One more night beneath the stars on an empty road waiting for the morning to come and begin the day’s events. The boys took their turns watching the paths and fields. The region had opened up quite suddenly as the trees refused to grow out in the plains and rolling hills where thick grasses and vegetation already controlled the soil.

In the darkness, Christoph stared up to the sky. Watching those same stars as he had on the evenings at home, it offered a sense of comfort that the Heavens hadn’t changed. Few, minuscule clouds wandered through the scene, but bright stars and the distant glow of the galaxy’s form were spread out farther than any puny cloud could blockade.

Christoph’s mind was at ease. On the cooled dirt and patchy grass, beneath a tattered blanket, with no readied tools of war, and with his brother at his side, he was comfortable. He should have been sleeping. The morning would come, and with it, more training. He’d done his watch early in the night, and since then, his eyes hadn’t been able to leave the stars.

Just days from home and a twinge of pain sped his heart at the thought of the distance. To steady himself, he drew mental lines between the stars until a rosebush hovered high overhead—just like his mother’s.

The one moon of this world floated lazily across the sky, but it only shined with a thin, sideways grin. It would be a new moon soon. Rest would come to the moon, and her grin would disappear for only the stars to shine.

Both watchmen were quiet. Only a few bugs or distant birds of night made sounds. There was also a stream or river somewhere over one of the hills. Christoph listened carefully to the magically soothing sounds of nature. Sleep would avoid the young man sporting worn rags as cloths and an aged totem of wood.

Finding sleep to be impossible, Christoph ran his fingers through the grass at his sides. Thin grass was cleared out for the troop to use, and the smell was still lingering. He could feel the flattened tops of the leaves and some other plants trying to struggle up between the blades. The dirt beneath was heavy; moisture retained and nutrients surely plentiful.

This would be a great place, too. Though water seemed a bit off the beaten path, the hills a bit frequent and high, and the openness to the elements, it was a seemingly perfect place for a settlement. A bit of work, as with all things, but it would do. No matter the distance or the adventure ahead, home always crept in and filled the time.

But soon, the sun rose, and the birds began to sing. Those distant teeth on the horizon blocked what light they could until their miniaturized forms were overwhelmed by the star. The group was up, and they were readied to move.

“Just a little farther, lads.” The soldier leaned back with his hands on his waist. A quick snap was heard and then a sigh of relief. “Perfect. Well, get a move on! We need to make good time and get you boys working!”

Christoph prepared his few belongings and motioned for his brother to follow. They both got to the cart and offered to handle it. Being one of the oldest and, though the competition was lacking, fairly built, he thought he should offer his aid in moving the supplies and cart as quickly as possible to end the trip.

The quicker we get there, the quicker we train. The words were hope for him. He took one side of the cart while his brother took the other—horses would have made this far easier had his village had any. A few cattle and sheep weren’t very ideal for long treks or heavy lifting.

The time beside the cart did give the young man some time to talk with the soldier. They moved in formations at the soldier’s commands. As the boys spread out, Christoph paid attention to that steadily rising pillar of sharpened stones in the distance. “You said we’d be avoiding that area, right?”

“What?” The soldier’s eyes turned toward the boy and then back to the horizon. “Oh! The Surton Spire? No, no, no, no. We’ll be heading a bit closer and then to the west.” He tapped the metal case around his skull. “The layout’s all up here.”

“Hm.” Christoph nodded in agreement. “I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m not sure I’ve been told your name. We heard of Captain Nodure, but I wanted to thank you for your instructions.” Christoph had to really dig his heels into the dirt to force the cart forward. It was a rough duty and talking didn’t make it any easier.

“Me?” The soldier turned back slightly. His eyes closed, and he stroked gently at his mustache. “My name is Braun Simson.” His lips pulled back in a proud smile. “I’m one of those in the running for my Captain’s position when he’s promoted. Surely, that won’t take long; being married into the family of our great Emperor.”

Both boys exhaled in surprise—and from the weight of the cart.

“Yes, quite the man, our Captain.” Braun turned back to the trail while speaking over his shoulder. “He’s led us through numerous battles. His plans are frightfully efficient.” The soldier laughed. “From the beginning of our assignment, he’d planned out every detail. My horse is with him because they knew the last village to the east of here would have more tools and heavy equipment for us. They would rush the horses there,” he pointed off to the northeast, then unsurely, he redirected it to the east. “Gather everything up. Marching with the conscripted is a bit of a pain, but I already see improvement!” He chuckled loudly to himself.

Surely, that armor must have been warm. He only wore his basic suit while several cloaks, accessories, and his secondary arms were stashed in the back of the cart. The cart had gotten a bit lighter over the days as food was used up, but the boys had to keep their footing sure and their minds on the task.

This didn’t keep Christoph from wandering about the fascination of the unknown future. “So, we’ll get trained in combat? With real swords?” His face couldn’t resist pulling back with a smile. Even though his knuckles had just barely healed from his thoughtless sickle accident, the idea of cold metal in his hands provided a youthful rush. Or it did, until he’d lost focus and stepped into a considerable pothole in the dirt road.

The cart continued on for a few feet after he fell beneath it. Malin’s gut jammed into the bar they held as the weight was no longer manageable. Christoph’s chin contacted the bar on his way down; tearing a bit of skin from the boy and catching his tongue between his teeth. Their guardian soldier turned to see Christoph quickly trying to pull himself out from beneath the cart and right himself. Slapping off what dirt he could, the boy’s red face and fallen eyes were enough to assign guilt.

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“Careful, lads. We have no time to slow.” The soldier turned toward the distant spires and open fields. Greens and assorted hues of wildflowers lifted and fell as waves on the oceans neither boy had ever seen. These currents ebbed and flowed with the breezes. It was the sort of sight that Christoph enjoyed most. One he’d hoped mother and father could join in. “Just a bit farther now. We should reach the rendezvous before midday, should we remain on our feet.”

Meant for jest, the words bounced about his helmet before reaching the boys with a hauntingly metallic feel. Christoph hung his head, spitting blood to the ground, but continued to push while his brother pursed his lips in silence. They continued on in this silence for another hour or so before the hills opened up on the left; an arrowhead carved into the grounds.

It was particularly steep and uneven along the sides of this formation, but the center of that arrowhead pierced the hills with a gradual slope. The soldier shouted his orders and motioned for the cart to halt. Once his troop had been gathered, the soldier pointed the direction and ordered the procession.

Three boys assisted pushing the cart from the rear. Tall grass grew all along these hills, but there was a beaten path where broken blades of green slumped depressingly into the piles of their fallen brethren. Uneven ground made it difficult to pull, but the cart managed through the collective will and muscle of the boys. Some were sent ahead to scout and ensure the proper location. The soldier marched ahead as well; excited to regain his place amongst the ranks.

“Just a little farther, lads.” The soldier moved to the point in the hills where no brown broke the floors and walls of green. Just tall enough to be inconvenient, they were natural barriers to be utilized. These stony and dirt slopes were just steep enough it would be increasingly difficult for larger groups to overtake. They would need to funnel into the grassy slopes—especially if mounted.

“Ah! What a lovely sight!” The solider moved ahead and out of sight while the boys finished expending the last of their might to get the cart to the top of the hill. Once it came to rest, and the boys turned it so it wouldn’t roll away, they fell to the ground to catch their breaths. All the grass, except the perimeter about the numerous hills, had been either cut or pounded down for a more clear and visible base of operations.

Christoph looked past his brother and saw five tents of considerable size set up. They were in the center of this clearing. No more than seven or eight feet high in the tallest areas. Sir Nodure’s tactic included stealth as a major component. Though the tops of these tents were more than likely visible from other hills, they’d been purposefully covered with the cut grass. Red fabric stuck through in some places, but the green was fairly convincing.

“Come, lads! Come! We must report in and prepare!” They each exhaled with disdain, but it was drowned out by, “And don’t forget the cart. Move it toward the center.”

“At least,” Malin’s face dripped with sweat and he struggled to regain his breath, “we’ll get… to train soon.”

“About time.” Christoph reached over at patted his brother on the arm. This was their moment, now sitting before the tents of accomplished warriors, to carve their name into this world. Rejuvenated by the prospect, both boys leapt up and pulled the cart toward the gathered supplies between the tents.

They set it where outside eyes would see only the camouflaged tents. Some of the empire’s more renowned rangers would have spotted these supplies and carts from a mile away, but it seemed unlikely a barbarian horde would have such refined, sophisticated talents such as the empire’s top adventurers or Destined Blades.

“My Lord,” the soldier rushed into the main tent; his adoration plain in his voice. He was a child before a celebrity. “The Rothmire conscripts are here.”

“Roth—”

There were a few huffs behind the decorated tent’s cloth. The brothers, placing the cart, could hear the words dampened to whispers by the dense fabric.

“… long enough to arrive. Three teams of four are already out scanning the west, northwest, and north flagged points.” He continued to explain how some had already been sent into the lands to scout. “These hills provide cover and exceptional vantage points of the surrounding region. They’ll have to round through these two forests with the carts they’ve been reported to have. Our commanders at the border sent a small regiment to pick off what they could of the hordes. This will force them either north, through the woods and around the more unforgiving Fronthin Springs.”

Christoph had no clue what these Fronthin Springs were, but a spring sounded quite nice. He imagined relaxing in warm water between large stones. Steam would keep all unmentionables secret as the troop relaxed. He was partially correct.

There was hot water. Lots of hot water.

The Fronthin Springs were a barren land of geysers which sprayed scalding waters into the sky. Rainbows would be seen from a distance if the sun was in the right place, but it was only nature’s grotesque play at beauty to lead one to their death. As the bait might be laid out for the fish or scavenger, the lands had seemed to take pleasure in luring the unsuspecting to their fate. A painful, brutish, scorching death awaited those that wondered into those salty flats.

But the dream of a warm bath kept Christoph smiling.

“Line your men up. Now!” Sir Nodure’s hissing voice made both the boys jump outside the tent. They looked at each other with fingers against their lips to hush themselves. Hurrying between two disguised tents, they sped to stand beside the rest of their comrades.

“Fall in, lads! Line yourselves up and prepare for orders!” The soldier cried out while standing comically straightened. His mustache wiggled from side to side after he finished.

Sir Nodure stepped from his tent and took in the sights. Green lands, rolling hills, beauty of the gods seeded into the very dirt he walked on. Never one to disgrace the gods blessings of such a wondrous world, he inhaled deeply. Earthy and natural. No trace of noxious feces or whorehouses like the city.

Then his eyes fell to the group. His face was a molded mask of steel as he glanced them over… until he found the boy with the scraped chin and the scabbed knuckles. This was the point where steel could have melted.

“Stand straight!” His sudden outburst straightened every back in the line. Even Braun pushed his chest out a bit further. “Swords!”

A boy began running from behind one of the tents. He had three short swords laid across his arms. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, and Christoph swallowed hard against seeing the youth skitter over to them. One wrong move… the swords are as big as him!

Each boy took a sword until the youngest in sight ran out of supplies. He would then rush back to where he came from and return with more. It was repeated until each of the boys of Rothmire had been equipped.

This was the first time Christoph had held a blade meant for nothing but killing. It was the beginning of his prosperous future. It all began with the padded handle and the heavy iron in his grip.

Wow.