Sylas breathes into his hands to warm them up. Snow dots the landscape; it began to fall early in the morning and hasn't stopped since. He glances at the lined-up men-at-arms to see them shaking.

Hawryn has been standing in front of them for ten minutes without a word. A pile of backpacks lies behind him. His gaze sweeps over the boys and then towards the two other corporals. He asks, "How long can a man survive in this cold?"

The boys look at each other, confused. Jule, who, thanks to his bulky frame, seems less sensible to the cold, steps in front of the ranks. He guesses, "A day?"

Hawryn stares at the kid for long seconds.

Tired of waiting, Storis snaps, "You are forgetting something! Get on the ground and give me fifty!"

Jule obeys without pause and starts doing pushups. A thin plume of vapor undulates along his skin as he reaches half of his punishment. And, after the last five excruciating push-ups, he rises back to his feet.

"Would you repeat your answer?" Hawryn orders.

"A day, sir," Jule stammers, out of breath.

"Three hours standing like you are," Hawryn denies. He motions for Jule to get back into the ranks. "After that your muscles will freeze, your heart and lungs will slow, and you'll lose consciousness."

Sylas glances towards Storis and Walf. They don't shiver, but their skin turned a shade paler. Their higher constitution must make the weather more bearable to them.

But the person who handles it the best is Liliana; leaning back on a tree, she ignores the cold. Contrary to Sylas', her cape rests folded on her back instead of covering her.

"Aren't you cold?" Sylas whispers in disbelief.

"Ho," she startles before bringing her cape around herself. "I hadn't noticed. The weather changed so fast."

The morning wasn't any warmer; the men-at-arms were shaking when they woke up. A high constitution would explain a resistance to extreme temperatures. But who wouldn't notice that they are cold?

Hawryn continues, "Exercising like Jule just did will make you last longer. However, it is a temporary resort; isolated in the wild, you need to find shelter from the cold. Not only that, if your clothes or characteristics do not suffice, you must light a fire."

The boys are inattentive; some look to the landscape or the rare falling leaf. The information Hawryn is dispensing is strangely mundane. But his tone is of the utmost seriousness.

"In pairs, you'll have to survive and hide for three days between these mountains. Starting tonight, we'll be hunting you," Hawryn says. He motions behind him at the wide expanse surrounded by mountains and cliffs. From here they can see its pine forests, clearing, water streams, and lakes.

It snaps the men-at-arms to attention. Jaws hang as they take in his words. Until today they have suffered nothing but the basic training they were already undertaking in Opal. Surviving on their own must be terrifying for those who still pain to take care of themselves.

Storis chimes in, "Each of you will be responsible for your duo. If they are wounded or get sick, it's your responsibility to call for us. Get them to a visible area; scream if you must; we won't be far. Get them irreversibly injured or dead, and you can forget about ever becoming a guard!"

The sole reason why they can be divided by two is that one of them deserted. Was this exercise originally planned for trios? The question lingers in Syla's mind but is soon replaced by another. He leans towards Liliana and asks, "What if whomever harassed the town comes after them?"

"Hawryn won't hunt for the kids but for them, whoever they are, just in case," Liliana answers.

"I feel like I have been left out of a conversation or two," Sylas says.

"You have," Liliana confirms. "Because you get to participate; I doubt you ever had any survival training."

The words jolt Sylas' blood. While it isn't entirely true, Sylas having survived on his own between his village and the elder God's sanctuary, he doesn't contest. At the time he had with him a dog who was both their hunter and constant sentry. He whispers back, "I don't see the point of this exercise for the common guard."

"Hawryn wants to know who among them could become good scouts," Liliana clarifies. "And it doesn't hurt to have soldiers who can take care of themselves if they are their army's sole survivors. It gives them a chance to make their way back to a town or to another army."

"Or if they become deserters," Sylas quips.

"At least they would know how to hunt instead of raiding villages for food," Liliana retorts.

All the men-at-arms choose partners among their own squad until only two are left from the intact seven-men squads. Gavriel is one of the two, and he groups with the other outlier.

Seeing the ten pairs, a question pops into Sylas' mind. "Who is my duo?"

"Me," Liliana answers. She glances to the side to lock eyes with him. "But we get to be the hunters. Starting tonight, our job will be to catch as many of them as possible."

"Sounds like a sure way to get them to hate me even more," Sylas whispers.

"They don't hate you," Liliana says. She looks to the side and adds, "Three of them do for sure, but the rest didn't do anything that angered you yet."

"I'm not sure it was anger," Sylas says, still unable to understand why he reacted the way he did. "Perhaps I was… disappointed. After all, I am supposed to be their sergeant, whatever that entails."

"And here I thought you couldn't stand such an insult to a noble lady's honor," Liliana quips. She glances at him and locks her gaze onto his.

"Why not teach them what they need to know before sending them into the wild?" Sylas asks.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Changing topic, huh?" Liliana pokes. She crosses her arms and leans further on her tree while moving her gaze to the troops. "Because they wouldn't listen. Not that we couldn't force it into their brains through repetition and punishment, but after the next few days they will be eager to learn."

Hawryn grabs a backpack from the pile. He approaches one of the duos, hands them the bag, and points northeast. "You go first," he orders. The two boys walk off in the direction he motions at. He repeats the operation with each group in ten-minute intervals, sending them off in various directions.

"He didn't say they couldn't join forces between duos; is that why he sent them in different directions?" Sylas asks.

Liliana puffs. "I can already tell you none of them will think of that. Maybe the second time some will get the idea."

"That's actually expected of them, isn't it?" Sylas asks.

"Isolated from your army, you should try to regroup with other such allies. It drastically improves your chances," Liliana answers. "The only problem is that it makes you easier to find, which is also part of this exercise."

"But in a real scenario you would fight off the enemies who hunt you," Sylas says. He glances at Hawryn as he approaches them and imagines fighting the man. Contrary to Storis or Walf, he moves with fluidity, as if he weighed nothing. Sylas feels his chest tighten as Hawryn strides closer, his measured pace as intimidating as the claw scar crossing over his left eye.

Hawryn stops a few paces away. "Sir –"

"I already told him," Liliana cuts in.

"Good," Hawryn lets out. He hands Sylas the last bag and adds, "Try not to catch them too early; it's important they experience the harshness of surviving in the wild. But, when you do, send them back here. Walf will have made a camp to shelter and train them while they wait for the exercise to end."

"Will do," Sylas confirms, unsure of his own ability to succeed in the exercise. Thankfully, Liliana has shown remarkable knowledge in all the matters of survival so far. It should be an easy, teachable experience unless she willfully refrains from making herself useful to force him to learn on his own. "I hope you won't run into too much trouble looking out for uninvited participants."

"Likewise, but I doubt someone who struggled to kill a Blacksmith would be hard to deal with; no offense, sir," Hawryn says.

"None taken," Sylas excuses. Hawryn revisited the town alone and most likely learned more in a few glances about the fight. "I wouldn't want to fight you either. Where should we head towards?"

"Straight north. If I'm right about the weather, the coming winds and snow will push them towards you," Hawryn says. He draws his lips to a line before continuing. "Good luck, sergeants."

Walf hurls an axe into a tree, startling Sylas. Looking behind him, Sylas sees markings drawn in the thin snow for a rectangular building. Walf looks to the side, thinking. He calls after them. "If you find a deer or hog, bring it back so we can have good meat on the last day, sir, ma'am."

Liliana smiles and waves at him. "We'll see what we can do."

The cold seeps into Sylas' fingers and feet as they make their way through a snowy forest. The northern mountains loom still hours away, and the sun already threatens to vanish.

"You are awfully silent," Liliana says. Neither of them talked for the past hours. But for Sylas, it was merely because he was too annoyed by the cold biting at his face to not focus on it. She starts to say something else, but her stomach growls, overshadowing the forest's noises.

Sylas slides the backpack's strap off his shoulder and rummages through it for something to eat. Moving his hand around, he finds something rough and hard; he pulls it out. Surprise takes him as he sees a rock in his hand. He asks, "Was I supposed to inventory our provisions as early as possible?"

"Maybe," Liliana quips with a smile.

Sylas lets go of the rock and rummages through the bag for other surprises of the sort. One after the other, he removes three rocks from the bag, lightening it by ten kilos. He investigates the remaining provisions – a flint and silex lighter, rope, a little lantern oil, slices of dried meat, and a rolled wool blanket. He takes out the meat and hands a slice to Liliana.

"You know, we might not find much to eat in the next few days," Liliana says. She extends her hand to take the slice. "You might want to ration what we have."

Her words convince him she doesn't intend to help out much during this trip, leaving him to learn the hard way. He brings back the slice towards the bag. "Maybe we should. After all, we already ate this morning."

Liliana's stomach growls once again as she stares at the food he holds. She still extends her hand expectantly, her shimmering eyes making Sylas think of a cat. The image forces a muted puff out of him, and he gives her the food. She quips, "You shouldn't taunt people with food like that; some might fight you for it."

"I'm sure a noble lady like yourself wouldn't lower herself to such primal behavior," Sylas retorts. He swings the backpack onto his back and starts walking again.

Liliana bites into the slice with relish, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you'd be surprised what people are capable of when they're hungry."

"Oh, trust me, I know," Sylas says. His village suffered more than one winter – rotten storage, theft, or poor harvest leaving them with little to eat.

Liliana walks beside him, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound between them for a moment. She finishes her snack and asks, "Hey, I didn't want to mention it with the others around, but I'm sorry about the whole situation. You didn't choose to become a guard, and we forced you to."

"The regent is the only one I blame," Sylas says. It seems to brighten her mood. "If anything, I should have been more cautious to not attract attention by training with the guard."

"You know, being in the guard is not so bad," Liliana says. "I wouldn't want to be a civilian, unable to protect myself if something came after me."

Sylas stops, his mind moving to the many worries he had the past weeks. They've been at peace for decades, but soon, like centuries ago, portals could open onto another world. And, while like Grim they would be humans, who's to say war won't engulf the continent? He asks, "If your superior – a lieutenant, captain, or even the regent – ordered you to slaughter civilians who belong to another… country, would you do it?"

Liliana's eyes move to the side as she thinks of an answer. She resumes walking and says, "I have the influence to refuse that order, not because of my rank but because of my family. Not even the regent would declare me a traitor; it would damage his image. But you are not asking this because you want to know what I would do; you think it will happen to you."

Sylas hesitates, his breath visible as he exhales deeply. "I don't know; that's what worries me. I don't want to do something I'll regret my entire life, but who's to say I won't yield when ordered to?"

Liliana slows down, her gaze moving to the side as she thinks. "The fact that you are worried about it tells me you wouldn't obey orders blindly. There'd be consequences both ways. What matters is what you think is easier to live with."

"I'm not sure questioning orders is among the things you are supposed to teach me," Sylas quips.

"Who cares? If we can put some Warrior into you, that will be plenty enough." Liliana catches up with him. "It's not like your hypothetical will happen soon anyway; it's Orcs we will be fighting."

"What do you mean?"

"Orcs are basically monsters," Liliana lets out. She tightens her lips to a line, catching herself in saying something she didn't want to.

"Those who attacked my village certainly behaved like monsters. Next to one of the many Orcs who live among us, they would seem like different species altogether," Sylas says. He brushes a pine branch upward to not have to crouch or deviate from his path. "Some of Edgar's clients are Orcs – mercenaries, bounty hunters, or even adventurers. They were easier to deal with than some of the humans."

"I know," Liliana begins. "It's just hard to not think about all the reports of slaughters I read through. Small raiding parties and what amounts to bandit hideouts have always been a problem. And each time we find the remains of their victims, it's only what hasn't been eaten."

"Wait, that's not a story parents tell their children to scare them from wandering off?" Sylas asks.

"Parents definitely use it; mine did anyway, but that's also true," Liliana confirms. She opens her mouth to say something else but stops herself as she looks to the side. Holding an open hand to signal Sylas to stop moving, she scans the direction.

Snow falls off a bush as its leaves ruffle. Something moves away from it, low to the ground and hidden in the growing darkness. A twig breaks from another direction, startling Sylas as he spins to face it.

Sylas draws his sword and moves to protect Liliana's back. The blade hums in the air as he moves, reflecting the last of the dying light.