The Northern "Frost Forest" was a living embodiment of Northgard's cruelty. Giant pine trees stood like forgotten guards, their thick branches intertwining to choke the pale sunlight, while a thick layer of snow covered the ground, swallowing all sound. In this gloomy atmosphere, two shadows moved with a speed and fluidity that didn't belong to normal humans.
Arian jumped from one tree trunk to another, balancing with striking skill despite the greatsword weighing down his back. His ten years of age and the hellish training over the past eight months gave him the physical ability to move lightly. Right next to him, Valen moved like a true ghost, his steps leaving no trace on the bark and making no rustling sound.
Arian suddenly stopped on a broad branch and pulled out a small leather map given to them before entering the forest. He quickly scanned the terrain with his black eyes, then turned to Valen and pointed to the dense northern slope. "We will sweep the northern sector before nightfall," Arian said in a low voice. Valen just gave a slow nod, and they took off again.
Over the next few hours, the duo proved to be terrifyingly efficient. They managed to find several red flags; some were slyly hung high on fragile branches, while others were buried under the snow near the roots of dead trees. As they moved, Arian's mind analyzed every detail of his silent partner. *"His steps are precisely calculated, he wastes no extra energy breathing, and makes no sound... What is his true identity?"* Arian wondered to himself, but as usual, he didn't ask. Questions show curiosity, and curiosity on the battlefield is a weakness.
This quiet contemplation was cut short by the sound of breaking branches nearby.
From the dense bushes, a huge recruit wearing leather armor stepped out, accompanied by a fully equipped veteran knight. The recruit stopped and smiled arrogantly when he saw Arian. "What a coincidence!" the recruit sneered as he drew his standard sword. "The spoiled brat and his little knight. Listen to me carefully, dwarf. Hand over the flags you collected now, or I'll take them from your corpse."
The knight accompanying the recruit stood silently, watching the scene with an expressionless face.
With calm, indifferent steps, Valen stepped back, leaned against the trunk of a massive pine tree, and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched the situation with dead eyes, as if watching a boring play.
When the recruit saw Valen retreat, his ego swelled even more. He turned to his knight and ordered: "Flank him from the right! I'll take the left. Let's finish this quickly."
The veteran knight let out a deep, resentful sigh. He hated this rule set by Sir Gared, which forced him to obey the orders of a reckless recruit. But he complied reluctantly, drawing his sword and advancing toward Arian's right.
The moment the two of them rushed at Arian simultaneously, the air in the area changed.
In a lightning-fast motion that defied the weapon's size, Arian drew his greatsword. He didn't raise it to strike; instead, he intercepted the knight's diagonal attack. The two blades clashed with a force that sparked brightly. Rather than meeting force with force, Arian used the broad flat of his sword to redirect the knight's strike. Using the same momentum, he spun on his heel and delivered a crushing front kick straight into the knight's chest, sending him flying several meters away to crash into the snow.
In those split seconds, the recruit had jumped into the air, trying to hit Arian with a treacherous vertical strike.
Arian didn't even blink. He dodged the falling blade with a simple sidestep, letting the opponent's sword sink into the frozen muddy ground. Before the recruit could regain his balance, Arian clenched his free hand and delivered a straight punch, hard as a hammer, right into the recruit's face.
The sound of breaking bones echoed through the forest. The recruit fell on his back, screaming in agonizing pain, blood pouring heavily from his shattered nose.
Arian stepped forward with utter coldness and bent down to snatch the red flags from the belt of the recruit writhing on the ground. At that moment, the veteran knight got up. He looked at Arian with shock mixed with hidden respect, then approached, threw his collapsed recruit over his shoulder, and quickly disappeared among the trees.
Valen approached with his ghostly steps, looked at the blood on the snow, and then at Arian. "It seems you don't need help," Valen said in his soft, cold voice. Arian returned his sword to its scabbard without looking at him and replied flatly: "I wasn't expecting it from you anyway."
They continued deep into the forest searching for more flags until the darkness swallowed the last rays of the sun. The duo decided to spend the night in a rocky hollow protected by the roots of a giant tree. They didn't light a fire; a fire in a forest full of enemies is an open invitation for an ambush.
Arian sat down, leaned his back against the rock, and closed his eyes, entering a state of "military meditation" that rested him while keeping him alert to any danger.
Valen remained sitting on the opposite side, silently watching his breathing. She waited a long time until she was sure his chest was rising and falling very slowly, and his body was completely relaxed as if he were in a deep sleep, his back turned to her.
Only then did she sigh.
With hands trembling slightly from the cold mixed with exhaustion, Valen began to remove her short leather armor very slowly to avoid making a sound. Then she opened the jacket of her military uniform, which looked uncomfortable and suffocating. Beneath the uniform, thick and rough cloth bandages were wrapped tightly around her chest to completely hide her feminine features.
"Valen" began to untie those bandages. With every strap loosened, she took a deeper breath, as if her lungs were being freed from an iron prison. She closed her eyes and sighed in complete silence, thinking about how annoying and painful it was to wear this false armor all the time. But it was the only price to pay to survive in a world that respected nothing but the strength of men.
Suddenly, Arian shifted slightly in his sleep.
The blood froze in Valen's veins. With lightning speed, and the skill of someone used to hiding her identity for years, she ruthlessly tied the bandages back up, zipped up her uniform, and put on her armor in a matter of seconds.
Early the next morning, the duo resumed their journey, walking alongside a partially frozen river.
Suddenly, they heard a loud rustling in the bushes. Arian gripped the hilt of his sword, while Valen placed a hand on his sword. They were about to strike, before a familiar recruit appeared from the trees, followed by a knight.
It was Baren, accompanied by his escort knight, "Sir Mart".
As soon as Baren saw Arian, his face lit up with overwhelming joy and he ran toward him. "Arian! It's good we found you..." Before he could finish his sentence, Arian raised his hand and stopped him firmly. He scanned the surroundings with a piercing gaze and asked: "Did you face any enemies on your way?"
Baren blinked in surprise and answered: "No... the forest has been very quiet on our side."
Arian's pupils narrowed. Exaggerated silence on a battlefield is always a bad omen. *"Something fishy is going on,"* Arian thought, but he signaled for them to continue the journey together temporarily.
As they walked, Baren turned to Valen, who was walking in dead silence as usual, and asked with naive curiosity: "Are you Arian's escort knight? Weird... you're still a kid. How did you become a knight at this age?"
Valen stopped in his tracks. He turned to Baren, gave him a look as cold as an ice blade, and said in a low voice that carried a clear threat: "Call me a kid again... and you'll see for yourself why I am a knight."
Baren swallowed hard and took a step back in fear. Behind him, "Sir Mart" rolled his eyes to the sky and sighed with obvious despair and frustration, muttering: "Gods have mercy on me... Why did I choose to escort this stupid chatterbox?"
The moment of rest did not last long.
From the dense trees on the opposite side, a recruit appeared, running with stumbling steps. His clothes were torn, and blood covered half of his panicked face. As soon as he saw them, he waved his hand and screamed for help in a voice full of despair: "Help! Please! My escort knight has a severe injury and is bleeding to death... We need urgent help!"
Baren froze in place, sympathetic and ready to intervene, but Arian didn't budge an inch. Arian slowly turned to Valen. Their eyes met in complete silence. They didn't need any words; in both of their eyes, the exact same cold realization gleamed.
The smell of blood was strong... but the smell of a trap was far stronger.