Rowan studied me for a moment longer, his expression inscrutable. He hadn't given much away, but I could tell something in his demeanor had shifted. That faint glimmer of approval, though small, was enough to stir a renewed sense of resolve within me. He turned away without a word, motioning for me to follow him to a different part of the training yard. As we moved, the sunlight finally broke free from the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the courtyard. The day had truly begun, and with it, so had my new path.
"Training won't just be about swinging swords," Rowan said as we walked. "You may think that's all there is to combat, but out there, it's as much about survival as it is about skill with a blade. The wilderness doesn't care about titles or elegance. It only cares whether you're alive or dead."
I nodded, though the weight of his words pressed on me. The wilderness had always seemed distant—a place for adventurers, hunters, and mercenaries. Never for someone like me. But if I was going to join a magic squad and be more than a pretty face in the Vermillion name, I had to learn what survival meant. Truly learn it.
Rowan stopped at the edge of the estate grounds, where a dense thicket of trees loomed just beyond a weathered wooden gate. The estate was surrounded by forests, though I'd never ventured far into them. The sprawling greenery now felt like a threshold between two worlds—the life I had known, and the one I was stepping into.
"We'll begin here," Rowan said, unfastening a small pouch from his belt. He tossed it at me, and I caught it instinctively. "Basic survival gear. You'll need to set up camp, hunt, and forage for the next two days. Alone."
I blinked, taken aback. "Alone?"
He nodded curtly. "Consider it your first real test. You claim you want to be independent, to prove yourself. So, prove it. Find a clearing, set up your tent, and survive. I'll check on you after two days. If you're still standing, we can continue. If not, well... we'll see."
A knot formed in my stomach, but I didn't let it show. I had asked for this. I had *wanted* this. And now it was staring me in the face, daring me to back down. I wouldn't.
Without another word, I took the pouch and slung it over my shoulder. Rowan watched me with those calculating eyes, still measuring my worth. I could feel the tension in the air—an unspoken challenge. If I hesitated now, I knew I would fail in his eyes, and maybe even my own.
I straightened my back, gave Rowan a final glance, and stepped through the gate into the wilderness. The crunch of leaves and twigs beneath my boots echoed in the stillness of the forest as I moved deeper into the trees. Every sound seemed amplified—the rustle of branches, the distant call of a bird. The world outside the estate felt vast and indifferent, as if the land itself was watching to see if I could survive.
After what felt like hours of walking, I found a small clearing nestled between a cluster of tall oaks. The light filtering through the canopy was soft, dappled in shades of gold and green. It seemed as good a place as any to set up camp. I dropped the pouch on the ground and knelt beside it, pulling out the supplies—some dried rations, a flint for starting a fire, a small hunting knife, and rope.
Setting up the tent was awkward at first. I had seen it done plenty of times, but doing it myself was different. My hands fumbled with the fabric and ropes, my patience wearing thin as the minutes ticked by. But I gritted my teeth and kept going. I had come too far to let something like this defeat me.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the tent stood upright. It was small and modest—nothing like the luxurious chambers I was used to. But it was sturdy. Functional. I stepped back to admire my work, feeling a small surge of pride. I could do this.
The next step was starting a fire. I crouched down, gathering dry leaves and small branches from the forest floor. I arranged them in a pile, then struck the flint over and over until the sparks finally caught. Flames flickered to life, casting a warm, flickering light across the clearing.
As I sat beside the fire, I realized how quiet it was. The noise of the estate, of people, of life—none of it was here. Just the crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of the forest. I thought back to Rowan's words, about how survival was more than just skill with a sword. He had been right. Out here, surrounded by the untamed wild, I felt the weight of that truth.
The day passed slowly, and by evening, the sky had deepened into shades of violet and indigo. I had eaten one of the rations and foraged some berries, but the silence gnawed at me more than the hunger. My mind wandered, back to the estate, back to the life I had left behind for this challenge. There had always been people around me—family, servants, admirers. Out here, I was alone. Truly alone.
And yet, the more I sat with that thought, the more I realized that this was exactly what I needed. This isolation, this challenge—it was stripping away the layers of vanity and image that I had built up over the years. There was no one to impress out here. No one to admire me or judge me. Just the wilderness, indifferent and eternal.
The next morning came quickly. I had barely slept, my mind too restless to settle in the unfamiliar quiet of the forest. But despite the fatigue, I felt... different. Stronger, in a way. The doubt that had clouded my thoughts was still there, but it was quieter now, overshadowed by something else—determination.
I spent the day practicing with my sword, swinging it through the air with renewed purpose. I wasn't striking a dummy this time. I was fighting the doubts in my mind, the fear of failure, the insecurities I had clung to for so long. Each swing felt more precise, more controlled. I could feel the weight of the blade becoming more familiar in my hand.
By the time the second day came, I was tired, but I was still standing. I had made it. When Rowan appeared at the edge of the clearing, I felt a strange mix of relief and pride. He approached me, his eyes scanning the camp—the tent, the fire, the sword still clutched in my hand.
"You're still here," he said, his voice neutral.
I nodded, wiping sweat from my brow. "I am."
Rowan looked at me for a long moment, and for the first time since we met, I saw something shift in his expression. It wasn't approval, not yet. But it was something close to respect.
"Maybe you're not just another spoiled noble after all," he said, his tone softer. "But don't get comfortable. This was the easy part."
I sheathed my sword, feeling the weight of his words settle on me. He was right. This was just the beginning. But as I stood there, looking out at the wilderness that had once seemed so daunting, I knew one thing for certain—I wasn't the same person who had stood in the courtyard two days ago.
I was ready for more.