By the time they returned from the mountain, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting long golden shadows across the town square. Boots dragged across the path and the youths' shoulders sagged. Even the loudest among them had gone quiet; not even a peep was heard from the whole group except for the steady rhythm of marching steps.
Brahm marched at the front smiling and happy, as if he had merely taken a leisurely stroll, already optimistic about the town's future.
They walked through town, receiving sympathetic glances from the townsfolk as they passed, dirty and beaten.
When they reached the space before the guild hall, Brahm stopped abruptly and turned.
"Alright, Line up."
A collective groan nearly escaped the whole group. Most of them were dead on their feet. Even Teclos, who had held himself upright through sheer stubbornness all day, felt his legs trembling faintly.
'Again?'
