Aleister placed his right hand on Mitre's shoulder and his left index finger on his mouth. The two of them had finally tracked down a wild boar.

"Remember what I told you? When it bends its head down," Aleister said, "that's your opportunity since it's already quartering away."

Mitre nodded as he repeatedly muttered, "Between the shoulder blades, between the shoulder blades."

The wild boar meandered for a while before it grazed on some grass. Aleister said nothing. Mitre realized this was his chance. He lifted his shaky hands up and let go of the bowstring. The arrow struck the boar. It grunted, running around in circles. Its violent squeals alerted the nearby animals. The surrounding birds rustled out of the trees and flew away. After several moments, the boar finally collapsed.

"Not bad," Aleister said, nodding with satisfaction. "Beginner's luck, but not bad."

Mitre looked at him with the widest of grins. "Looks like I'm already better than you!"

"Yeah," Aleister rubbed his hand through Mitre's hair. "No shot. Anyway, let's get this boar back home to mom for dinner."

Mitre nodded and followed him over to the dead wild boar. From there, Aleister pushed the boar onto a wooden sleigh and tied some rope around it, making sure it didn't fall off. Mitre jumped on top of it, doubling the weight he had to drag.

"Really now?"

Mitre giggled. "I'm tired."

Aleister clicked his tongue, annoyed. Nonetheless, he dragged both of them out of the woods and back to Stillside. Quite the quaint farming village right smack dab in the middle of the Lillium Empire.

The two of them passed the southern entrance. A short, bald man with a grey mustache greeted them. "That's a mighty fine boar, you young lads have there. Shame if something happened to it."

Mitre jumped off the top of the boar. In a haughty voice he said, "No way! You can't take it from us!"

"Oh? Who says I can't?" said the old man.

Aleister rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, chief. Mitre here will deliver you a portion of tonight's meal."

"What?" Mitre said, shocked at the words he just heard.

The village chief cackled. "I like to hear that! You could learn a few things from your older brother!"

Mitre stomped his foot on the ground. "I can't believe this!"

"Well, you don't need to believe for it to happen," Aleister said.

Mitre huffed and crossed his arms, kicking dirt as he walked.

Aleister smirked and dragged the boar back home. A few other villagers along the way greeted him and engaged in casual conversation. These brief engagements extended the time it took for him to get back home by over an hour.

"Oh, man." Aleister sighed with relief and untied the rope around his back and waist. He stretched his back. A black raven circled over him multiple times and perched itself on top of the boar. The bird had been flying around for a few weeks. Aleister fed it some dried jerky. It seemed to always want something, but he didn't exactly know how to speak bird, so that was the best it got.

A sturdy man with messy brown hair and eyes lay down on a couch. Gilmore, the man who saved Aleister. Upon hearing footsteps, he looked up from his book and asked, "Back so soon?"

Aleister slouched down a couch. "Yup. We found a large boar relatively quick--"

"And then I killed it one shot!" Mitre said. "The arrow went, shwing, blaow, shping, and the boar went all like oof. Haha, you should have seen it! I actually ended up killing it in one shot!"

"Excellent!" Gilmore rubbed Mitre on the head. "I'm sure your mother will be quite pleased to hear. Why don't you go greet her in the kitchen?"

Mitre hurried over to the next room over.

"Let's go," Gilmore said as he stood up.

Aleister groaned. "Can't I get a little rest."

"You don't get better from resting."

Aleister followed Gilmore into their backyard. He wore the proper training equipment Gilmore saved from his service and engaged in practice. Sparring helped give him the experience of an actual fight, without putting his life in danger. However, Gilmore often said that nothing could compare to the experience of living between the fine line of life and death. A practice he engaged in most days for the past few years.

He remembered the first day when he woke up in Gilmore's bed.

Heh.

Definitely did not make a good first impression. Luckily, he decided that anyone who saved him was not a bad person. Probably.

Over time, Aleister trusted Gilmore enough to explain his full past to him. Some of it, Gilmore already guessed, like his identity. The rest was news to him.

And to his surprise, he didn't tell Aleister to forget about revenge. Or justify that it wasn't worth it. Or say how it would only lead to an endless cycle of violence. Instead, Gilmore spoke from experience when he said that sometimes you just needed to kill.

Aleister still maintained some doubts about what it would take. Only time would strengthen his resolve. Someone else would have to don the mantle of ending the cycle. He had blood to spill.

During his studies, and several talks with Gilmore, Aleister learned Vallonia was still currently engaged in a civil war. However, no news surfaced about his family.

He planned on joining the military and eventually becoming a Weaver in order to exact his revenge. Luckily for him, Gilmore was a former soldier and trained him night after night. He even had a with a black-oak medallion. Whatever that meant.

To be honest, Aleister thought Gilmore was more than just a simpler sergeant. Both Gilmore and Ryellia didn't even carry themselves as a commoner. Aleister had his suspicions, but he pried a little into it. He was grateful to the two of them for even adopting him.

Gilmore tossed him a spear.

They always started with spear technique practice. Gilmore called them—the weapon of kings. They had strong piercing power and along with their length; they were deadly in combat. Spears stopped enemies without the proper countermeasures from even reaching the wielder and ruled the battlefield. Aleister didn't know why Gilmore called them a kingly weapon, when commoners and soldiers were the two dominant groups who wielded them.

Next, the sword. Swords were more common than spears in everyday use, as they took up less space, but just as deadly. A good slash to the neck or stab in the heart would kill just as fast. Swords made much more sense as the weapon of kings. Everyone he knew in the past always used swords.

They ended the day with archery. He didn't practice it as much now as he did in the past, but Gilmore said it was always good to know how to use a bow. Landing an excellent shot with an arrow could rip straight through a person's body, or stop them dead in their tracks.

Besides combat practice, he also trained his endurance every day by running laps around the village. He never focused on strength training, since that was taken care of whenever he hunted.

As usual, practice ended after a few hours.