Talmir's voice cut through the clearing before anyone had fully recovered.
"Break's over."
A collective groan answered him.
But no one argued. They pushed themselves up from the dirt with slow, aching movements, limbs heavy and uncooperative. Sweat-soaked shirts clung to skin as they reached for the dreadful sacks piled nearby.
The weighted packs were unforgiving—lifting them alone felt like punishment. Straps dug into shoulders as they hauled them onto their backs, teeth clenched, breath already labored.
Then Talmir pointed toward the forest path.
"Let's return."
So they ran back toward Kolma.
The route back twisted through trees and uneven ground, a familiar path made cruel by exhaustion. Every step sent dull pain up their legs. Breath burned in their chests. The sacks bounced mercilessly against their backs.
Only Talmir and Kosak had a chat at the back, the rest were silent.
There was no room left for jokes. No energy for complaints.
By the time the village walls came into view, the sky had begun to dim, sunlight bleeding orange between rooftops. The sight should have been breathtaking.
But right now they just wanted to reach it, so they could drop these sacks down and rest.
They stumbled through the entrance and collapsed where they stood—backs hitting dirt, legs giving out, hands spread wide as if trying to anchor themselves to the ground.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
Completely spent.
For a long moment, only ragged breathing filled the air.
Talmir stood over them, arms crossed.
"Same time tomorrow," he said calmly. "Don't be late."
That was all.
With a short glance lingering on Kosak,
he turned and walked away.
"Hey! I told you why I was late, man… eh, whatever." Kosak then turned toward the tavern instead of home and disappeared.
Eventually, everyone else pushed themselves upright. No words were exchanged as they split apart—each heading home, shoulders slumped, bodies aching, minds already bracing for the next day.
After that, life continued peacefully.
Days blended into a steady flow. Training in the mornings and afternoons. Work in between. Evenings filled with quiet meals and rest. Bruises faded only to be replaced by new ones. Muscles adapted, and breathing during the training became easier.
Kolma grew a bit but otherwise remained unchanged.
The same dirt roads. The same wooden houses. The same people living their lives without urgency, unaware—or unconcerned—about what lay beyond the forest and mountains.
—
Teclos's day began early.
Morning light slipped through the windows as Saldia moved around the kitchen, already awake. The smell of bread and herbs filled the house, warm and delicious. Teclos washed his face, shook off lingering stiffness, and joined her at the table.
Breakfast was simple but filling.
They talked as they ate—about training, about small village matters, about nothing important at all. There was comfort in that. No expectations beyond the day ahead.
Afterward, Teclos grabbed his cloak and stepped outside.
The village was alive.
Merchants were setting up stalls in the small market square, laying out fruits, dried meats, and trinkets. Hunters checked bowstrings and blades before heading out. Children darted between adults, laughter echoing down the narrow paths.
Teclos greeted people as he passed. A nod here. A brief exchange there. Familiar faces that had known him since childhood.
Kolma wasn't that large—only a few hundred people, so almost everyone knew everyone here.
He reached the smithy before Ralph.
Inside, the steady clang of hammering steel rang out, echoing off stone walls. Heat rolled outward from the forge. Sparks danced in the air as Gillard worked, sleeves rolled up, expression focused.
Teclos leaned against the wall and watched.
Gillard finished shaping the blade, quenched it with a hiss of steam, then set it aside with the others. Only then did he look up.
"That's new... you're early," Gillard said.
"Yeah, I surprised myself too," Teclos replied.
Gillard laid the finished knives out on the table—neatly arranged, edges gleaming. Teclos picked one up carefully, testing the balance, examining the craftsmanship.
"Looks good," he said.
Gillard nodded, clearly pleased. "Father approved too."
A moment later, hurried footsteps approached.
Ralph burst through the door, slightly out of breath.
"You're late," Gillard said flatly.
Ralph waved him off, dropping onto a crate. "Had to help my father in the tanning shack."
He grimaced. "Leather work all morning. That shit smells awful."
"You complain too much," Gillard said.
"I mean, I have a life," Ralph shot back. "He could easily do it alone."
Teclos frowned.
"That's not a bad thing, that he's teaching you," he said. "It's a useful skill."
Ralph scoffed. "Still annoying that I have to do it whenever he feels like it."
Teclos met his gaze. "Look, man, not everyone gets a father who wants to teach them. Besides, he's not even strict with you."
The room went quiet for a moment.
Gillard nodded in agreement.
Ralph scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… I guess."
Then his expression brightened.
"Anyway," he said, leaning forward. "Festival's today."
Gillard raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"Maybe if you went out sometimes you would know," Ralph said, rolling his eyes. "There has been a notice on the signboard all week already."
"Ah well, I have your big mouth to inform me of everything," Gillard muttered.
"So anyway, I've got plans," Ralph continued. "Big ones."
Teclos glanced at him. "I'm afraid to ask."
Ralph counted on his fingers. "First, I'll bring some alcohol. Then we hit the food stalls—lots of them. After that we could throw something at Loric for fun. And finally—"
He grinned.
"—getting Tessa to dance with me."
Gillard snorted. "I agree with the Loric part. The rest? Not happening."
"Come on, man! Where is the problem? It's a perfect plan."
"First of all, alcohol's a bad idea before the ceremony," Gillard added. "We'll get into trouble if someone sees us."
Ralph scoffed. "Relax, it's going to be fine."
Teclos shook his head, lips twitching into a faint smile.
The conversation was all over the place after that—Ralph's begging to follow his plans, mana, training, girls, everyday news, and food.
Outside, the village buzzed with quiet anticipation. Banners were being hung. Stalls expanded. Laughter grew louder as evening approached.
The festival was coming.
Eventually, Ralph pushed himself upright with a groan and stretched his arms overhead.
"So," he said, "before the festival starts, we should meet up somewhere. Otherwise, we'll lose each other in the crowd."
Gillard nodded. "Behind the guild hall," he suggested. "It's quiet there."
Ralph grinned. "Perfect. Bring a rope, Gillard, if Teclos doesn't show up because of his 'oh so precious' training, we'll have to drag him out."
"Got it," Gillard agreed.
Teclos rolled his eyes. "I'll be there this time."
"Sure you will," Ralph said sarcastically.
They parted not long after, the sun already beginning to dip. Teclos headed toward the market district, the dirt road slowly giving way to stone as the village grew livelier with each step.
Stalls would be open for the whole night that day. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, casting warm light over wooden counters stacked with produce, dried meats, breads, and cheap trinkets meant to catch a festival-goer's eye. The air was thick with overlapping scents—roasted nuts, fresh herbs, cured leather, and smoke from cooking fires.
Teclos moved with purpose, basket tucked under his arm as he stopped at familiar stands. A loaf of bread here. Dried fruit there. A small bundle of smoked meat that Saldia liked.
"Teclos!" someone called.
He looked up.
Behind a stall stacked with small wooden boxes and cloth-wrapped bundles stood Lala, hands planted on her hips, dark hair tied back loosely. Her sharp eyes softened immediately when she saw him.
"Well, if it isn't Saldia's favorite helper," she said warmly. "You've grown again, haven't you?"
Teclos shook his head. "You say that every time you see me."
"And every time I'm right," Lala replied with a grin. "Buying food for home?"
He nodded.
"Good boy." She leaned forward slightly. "Tell Saldia I said hello. And tell her she needs to visit soon—I got my hands on new tea leaves. From the south this time. Completely different aroma."
Teclos nodded. "Alright, I'll tell her."
"Of course," Lala said. "She has to actually sit and drink them. So tell her to make time for at least half a day."
Already knowing how that would go, he laughed and simply said, "Okay."
Lala chuckled as she wrapped his purchase. "Take care of yourself, Teclos. And don't forget to enjoy the festival. You're allowed to be young, you know."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he nodded and took the basket.
The walk home was quieter.
Lantern light followed him through familiar streets, the hum of voices fading as houses replaced stalls.
He ate lightly—bread, dried fruit, a few bites of meat—then washed his hands and stepped into the back room.
Sitting down on the floor, he crossed his legs and straightened his back, settling into a lotus position. His breathing slowed naturally.
'A quick training session before I go,' he thought.
Mana stirred.
He guided it carefully, gathering it toward his heart, reinforcing the pathways he had carved through countless repetitions. The familiar warmth spread through his chest, steady and controlled.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
When he finally opened his eyes, Saldia was standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
"You're still meditating?" she asked. "The festival won't wait for you."
Teclos blinked, then nodded. "Sorry."
She sighed, but there was fondness in it. "Go change. And hurry up or you'll be late."
He stood and went to change. The clothes were cleaner, finer than his usual attire—simple but well-kept. A fitted tunic, dark trousers, polished boots.
When he stepped outside again, the village was already alive with celebration.
Music drifted through the streets. Laughter echoed between buildings. The whole village was decorated with banners and lanterns glowing bright in the night.
Teclos headed toward the guild hall.
Behind it, just as planned, he spotted them.
Ralph leaned against the wall, already in a festive mood, while Gillard stood nearby with folded arms, his eyes scanning the crowd with awe.
"You're late, we were almost ready to come and get you," Gillard noted.
Ralph smirked. "Yeah, you're lucky."
Teclos stopped in front of them. "I said I would come, so here I am."
The sounds of celebration swelled around them as they stepped forward together, the night opening up ahead.
And the festival had only just begun.
They hadn't even taken their first steps into the crowd before Ralph made good on his promise.
"Alright," he said suddenly, stopping short and glancing around like a criminal about to commit something sacredly stupid. "Since we're all here… I might as well start."
"Start what?" Gillard asked warily.
Ralph grinned and reached inside his jacket.
When he pulled out the bottle, Gillard froze.
Teclos blinked once—then laughed.
Ralph stared. "What's so funny?"
Teclos shook his head, still smiling faintly. "You're going to regret that tomorrow."
That only made Ralph puff his chest out. "Please. I stole this fair and square from my old man. He won't even notice that it's gone."
"You stole it?" Gillard asked flatly. "Are you mad?!"
Ralph ignored him and held the bottle up. "So. Are you in or are you out?"
Gillard didn't hesitate. "Out. Completely. Absolutely out."
Ralph turned to Teclos, already expecting the same answer.
"I'm in," Teclos said, and both of them froze.
"…You're what?" Gillard asked, baffled.
Ralph squinted. "Are you feeling alright? Did Talmir hit you harder than we thought?"
Teclos shrugged.
Inside of him, something stirred—an odd mix of curiosity and quiet excitement.
'Finally,' he thought. 'My first drink this life.'
Ralph uncorked the bottle with a smile that bordered on insane. "Fine by me! I present to you, a fancy herbal liquor Dad bought from the trader," he announced. "It's a strong one, too."
Gillard groaned. "This is a bad idea, guys."
"It'll be fine," Teclos said calmly. "One or two cups won't kill us."
Ralph poured generously, sloshing the dark liquid into two cups. He shoved one into Teclos's hand, then raised his own.
"To an unforgettable night!" Ralph said.
And downed it in one go.
His face twisted instantly.
"Oh—gods—!"
He doubled over, coughing hard, eyes watering as he slapped his chest. "That's—by the hells—that burns!"
Teclos and Gillard both laughed so hard they had tears in their eyes.
Teclos lifted his cup and took a careful sip.
The liquor was strong—heat spread down his throat immediately—but it wasn't unbearable. There was a strange sweetness beneath its bite, herbal and earthy, lingering on his tongue.
He swallowed, expression unchanged.
Ralph looked up, red-faced. "Wait… you're okay?"
Teclos nodded. "It's fine."
"…No," Ralph muttered. "No, that can't be right."
Competitive fire lit in his eyes.
He poured another cup for himself and drank again, slower this time, jaw clenched. He managed not to cough, though his face went stiff and pale.
For several seconds, he stood completely still.
Then he pointed at Teclos. "Drink."
Teclos shook his head. "Later."
"What?" Ralph protested. "Come on, ma—"
"I said later."
Ralph stared at him, betrayed, then shoved the bottle back into his jacket with a huff. "Coward."
"You're the one shaking with a pale face," Gillard said dryly.
"I am fine," Ralph snapped, swaying slightly.
They moved on after that, weaving through the stalls as the festival grew louder around them. Merchants called out deals, musicians played lively tunes, and laughter spilled freely into the night.
Teclos walked between them, warmth still lingering in his chest, and his eyes leisurely took in the lights and festive atmosphere.
Ralph, as promised, was already becoming a headache.
And the night promised to be fun.