Forged in Frost

Visions

Mordie, 16th of Viridis, 278 AN

I apologize for not writing during the past week, though to whom I'm apologizing other than my future self I do not know. I finally have some time, so I decided to write now while everyone is still asleep.

Ah, where do I begin? The past two months as part of this army have been grueling, yet transformative. Our days are a blur of sweat and pain, with nuggets of victory thrown in. I still picture that nod of approval from Caius when I dodged every pole in the Wheel of Death last week. And when I knocked Leo out in our combat training, that felt good too.

Our numbers keep increasing. Men from other holds are still dribbling in, and a large group from Tarreth joined last week, though I thought Tarreth would be neutral to the war. There is a feeling of secrecy about it all, so perhaps no one is to know about it. Anyway, I'm glad I joined with the first batch of recruits, since the newcomers have to sleep outside in the training yard.

I don't know what the leadership thinks about this. Since the incident on my second day, I've avoided Asher's study door at all costs. I've heard rumours of construction starting, but I'm not sure it would be prudent while we train. Who knows when combat will truly start? Millicent put that thought into my mind a few nights ago at supper.

I'd been chatting with the men. Leo had just told an amusing story about haggling for a pig up north. Millicent was collecting our plates, and, in her usual pragmatic tone, said:

"I wouldn't be as merry as you, with death on your doors any moment."

Timothy waved his hand and laughed. "Aw Millie, not any moment. We still have time."

"You sure?" Millicent was not laughing. "From what I'm hearing, the north started recruiting two months before we did. They could be storming our gates tonight!"

This definitely soured the mood. Millicent is always good at that. We ate in relative silence afterward. She is not wrong in her concern. It reminds me of when Caius talked about being serious about this war, at the bear feast in Prynveil. And there is a time for sobriety, certainly. But if we cannot have any moments of laughter, of merriment, of stupidity, then what is life to be? Are we to sink into the mire of reality for the sole sake of preparedness?

If I were to sink into the reality of my own past, I would fully unravel.

Caius and Asher happened to be at supper during that moment, and I suppose they took it seriously as well. Yesterday, Asher announced we'd make the first move. Soon, we'll be scouting the east edge of Blackmist Pond for any camps or forts Esterden may have set up. That should be happening in the next few days. I'm nervous for the chance to engage in real combat, with someone who actually wants to take my life, but this is what we've been training for. I just hope it's been enough.

If I live, I'll write again.

"Up and to it," Caius calls over the recruits, lazily getting off their beds.

Evelyn stuffs her journal and charcoal back into her chest, then slips on her upper armour. By now, her fingers go automatically to the right straps, and she tightens them in a few rapid motions. She pulls on her boots and braids her hair, which is in desperate need of a wash. But a proper wash means going all the way down to the river in the dead of night, alone. There are no tubs in the training centre, and all the other men wash at various times throughout the day or evening. Midnight is her only free time to be alone.

Evelyn trails after a line of men following Caius to the stairwell. The main room upstairs is full of men rising from blankets on the floor and yawning.