As Aiden walked away from the training grounds, he exhaled, feeling the weight of the scrutiny he'd narrowly sidestepped. Marius's questioning hadn't gone as deep as he'd feared, but Aiden knew it was only a matter of time before others began asking why he'd implemented such peculiar recruitment conditions. He couldn't reveal his true reasons—not yet. As he continued his stroll, Aiden mused on his strategy, piecing together the underlying philosophy that guided his choices.
Aiden's Thoughts: "To become a knight or a mage, strength and skill aren't enough. It's the foundation—the core habits and instincts—that define success. These seemingly trivial skills will mould them, guide their growth, and even limit their potential. Swinging a sword a thousand times is worthless if each swing isn't rooted in the same care and attention as the first. And that's what these farmers, hunters, and labourers bring: a natural efficiency and resilience, an instinct developed over years of hard work.
He thought back to his own experience in the game, where he'd risen to the top not by sheer power but through mastery of the core. He knew that while the recruits might never become knights or mages, these foundational skills would give them a fighting chance in a brutal world.
Aiden's Thoughts: "For a knight, it's about consistency, strength, and endurance. For a mage, though… it's different. A mage's talent is rooted in insight, imagination, and seeing the invisible flow of mana. Mages aren't simply trained; they must be born with the spark to see beyond the ordinary. Although unlikely in a place like this, a hint of intuition and curiosity might reveal one among them who could walk that path."
Lost in thought, Aiden found himself outside Kellan's workshop. The clang of metal on metal echoed out, and as he entered, he saw Kellan hunched over his workbench, his face illuminated by the orange glow of molten steel.
Aiden: "What's got you busy today, Kellan?"
The dwarf looked up, a rare glint of excitement in his eyes. "Ah, boy! I've been meaning to surprise you. After our raid on those slavers, I managed to snag some fine materials. I couldn't stand the thought of you wielding that cracked, rusty old sword any longer."
Aiden: "Are you making me a new sword?"
Kellan chuckled, his deep voice full of pride. "Not just any sword. Soon, you'll see what us dwarves are truly capable of."
Aiden gave Kellan an approving nod. "I look forward to it. Good luck, Kellan."
Aiden: "Wait, I wanted to ask you something. Have you ever heard about dragons?"
Kellan glanced up, raising an eyebrow before a slight smirk crossed his face. "Ah, dragons… you mean those mythical creatures of old?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Most people today think they're just legends now, stories to scare children or amuse travellers."
"But they weren't always myths, were they?" Aiden pressed, his eyes fixed intently on Kellan.
Kellan paused, then nodded slowly. "Well, if I remember correctly, the last dragon sighted was… oh, a couple of hundred years ago." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "They're said to have kept the old lands—up in the highlands of Drakon Ridge. But pinpointing where exactly… well, that's another matter entirely."
Aiden's curiosity deepened. "Why is that?"
"Because dragons are… elusive," Kellan replied, his tone almost reverent. "They prefer isolation, hidden places where no human dares to tread. They're creatures of solitude. That's why people believe they went extinct." He looked at Aiden thoughtfully. "But some say, if you're lucky—or unlucky—you might still find traces of them."
Aiden's gaze flickered with intrigue as he considered Kellan's words, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Interesting," he murmured.
Aiden: "Oh fine. I will talk to you later about them."
Kellan: "Sure Lord!"
Aiden, impressed by the energy of the old dwarf, left the workshop.
Aiden continued through the fortress, taking in the activity and energy. Passing by the training grounds near Conan's quarters, he heard the sound of a blade cutting through the air. Turning, he saw Conan, training with a fierce intensity, his aura flaring erratically. Conan's swings were wild, the force immense but uncontrolled, the aura leaking from his sword with each swing. Aiden observed silently, noticing the flaws in Conan's form—each strike was powerful but imprecise, wasting energy.
Aiden: "Conan!"
Conan ignored him, his jaw clenched in frustration as he continued his practice. After a moment, Aiden sighed, prepared to walk away. But he stopped himself, realizing that despite Conan's pride and ego, he was an invaluable asset to the fortress. Deciding to offer some advice, he spoke up.
Aiden: "Conan, your aura is bleeding out with each swing. You're exhausting yourself—conserve your energy and focus your strikes."
Without a word, Conan turned and hurled his sword, embedding it in a nearby tree, dangerously close to Aiden. He stormed off without looking back, leaving Aiden to watch him disappear into the distance. Shaking his head, Aiden muttered to himself.
Aiden: "A lost cause…"
Later that day, just outside the fortress...
Conan, seething with anger, wandered through the edge of the forest. His mind burned with thoughts of his recent humiliations, especially the insult he'd felt in Aiden's advice.
The defeat at Aiden's hands was a constant sting, a fresh wound to his pride every time he thought of it. How could he have lost—to him? Aiden was nothing more than an upstart, someone Conan had barely considered worth his time. But here he was, haunted by that humiliating outcome, the bruises on his pride deeper than any Aiden had left on his skin.
He ground his teeth, the memory of Commander Marius's words resurfacing. The summons to Marius's office after the duel had been humiliating enough, but his words had cut deeper than any blade.
"Conan," Marius had said, a heavy silence filling the room after he closed the door. His voice was steady, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable. "You let your arrogance cloud your judgement. You lost in fair combat to your lord, Aiden—a man to whom you owe not only loyalty but respect. And instead of accepting your defeat, instead of taking it as a lesson to temper that wretched pride of yours, you chose the coward's path." Marius leaned forward, his glare searing through Conan. "You attacked him from the shadows like a common brigand."
"Commander, I…" Conan began, but his voice faltered under Marius's withering gaze.
"Silence!!" Marius's tone cut through the air, and Conan froze, feeling the full weight of the reprimand. "Your actions are not only a disgrace to your station but a stain upon this fortress. You think your pride was wounded? That you could not bear the thought of another besting you?" Marius's voice grew colder, sharper. "You are naught but a child playing with swords if this is how you respond to defeat."
Conan swallowed hard, his shame gnawing at him. He tried to meet Marius's gaze, but the disappointment there was too much to bear.
Marius continued, his words laced with contempt. "The lord of this fortress—the one you swore to serve with honour—was the man you struck at, Conan. A man whose authority you dared to defy. Do you realise what that makes you?"
Conan shifted uncomfortably, but Marius pressed on, his voice now an iron lash. "You are nothing more than a faithless cur, Conan. And know this: loyalty without honour is worth less than the dirt beneath my boots. You are fortunate, indeed, that our lord has not cast you out in shame—or worse."
He let the words hang in the air, each one a hammer blow of disdain and fury. "Now leave my sight. And pray that you find a way to redeem this disgrace, though I doubt even that would cleanse the stain you've left upon your name."
As Conan was remembering his embarrassing past, the sound of chirping longtail birds brought him back to reality.
As he prowled through the trees, a glint of movement caught his eye. His lips curled into a grin as he observed it more closely.
Conan: "So, this is how I'll deal with you, Keeper…"
A dark smile spread across his face as he laughed quietly to himself, a plan forming in his mind.
Back in the fortress, after a long stroll...
As dusk fell, Aiden made his way back to the quarters. A cheerful voice from behind called out to him.
Muinin: "Good evening, my lord!"
Turning, Aiden saw Muinin, his face alight with enthusiasm. Returning the smile, Aiden nodded in greeting.
Aiden: "Muinin, how's the day treating you?"
Muinin hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's been good, my lord. Actually, I was hoping… if it's not too bold of me—may I accompany you on the inspection of the forest?"
Aiden raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how did you hear about the inspection?"
Muinin looked down, shamefaced. "I… I overheard it during my guard duty outside the command room, my lord. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
Aiden stifled a chuckle, amused by the young man's nervousness.
"There's something familiar about the way you speak... reminds me of someone I used to know."
"Anyways, Apology accepted. Stand up, Muinin." As Muinin scrambled to his feet, Aiden continued, "If you were so eager, why didn't you ask Commander Marius?"
Muinin's face turned red with embarrassment.
"The Commander… well, he would've dismissed me on the spot. I'm just a gate guard, not particularly skilled with a sword."
Aiden regarded him carefully. "The forest is unpredictable. Are you prepared for the dangers?"
Muinin: "If I may speak freely, my lord… watching you take on the impossible every day has inspired me. I know it's risky, but I want to prove myself, to you and to the fortress."
Impressed, Aiden gave him an approving nod. "Very well. I'll speak with Commander Marius about your request. Be ready."
Muinin's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thank you, my lord!" With a quick bow, he excused himself, practically beaming as he left.
Command Room — Later that Night
Returning to the command room, Aiden sat down to review profiles of recent applicants for recruitment. His eyes scanned through names and skill descriptions, his mind questioning what might drive these adventurers to this forsaken fortress.
"Adventurers, often wanderers by nature, belong to no one but themselves. They are skilled and resilient, often operating within ranks from F to S and even unattainable and rare SS. Most are registered with guilds across the kingdoms, bound by contracts, quests, and coins. To see such individuals applying here was unusual…"
Aiden's mind churned with questions. Why would experienced adventurers come here, to a fortress caught between empires, far from the bustling cities? The implications weighed on him, as he considered the possibility that even strangers were beginning to recognize the significance of his fortress.
Aiden's (Thoughts): "Perhaps this place isn't so forsaken after all…"
With thoughts of looming threats and unseen opportunities, Aiden continued his work, his plans extending ever outward. The foundation he'd set was still weak, but if he could rally the right talent, secure resources, and keep men like Marius and Conan close, he knew his fortress would become something more than just a boundary—something unbreakable.