Vas’s body swayed lazily in the worn saddle of his speckled, gray mare. The sound of its hooves muted by the sod and foliage of the undergrowth. A brisk Autumn breeze whispered through the branches of the honey-colored trees in the Amberllyn Woods, scattering the golden light of the sun and breathing life into Vas’s wavy, brown bangs and loose strands of hair. Vas wasn’t sure if he liked how long it had grown in the weeks following the Bidding Process, but he didn’t have the luxury of the Karadim family’s personal barber anymore, nor the means of tying his hair back. So ultimately, he decided it was best to just leave it be for the time.

He found his gaze drifting upwards as he struggled to blow the hair off his forehead. Above him, the broad, three-pronged leaves of the oaks shined in the late afternoon light, giving off an unearthly glow. The sweet perfume of wild apples and elder-berries danced with the musky scent of the horse and elm trees filling Vas’s nose, wafting throughout the natural mosaic of amber and gold.

Inhaling deeply and slowly letting go of the breath, a pleasant smile decorated his face. His eyelids fluttered as he found himself being lulled into a dream-like state. This is the life he wanted. Freedom. A chance to be his own person, unbound from the expectations of his family and their pseudo-nobility titles and ways.

Vas returned his gaze to the woods around him. The seasons never changed here, the world never changed here. Supposedly, it was caused by the magic of The Ancients, at least that’s what Vas recalled from books he read as a boy. Tomes, whose fantastical stories were now long past and forgotten, leaving only the existence of what Syl and Fae--if any--remained. The Empiric Age, commonly known as The Age of Man, saw clearly to that.

The Amberllyn Woods united Karonus with the Three Kingdoms, a region of self-governing nations in the lower hemisphere – Elmora, Gallaher, and Alvarryn. This was the furthest Vas had ever been from his sea-side home of Poluranis, nestled safely in the hills of The Vale. It was new, exciting, and well, overwhelming. For years the three city-states had shared a border with minimal-to-no aggression between them, at least not since the Treaty of Three, almost two centuries prior. They had become known as the Sister-nations whenever the High-King addressed a court summons, they were recognized in unison. Although in recent years, whispers were heard that their people have become hungry for control and swathed by greed.

“The people’s minds are being poisoned,” Frost began, his voice thunderous in the packed Assembly Hall. It was the opening ceremony of the Bidding Process.

Various military leaders, nobles, merchants, anyone with a name, and the coin for it would take turns arguing their case of employment to the masses. Afterward, they would bid individually on the young Blade aspirants to fill their ranks. Blades, conscripted workers, and mercenaries indentured to whoever held their contracts, a polite way of saying tool. Vas clicked his tongue in annoyance. His horse stumbled a bit, confused by the signal.

“We need men, we need women, we need you!” Frost bellowed, spittle decorating his wiry black beard. His thick sausage-like fingers gesturing wildly into the crowd.

Vas sighed heavily and rolled his eyes at General Frost’s rantings. However, it was the only way out Vas could see to avoid the trap set for him back home.

“-to remove the blight! For the glory of the long-lived empire!” Frost repeated this both at the opening ceremony, and then again after bids were accepted.

Vas had given that academy six years of his life and now found himself wishing for something more. During the Bidding Process, the military leaders offered the potential Blades rank and prestige as their bargaining chips, while other speakers provided the hopeful candidates a chance to help or support their villages and families with labor or extra accommodations.

Which is why he was here -- hundreds of leagues from home -- in the beautiful Amberllyn Woods marching into the Glorious Three Kingdoms.

“Pompous ass,” Vas grimaced at the memory of the lion-maned commander, his boss’s boss. Vas rationalized, it was easier to remember that than the entire Chain of Command.

Luckily for him, Vas was serving under Lieutenant Lance Belmont for his Trial and didn’t have to worry about General Frost. If he and the others selected by the general succeeded with their missions­ -- and impressed the right person -- they would be conscripted into the military as Blades and all the perks that entailed.

“Keep your ‘ead up, eyes wide, and your ears open, Elementalist,” a deep voice of wood being dragged on gravel, broke Vas’s train of thought, causing him to jump in the saddle. “The General paid good coin to ‘ave you added to my ranks. Can’t be losin’ ya now, can I?” Vas looked up to see Belmont, the Commanding Officer of Regiment Three’s scouting troop — the Belmont Spectres. He spoke with a gruff voice and always in a soft but stern tone. It reminded Vas about how his father used to instruct him back home.

Belmont had a sharp twang that was common in the Southwestern territories of Karonus. He was never one to shout, and he always had an air of gravitas about him. He was very well-liked and respected around Regiment Three. Being next to him, though, Vas found himself to be rather small and insignificant. Well, truthfully, he felt that way around everyone in the scouting troop.

It wasn’t like he had earned his right to be there, like the others. The position had been gifted to him, part of his Bid from General Frost, the regiment leader of the Imperial Army. And all the perks it entails… Vas recalled echoing his earlier thought.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Vas said hurriedly. He lowered his head and made a face of distaste like he just swallowed an old, coughing draught. He hated his voice. It always sounded taught and whiny to him.

Vas shook his head, snapping out of his daze. When he looked up, he realized it was only him and Belmont together. Apparently, being lost in his thoughts had caused him to fall behind the entire troop.

They were all waiting for him several furlongs off. In the time Vas had been revisiting the hovels of his mind, Lieutenant Belmont had halted the Spectres, came to a full stop, turned around, and pulled up beside him. He winced and lowered his head at the realization, retreating inside the protective shell of his leather jerkin, the fur of its collar brushing against his scruffy cheeks. It was a weird sensation, fur on hair, not akin to a fly on bare skin. His ears and cheeks were hot, and the color of a late-spring blossom, flushed from his embarrassment. The back of his head started to itch as the heat from his shame spread throughout his face.

“Get your head outta your chest, boy. You’ll be riding with me,” Belmont eyed him incredulously, cocking his thin, grey-blonde eyebrow. “That way, I can keep an eye on you.” The lieutenant said, his voice was stern as if he were lecturing a troublesome child.

When Vas looked up to match Lieutenant Belmont’s gaze, he swore he saw a faint wisp of a smile on his face, before it retreated back to his usual stony façade. Belmont jabbed his heels into his mount, racing ahead to the tip of the lance, motioning for Vas to follow him. The horse’s hooves kicking up leaves and dirt, snapping twigs, as it made its thunderous retreat. Vas nodded in acknowledgment, his face still beet red, and followed suit.

In a short while, Vas managed to catch up and surpass the rest of the scouting party, trotting toe-to-toe with his squad leader. When he had matched Belmont's gait, the lieutenant motioned for the scouts to resume their travels.

Turning toward him, Belmont spoke in a whisper, “You need to remember to keep your mind from drifting, Boy. Especially in unfamiliar territory. There is no promise of easy traveling out here.” Lance’s stare bore through Vas, who lowered his head, trying to hide from the lieutenant’s hard eyes.

“I- I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” Vas apologized profusely, nodding his head in turn. ‘Well done, idiot.’ Vas thought to himself, echoing the disapproving voice of his parents. ‘You just joined up with them, and you are already making a fool of yourself.’

“See that it doesn’t, or you will find yourself being sent home in the back of a funeral wagon,” Belmont returned his focus to the trail ahead of him as if nothing had happened.

As the group marched on in silence, the only sound heard was the gentle clopping of the horses’ hooves on the soft dirt, and compost that made up the forest floor. Occasionally the yipping of a fox and the song of forest birds gossiping about the travelers would sound. It was peaceful for the most part. Although to Vas, it felt as if the entire natural world was mocking him for his mistakes. The dread from his encounter with Belmont still loomed over his head. At times Vas would turn to face him and open his mouth to say something or apologize again only to fail to find the proper words and return to the path ahead of him and curse himself for being the part of a fool.

“Tell me something, Elementalist,” Belmont said suddenly. It was the early evening, and the company would be stopping soon to set up camp. Vas shook his head, caught off guard as he tried to register the conversation.

“Y-yes, sir,” Vas stammered.

“Why are you here?” Belmont’s voice was calm and apathetic.

Vas paused, mouth agape, before his response; he didn’t expect this kind of question. He was taken aback from the brevity of the lieutenant’s demeanor.

Belmont turned to look at him and darkened his gaze when no answer was given. “Well?”

“Um, well, uh…” Vas stammered, trying to think of a response. “For the glory of the Empire?” He stretched his mouth in the broken, fool-hardy grin of a dimwit. Vas was embarrassed. Of all the stupid things he could say…

Belmont’s gaze soured as he furrowed his brow, sharply staring down Vas. “Why are you here, really?” He said slowly, punctuating every syllable. His words matched his gaze as if Belmont saw straight through him. To Vas's core…

The awkwardness swathed over him like an ooze as Vas felt his heart quicken. He turned his eyes downward as if they were pulled by an invisible string. Vas returned his gaze to the open road in front of him, sighing heavily. This was why Vas was here, to be able to travel, to go on an adventure. This was it. The sense of freedom Vas felt as he rode through the woods was so uplifting to him. Neither his family nor the name of his family’s alliances carried weight out here. He could forge his own path here and in the Blades. That’s what mattered to him, a fresh start. How could he convey any of that? It all sounded so foolish to him. Like the idealistic desires and dreams of a naïve child. Finally, without much thought, the words just came to him and slipped out.

“Because…” He paused weighing what he was about to say. “Because I’m trying to find my own place in this world.” He whispered solemnly.”My own name. I want to find somewhere I belong, with people that care for me just because they care. Not because of my ties or my lineage or what I can do.” Vas winced and readied himself for the degrading lectures, eventual jeerings, and malicious teasing he had become so prone to experiencing.

It was a stupid dream. His own name? What kind of moronic sentiment is that? Heroes only exist in fairy tales, and not everybody had a place in the Great Garden. But none came. Vas lifted his head and looked at Belmont, who just stared at him. No expression, no rebuttal, no teasing. He just stared, and they continued riding south.

The scouting party was just starting to reach the edge of the woods by the time night began to set in. Up ahead, The Crossroads were plainly in view. The tip of the Southern Province one step beyond it, and he would be headed into the Three Kingdoms where his Trial awaited him.

The Lieutenant raised his fist above his head, signaling the group to halt, “We’ll camp on the edge of the woods tonight and leave at mid-morning. You deserve a good rest. We have hard riding ahead of us!“

There were sounds of grunts and groans from the scouting party in acknowledgment as they began unloading their equipment and setting up camp. Vas unstrapped the pack from his horse and led her to the enclosure with the other mounts. He ran his hand gently against her mane and patted her neck, fumbling around in his saddlebag for a sugar cube.

“You did well today, Kaami. You of all people deserve a nice rest,” and rested his head against her snout, closing his eyes as he felt her breathing. Her fur was coarse but warm. Vas didn’t know why he had named her that—or where he had even learned the name— but he did know it was familiar, and that the name carried significant sentimental weight. Of what, though? He wasn’t too sure, the name just seemed to fit. The horse snorted in response and began munching away at the cube. Her lips and tongue tickled as she made quick work of the treat.

Vas smiled. He loved his pets, and often times found himself missing Laika, the family dog, who passed away shortly before he left Poluranis. Vas had had Kaami since then. When he left home, Kaami helped to carry what little of his belongings his parents had left him – which to be said, wasn’t a whole lot -- and the two of them began their journey from that point forward.

After seeing to Kaami, Vas left the enclosure to find a spot to set-up his tent. A deep blue shadow was cast along the glade as the golden sun disappeared on the horizon. Hills surrounded the area on all sides, sheltering the area making it an ideal resting stop for wayward travelers hiding from the road. The glen was surrounded on all sides by small hills and bevels that rose from the earth like Sweet-Knot bread — a delicacy from Vas’s homeland.

As a child, he would always sneak some off the wire cooling trays for him and Emilie. However, whenever he would get caught, which was quite frequent, Vas would be reprimanded by the local bakers who would smack his knuckles with a wooden mixing spoon and then send him along to his mother. Even though he always tried to delay going home, by the time he arrived, his mother would always be waiting up for him, hand on her hip and black hair tied up in a bun and almost always a few loose strands tickling her eye and brow. She would have him spend hours writing an apology letter until it was perfect. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t stop there. Afterward, she would send Vas up to the Karadims -- his future in-laws and his parents’ close friends – and his journey would end with a lecture on how a noble-to-be should behave.

Although, he found himself salivating and licking his lips at the thought of the honey and berry glaze of the buns. He shook his head and glowered at the memory of the Karadims. Despite being privy to his feelings for the Karadim’s daughter, Emilie, he was still adamant about his distaste for being forced into a marriage.

'Damn the bonds it would strengthen and tie! He didn’t want to lead a nation! He wasn’t some diplomatic tool for his family to use for their own gain. It was his life, not theirs! His fate! His destiny! And to The Abyss with anyone that would say otherwise.'

“Elementalist,” Belmont’s voice came. Apparently, he had been waiting for him. He motioned for Vas to follow. Setting his packs down next to his mount, Vas let loose a quiet groan and trudged behind the lieutenant, kicking at a rock in the dirt. "Let's go, lad," Belmont called out.

“Y-yes sir,” Vas said, trying to keep time with the lieutenant’s gait.

Nearby a stream made its way lazily through the woods, rolling over its bed of small rocks and fallen trees. It lapped at the sides of its home, thirsty and begging for travelers to enjoy its bounty. Fish leapt into the air, snatching at flies daring enough to venture too close to the water’s surface. Away from their motley crew and horses, the air smelled cleaner as the fruits of Autumn filtered through. The two had found an old deer trail that circled around the camp. Bedvines had started growing over the forest floor, their fire-red and midnight-colored stems warning animals of its toxicity and looking like snakes stretching from edge-to-edge. High grasses grew on each side of the trail, the tops, weighted with seeds and un-burst pods, bowed over the trail, hiding it from all but the most trained observers.

The subtle daytime songs of the Amberllyn Woods ebbed away into the start of a symphonic lullaby. It was evening, or about to be. It was hard for Vas to tell in these woods, the whole area seemingly glowed with a perpetual golden light. The wind grew colder, making Vas wish he had remembered to grab his cloak from his pack. Luckily, the wind wasn’t strong enough to cut through the body of Vas’s jerkin, but his arms still felt the full brunt of it, causing him to shiver. The woods around started stretching purple and gold shadows across the hidden trail as the sun began its descent, readying its artistic palette for the nightly slumber. The first watch would be starting soon, Vas was glad that somebody else had been given the duty. He had never enjoyed watch duty, typically it was used as a form of punishment at the academy. Nobody wanted it, but somehow he always got stuck with it.

They had been walking in silence—Vas taking in his surroundings and Belmont, hands clasped behind his back deep in thought—for several minutes before Lieutenant Belmont spoke. “I’ve heard talk about you from Frost. He’s a good man — a smart man. He makes no move without cause.” Belmont said with his large hands clasped behind his back.

Vas hung his head and slumped his shoulders, returning to his previous stance. He had heard this lecture before… at the academy. He had screwed up. He just knew it, barely a month in, and he was already getting cut. His neck grew hot, and the back of his head began to itch like his hair was swarming with mites.

“Look at me when I am talking to you, Elementalist,” Belmont said, his voice as hard-lined as his facial structure.

Vas lifted his head meekly, in an attempt to make eye-contact with the lieutenant. Belmont was a steeled man. His nose was bent at an odd angle in several places, most likely from several breakages that had never fully healed properly. Although Lance stood a hair shorter than Vas, he was built big enough in the shoulders that he dwarfed Vas’s thinly muscled frame. He still wore a full head of blondish-grey hair. Despite his years and seniority in the Imperial Legion, he always kept it short, often in a military-style cut, the front forming a widow’s peak.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Vas mumbled.

Belmont eyed him scrupulously, arching his eyebrow and cocking his head at an angle as if saying, ‘I can’t hear you. Why don’t you try again.’ Vas repeated himself louder and more confident, Belmont gave him a satisfied nod and resumed walking.

“You know both Karmine and I have been keeping tabs on you?” He said. More of a question than a statement. “You are gifted, Elementalist. You are intelligent and very tactical in your judgments. You know what calls to make and when, and your skillful command over the Natural Spirits is rival to none. I remember hearing the stories of you from the general several years ago and the ones from your instructors from the academy. You and Desiree were a masterful pair, which is why Frost wanted you both and how you wound up with me.” He paused, turning towards Vas and perched himself against one of the thick Oak trunks and crossed his arms. His usual pose for a lecture.

“You have a keen mind, but sometimes you are in it for way too long. You lose your sense of being and your place,” He turned his fist over and looked to be examing the dirt in his nails. “In the amount of time, it took me to realize you had fallen behind and then for me to come and collect you like I was your wetnurse.” Lance was agitated now and peered at Vas through narrow eyes. Vas quivered and turned his gaze towards the lieutenant's armored riding boots. “You could have just as easily been killed or taken captive. And then, when I did catch up to you, it took you minutes to realize I had been there when it should have taken you seconds.”

‘Good going, stupid.’ Vas thought to himself. A soft and firm hand rested on his shoulder. The lieutenant was staring at him, but there was no sign of anger. In fact, Vas thought he saw a glimpse of pity and reassurance in the lieutenant’s otherwise stony gaze.

“If you aim to be a scout, especially on my team, I need you to start focusing. Frost entrusted you to me because he aims to break you out of your shell and lead another scouting force, and you can’t do that if you are off in your own world half the time,” Belmont sighed and shook his head. His voice lowering, returning to a whisper. “One day, you will learn why we keep our heads up, especially on patrol. Pray to the Shadow, that it doesn’t cost you your life,”

The lieutenant and Vas stood at the edge of the camp, looking over the soldiers. All of them settling into meals or talking and laughing with their friends and squadmates. “Or your men,” His voice was distant and sullen as if remembering a lost memory from ages past. “You said to me that you wanted to find your name. This is where you can start,” Belmont gestured to the soldiers.

“Each of them is here for something different, something for them to keep going. We don’t live a comfortable life, and we can’t afford to lose ourselves in the masses. We look out for each other here. You want to find people that care about you? Look no further than what’s in front of you,” Belmont clapped Vas on the shoulder and offered him a melancholy smile and then turned to face his men. Vas looked up at him. On his face, Lance wore the fierce look of a proud father overlooking his children at their Sending Ceremony.

“Yes, sir, and thank you,” Vas smiled weakly, forcing himself to appear reassuring. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.” It didn't last long.