Kneeling in the biting cold, their hands numb from the frigid snow, they scrubbed away the remnants of their failed trap. Each scrub felt like an attempt to erase the sting of their misadventure, the cold reality of their actions settling in with every stroke.

Each scrub reminded them of their misadventure. What began as laughter and excitement had turned into quiet reflection.

As the yellow liquid seeped into the pristine white snow, creating a stark contrast, Asdras looked at Brian. Their faces, lit by the pale winter sun, reflected a blend of youthful mischief and the dawning weight of responsibility.

"This," Asdras said, staring at the liquid. "Never again."

After their hard training session, their bellies grumbled loudly, expressing their dissatisfaction.

The savory aroma of ham wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh, earthy scent of greens. The satisfying crunch and the hearty flavor were always a welcome reward after their grueling workouts, a brief respite from their rigorous training.

"Yeah!" Brian's face twisted in disgust as he scrubbed the ground, eager to finish. "You really want to go there?"

"Yes!" Asdras replied firmly, nodding.

As they scrubbed and scraped, they naturally talked about the unknown future ahead. Like a winding river with many branches, their reasons gave them numerous options.

"It's the best place to discover myself," Asdras mumbled, lost in thought.

"You know, Asdras," Brian said, spreading his arms. "I've been thinking about our future. How about this? When we grow up, we become adventurers, explore the world, have epic battles, and uncover wonders, just like Miss Ellena, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan," Asdras grinned, elbowing him playfully. "Miss Ellena, huh? You’ve got guts, fancying a lady in her late twenties when you haven't even grown a proper beard yet!"

"Aw, c'mon, Asdras, you'll never grasp the fine art of a refined fella like me," Brian boasted, puffing out his chest. "Guys like us are as rare as hen's teeth, and Teacher Ellena is one fetching lady, no doubt about it!"

"I wish you luck then," Asdras said, glancing at the church. "By the way, is it true we're heading to Baurus next week? I miss it."

"There or that lady?" Brian asked, examining his friend. "With her flowing, curly golden hair, a face that could charm the birds, a body that'd make Cupid blush, and a grin that could melt an iceberg!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Asdras laughed, his face slightly red.

After being rescued, his health declined quickly. Without any alchemists in the village, they headed to the city for help.

While being examined in the alchemist's store, Asdras felt a strangely familiar yet distant sensation when a girl his age entered.

He had never seen her before, but his instincts told him she could help him.

When he learned she was enrolling in the academy, his decision was made.

"And you?" Asdras asked, standing up and stretching.

"No change of heart here," Brian shrugged. "I'm heading to the military. The old man might want me to go to the academy, but my sights are set."

The church bell tolled through the courtyard, its deep chime slicing through the crisp midday air.

They exchanged quick glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Finally," Brian sighed in relief. "And, oh, yes! Once the deliverer arrives, we're hitting the city, my friend! We'll be filling our mouths with our own two hands at last!"

With the bell's echo fading, they turned their attention to the freshly cleaned courtyard.

The wooden traps and lines they set earlier were meticulously restored, and the faint scent of the stinky herb had dissipated.

"Let's eat," Asdras grinned, nodding in satisfaction.

The familiar gathering at the pub was a comforting sight. Though only twenty in number, they represented more than half the village’s population, their presence filling the room with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold outside. The air buzzed with hushed excitement, anticipation palpable as they awaited the Deliverer’s news.

As the crowd settled, hushed excitement filled the air with the arrival of the Deliverer.

Clad in thick, weather-beaten leather garments and dark cloaks that blended seamlessly with the shadows of the wintry night, the Deliverers cut formidable figures. This rare breed, chosen by the church, braved perilous terrains to bring essential goods and a breath of the outside world to isolated communities.

The man known as Raffin, a seasoned traveler with tales as vast as the skies, held the title. His rugged face was etched with lines that spoke of countless adventures, and his sharp and knowing eyes had seen the farthest corners of the realm. Each wrinkle and scar told a story; his presence exuded a wealth of untold tales.

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He was not just a carrier of goods but a bearer of news, a storyteller who transported the villagers to places they could only dream of.

"So there's this farmer, right? Good ol' Tom. Tom had a cow named Daisy, but Daisy wasn't like the others; she had a hankering for apples!"

"Apples?" a kid asked, wide-eyed.

"Aye, you heard me right, kiddo. Apples! Tom would wake up each morning, go to the barn, and what'd he find? Daisy munching on apples like she was at a pub!"

"Hey, ol' Raffin!" Brian giggled. "How'd she get them?"

"That's the mystery, little one. No one knows. Some say she found a secret treasure. Others blamed ol' Tom for lying," Raffin sighed. "But here's the kicker: every night, Tom would hear a strange sound outside, like a low growl, and he'd find Daisy mysteriously disappearing! Now, where could she be going?"

"It's a creature of the night, I tell ya!" A farmer whispered fearfully to his friends.

"Well, seems like we've got a storyteller among us," Raffin winked at the farmer. "But don't you worry, folks, Tom has a plan! One night, he's out there, and what does he see? Daisy wandering in the dark woods, a big juicy apple right on her noggin!"

"An apple on her head?" Asdras mumbled, confused.

"That's right! But not just any apple, mind you. This one was special — it had eyes! Can you believe it?" The deliverer spread his arms dramatically. "Tom thought he was losing his mind. He said, 'Daisy, what in tarnation are you doing with an apple on your head?' And you know what she did?"

"What, what?" the children urged him to continue.

"She turned and dashed at ol' Tom," Raffin raised his voice. "Now here's where it gets even wilder. That apple, folks, wasn't an apple. It was a worm! A sneaky critter that lures you in with that juicy apple, then... Well, you'll see, you become like Daisy!"

"Like a cow?" Brian asked, incredulous.

"No, idiot," Raffin grinned. "You become an aimless figure, with no thought other than wandering among the trees, searching for herbs to serve as food for the worm!"

"It's a creature of the night, like I've been sayin'!" the farmer hollered, spilling his ale over the table.

"Raffin." Joe coughed discreetly.

Raffin gestured for silence with a hush and a raised hand, signaling something important to share.

"Listen," he tapped on the counter. "The Church predicts the next Eruption may occur this solstice. The military will come and enlist the youths to go to Baurous, either joining them or the Academy."

As Raffin unveiled the news of the imminent draft, a chilling silence swept through the room. The villagers' faces turned pale, each word hitting them like a cold gust of wind.

The jovial atmosphere turned somber, and laughter abruptly silenced, replaced by hushed whispers of concern. The news hit like a harsh winter wind, a grim reminder of the reality that lay beyond their peaceful village. Faces turned pale, the weight of the announcement sinking in as they grappled with the looming shadow of war.

The priest looked over the young faces in the crowd, stopping on each with measured intensity.

"Do you understand what this means? It's a difficult path, I know. But it's also a chance to better your lives and change the fate of this village."

Father Joe’s face was a canvas of conflicted emotions, etched deeply as he listened to the villagers’ fervent discussions. His eyes, once warm and comforting, now bore the heavy burden of unspoken fears, reflecting the gravity of the situation. Each furrow on his brow told a story of internal struggle, torn between his duty and his desire to protect his flock.

His eyes, usually warm and comforting, now carried a burden of unspoken fears. He knew the draft was a necessary evil, a bitter pill they had to swallow for a chance at a better future.

As he looked at the young faces filled with apprehension, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. His heart ached for their innocence, which was on the brink of being overshadowed by the harsh realities of life.

Each argument and each outcry from the villagers resonated with his internal battle of duty versus desire.

"I still recall," Joah sighed. "Numerous figures rose, and with that, several places benefited from improvements and hope for a better life. As everyone knows, our distant neighbor was rewarded and transformed into a town because one person received the title of champion, Gravious."

"Can you imagine it?" His eyes sparkled. "Better seeds, tastier milk, and no more need for the deliverer to bring us pills. This is what we need to aim for."

The silence in the room grew heavier, suffocating every breath. The women, hands trembling, set their mugs down gently. The weight of sending their loved ones to war pressed upon them, their hearts burdened by a mix of defeat, anger, and uncertainty.

They understood the gravity of the situation and the unyielding power the military held over them, leaving them grasping for words and actions to change their fate.

"Uncle Raffin, are you aiming to stop coming around these parts?" a boy interrupted the solemn air.

"Oh, it's you, Cabbage boy," the kids laughed. "Yeah, I guess. The Deliverer must be replaced at each full moon. Someone else will bring the goods and news."

"Don't we have any say about sending the young ones away?" a woman asked shyly.

"You know it isn't up to us, Bettie," a man said gravely. "If we hide, we'll lose the goods and tonics, and we won't make it till winter. That cursed fog will take the young ones if we don't go through with it."

Father Joe and Raffin exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes heavy with the weight of the situation. They knew the difficulty of the situation, but it was their duty to bring the news and prepare the villagers.

"You all know, I've been talking about this every week," the priest said, scratching his beard. "Sure, there's danger, but the good it brings can change our village. This isn't the usual draft. This time, they'll make sure our village is safe and even send a medic to stay with us until the eruption is over."

"Purty words, preacher, but we know the odds of kickin' the bucket 'fore we git hitched is plumb higher," someone shouted from the back.

Father Joe quietly made his way to the exit, motioning for Raffin to follow. Despite his eloquent speech, he couldn't ignore the threat of war creeping into the peaceful villages. It felt like massive boulders rolling down a mountain. The community development project meant that only a few wealthy individuals would benefit.

As the door closed, a stir rippled through the gathering. Heated discussions and debates erupted, filling the room with energy. Fists pounded on tables, echoing through the night. The shattering of glass signaled the late hour, ending the young ones' day. The adults couldn't contain their emotions and voiced their thoughts.

"Hey!" Brian poked Asdras with his elbow, eyeing the door. "Come on, buddy, let's go!"