The boys trudged lazily into High Town from a creek overshadowed by the edge of the forest, the only place they could sneak in that wasn't fenced off. As they traversed the fantastic green hills and brick roads that looked neat and orderly even in the dead of night, Cedric admired the numerous large villas that housed the Teuton elites.

"Oy, pick up the pace, you two, we've got to get Melly back in time for midnight tea!"

"Cedric, why did you have to tell this ingrate about that? Loose lips sink ships, you know?"

"Not sure what kind of ship I'm sinking, but that was way too funny to pass up and you know it."

"It's a good thing, Mel! We're happy for you, here!"

"I somehow doubt you're happy about anything here, Quentle. Besides, there's nothing to be happy about, anyway. Get your minds out of the creek."

"We were just in the creek, though..."

"Well then, do gladly return to the creek, and be one with it for all eternity."

"That's horrible! If Selmy heard you-"

"Heard him what?"

"Hiiiiie!"

Cedric and Quentle grasped each other's arms in an exasperated gasp. The small girl's appearance, laying comfortably on the other side of the hill they'd just climbed, scared them half to death. Mel, meanwhile, showed no reaction, but instead continued silently toward the smiling girl.

"Geez, Lady Selmy, you shouldn't ambush us like that! Since when is it normal for herbalists to practice the art of war in a peaceful uppity village?"

"Seriously woman, that's bad for our hearts, especially when we're beat from training all day," Cedric tacked on with a sigh.

"Hehe, I just wanted to surprise you all a bit, but I'm sorry~."

"This girl is seriously scary, it's like she has no presence at all."

Quentle nodded anxiously at Cedric's words with wide eyes, before gawking at the frilly yellow night gown the girl wore as she brushed her bare white legs through the smooth grass.

"Heey Cedric, did you say something mean just the-Ow!"

Mel had squatted down, and proceeded to knock on the top of Selmy's head as if waiting seriously for someone to answer the other side of a door.

"What's that for, Me-oh, why do you look so scary?" Selmy whined up at him, while Mel's stern gaze only hardened further to the point Cedric thought he would burn a hole into her forehead.

"Ah, allow me. I do believe Mel here did indeed request that you not leave your residence, if you so happen to recall?"

"But-"

"Thanks so much for the eloquent commentary, Cedric. Now, go home."

Quentle began chuckling at both of them with a stupid look on his face.

"Quentle too, go home."

"Ah...well, then, Lady Selmy. As you can see, we noble commoners have successfully returned your esteemed knight to you without incident or bandit, in time for your midnight tea."

"Band-"

Selmy stopped, flashing a look of shock toward Mel, before quickly recovering to her usual look.

"Thanks, as usual, Quentle!"

Cedric was already walking away, waving shortly with his back to the three.

"Oh, you too Ced-"

"Why aren't you on your way too, Quentle? Need some incentive?"

Mel's words were cold as ice, causing Quentle to stumble back down the hill before Mel could finish drawing the arrow he was feeling for.

"Boy, Melly's in an especially sour mood tonight, isn't he?" Quentle inquired playfully, walking beside Cedric with his hands on his head.

"So, you did notice, huh?"

"Huh? Of course I did, it was obvious, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it's oddly suspicious. Especially just now. It was like we saw something we shouldn't have, ya know?"

Quentle looked upward, scratching his head in response. "Yeah, I wonder...what might be going on with those two."

Cedric looked down, biting his lip.

It's like they're in some kind of trouble...

Had Quentle been awake to hear the whole exchange in the apothecary wing earlier, he might be more worried.

It's probably better for him not to know...

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing big, just Mel being weirdly overprotective and cautious."

"Hmmm..." Quentle eyed him quizzically. "Yeah, you're probably right. Ah, here's my detour."

Quentle's quickest route home to Market Town required cutting down a road that lead to a guard station, which he would daringly sneak through. This left Cedric to circle around the hidden creek and make his way back through Castle Town.

"Well then, see ya in the mornin', Wardric. Don't get lost on the way home!"

"Aye aye, idiot," Cedric shot back with a sarcastic wave.

Traversing the rocky creek with ease, Cedric hopped onto the dirt that symbolized the small, out of place desert. Just as he turned in the direction of Castle Town, he heard rustling in the forest bordering the desert, sending a shiver down his spine.

He looked back to see nothing out of the ordinary, the eerie, bunched up trees as still as ever. Thinking it was probably just a small animal, he turned his back once more.

-Plop

However, a different sound made him freeze in shock. Turning slowly, he saw it.

A man, dressed in gold uniform with a frayed red sash.

Without a doubt, a Wolverine soldier.

He had dropped to the ground in exhaustion, clearly wounded and worn down, yet still dangerous-looking.

Cedric found himself unable to move. Instead, he stared in utter disbelief as the man, bleeding from his side and hand, among other places, dragged himself across the dirt toward the creek. It seemed the man hadn't noticed Cedric, and continued crawling along until he reached the edge of the creek where he began splashing dirty water all over himself, even drinking some. His head wore no helmet, showing his wispy long hair and dark facial hair, along with a gruff looking face.

Cedric, still under a spell of absolute anxiety, finally realized he should do something. However, once he thought about what to do, he was unable to send any orders to his confused limbs, and remained still.

It was simply unthinkable for an enemy to make it inside the walls. It had, in fact, only happened one other time. As the man rolled onto his back, sighing in relief, pictures of that certain scene played in Cedric's head.

The spilled blood. The torn flesh. The defining scent of the battlefield, of death, invaded his head like a sickening nostalgia. Even though it was only one injured enemy soldier laying wide open, this was the first time he would experience actual war since his six-year-old nightmare. All the training in the world could not prepare him to face a situation this real, after so long. As such, the inexperienced boy trembled pitifully before his already downed enemy.

"Ahh, wolves in the forest to protect against Wolverine soldiers, huh? Not even funny-oh...what's this?"

Cedric's hesitation allowed the enemy the moment of realization he needed.

"A boy...say, boy, over there is the place you call 'High Town', right?"

"Ah....eh-"

"Huh? Speak up when an adult is talking to you, boy." The man showed no traces of one wounded in enemy territory, instead booming with arrogance. Unfortunately, Cedric's frozen mental state only seemed to fuel the man's confidence.

"What, thinking about screaming for help? Not going to do any good. Go on, tell me about this High Town place and I'll give you a quick death."

The man slowly drew a short sword from within his uniform, and used it to stand himself up with a pained grunt.

As he took a step forward, Cedric's nerves finally began to wake up, sensing he would soon die if he remained frozen. He hesitantly pulled his wooden sword from his shirt, and attempted to ready his stance as if he was facing Valblin or Quentle.

However, the result was sloppy and uncertain, and he knew it. As the enemy stumbled towards him with a sick grin, he realized he couldn't do anything like this. He simply wasn't prepared. Even if Quentle and Mel went at him with everything they had, they did not have what this man had. Even if Valblin made a point not to go easy on him, he did not show what this man was showing.

Something he hadn't sensed in six years. The most defining trait of that scent of the battlefield currently assaulting him like he was in the middle of a recurring nightmare.

However, unlike his dreams, this was the real thing, not to be compared.

Killing intent.

This is...the most important thing for a soldier to have.

The enmity the man came at him with was completely new to him, and froze his senses anew. There was simply no way he could match this output of murderous intent, let alone defend himself with a wooden sword.

I...don't want to die!

The enemy soldier bore down on him with a vicious downward swing, making swift impact-

I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

-with the air.

Cedric had bailed out on defending, and dove desperately out of danger.

Rolling through the dirt, he attempted to gather himself up to run away. However, the man would not allow that. As he stumbled to his feet, the enemy was already on him, forcing him to dive to the left this time.

His body burdened with both fatigue and frozen nerves, Cedric was operating solely on his overflowing adrenaline, and fear for his life. All he could do was dive away from the man's wild swings one after another.

His game of dodging came to an end when the persistent man cut off his escape route, forcing Cedric to hold his wooden blade out to defend against a sidelong strike.

Unsurprisingly, the wood was broken through, and the momentum of the blow sent Cedric rolling once more.

This time, the man launched himself at a completely defenseless Cedric, who'd rolled into a skid before reaching all fours, and looked up to see the man closing in.

With only half of a wooden practice sword left as defense, the wide-eyed boy's mind searched for an answer.

There must be an opening somewhere.

This guy's wounded, yet he's fighting so hard.

It must be...he wants to finish me off before his injuries flare up?

If so...a war of attrition is exactly what I need!

As he thought that, he finally remembered the throwing knife he'd bought just hours ago, resting idly in his back pocket.

Taking an aggressive step of his own, Cedric reared the broken practice sword over his head, threatening to throw it with his left hand. This, naturally, did not phase the approaching enemy, aside from causing him to raise his sword up slightly.

As he shifted in reaction, Cedric reached for the small throwing knife in his pocket, and threw it in a swift side armed motion at the man's lower half.

The enemy noticed the incoming knife, but due to his blade being readied high, he just missed the opportunity to deflect the projectile. Having been thrown just low enough to slide under the man's blade, the knife found its home in his injured hip.

The man stopped in his tracks, doubling over and wrenching the knife out.

"You...little shit! I'll kill you!"

Throwing the knife back at him in anger, the man charged forward once more.

Dodging the wildly thrown knife, Cedric ducked out of the charging man's path by faking to the right and escaping left with ease, holding no intention to engage any further.

The enemy's lower body injury had seemingly flared up due to Cedric effectively kicking dirt into it, causing his charge to lose a noticeable amount of steam.

Seeing this allowed Cedric's nerves to relax, if only a bit. He had recovered himself quite a bit since being completely frozen, but still wasn't as confident in his abilities as he would be fighting against his friends. Therefore, this kind of war of attrition was the best strategy for him.

The enemy soldier charged aggressively time after time, but Cedric was able to evade him. The man now staggered out of his bursts, his breaths growing deeper thanks to Cedric's tactic.

Though, as a result, he ended up tiring himself out as well. This was the ideal strategy for him, but the wear and tear of a long day had completely caught up with him. He was now breathing just as hard as the heavily wounded enemy before him.

This, he thought, must be the difference between a real soldier and a kid idealistically playing at one.

The two stood several meters away, silently catching their breath. The Wolverine soldier had certainly lost much of his earlier gusto, but Cedric was now beyond the point of running on reserves.

"I'll give you some credit, shitty kid...you're not as spineless as you look."

"Good to know you fell completely into my trap," Cedric fired back with a smirk. A complete bluff.

"Tch. Just a brat playing knight. Fine then..."

Whether he simply didn't buy the bluff, or didn't care, the man stepped forward once more, raising his off hand.

Cedric watched as if hypnotized as something like steam began rising from the enemies bloodied arm, and then-

"Wha-"

This time, the enemy froze. His eyes were wide, looking at some place beside or behind Cedric. Assuming he was trying to distract him, Cedric continued watching the mysterious mist forming around the man's arm. But then, he felt it.

A cold breeze swept across his right arm, freezing his body once more.

He slowly turned his trembling head to see it.

"Ah-h..."

The shadowy specter from earlier passed by him as if he was a plant on the side of the road, slowly gliding toward the enemy.

This time, he saw its large frame, chiseled face, and majestic long hair clearly, despite being a blur of black and grey. Its daunting figure shook him, and filled him with mixed feelings of unease and security.

Who...are you...?

The specter cut the distance between Cedric and the enemy in half before stopping and floating there like the most disturbing candle flame he'd ever seen, simply staring at the man with the kind of efficiency he assumed would come if curses could be fired like arrows at their enemy.

The man began staggering backwards, losing concentration on whatever he was doing with his arm.

"What the hell...what the hell is this place? Was this whole damn thing a trap, after all?"

The man spouted nonsense as he retreated into the forest. The specter slowly followed him, vanishing into the night and finally allowing Cedric some relief from the situation.

Collapsing to all fours, Cedric gasped for air, feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn't make sense of what just happened, and he didn't want to. For now, he simply wanted to get out of this place.

.............

Having returned to the farm to collect water and bathe, Cedric laid down in the makeshift cot in the farmhouse, and decided to stay there until it was time to work, since he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep either way. A multitude of thoughts whirled around his head like a sandstorm, causing him to roll around restlessly.

What should I do?

A Wolverine soldier made it into town...what if there's more of them?

What if he's able to escape that...thing, and survive?

Was he going to do something in High Town?

Mel...Selmy...

A trap.... he mentioned a trap...what is happening?

Just what is happening on this island? Our home?

I have to tell someone...right?

Someone will have to do something about our security within...

I must...I-I-

-I can't...

Confessing to breaking the strict curfew...

Just what kind of trouble would that cause for everyone?

Mel...Quentle...

Father...

Thoughts like this tortured him, until he reached a point of mental exhaustion and became unable to think about it anymore. Just as he began to doze off, the first glimpse of dome light seeped through the crack of the farmhouse door, signaling the end of the long night.