After exiting the small tent, Hayden navigated through the camp and stopped by a tree, resting against it as Edward's words lingered in his mind.
"So, he hates the Pendragons too…" he muttered, a small smile playing on his lips. "That doesn't sound too bad."
Inspecting his new weapon under the dim orange glow of the bonfire, Hayden let out a sigh, admiring the exquisite workmanship on the blade. He wasn't a bladesmith in his past life, nor an appraiser, yet somehow, he could tell this was a weapon of high quality.
Shing.
He drew the sword, holding it up with his left hand while attempting to run his right hand along the edge. Or, rather, he tried—because the moment his palm touched the blade, his skin gave way, and blood welled up.
Hiss.
Hayden drew a sharp breath, wincing at the pain. So sharp!
While he nursed his bleeding palm, he couldn't help but marvel at the sword again. "This isn't a normal blade…"
---
Meanwhile, back in Edward's tent, he downed cup after cup of red wine, his face dark with frustration. He stared at the spot where Hayden had stood, his gaze shifting to a blue-sheathed sword lying nearby. His expression twisted with anger and bitterness.
"How could I mix up the sword General Siegfried gifted me with some ordinary officer's sword?" he muttered, his voice edged with regret.
For the rest of the night, Edward drank in silence, burdened by his mistake, while Hayden slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.
---
The next day, the army marched in a loose formation—more organized than one might expect from an army composed of farmers and commoners.
Hayden moved at a steady pace, though two things had changed about him. First, he now carried a long sword in a midnight black sheath at his side. Second, his right hand was covered in cloth rags.
With his excitement over his new weapon fading, reality had set in. How was he supposed to fight when his dominant hand was injured?
He clenched his teeth. What a mistake. He had prided himself on being careful and thorough—so how had he made such a foolish error? Could his young body be affecting his thoughts and behavior?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. If he was going to survive, he'd need to think and act like an adult.
Hayden shook off the troubling thoughts and decided to listen in on nearby conversations, hoping to gain some information or at least some entertainment.
"How do you think the war will go?" an old man asked a burly soldier beside him.
The burly man scoffed. "Why ask? With an army this big and our famous generals leading us, I'm just worried about how much I can accomplish to earn some merit points."
The old man raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Merit points? Are you aiming to climb up the social ladder through this war?"
"Of course. With a body like mine, the battlefield's just the place to make a name for myself."
Hayden, overhearing, almost rolled his eyes. Even someone from a relatively peaceful world like Earth knew war was a place where most lost their lives for no reason, and few gained fame or glory.
The old man seemed to mirror Hayden's thoughts. He shook his head. "I won't crush your fantasies, young man, but don't underestimate the battlefield. Even the best can fall to a stray arrow."
The old man's words ended the conversation, and Hayden continued listening to others around him. Yet, he found himself disappointed; most talked about the women waiting for them at home, the riches they'd gather, or how they'd rack up merits.
Realizing there was little useful information to glean, Hayden refocused, keeping his pace steady while ignoring his growing hunger.
The army of three thousand marched the entire day before stopping atop a small hill. In the distance, an orange glow lit up the sky.
"What's that?" he wondered.
Without a word, the army quickened its pace toward the light. As they drew closer, the glow revealed itself to be a massive military encampment, illuminated by countless bonfires.
The sight of hundreds of soldiers—conscripts and professionals alike—moving around the camp added to the gravity of the situation. Off to the side, Hayden noticed Edward leaving the formation with a few officers in tow.
I wonder what that's about… he thought as he scanned the area for a quiet spot to rest.
Walking around camp, he noticed the silent but obvious divide between the soldiers and the conscripts. Although there wasn't open hostility, it was clear the soldiers looked down on the conscripts. He even saw a group of soldiers berating some old men who sat on the ground, playing games to pass the time.
Wanting to avoid any potential trouble, Hayden searched for a more isolated area. Eventually, he spotted a lone tree a little way from the main camp. It was close enough for safety but far enough to afford him some solitude.
As he approached, he noticed the tree bore fruit he didn't recognize. The broad, leafy branches cast a cool shade, and the roots formed a V-shaped spot that looked ideal for resting.
With a sigh of relief, Hayden sat down, letting his body relax for what felt like the first time in ages. The wind brushed past him, stirring his hair and lulling him into a rare moment of peace.
This is the calm before the storm, he thought, closing his eyes. His mind drifted through memories of everything he'd been through in this new life, hardening his resolve to survive.
Not far from where Hayden rested, a soldier named Sonner sat on a barrel, watching him. Sonner had been in the army for fifteen years, and for the past two days, he'd been quietly observing Hayden on Edward's orders. Yet he still didn't understand why.
"Yes, he's the son of a baron," Sonner muttered to himself. "But he's unwanted. So why would the commander take such an interest?"
He sighed. I joined the army to protect the kingdom, not to babysit a child.
As he watched, he noticed a group of soldiers heading toward Hayden, their expressions filled with greed.
---
Hayden was resting under the tree when the sound of approaching footsteps made him crack open his eyes. Ten soldiers stood before him, their gazes fixed on his sword.
"Can I help you?" Hayden asked, hoping to diffuse the situation.
A bald soldier with a sharp goatee stepped forward, his eyes flicking between Hayden and the weapon at his side. "Who are you, boy?"
"My name is Hayden," he replied calmly.
"Hayden? No last name?" the soldier pressed.
For a moment, Hayden hesitated. He could reveal his full name, but the thought of claiming his father's identity made his stomach turn. Instead, he remained silent.
The soldier took his silence as an answer, and a greedy smile spread across his face. "Where'd you get that sword?" he asked, stepping closer.
Hayden felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Glancing around, he saw the other soldiers fanning out, blocking any escape routes. Looking beyond them, he spotted a figure hidden between two tents—a soldier, watching with a slight smirk but positioned as if ready to intervene.
Looks like I'll have to take a gamble, he thought, rising slowly and inching toward the hidden soldier.
Sonner watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. He wasn't going to interfere—unless things went too far. But his curiosity piqued when he realized Hayden was walking in his direction.
"Is this a coincidence?" Sonner muttered, but one look at Hayden's focused gaze dispelled that notion. He knows I'm here…
To say he was shocked was an understatement. His hiding spot was nearly perfect, practically invisible to the untrained eye. Even the soldiers harassing Hayden hadn't noticed him.
Interesting, he thought, leaning forward slightly.
"Where do you think you're going?" the bald soldier barked, drawing his sword. He charged, his intent clear for all to see.
The watching crowd expected to see Hayden overwhelmed—when, suddenly, Sonner stepped forward, intercepting the blade with a practiced move. In a flash, the bald soldier's sword clattered to the ground, and Sonner's own blade was at his throat.