-Landon POV-
Cold wakes differently in Ashstone.
On the outer border, winter gnaws with hunger. In the town, it lingers — like a stern teacher, watching whether you learn or break.
I woke before sunrise.
Not because of duty.
But because of habit of someone who has never had the luxury of sleeping without fear.
My fingers brushed the hilt of my sword before I even fully opened my eyes.
The metal was cold.
Reassuring.
Constant.
It reminded me I was still alive.
And that was enough to rise.
Morning — Weight of Steel
I left The Brass Dagger quietly. Reina had already gone — I could see faint traces of her tracks in the snow. Her steps were light. Controlled. Not a fighter searching for battle, but someone reminding herself she will not fall when it comes.
My steps were heavier.
Sword across my back. Breath expelling small clouds in the dim light before dawn.
I found an empty courtyard behind the inn — shielded on two sides by stone buildings, snow collecting slowly across cobblestone.
There, I trained.
Not to improve.
To maintain.
Simple routines.
Draw.
Step.
Strike.
Return.
The familiar sequence of motions — learned in the Rosenfeld barracks at twelve years old — not because I wanted to, but because the alternative was being someone without worth.
I drilled the first set until sweat mixed with frost across my neck.
Then again, faster.
Then slower.
Then with one hand.
Then eyes closed.
Sword scraping against air.
Cold bit deep into my bones, but I continued until I could no longer feel the difference between fatigue and burn.
Only then did I stop.
Breath heavy.
Sword steady.
Snow fell around me in soundless approval.
Late Morning — The Blade Smith
I went walking after training.
Not toward crowds.
Crowds exhaust me.
Toward function.
South of the square, there's a blacksmith.
Auric. A quiet man who rarely speaks unless spoken to. I don't like wasting words either, so we understand each other.
I brought him my sword.
He looked over it in silence, noting the cracks that had formed near the hilt.
"You fought something with high impact," he said.
"Yes."
"Did you deflect with weapon or arm?"
"Both."
He grunted.
Not disapproving.
Just memorizing.
He told me to return in three hours.
I nodded once.
Left.
I didn't ask price.
Not because I didn't care.
Because I trusted his work more than any written guarantee.
Midday — Listening to Warriors
Ashstone has a central square where mercenaries and hunters gather. Most come and go, but some stay longer — people accustomed to the cold deep enough to be bonded with it.
I sat on a stone ledge, cloak wrapped, listening.
Not to gossip.
To patterns.
Talk of constellations.
Of who awakened at what stage.
Who broke after Tier 4.
Who ascended too fast and lost themselves.
Someone spoke of a youth whose constellation of Cracked Moon consumed him — how he forgot his own name and only chased wounded prey.
Someone mentioned a cursed heir from the west who fought at the banquet and silenced nobility.
They didn't know I was one of those who stood beside him now.
They spoke the story like rumor.
As if it were myth.
I said nothing.
But I held those words.
Especially the tone — half respect, half disbelief.
Yes, I thought, that's exactly how it felt.
Afternoon — Return to the Smith
When I returned, Auric handed me the restored blade.
Weighted slightly differently — the balance shifted forward, allowing stronger momentum in descent strokes.
"A weapon adapts with the wielder," he said.
"If the wielder refuses to adapt, they break."
I looked at him.
He looked back.
I nodded.
He didn't charge me full cost.
Maybe he saw something in the way I'd returned.
Maybe he saw someone who understood iron's loneliness.
Late Afternoon — Weapon Shop Encounter
I intended to return to the inn then.
But I saw him.
Kel.
Inside a weapon shop.
He stood at the archery aisle — expression unreadable — holding a bow like he was calculating battle, not price.
He traced fingers along different longbows, eyeing thickness, draw strength, trajectory angle. Most customers handle weapons with excitement or ego.
Kel handled them like variables.
Like he wanted to understand how many lives he could change with a string and wood.
I didn't interrupt.
I simply watched until he selected one.
His hands trembled slightly when he did.
Not with excitement.
With strain.
From yesterday's duel.
From today's hunt.
From years of fighting what others can't see inside him.
He didn't see me.
I didn't call him.
He walked out, and I let him go.
Sometimes, support is not stepping forward.
It's knowing when to keep distance.
Evening — A Thought Over Food
I bought a meal for myself — broth with roasted game meat — and sat in a quiet corner of a tavern.
Not to relax.
To think.
Why did I agree to follow him?
Many would say because of nobility.
Because of his status.
Because of future benefit.
They'd be wrong.
I followed because:
When I saw him fight, I realized how quickly he calculates death — and still chooses to step toward it.
Not out of recklessness.
But because stepping forward is sometimes the only way to avoid being cornered.
I understand that.
I've lived it.
He walked alone when he could have asked for support.
He looked at his own limits not to pity them — but to measure how far they could still be pushed.
I've never seen that before.
People curse weakness.
He uses it to sharpen something.
That makes him worth following.
Even if I never say it.
Especially because I won't.
Night — The Highest Point
Before returning to the inn, I climbed the watchtower.
I've always done that before long journeys.
Breathing the cold air from above.
Looking at the direction we'll walk tomorrow.
The wind was harsher there.
Snow blew sideways.
Stars hid.
I rested my hand on the stone edge of the tower.
Then voiced the thought I'd carried all day.
Only the wind heard it.
"If the world tries to break you, I'll share the blow."
Not to protect him.
Not because I believe he needs it.
But because it's the only promise I know how to make.
One forged from iron.
And respect.
I returned to the inn.
Kel was already there. Reina sat beside him. They didn't see me enter.
Their silence was heavy.
But not uncomfortable.
I walked past them.
Placed the sword against my bed.
Laid down without undressing.
Closed my eyes.
Not to sleep.
Just to be still.
Before we walk.