There was no other sound that could be heard in that vast frozen tundra other than the footsteps of Karl and his team in the soft snow. The captain's boots sank, his toes ached. As much as their clothes were adapted to the cold, like him, there was a limit to the human body. The sergeant and the corporal of his team carried a large, heavy black bag. The team followed their leader, quietly. Their stoic faces would make anyone who saw them think they were true statues moving through the white landscape. The breath of the wind that passed between the arms of the soldiers, cooling their chests, was broken by their clothes. The sun was beginning to set, "The days are getting shorter," the captain thought.

"Karl..." Yulia said in a low tone, keeping the conversation just between the two of them. "I hope you know you will have to explain what got into you." The look and face of the lieutenant conveyed the concern she felt. "I understand that you keep yourself distant from everyone and hide your secrets, but please..." said the lieutenant, perhaps as his friend. "Just tell me... Should I be worried?"

"No."

Those were the only words Karl uttered to Yulia. Since the death of Volo, the squad leader had become distant from his companions; hardly speaking any word other than orders to follow him. "We have to camp soon," Karl thought as he slowly felt the warmth and light flee from this forest.

The silence returned to the group after the brief exchange of words between the two. The lieutenant, although clearly dissatisfied with the sparse response, did not insist. She knew the captain well enough to understand that, at that moment, he was immersed in thoughts much deeper than he would reveal to anyone.

As darkness began to swallow the landscape, the need to find a suitable place to camp became more pressing. Karl Romanov led the group towards an area that offered some protection against the biting wind. They found a small slope, sheltered by rocks that formed a sort of natural barrier. The captain knew the dangers of the cold well, and for that reason, he chose somewhere closer to the top of a rise.

"Set up camp here," Karl ordered, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Dmitry, Alexei, prepare the area, we'll need a high fire tonight. Yulia, check our supplies. Let's make sure we have everything we need."

"Yes sir, captain," the group responded in unison, but Karl felt there was a morale problem in the team.

As the last light of day dissipated on the horizon, a new light in the form of flames arose among all the soldiers to warm and protect them. The efficiency of the team was almost frightening, having repeated this same process countless times in the tundras, forests, swamps, and plains of Tsaravin.

"Captain, permission to speak?" Dmitry asked after finishing setting up the camp. Karl Romanov was sitting, fiddling with his backpack, which had a black bag with Volo's head behind his wolf amulet. The captain looked at the corporal from bottom to top, while warming up near the fire. "Permission granted, soldier," Karl says, frowning.

"It's about the body of Maxim Popov, sir." Dmitry's voice trembled with anger. "What shall we do with it, sir?"

The captain's eyes then scanned the entire team, observing them. Everyone was paying attention to the conversation between the two, answering the questions they all had. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.

"We will bury him here." "I know you want to take him to his father." "It will be too much work to carry the corpse of a comrade to Kolodrod, so we will rid ourselves of this problem." The captain then observes his men. "Understood?"

"Yes sir, captain." Their faces were stoic.

The night had completely enveloped the camp with its dark mantle when Alexei, the large sergeant, pulled two shovels from the pile of equipment. He handed one to Dmitry, whose face reflected mourning in the light of the fire. Together, they began the somber task of digging a grave for Maxim Popov in the unmarked frozen ground.

Every shovel full of earth and snow removed revealed more of the hardness of the soil below. The two men worked at a steady pace, their breaths visible in the cold air, forming small clouds that quickly dissipated. The sound of the earth being removed and the dull sound of shovels hitting the frozen ground were the only sounds breaking the silence of the night.

A few steps away, Karl Romanov and Yulia watched, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the fire. "It's a shame that such a young man died," Karl says. "Burying a comrade is never easy, is it, Yulia?"

"Yes, captain." The lieutenant watched the grave deepen, where they would leave the body of their comrade. "Yuri, Maxim's father, do you know him, captain?" the lieutenant asked, crossing her legs and putting her intertwined hands on her knee.

"Yes, lieutenant, he will be devastated by Maxim's death." Karl Romanov pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one. "No father brings a son into the world expecting to bury him." Karl takes a drag on his cigarette. "I just hope he can fill the void this will leave in his heart." The captain then observes his lieutenant's hands tremble for a moment, "Get over this pain soon, Yulia, do not let it extinguish your light."

The work of Alexei and Dmitry continued, deepening the grave meter by meter. They did not speak, but nothing needed to be said. The physical effort was visible on their faces and in the tension of their muscles, but they persisted, driven by duty and respect for the comrade who now lay in a black bag next to them.

As the grave reached the proper depth, the two men stopped for a moment, looking at the hole they had created. It was more than just a grave; it was where they would leave the body of one of their comrades behind.

Karl stands up after the ideal size is reached, approaching Alexei and Dmitry but focusing on Maxim. The captain then picks up the corpse of his man in his arms, holding him in his arms. He lays him peacefully in his bed.

"Captain, I would like to say a few words." Dmitry says, waiting for some confirmation before continuing. "I didn't get to know Maxim Popov much, but he still had a lot to show me. We were almost the same age, that made him my equal, even if he was just a recruit... I was a recruit once too, and I hope he rests in peace in the waters."

The captain observed his team, deciding he would be next. "I am tired of seeing deaths on the battlefield, especially the foolish ones." Before anyone could say anything, Karl raised his hand for silence. "I have learned, after so many years, that it is just the roll of a dice that will decide who will die and why. It's just tragic that it was on his first mission."

Lieutenant Yulia steps forward, approaching the grave. "Maxim Popov was someone I knew more by military record than by conversation." She then puts her right hand on her chest, as a form of respect. "I hope the pain of his family can be alleviated."

"Maxim was a good young man, inexperienced but had a real willingness to learn. He might not have been the best, but he certainly had the most willingness." Alexei's gaze on the body seemed to contain disappointment. "He still had a lot to learn, but he would have learned quickly. It's a shame this was his first mission."

As Alexei's last words echoed in the cold air, a calm took over the group. The flames of the fire crackled softly, the only source of sound and warmth in the cold and dark vastness that surrounded them. Then small snowflakes began to fall from the night sky.

First, there were few, floating gently to the earth, almost imperceptible. But soon, a white veil began to form, covering the grave and the body with a delicate layer of snow.

Karl Romanov, with his eyes fixed on the now-covered grave, could not help but notice that the lieutenant was still suffering. At his side, Yulia kept her head down, her thoughts obscured. Alexei, with calloused hands, watched the snowflakes land on his gloves.

The next morning, the camp awoke to a transformed world. The snow that had fallen during the night had covered everything with a white mantle, silencing the usual sounds of nature. Karl Romanov's team, still dealing with grief, left behind the final resting place of Maxim Popov.

In the following five days, the journey was marked by reflective silence. The group advanced through snow-covered forests, crossing small frozen streams and open fields, where the cold wind seemed to cut through even the thickest layers of their clothing. Throughout the journey, the memory of Maxim accompanied them; the corporal seemed to miss him the most, but in Karl's eyes, Alexei was the one who suffered the most.

As they approached Kolodrod, a small rural town could be seen. The fields surrounding it, normally dedicated to agriculture, lay dormant under a mantle of snow, the frozen and inactive land resting before resuming its cultivation cycle.

The houses, built of sturdy wood and stone, were arranged in a way that formed small streets and alleys. Chimneys spread smoke in the cold air. The people of Kolodrod seemed adapted to the rigorous winter conditions, thanks to the military base and train station.

On the streets, warmly dressed residents hurried about their daily tasks, carrying firewood, negotiating in small shops, or conversing in compact groups. Children, dressed in several layers of clothing, played in the snow.

Almost hidden behind the town, hidden by the large fields, was the military base of Kolodrod. Large bodies of steam and steel wandered the vastness, being piloted by one, two, or even three soldiers at a time. Bodies of arachnoid shape with cannons, or bipeds six meters tall.

Karl Romanov, along with his squadron, walked the dirt path that had been cleared of snow, passing between the inactive fields of the small town. As the group approached the military base of Kolodrod, their eyes were drawn to the wooden gates that marked the entrance.

The wall that surrounded the base was a robust structure made of logs, with their sharp ends pointing towards the sky. The dark and resistant logs were deeply embedded in the frozen ground, forming an almost insurmountable barrier.

Armed guards patrolled the top of the wall, their attentive gazes sweeping the surroundings. Their uniform was a mix of heavy fabrics and pieces of armor, adapted both for combat and to withstand the rigorous local climate. With each step of Karl's team, they were cautiously observed by the guards, who seemed to warn the base of their presence.

As they approached the gates, Karl Romanov signaled for the team to slow down. The front door of the base opened with a heavy creak, revealing more guards lined up behind. They watched Karl's group with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, aware that the arrival of such an experienced and well-equipped squadron was not a common event.

A soldier stepped forward, Karl noticed the lieutenant's insignia. The soldier was tall, but still a bit shorter than the captain. His eyes were gray and deep, there was a scar on his left eyebrow. His black hair was kept in a short and impeccable cut, with a clean face, showing his strong jaw.

"Lieutenant Igor Pavlovsky, sir," the man says, saluting. "Welcome to the military base of Kolodrod. Could you inform me of your identification and the purpose of your visit?"

"Yes, yes..." Karl pauses while searching for his document. "Captain Karl Romanov, special forces of the emperor." "We arrived here by train a few weeks ago, didn't stay long and didn't talk much due to the nature of our mission, but I was given permission to request that you provide a wagon on your next train so we can return to the capital."

The soldiers of the base seemed surprised and impressed, it was very rare to see the special forces outside the imperial palace, even more so in hunting uniform. When the captain revealed himself as Karl, the astonishment became even greater.

"Karl Romanov of the special forces?" whispered a soldier. "Isn't he the best shooter in the empire?"

"What mission were they on?" the soldiers wondered.

"Mr. Romanov, please understand that our situation has become a bit complicated at the moment," the lieutenant seemed to know the fame of the man in front of him. "But I ask that you speak with my superior, Captain Fedot Stepanov."

"Alright, take me to him." Karl then begins to follow Igor.

The military base of Kolodrod, nestled in the depths of Tsaravin, stood as a bastion of resistance amid the wintry landscape. Surrounded by high walls of logs, with their sharp ends pointing towards the sky.

Inside the walls, the base was a whirlwind of disciplined military activity. Sturdy wooden barracks and stone buildings were aligned in orderly rows. The ground of hardened dirt, made tough by the relentless cold, was traversed by soldiers in gray and blue uniforms, their boots leaving deep marks in the snow that resisted in the shadows.

The air was impregnated with the aroma of bonfires and the metallic odor of war machines. In one corner of the base, large tanks of steam and steel, with structures resembling spiders and giant humanoids, were parked in orderly rows. These mechanical colossi, covered in snow and ice, seemed to sleep, awaiting the call to battle.

Along the main thoroughfares, small shops and supply stalls offered everything from pieces of uniform to small luxuries, such as tobacco and hot drinks. In an open area, a group of soldiers performed rigorous physical exercises, their synchronized movements cutting through the cold air.

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In the center of the base stood the command building, an imposing structure of dark stone and wood, with narrow windows that seemed like vigilant eyes. The flag of Tsaravin, with its shades of black and gold, a large Kraken rising under the place.

As the special forces squadron moved through the base in search of a captain, the soldiers noticed the presence of Yulia Kuznetsova, and it was impossible not to notice the looks that fell upon her, along with the compliments they spoke among themselves. Karl quickly dissuaded them from continuing to look with just a light "touch."

"Thank you," Yulia whispered to Karl.

Entering the building, the group was immediately greeted by a strong smell of tobacco. Soldiers stood talking while officers reviewed production documents in low tones. The interior walls were adorned with military emblems and some paintings of old military figures from Kolodrod. Karl and his squad followed through a central corridor, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. They passed several closed doors until they reached one marked with the Captain's insignia. Igor Pavlovsky knocked on the door and, after a brief response from inside, opened it, indicating for the group to enter.

The room of Captain Nikolai Stepanov was spacious, with a large wooden desk occupying most of the space. Documents and various maps detailing train routes were organized in front of him. Captain Stepanov himself stood beside the desk, his posture rigid and his penetrating gaze focused on the team entering his office. His short, graying hair gave him a clean appearance. His face, marked by expression lines and a scar on the chin, revealed the experience accumulated over the years. He wore a flawless military uniform, with insignias that highlighted his position and decorations.

His rigid posture and penetrating gaze focused on the team entering his office. His eyes, deep blue, scanned each member of the group, as if trying to read their intentions and assess their competence.

"Captain Stepanov," Karl saluted. "I have the imperial order to request that a carriage of any train in the empire be provided to take my team, on a mission, to the capital."

"Imperial order?" Stepanov then appeared disconcerted. "I'm sorry to say that it cannot be fulfilled. My lord, Arkady Kolovsky, has something of extreme value on this train, and therefore only our men can be on it."

"Isn't there another train?" Karl asked. "More trains must pass here than just one."

"Unfortunately, this will be our next train." Stepanov lit his cigar. "We can put you on the subsequent journey, which will be the day after tomorrow."

"And this train, when will it depart?" Captain Romanov was getting stressed.

"Tomorrow." Smoke left Stepanov's mouth, who just tasted it. "Would there be a problem waiting another day?"

"Yes, we would have problems." Karl affirmed. "We need to depart from here as soon as possible, after that we will not bother you anymore."

"It will not be possible, the contents of the train must remain unknown."

"Where will this be delivered?" Karl asked. "After it was delivered there would be no problem taking us to the capital."

"The train in question will head towards the capital." Stepanov scratched his chin. "Is there no way to go on another train?"

"Please excuse me if I seem rude, but I give a damn about what you or your lord have to hide," Karl said in an aggressive tone. "I'm here on a mission ordered by the emperor, and only by him, for the good of the empire... Just put me in a carriage at the back and forget about us, we have food and water so we won't have to bother you."

The captain of the Kolodrod base then thought, rubbed his face, and continued smoking his cigar. "Look, I don't want trouble with the crown, but I also don't want trouble with my lord," Stepanov then took a deep breath. "Please, everyone leave, only Karl stay."

The captain looked at his squadron, and agreed with Stepanov. Yulia, Alexei, and Dmitry then went outside the room, Karl saw in their looks many questions. "I will still be able to answer, Yulia, but not now."

After everyone left, and the room was completely silent, Stepanov sat down before beginning. "Karl, pay attention, your goal is to get back to the capital because of your mission, and I want to help you... But I need you to understand that my hands are tied."

"Okay, let's get straight to the point, what do you want?" Karl sat down in front of the captain.

"Ah, wonderful, glad you understand the concept of 'one hand washes the other'," said Stepanov. "Let me show you on the map; The train will leave Kolodrod, and heading west will leave from Kologer, entering the lands of Callahad in the northern part. There's a man somewhere in this duchy here," the captain said while pressing hard on the duchy of Callahad on the map, "I need you to kill him. The son of a bitch's name is Gregory Dreyfus."

"That seems like too much work just to catch a ride." "Does he think I'm stupid? Am I going to kill a man like this?"

"Calm down, it will be simpler than it seems." Stepanov then took some documents and opened them in front of Karl. "He was sentenced to a lifetime of forced labor for a hundred generations for the crime he committed against the state. My lord has wanted him dead for some time now, and we would have killed him, but someone made a mistake." The captain then pointed to the mistake in the document, which seemed to have been erased where the prisoner would be.

PENAL CONVICTION DOCUMENT

Prisoner's Name: Gregory Dreyfus

Crime: Treason against the State, Subversion, vulnerable rape.

Trial Location: Sarcóvia, public square in front of the palace.

Sentenced by: Judge Sonechka Ivanova

Sentence: Forced labor for a hundred generations

Incarceration Location: [Erased]

This document serves as the official record of Gregory Dreyfus's conviction and sentence, as determined by the Imperial Communal Court of Justice. The imposed sentence must be fully served at the designated location.

Judge's Signature: [Sonechka I.]

Date: January 1, 1895"

"Okay, you don't know where he is, this request is not reasonable." Karl prepared to negotiate.

"We have a theory of where this man is." Stepanov said. "In the northern lands of Callahad, below the Mid-Earth mountain range, there are the old forced labor camps. He must be in one of the four, you just need to find a way to find him, we can't send squads after him."

"Look, understand me, Fedot, I can't guarantee that I'll find him in a short time, but I guarantee that I have contacts in Callahad who could find him." Karl smiled. "I'm friends with Lieutenant Mikhail Orlov, brother of the Captain of Lord Callahad's forces. If anyone knows where Gregory is, this man does."

"Oh, perfect!" said Fedot Stepanov. "That's all I needed to hear. So please, find out where Gregory is, and send a telegram from wherever you are to Kolodrod."

"Great, I'm glad we've resolved this," said Karl. "But there's one more thing I'd like to sort out. My men need a place to sleep tonight, and one of them, in particular, is a woman and therefore has special needs like a bathroom just for her and a room."

"Alright, alright..." said Stepanov. "That won't be a problem, okay? We'll sort all this out."

"Thank you very much," said Karl. "What time does the train leave tomorrow?"

"Midday, ah, and don't be startled by the amount of weapons, you chose to travel on this train," said Stepanov.

"Do you think I'm some kind of inexperienced rookie?" Karl asked, his eyes filled with anger. "I can tell you, Fedot, I've seen more weapons, wars, and blood in my life than ten captains of the wilderness like you could see."

"Alright, don't take it the wrong way," said Stepanov. "I just wanted to warn you, but really, I don't care."

"Is there anything else we need to address?" Karl asked.

"No," Stepanov responded.

As night fell, the Kolodrod base plunged into relative calm, only the occasional sound of footsteps or the distant noise of machines disturbing the silence. Inside a modest room, isolated from the others, Karl Romanov sat on the edge of his makeshift bed. The dim light of the room's only lamp cast shadows on the bare walls and over the heavy thoughts of the captain.

Karl flipped through the document Stepanov had given him, reading and re-reading the words detailing Gregory Dreyfus's conviction. "He was arrested as one of the leaders of the largest revolutionary movement in the country's history? How was he not sentenced to death?" Romanov thought as he read.

He stood up and walked to the small window of the room, watching the snow fall gently under the diffuse light of the base's lamps. Steam and steel machines walked in the distance on the horizon, the troops never stopped patrolling so that the residents knew of their constant presence. "I can't tell them about Volo," the captain thought.

Karl's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. He turned, expecting one of his companions to come looking for him, perhaps to discuss plans for the next day. But silence returned, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

Then, suddenly, someone knocked on his door. Karl hesitated for a moment, his hand pausing over the document. The captain walked to the door and opened it. Yulia Kuznetsova stood before Karl, dressed unusually, without her military uniform. Instead, she wore clothes reminiscent of comfortable pajamas, suitable for rest after two exhausting weeks. Her long-sleeved dress shirt was in a soft light blue, matching the shade of her pants, also light blue. The simplicity of the ensemble enhanced her natural beauty.

Her hair was loose, casually falling over her shoulders, and her face was naturally rosy on the cheeks. There was a softness in her appearance that was rarely seen when she was on duty, a vulnerability that contrasted with the strong, determined lieutenant everyone knew, but this was the lieutenant that Karl knew.

"Captain... I need to talk to you..." Yulia quickly entered and closed the door behind her.

"What is it, lieutenant?" Karl asked.

"I would like to spend the night with you." Yulia then held Karl's hands.

"I needed to finish reading about Gregory, but screw it, I'll do that tomorrow." "Come, let's lie down." Karl pulled her towards the bed.

"When we return to Sarcóvia, will you tell me why you killed Volo?" Yulia asked, hesitantly. There was fear of touching on something she shouldn't.

Karl looked into her eyes, getting lost in their brownness. "Someday I will tell, I don't know if when we return to the capital, but it's not the kind of thing I would like to talk about."

"I understand..." Yulia responded.

The two lay down on the bed. The dim light of the lamp cast dancing shadows on the walls of the room. Karl and Yulia, now side by side, shared a rare moment of tranquility in their tumultuous lives.

The lieutenant, still dressed in her comfortable light blue clothes, looked at Karl, her brown eyes reflecting a mix of childish admiration. She placed her hand on her captain's chest and closed her eyes to savor his scent.

The captain, in turn, felt the tension of the day dissolve. He gently caressed Yulia's face, tracing the contour of her jaw with his thumb until reaching her chin, where he lifted her face and kissed her deeply.

They moved together in a silent rhythm, each touch, and each whisper, they knew each other. The bed creaked slightly under their weight, but the sound was muffled by the wind outside. The snow fell softly.

A young boy of just fourteen found himself marveling at the trees of New Eudoria, whose leaves turned red in spring. His clothes were worn, patched, inherited from others. His hair was black and messy, long across his head.

Lirion, a bald monk, approached. His white and red robes draped over his body like a dress, as he walked with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. He extended his right hand to the boy.

"Tell me, will you accept my proposal?" he asked, with a smile on his face.

"Lirion... you bastard..." The young boy clenched his fists. "How dare you come here to talk to me?"

"What do you mean? I've never harmed you, being cruel to the weaker is an act of mercy."

At that moment, the boy exploded, delivering a series of punches towards Lirion, each one aiming for the stomach, arm, chest, or even leg. The monk merely dodged in succession, having opened just one eye. The smile on his face didn't fade as he began to laugh.

"Why did you make me born?! Why?!" The boy screamed, he had a throbbing pain in his chest and head. "Why bring me into this world knowing I would be cursed to be hated and shunned by everyone?!" The boy punched the ground repeatedly after failing to land a hit on the monk, while crying and screaming in anger.

"Isn't it obvious? Out of love, but you wouldn't understand that."

Karl woke up with a feeling of weight and warmth on his chest. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the dawn light filtering through the open window. Yulia was lying on top of him, naked, her gentle and peaceful breathing indicating she was still lost in the arms of sleep. Her body was a soft and serene landscape under the morning light. Karl observed for a moment, reflecting on the night they had shared, before his gaze shifted to the window.

The cold morning air entered through the open gap, bringing the chilly outside air with it. The breeze caused Yulia to shiver slightly in response, still asleep. Karl, careful not to wake her, gently slid from under her, placing her head softly on the pillow.

He got up, crossing the room to the window to close it. The cold bit at his naked skin, but he ignored the sensation, focusing on blocking the cold air. Once the window was closed, he turned to survey the room, now much darker with a faint light passing through the wooden gaps.

The captain walked over to his clothes, scattered across the floor. He dressed quietly. He took one last look at Yulia, who continued to sleep peacefully. There was a tenderness in his gaze, a softness he rarely allowed to show. With an almost inaudible sigh, he gathered his belongings and left the room, carefully closing the door not to disturb the lieutenant's peaceful sleep.

After leaving the room, Karl walked through the silent corridors of the base, his thoughts still echoing the memories of the previous night. He felt a mix of happiness and sadness.

Stepping out of the lodging, he was greeted by the chilly Kolodrod morning. The sky was tinged with the first shades of orange and pink of dawn, despite the somber circumstances. Karl tucked his hands into his coat pockets, touching his amulet as he headed towards the area where the train was being prepared for departure.

Approaching, Karl observed the frenetic activity around the train. Soldiers and workers loaded boxes and equipment into the carriages, under the watchful eye of officers. The train, a towering machine of steam and steel, emitted thick smoke, preparing for the journey to the capital.

Several gigantic bodies were attached to the metallic carcass of the enormous armored train. Karl approached cautiously, noting the details of the cargo. He tried to discern what could be so valuable to Lord Arkady Kolovsky as to require such security and secrecy. The presence of heavily sealed metal boxes with armed guards on each carriage only added more questions for the captain.

Walking along the train, Karl noticed other members of his team joining him. They exchanged nods and brief comments, maintaining discretion in front of the base soldiers. Each team member was aware of the tension in the air with the heavily guarded train.

Arriving at the carriage assigned to his team, Karl stopped for one last inspection. It was a modest carriage, located at the end of the train, away from prying eyes. He ensured there was enough space and supplies for the journey and checked if the conditions were suitable to accommodate everyone.

Yulia was already awake and approached Alexei, Dmitry, and Karl. She approached the group, her expression serious.

"Everything's ready for us to depart," she said, checking her equipment one last time.

Alexei and Dmitry nodded in agreement, both appearing focused, but there was an underlying anxiety in their eyes.

"It's a long journey to the capital," Sergeant Alexei commented.

Karl looked at the armored train, steam rising in spirals as the machine rumbled, ready for the journey. "We knew it wouldn't be easy," he replied. "But that's exactly why we came prepared. Now comes the easy part, we're heading home."

With one last look back at the Kolodrod base, the group boarded the train. The doors closed behind them, sealing them inside the carriage. As the train began to move, the sound of metal against metal echoed.

Karl settled into a discreet corner of the carriage, his eyes still fixed on the moving world outside the slit. The frozen landscape of Kolodrod gave way to vast snow-covered fields.

Dmitry approached with a deck of cards in hand. "Captain, how about a game to relax? I invented one called Pife."

Alexei and Yulia, drawn to the idea of a moment of distraction, quickly gathered on a cloth laid on the floor. Karl, though initially reluctant, decided to join the group, recognizing the need for a brief respite with his team.

Dmitry explained the rules of Pife, a game that required skill, strategy, and a bit of luck. As the cards were dealt and the game progressed, a lighter atmosphere began to form among them. They weren't betting anything, so they ended up just laughing a bit.

For a brief period, the mission and the dangers of this life seemed distant. However, the reality of their situation soon imposed itself again on the train. It continued its journey, cutting through the vast territory towards the capital. With every kilometer traveled until at some point after hours, the captain just felt his body slowly levitate.

A sound crossed his ears, an explosion. The cards were thrown into the air, his men were thrown into the air, he was thrown into the air. A crate of canned food flew towards his face and burst against it.