The morning sun had barely risen above the horizon when Astrid Silverflame stepped out of her tent. Her silver armor gleamed faintly in the dim light, though it carried the marks of countless battles. She glanced toward the camp, where the survivors were stirring, and her gaze naturally drifted to the cot where Lucas and Finn had slept the previous night. Both were already up, their youthful energy unshaken by the harshness of their situation.
Astrid exhaled slowly, the boy's words from the night before echoing in her mind. *I want to become strong enough to protect others.* It was a noble sentiment, but she knew that path was not for the faint of heart. She had seen too many young souls broken by war, their idealism ground to dust beneath the brutal realities of combat.
Shaking her head, she turned toward the largest tent in the camp—the command tent. She needed counsel, and there was only one person she trusted enough to seek it from: Commander Eryndor Blackthorn, the officer in charge of this outpost.
---
The command tent was modest but orderly. A large wooden table occupied the center, its surface covered with maps and reports. Eryndor stood behind it, his imposing figure partially illuminated by the early light streaming through the canvas. His weathered face bore the marks of years spent in the field—scarred but resolute, with piercing gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
"Astrid," he greeted, his voice gravelly yet calm. "What brings you here so early?"
Astrid saluted briefly before stepping closer. "Commander, I need your guidance."
Eryndor raised an eyebrow, setting down the parchment he had been studying. "That's not something I hear from you often. What troubles you?"
She hesitated, her gloved hand brushing against the hilt of her sword. "Last night, one of the boys we rescued—Lucas Brand—approached me. He asked me to train him, to help him become stronger. He said he wants to protect others."
Eryndor's expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. "He's young. Too young, perhaps."
"That's what I thought," Astrid admitted, her tone conflicted. "But there's a fire in him, Commander. A determination I rarely see, even in seasoned soldiers. Still... he's just a boy. Is it right to set him on this path?"
Eryndor folded his arms, leaning back slightly as he regarded her. "Tell me more about him. What kind of boy is he?"
Astrid nodded, gathering her thoughts. "He's... intense. Driven by the loss of his mother and the destruction of his home. He reminds me of some of the recruits we've taken in over the years. Those who come to us with nothing left to lose."
The commander sighed, his gaze falling to the map in front of him. "Those are often the ones who fight the hardest. But they also burn out the quickest. Grief and anger can be powerful motivators, but they're not enough to sustain a person in this life. He'll need more than that. Discipline. Patience. A reason beyond vengeance."
"I know," Astrid said quietly. "That's why I'm hesitant. If I train him, I'll be shaping his future. I've done it before, with Sir Alaric's guidance, but Lucas... he's different. There's something about him that feels fragile and unbreakable all at once."
Eryndor's eyes softened slightly, a rare glimpse of the man behind the commander. "Astrid, you've always had a way of seeing potential in others. But remember, training him doesn't just mean teaching him to fight. It means teaching him to live with the choices he'll have to make. That's not a responsibility to take lightly."
She nodded, the weight of his words settling over her. "I'll think on it. But, Commander, what would you do?"
Eryndor's lips curved into a faint, wry smile. "If it were me? I'd test him. See if his resolve is as strong as his words. Let him prove himself before making any decisions."
Astrid's brow furrowed, considering his suggestion. "A test, then. Something that will push him but not break him."
"Exactly," Eryndor said, his tone firm. "If he's serious about this, he'll rise to the challenge. And if not... better he realizes it now than on a battlefield."
Astrid inclined her head, gratitude flickering in her silver eyes. "Thank you, Commander. Your wisdom is invaluable, as always."
Eryndor chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "Just don't let it go to your head, Knight Silverflame. Now go. You've got decisions to make."
---
As Astrid left the tent, the morning sun fully illuminated the camp, casting long shadows across the ground. She glanced toward the area where Lucas and Finn were talking, their youthful faces a stark contrast to the hardened soldiers around them. Lucas gestured animatedly about something, while Finn responded with a lighthearted laugh that managed to pierce the heavy atmosphere.
Her mind churned with thoughts of what lay ahead. She had a decision to make, and it wasn't one she would take lightly. For now, she resolved to observe Lucas more closely—to see if the spark he carried was truly a flame worth nurturing.