As the fog finally begins to lighten and I begin to sense traces of small non-invertebrate life forms, I am filled with relief. [We've made it, it would seem. All this work on my part, apparently wasted, eh? Well, I would rather not have any actually difficult targets than have them, I suppose.]
[You know, for such a supposedly dangerous forest, it's really not too bad. Besides for some little deer that any moderately capable soldier could defeat, alongside a snail that could easily have been run from, this place was essentially devoid of any creature capable of being more than an annoyance. Well, I guess if the bugs were focused more on one person than on a group they could be a bit of a problem…
[Still, I would hold that the fog is a far greater threat in this place. I honestly have to question how any trees survive in this place at all. The foliage really doesn't once the fog builds up, it can't get enough light, leaving just trees. But that leaves the question of how the forest survives. I saw no saplings on its muddy floor, nearly no light filters through. Obviously the tallest trees stretch up to join the canopy far above, but what about the trees constituting the lower canopies, I struggle to believe that they receive enough sunlight to maintain their immense size. Even with the old trees being able to survive, with the forest being unable to repopulate itself, would it not disappear within a few centuries at most?
[Yet, I remember reading of this forest but briefly, in a small note on a page about the world's geography. I don't remember many of the already few details, but I am certain that this forest is said to be quite ancient, certainly more than a few hundred years already. Unless it naturally came to be this way over time, I can only assume that the cause for this awful geography is unnatural in its nature.
[So, from my basic knowledge of this world, this forest and its peculiar geography are most likely a result of magical tampering, though such a question really leads one to wonder at why anyone would want to make a place so awful as this.
[Bah, what's the point of thinking things through myself? I still know far too little of this world, I have not yet had the adequate time to learn of it. Well, perhaps Lector will know the origin of this forest. While perhaps not important, I am a curious fellow, and I cannot stand having a question to which I do not know the answer. I am a man of the modern world after all, a world where the vast majority of contemporary human knowledge is accessible at one's fingertips, how could I be content in not knowing something when any little detail may very well find a way to make itself the difference between life and death in this world?]
On my next run around the group, a task that is quite simple due to the mud only being ankle deep and the trees being easy to fit between, I briefly stop by my master.
"Yes, my apprentice? Any monster kills to report?"
"So long as you count squirrels, perhaps. Rather, I have a question."
"Oh? Ask away."
"How did this forest come to be so dreadful?"
"Ah, I never tire of your questions, my apprentice. Always so random, so filled with a desire to learn… truly the trait that I first found desirable within you, and the reason I took you as an apprentice in the first place. Though I must say, I expected this question far sooner.
"The history of this forest is quite uneventful, really. It was a nameless, uninhabited stretch of land from time immemorial, until Reishvart, the dragon of death, saw fit to sink it into the ground and curse it with endless fog. He modified the trees within the forest such that they could survive with minimal sunlight, a modification that only grew weaker with each passing generation to the point where no new seedlings have been able to survive for centuries now. Everything else in the forest came about rather naturally as a result of its initially abnormal modification."
I have to think for a moment to remember from where I recognize that name. "Is this Reishvart the very same as the one rumored to be working on a blade to rival the sword of the heaven's?"
"Why, the very same. Where did you hear of such a thing?"
Reinhart, who has thus far been ignoring our conversation much like he has been ignoring them for the whole of this trip, interjects. "It was I who told him of the rumor, Commander Lector. The conversation of magical weapon classification came up, and it naturally lead to those god class weapons, among which the Sword of the Hells is the rumored fourth member."
"Ah, I see. I was just rather not expecting my apprentice to know such a detail, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that his inquisitive mindset has led him to sources other than myself."
[You know, Lector treats me quite like a child at time. I mean, come on, I am nearly forty here! Surely I act as such! Right?!]
"It is hardly as though he sought me out, we were talking of swordsmanship and the topic moved onto swords, a perfectly reasonable, and downright fantastic, topic of discussion between two swordsmen. Relax, commander, I have no intention of taking your apprentice from you. So much as I appreciate his devotion to the blade and its methods, I am not looking for a proper apprentice."
[It's like I'm not even here!] I think, while saying "Well, I'm going to return to my task," running off from the two. [Seriously, who talks about someone else in such a way while he is present? Such unnecessary awkwardness!]
The last few hours of the evening is spent as we pull ourselves out of the forest's embrace. By the time night falls, we have left the last tree of the forest behind, leaving ourselves on a large area of hills, occasional trees spread about.
The greenery is far more pleasant than the sickly browns and grays of the forest, and serves as the true sign of leaving the forest behind. We go only so far as the top of the first hill beyond the forest before stopping for the night.
Our healers fulfill their purpose, and our water elementalists are ordered to wash the mud off everyone. That the snooty elementalists do not desire to stoop so low as to provide aid to their common swordsmen brethren is obvious, but they still do as they are told, blasting everyone with enough water to wash the mud away, both from flesh and clothing alike.
The only articles spared from this washing are the bags containing the rations, and once clean, the soldiers dig into the food, the first time they have eaten in days. After ravenously devouring their barely-adequate rations, the soldiers begin to lay themselves down as they are, entering almost immediately into a deep sleep.
While the sleep resistance potions technically remove the need for sleep, they do not provide the desperately needed rest that sleeping does, so these men likely feel quite exhausted. As for me, I have long grown used to the feeling of being forever awake, having learnt long ago how best to ignore the lingering mental tiredness that is never fully removed by sleep resistance potions.
Once nearly all the soldiers have fallen asleep, Reinhart included, I approach Lector, requesting my daily ration of a sleep resistance potion. However, to my great surprise, he says to me "No, not today. You have not slept in an exceedingly long time, now would be a good time for it. Don't worry about keeping watch, I can handle it. If I have any need of you, I'll wake you."
"But what about practice? I haven't done any training in days, when shall I find time if I don't tonight?"
"Future nights, opportunities during the day; I'm sure you'll find time. However, for now, I think that you should take this opportunity to sleep."
Sensing that he has no desire to back down, I sigh and say "Very well then. But I'll have you know, this is quite unexpected, I don't even have bedding."
"Bah, the night is mild, you'll be just fine. Now, sleep! You need it more than you realize, you will be amazed at how you feel when you wake up. My first extended sleep nullification stint only lasted a month, and coming out of it, it felt as though I had been revived. In fact, perhaps I will take an opportunity to sleep again soon, to get myself in peak position for upcoming battles… Yes, I think I will. So, I'll keep watch tonight, you keep watch tomorrow, we both are rejuvenated and better prepared for battle. Sound good?"
Sighing again, I reply "Yes master."
I lay down on the soft ground, staring up at the sky above, trying to recall the last time I slept. [Ah yes, that tiny rest before my first day of training, when I couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard I tried, too nervous about my training, about whether I would be designated as a spellsword as I wanted. And then I was woken up by that veteran, whom I haven't seen since… Wait, no, that's not the last time! There was that time where I was knocked out by Reinhart, and that other time by the scorpion! Though I'm not really sure if that counts as sleeping, each period of unconsciousness was only a few seconds, does that count? I'm not sure…]
And so, lost in rambling thoughts, my most recent sleep nullification potion's effects run out and I willingly fall asleep for the first time in months.