As Elysian gazed out the carriage window, he noticed the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. Their journey thus far had been uneventful, marked only by the incessant rattling of the carriage as it traversed the rocky, underdeveloped road—a stark reminder of Ironspire's fiscal struggles.

The landscape outside was a patchwork of dense tree clusters interspersed with barren areas, creating a bizarre tableau that seemed to mirror the city's own fractured growth. These sporadic forests, while impressive, were mere shadows of the legendary Great Forest of Grimwold, or Kor'Morul as the local tribes called it.

Elysian recalled Osric's words about the storied woodlands. The soldiers had assured him that these were ordinary trees, not part of the fabled Grimwold. Elysian knew that if they were truly approaching the ancient forest, he would feel it in his bones—its presence impossible to mistake.

It was only to be expected, given that the Great Forest of Grimwold was one of the most famous features of the northern continent, rivaling even its close neighbor, the Endless Mountains.

"You seem bored," Hugo remarked, guiding his horse close to the carriage window. He grinned, taking in the boy's tired face.

Elysian glanced at the captain with an indifferent expression. "Yeah, sitting here doing nothing is boring, but I don't really have any complaints," he replied, observing the man. "It would be quite insulting to the soldiers who are walking nonstop if I did."

"Indeed," Hugo responded with a hint of bite in his tone. "It would be rather grating if some spoiled noble kept complaining when they had it better."

"Thank goodness I'm just spoiled, not a complainer," the young noble retorted.

Hugo laughed jovially, enjoying his banter with the boy. "Don't worry, it won't be long now. We'll stop for the night soon."

True to the captain's word, the soldiers halted in an area not far ahead. It was an even expanse devoid of trees, allowing clear visibility in all directions—a strategic choice to prevent hidden ambushes, the bane of travelers like themselves.

Elysian immediately noticed traces of previous human activity. He surmised that the soldiers frequently used this spot as their camp, explaining their familiarity with the area. This was evident in how efficiently they set up camp, knowing exactly where to find firewood and completing their tasks before true darkness fell.

The organized manner in which the soldiers worked impressed Elysian. Their movements were practiced and purposeful, a testament to their experience and training. As the camp came to life around him, Elysian found himself admiring the soldiers' efficiency and teamwork.

As night settled in, Elysian found himself seated by the fire, flanked by his two companions. Across from them sat Hugo, the leader of the reinforcements and one of Ironspire's military captains. The crackling flames cast a warm glow on their faces, creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite the vastness of the wilderness surrounding them.

The fire's warmth offered a welcome respite from the growing chill of the evening air. As Elysian gazed into the dancing flames, he found himself lost in thought, reminiscing about something unforeseen.

Hugo, noticing the young noble's quiet demeanor, misinterpreted his silence. "I know you might resent your current predicament, but you have only yourself to blame. No one forced you into this," he said, expecting a complaint or perhaps some false bravado from the boy to prove his toughness.

Instead, Elysian merely looked at him, nodding indifferently, as if Hugo's words barely registered. The captain's assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

In reality, Elysian was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, triggered by this seemingly ordinary situation. Unexpectedly, he felt a profound sense of warmth and familiarity. In his past life, he had been a merchant who traveled extensively. Sitting beside a fire in the wilderness, surrounded by friends and sometimes complete strangers from all walks of life, sharing stories and experiences—this had been a common occurrence, almost a ritual, second nature to him.

He hadn't anticipated that such a simple scene would evoke such deep-seated memories, stirring a nostalgia for a past he once lived. The crackling of the fire, the scent of wood smoke, and the soft murmur of voices around him transported Elysian back to countless similar nights from his previous existence.

As the memories washed over him, Elysian felt a complex mix of emotions—joy at reliving these cherished moments, melancholy for a life left behind, and a strange sense of comfort in finding something familiar in this second chance he now lived.

Hugo noticed a subtle change in Elysian's demeanor, realizing his previous assumption might have been wrong. He wasn't the only one; even Elysian's two companions noticed, their faces etched with concern.

"Is something the matter, young master?" Bran asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Elysian's quiet reverie broken, he slowly looked at his companions. Seeing the concern on their faces, he offered a reassuring smile. Even Hugo now wore an expression of unease, which did not go unnoticed by the boy.

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"Why the long faces, all of you?" Elysian asked, his gaze drifting to the busy soldiers around them. Some were setting up camp while others chatted animatedly, sharing jokes and laughter. "There's nothing to worry about. I just feel... at peace somehow. I can't explain it. I never thought I'd feel this way, having lived in the city all my life."

Hugo suddenly burst into his usual boisterous laughter. "I didn't expect you'd feel that way," he grinned, unhooking a wineskin from his belt and taking a hearty swig. "It seems the Ironheart blood truly runs in your veins. I initially thought you'd complain incessantly and drive us all mad, but it appears I was mistaken." He smiled proudly, offering the wineskin to Elysian. "Here, boy."

Elysian eyed the offered alcohol skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Really? You do realize I'm just a kid, right?"

Hugo's laughter only grew louder at his words. "You, a kid? Nonsense! You're an Ironheart, and you've proven yourself already in combat. So no, you're not a child." He grinned wider, pressing the wineskin into Elysian's hands. "Go on, then."

The young noble gazed thoughtfully at the wineskin before glancing up at Hugo. A mischievous grin spread across Elysian's face as he accepted the offer, taking a mouthful of wine as if it were ambrosia. The captain roared with laughter at his action.

"You scoundrel!" Hugo exclaimed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "I'm certain now that this isn't your first taste of alcohol."

Elysian released a satisfied sigh as he took another swig. "Of course not," he admitted with a chuckle, both of them erupting into laughter.

Bran and the other companion exchanged bemused glances, their earlier concerns melting away in the warmth of the moment. As night began to fall and the camp came to life with the glow of campfires, Elysian found himself feeling more at home than he ever had within the confines of the city walls.

As darkness fell, the night continued with everyone, aside from the watchful sentries, chatting and laughing as if everything was normal and no battle loomed ahead. They were simply relaxing at the end of a tiring march. Even knowing the danger and peril that lay at the journey's end, the soldiers seemed to take it all in stride.

While Hugo was engrossed in conversation with Bran, he noticed the young noble's gaze was on the soldiers for quite some time. The captain turned to him, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Do you find it strange?" Hugo asked, gesturing towards the men. "Even though their future is uncertain, and at the end of this journey they might meet their end, they still manage to laugh and talk without a care in the world."

‘I know the reason why. I’ve seen it countless times, since I’ve lived such a life.’

Elysian turned his attention to the captain, nodding silently, encouraging him to continue.

Hugo sighed, his eyes scanning the faces of his men. "It's not really a mystery," he said. "The life of a soldier always hangs in the balance. You never know if you'll return to your family or survive the next deployment. Even a simple patrol in the city might lead to your death. It's a dangerous, often thankless profession."

"Isn't life like that for everyone, though?" Elysian asked, his voice somber and heavy, as if he had lived and experienced a full life. "We can die at any time. We might slip in our bathroom, hit our head on the floor, and die. Such things happen. Life can be cruel sometimes."

"True, life can be harsh for anyone," Hugo nodded in agreement. "However, a soldier's life is harsher still. But you learn to live with it, and in time, like these soldiers, you slowly get used to it. It becomes a sort of grim habit, growing accustomed to death, always being beside you, a constant companion more intimate than a wife or a lover."

Elysian pondered this, his eyes roaming over the cheerful faces around the campfire. "So this laughter, this camaraderie... it's their way of pushing back against that constant shadow?"

Hugo smiled, a hint of pride in his expression. "Exactly. It's how we remind ourselves that we're still alive, still human. In the face of death, we choose to celebrate life."

As if on cue, a roar of laughter erupted from a nearby group of soldiers. Elysian found himself smiling, feeling a deep respect for these men who faced such uncertainty with courage and joy.

"I've noticed over the past few weeks that you and this big fellow here have grown quite close," Elysian suddenly remarked, changing the topic to satisfy a curiosity he'd been harboring.

"Ah," Hugo grinned, glancing at the servant who looked away, pretending he hadn't heard. "I've been teaching him a thing or two."

"Really?" Elysian feigned surprise, though he had suspected as much, having noticed a considerable improvement in the older boy's fighting. There were traces in Bran's movements that clearly showed the captain's influence.

"Indeed," Hugo responded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "He begged me to teach him after I bested you in combat."

"Ah," Elysian turned to his servant, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Interesting. Is this true, big fella?"

"Young master, it's not what you think. I wasn't..." Bran stammered, unable to finish his response as he looked down, ashamed.

Instead of anger, Elysian's laughter rang out, filled with pride. "Don't be anxious, big fella. I'm not mad. I'm actually proud of you."

"Proud?" Bran repeated, slowly raising his eyes to meet Elysian's. "Why, young master?"

"Why not?" Elysian asked, smirking at Bran's surprised expression. "All I've ever wanted is for you and Osric to grow stronger. If you see me as an obstacle you want to overcome, I'll gladly be that adversary. It will push you to improve." He paused, letting the meaning of his words sink in. "So, work hard and practice. Use any resources you can find to learn how to beat me, though I warn you, it won't be easy."

"See? I told you there was nothing to worry about," Hugo laughed, clapping Bran on the shoulder. "Now work hard so you can smack that arrogant brat's face into the floor."

Elysian glanced at the captain, fixing him with a sharp, challenging stare, which the officer gladly returned. Everyone could see it was nothing but a playful exchange between the two.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion from the front of the camp. Hugo narrowed his eyes before a smirk spread across his face. "It seems we have some unwanted visitors tonight."

The atmosphere shifted instantly. The soldiers' laughter died down, replaced by the soft clink of weapons being readied. Elysian felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.