.

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The aroma of roasting meat filled the cavern, mingling with the smoky scent of the crackling fire. Alton inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar smell that conjured memories of countless campfires and hard-won victories.

His gaze swept over the members of Wolf Company as they gathered around the flames, their faces illuminated by the dancing orange light. A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he watched them tuck into the meal of roasted Scythantis, their laughter and banter echoing off the stone walls.

"I still can't believe you let that little bugger get the drop on you, Miser," Nelson chuckled, tearing a chunk of meat from the bone with his teeth. "You're supposed to be the immovable object, not the one getting tossed around like a rag doll."

Miser shot his twin a withering glare, but there was no real malice behind it. "At least I didn't end up on my backside like a startled turtle," he retorted, eliciting a round of laughter from the others.

Amelia shook her head, her lips curved into an amused smile. "You two are like a pair of bickering old wives," she teased. "If you spent half as much effort working together as you do trying to one-up each other, we'd have won this war already."

The twins exchanged a look, their expressions shifting from mock indignation to grudging respect. It was a dynamic that Alton had seen play out countless times, a dance of rivalry and camaraderie that seemed to fuel their determination.

As the laughter subsided, the conversation turned to the sparring ladder and the day's matches. Alton leaned back against the cavern wall, content to listen as his soldiers recounted the clashes, dissecting each other's techniques and offering good-natured jabs.

"Did you see the look on Prian's face when Amelia nearly took his head off with that spinning kick?" Letty exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "I thought for sure he was going to pass out right then and there."

Prian's cheeks flushed, but he didn't shy away from the ribbing. "Hey, at least I lasted longer than you did against Wilt," he countered, prompting a chorus of hoots and whistles from the others.

Alton couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, his gaze drifting to the young scout. Prian had come a long way since those early days, his skills honed to a razor's edge through countless battles and rigorous training. The same could be said for all of them, Alton mused, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his comrades.

They were no longer the raw recruits he had led into battle all those months ago. They were warriors, forged in the crucible of war, their bonds tempered by the trials they had endured together.

As the banter continued, Alton found himself transported back to that first day, when he had stood before them and laid out his expectations. He had demanded their loyalty, their commitment, and their unwavering determination to see this conflict through to the bitter end.

And they had delivered, time and time again.

Now, as they sat around the fire, their laughter ringing out in defiance of the darkness that surrounded them, Alton knew that he had found more than just a company of soldiers. He had found a family, bound by something deeper than duty or allegiance.

They were the wolves of winter, fierce and indomitable, their spirits kindled by the fires of adversity. And as long as they stood together, no force on this earth could break them.

* * *

Alton leaned back against the cavern wall, his gaze fixed on the members of Wolf Company as they moved through the tactical drills. The echoes of their boots against the stone floor reverberated through the chamber, punctuated by the occasional bark of orders from Amelia.

"Defensive formation!" she called out, her voice cutting through the din like a blade. "Shields up, blades at the ready!"

In an instant, the company shifted, the warriors with shields forming a tight phalanx as the others took up positions behind them. Alton nodded approvingly, his eyes tracking the smooth, practiced movements of his soldiers.

Beside him, Jonah watched the proceedings with a keen eye, his brow furrowed in concentration. "They've come a long way," the old priest murmured, his gaze lingering on Lews as the young healer fell into step behind the shield wall.

Alton grunted in agreement, his lips curving into a faint smile. "They have indeed," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "But they're not the only ones."

He turned his head, meeting Jonah's inquisitive gaze. "You've grown as well, old friend. I can sense the power radiating from you, the weight of the knowledge you've gained."

Jonah chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But I'm still just a student, scratching at the surface of what the manasphere has to offer."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden flurry of movement as Amelia barked out another command. "Advance and hold!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the din like a whip crack.

The shield wall surged forward, the warriors behind them keeping pace, their weapons at the ready. Alton watched, impressed, as they navigated the uneven terrain of the cavern, using the natural obstacles to their advantage.

"Halt!" Amelia called out, her voice ringing with authority. "Blades, take cover and prepare for ranged assault!"

In a fluid motion, the shield bearers dropped to one knee, their shields angled to provide cover as the others scattered, seeking shelter behind outcroppings and stalagmites. Alton's gaze swept over them, noting the way they worked in tandem, each soldier supporting the others without the need for explicit orders.

"They're like a well-oiled machine," Jonah murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "You've forged them into a true fighting force, Alton."

Alton nodded, his eyes never leaving the drill. "They're more than that," he said, his voice low and reverent. "They're a family, bound by something deeper than duty or allegiance."

As if to punctuate his words, a sudden flurry of movement caught his eye. Letty had emerged from her cover, her bow drawn taut as she loosed a volley of arrows toward an imaginary foe. The shafts whistled through the air, their tips glowing with the faint shimmer of mana.

"Impressive," Jonah remarked, his eyes tracking the arrows' flight. "Her control has improved immensely."

Alton grunted in agreement, his gaze shifting to where Lews crouched behind the shield wall, his hands already aglow with healing energy. "They've all grown in their own ways," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "Each one of them has embraced their potential, harnessing the power of the manasphere to become something more."

As the drill continued, Alton watched with rapt attention, his keen eye picking apart each move, each decision, filing away the lessons for future reference. This was more than just a training exercise; it was a symphony of tactics and teamwork, a testament to the bond that held Wolf Company together.

Alton's musings were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the tunnel. He turned, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of Fang as a figure emerged from the shadows.

It was one of Thuklu's scouts, a young Thoiri warrior with eyes wide and chest heaving from exertion. The scout skidded to a halt before Alton.

"Captain," he gasped, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Alton felt a chill run down his spine, his grip tightening on Fang's hilt. "Speak," he commanded, his voice low and steady.

The scout took a deep breath, steadying himself. "The tunnel to Aethelwurn has overrun," he said, his words laced with urgency. "Army of fiends block path, their numbers beyond counting."

* * *

The scout's words hung in the air like a pall, casting a shadow over the cavernous chamber. Alton felt his pulse quicken, the weight of command pressing down upon his shoulders. He exchanged a glance with Amelia, her green eyes alight with determination.

"Form up," he called out, his voice cutting through the din of the drill. Onece the company was assembled he released them except for his command staff. "Command on me."

"Continue with your drills," Amelia added before moving to follow Alton.

The soldiers obeyed without question, falling into formation with a practiced efficiency that spoke of countless hours of training.

"We have a situation," he said, his voice low and grave. "The tunnel to Aethelwurn has been overrun by a force of fiends, their numbers too great to push through."

A ripple of unease passed through the ranks, the soldiers exchanging uneasy glances. Alton held up a hand, forestalling any outbursts.

"We need to find a way around this blockade," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group. "Prian, what do your scouts report? Is there another route to Aethelwurn?"

The young tracker shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "None that are passable," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "The tunnels are too narrow, or they've collapsed inward. We'd be bottlenecked before we could even get close."

Alton cursed under his breath, his mind racing. He turned to Thuklu, his eyes searching the Thoiri's impassive face. "What about your people?" he asked. "Surely there are hidden paths, ways known only to the Thoiri."

Thuklu's expression was inscrutable, but Alton could sense the tension in the warrior's frame. "There are ways," he said, his words clipped and precise. "They are long, treacherous. Not for armies."

"We don't need to move the entire force," Amelia interjected, her voice calm and measured. "Just a small strike team, enough to link up with the Thoiri and coordinate a counterattack."

Thuklu's eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering between Alton and Amelia. "You speak of hiding," he growled, his words laced with disdain. "We fight through, not hide."

Alton felt his temper flare, his hand tightening on the hilt of Fang. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jonah beat him to it, the old priest's voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Enough," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "We cannot afford to be divided, not now."

He turned to Thuklu, his eyes boring into the Thoiri warrior's. "Alton is right," he said, his words measured and precise. "A frontal assault would be suicide, a waste of lives that we cannot afford to squander."

Alton nodded, his mind already whirring with plans and contingencies. He looked around the circle, his gaze lingering on each of his lieutenants in turn.

"Amelia, Miser, Prian," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're with me. Jonah, I'll need you to hold the fort here, keep the company sharp and ready to move on my signal."

The old priest nodded, his eyes alight with determination. Alton turned to Thuklu, his expression softening ever so slightly.

"Lets go scout out the tunnel," he said, his words carrying the weight of a plea. "If…and I mean if it seems reasonable, we will fight. I won't risk my company out of arrogance."

For a long moment, Thuklu was silent, his face an inscrutable mask. Then, slowly, he inclined his head in a shallow nod.

"Very well," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I will show you the way."

Alton let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relief coursing through him. He clapped Thuklu on the shoulder, his grip firm and sincere.

"Thank you, my friend," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Together, we'll find a way through this, no matter the cost."