A Woman, a Duel, a Friendship

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the camp, Adam emerged from the Commander's tent. The conversation with Elara, though it felt like mere minutes, had stretched on until dusk settled upon the land. His mind buzzed with the weight of their exchange and fatigue.

Leaving the tent behind, Adam set off on the familiar path that led him to the Doctor's Quarters. The air grew cooler, carrying a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees. The camp was bathed in hues of orange and gold, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow over the bustling activity.

As he reached the entrance of the Doctor's Quarters, a voice boomed from within, demanding answers. "Who are you? And why are your hands bleeding and what happend to your face?" The doctor's stern tone echoed through the air, punctuated by curiosity and concern. Adam stepped forward, his voice calm yet tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he explained the situation.

"I am Adam, a newly enlisted recruit. The wounds on my hands were a result of training with a wooden sword same goes for my face," he responded, his words carrying a mix of determination and weariness. The doctor's eyes narrowed, studying him intently, as he remarked, "Ah, so you have to be the new toy of Elara, our esteemed Commander. Quite interesting."

With a nod, the doctor motioned for Adam to sit and tend to his wounds. The doctor's hands moved with precision and expertise, gently cleansing and bandaging the bleeding palms and caring for his face. Adam winced slightly, the sting of the antiseptic biting into his raw flesh. As the doctor continued his work, he offered a word of caution, "Don't overdo it again, recruit. You need to allow your hands to heal and your face too. Apply this cream once every two nights to aid in the process, understood?"

Adam nodded, absorbing the doctor's instructions, grateful for the care provided. His mind wandered back to the intense training session, the relentless swings of the wooden sword that had left his hands battered and bruised and the soldier who punched him. It was a stark reminder of the physical demands he would face on his journey as a soldier once again.

Once the doctor finished attending to his hands and his face, Adam rose from his seat, his gaze meeting the doctor's in gratitude. With a quiet "Thank you," he turned and made his way back to his tent. As he exited, the doctor shouted, "I think we'll get to know each other very well!" with laughter echoing in the air.

The camp buzzed with activity as soldiers prepared for their much-needed rest, their weary bodies seeking solace after a long day. The air was filled with the sounds of conversations and laughter, a mingling symphony that echoed through the night. As Adam approached his tent, he couldn't help but observe the scenes unfolding around him.

Prostitution, a dark undercurrent within the camp, cast its shadow over the restless souls. Adam's gaze shifted to a group of women, their enticing whispers and seductive glances attempting to lure weary soldiers into their embrace. Some soldiers drowned their sorrows in ale, seeking temporary solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. Others shared stories of valor and triumph, their voices rising above the clamor, fueling the dreams and aspirations of their comrades. And there were those who stared into the abyss of nothingness, their spirits diminished, their will to live hanging by a fragile thread.

Amidst this chaotic tapestry, Adam made his way to his tent, longing for a moment of respite. However, as he opened the tent flap, he was met with an unexpected sight. Another soldier occupied the neighboring bed, his presence accompanied by a sense of urgency. With a hasty and anxious tone, the soldier blurted out, "Get out now!"

Intrigued and not wanting to cause unnecessary attention, Adam swiftly complied. Stepping out of the tent, he couldn't help but overhear the commotion that ensued. Voices rose in heated argument, a man and a woman engaged in a volatile exchange. Seconds later, a woman stormed out of the tent, her disheveled appearance revealing a glimpse of her vulnerability. As she sprinted away, holding her shoes in hand, her clothing barely clung to her. The man, fueled by anger, directed his ire at Adam, his words laced with hostility. "Why did you enter the fucking tent? This is mine! Are you out of your mind? You will pay for her, you know, you fucking asshole!"

Adam's eyes locked with the man's, their gazes filled with a mix of recognition and curiosity. Adam took a deep breath, his voice steady and determined. "I'm the guy you rescued when I was practically half dead," he revealed. The man's expression shifted, a blend of surprise and disbelief crossing his features.

A momentary silence hung in the air as Adam's proposition lingered between them. "If you wish to settle this matter like men, we can face each other in a duel tomorrow morning," Adam stated firmly, his voice carrying a subtle challenge. The man's apprehension was palpable, his eyes darting nervously as he contemplated the idea. He quickly composed himself, straightening his shirt and regaining a semblance of composure.

Without uttering a word, the man retreated into his tent, leaving Adam standing there. The prospect of the upcoming duel ignited a fire within him, fueling his desire to prove himself and assert his place in this unfamiliar camp.

Adam entered the tent and settled himself on his bed, the weight of the day's events lingering in his thoughts. As he sat there, contemplating the upcoming duel, he was taken aback when the man approached him with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry for lashing out earlier," the man said, his voice filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to be such an ass. And to be honest, I really don't want a duel."

Adam regarded him with understanding, realizing that there was more to this man than initially met the eye. He could sense the genuine vulnerability and fear in the man's voice. With empathy in his eyes, Adam got up from his bed and moved closer, sitting down next to him. "No need to apologize," Adam reassured him. "We won't have a duel if you don't want it. After all we are on the same side i guess."

As the tension dissipated, Adam extended his hand towards the man. "My name is Adam, and I am a new recruit here," he introduced himself, offering a friendly smile. The man took a moment to collect himself before reciprocating the gesture. "I am Maximillian," he replied, his voice softening. "Just a regular men-at-arms, nothing more."

Their brief exchange of names created a small connection, a bridge of understanding between them. Adam could sense the weight lifted off Maximillian's shoulders, his fears momentarily put at ease. In that shared moment of vulnerability, they recognized each other as fellow comrades, navigating the challenges of this uncertain world.

Adam started to chuckled, his laughter filling the air of the tent. Maximillian looked up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Why are you laughing?" he inquired, curious about the reason behind Adam's laughter.

Adam, still grinning, replied playfully, "Did you really call a prostitute to our tent?" Maximillian's face turned beet red as he realized he had been caught. He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, maybe I did. So what? I needed to relieve some stress."

After that, Adam laughed harder and mockingly said, "Well, I guess it wasn't worth your money." To this, Maximilian answered, "It would have been if not for you."

Their laughter intertwined, a shared camaraderie and a moment of lightheartedness amid the challenges they faced as soldiers. The tension and seriousness of their earlier encounter melted away, replaced by a sense of kinship and understanding.

As they settled into their beds, their laughter subsided, leaving a warm atmosphere of friendship in the tent. They lay side by side, staring up at the tent's canvas.

As the night wore on, both men drifted into a peaceful slumber, their tired bodies seeking respite from the day's exertions. The rising sun painted streaks of golden light across the tent, gently nudging Adam awake. He quietly dressed himself, mindful not to disturb his tent partner, and set off towards the training grounds.

The camp awoke to a hushed tranquility, as if nature itself held its breath in reverence. Adam walked through the camp, his steps muffled by the soft earth beneath his feet. The serenade of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves accompanied him, creating a serene atmosphere reminiscent of a slumbering village rather than a bustling military encampment.

As he approached the training grounds, Adam's attention was immediately drawn to Elara, who stood amidst the practice drills. Her every move exuded elegance and authority, a testament to her role as a commander. Adam couldn't help but admire her form and skill in silent appreciation. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke in a subdued voice, careful not to disrupt the peaceful morning air. "Recruit Adam reports his readiness to serve the commander."

Elara turned her gaze towards Adam, acknowledging his presence. "Good," she responded with a nod. "Fetch me my cloth, I need to wipe away the sweat." Adam complied, his eyes briefly glancing at the noble and meticulously crafted sword resting in its sheath nearby. Even from a distance, he could sense its magnificence and balanced design, a weapon fit for a true warrior. A fleeting pang of envy tugged at his heart, though he quickly refocused on his task, retrieving the cloth and handing it to Elara.

With a swipe across her brow, Elara discarded the cloth into Adam's waiting hands. "Very well, Adam. Today, we shall begin by cleaning the training grounds before proceeding to my tent," she commanded. "I have letters to read and messages to draft for nobles and fellow commanders. In the evening, we will return to the training grounds to assess your skills. I want to see them myself. Start by tidying up, and I will go freshen myself up in the meantime."

"Yes, Commander," Adam replied, his voice laced with respect and determination. He set to work, diligently attending to the cleaning and maintenance of the training equipment, ensuring that the training dummy stood once again as a worthy adversary. Meanwhile, Elara made her way to her tent, where she would prepare herself for the tasks that lay ahead.

Adam's hands moved with purpose, his focus unwavering. As he polished the training sword and meticulously restored the training dummy to its former glory.

Time passed, and soon Elara returned, her presence radiating confidence and authority. "The training grounds look much better, Adam," she commended, her eyes scanning the results of his efforts. "Now, let us make our way to my tent. There is work to be done, and I shall guide you in the ways of correspondence and strategy."

As they made their way towards Elara's tent, Adam couldn't help but notice the transformation that had taken place in the camp. What was once a serene and peaceful atmosphere had given way to a bustling, energetic ambiance. Soldiers were now awake and engaged in various activities, creating a sense of dominance and purpose. Merchants moved through the camp, attempting to buy and sell war loot, while others diligently repaired weapons. The air was filled with voices, the clinking of armor, and the vibrant energy of a military encampment in full swing.

Entering Elara's tent, Elara took her seat in a commanding chair, her presence emanating authority. She directed Adam's attention to a drawer on the right side of the tent and instructed him, "Retrieve all the letters and find the one from Ser Ostfried Zangenberg. He has a boar with laurels as a seal."

Adam nodded, his gaze focused on the task at hand. Opening the drawer, he sifted through the letters, quickly noticing that there were not just one, but two letters from Ser Ostfried Zangenberg. Curiosity piqued, he looked up at Elara and informed her, "Commander, it appears that Ser Ostfried Zangenberg has sent two letters, not just one."

Elara's expression betrayed surprise at the news. "Very well," she responded, a hint of intrigue in her voice. "Hand me both of them, and then sort the remaining letters, distinguishing between those from commanders and those from ordinary nobles. Nobles possess their own seals, while regular Commanders use the royal seal."

"Understood, Commander," Adam replied, handing over the two letters from Ser Ostfried Zangenberg before turning his attention to the remaining correspondence. As Elara delved into reading the letters, the atmosphere in the tent seemed to shift subtly, tension and anticipation mingling in the air.

Carefully, Adam organized the remaining letters into separate piles, placing a paperweight on each to keep them in place. As he finished sorting, he turned around, only to find that Elara had departed from the tent without a word. Uncertain of what to do next, Adam contemplated his options. After a moment of consideration, he decided to remain in the tent and wait for Elara's return, not wanting to leave his post unattended.

Time passed, and Adam's mind began to wander as he stood there, a steadfast presence in the tent. Glancing around, his gaze fell upon the table where Elara had left both letters from Ser Ostfried Zangenberg. The temptation to satisfy his curiosity by reading the letters tugged at his conscience, but he knew that doing so could potentially cast him in the light of a spy. Resolute in his commitment to loyalty and trust, he maintained his position next to the drawer, surrounded by the sorted letters.

Minutes turned into an hour, and still, Elara had not returned. The tent remained silent, save for the gentle rustling of the canvas and the distant sounds of the camp outside. Adam's patience was tested as his mind wandered, contemplating the contents of the letters and the reason behind Elara's sudden departure. Yet, he remained steadfast, steadfast in his resolve to uphold the principles of honor and integrity.

As time continued to tick away, Adam's vigilance persisted, his unwavering loyalty and trust in Elara guiding his actions just as they did in his previous life. He understood that his commitment to duty sometimes meant waiting in uncertainty, but he was determined to stand by his commander's side, ready to fulfill any task assigned to him. And so, he stood there, his presence a symbol of unwavering loyalty, patiently waiting for Elara's return to the tent.

But soon, Elara returned to the tent, her presence commanding Adam's attention. She wasted no time, instructing him with a sense of urgency, "Help me pack. We will be moving at dawn. You have two hours. Once you've assisted me, go to your tent and help your tent mate." Adam's response was immediate, his voice filled with unwavering obedience, "Yes, Commander." He carefully placed the sorted letters into a sturdy box, ensuring they remained separate and intact.

As they packed, Adam couldn't help but inquire, curiosity brimming within him. "Commander, why are we moving?" he questioned, his tone filled with genuine concern. Elara's expression turned serious, her eyes fixed on the task at hand. "Ser Ostfried Zangenberg has been implicated in a plot against a powerful lord," she revealed, her voice laced with a hint of gravity. Adam's shock was palpable as he processed the information. "Will the Crown intervene? What is our purpose in all of this?" he asked, his words betraying a mix of disbelief and apprehension.

Elara's response was measured and composed, her words carrying an air of authority. "The Crown will not dare to make a move while I am present. However, if it were only Ser Ostfried, they would not hesitate. We have little time, as the letter detailing his actions is already two days old. If my assumption is correct, he should have already placed the lord's city under siege. Our intention is to support Ostfried, as he is one of my pawns in this intricate game of chess. Losing one piece can be the start of losing the entire game," she explained, her voice steady and resolute.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Adam's determination intensified. "Understood, Elara," he replied, his voice filled with conviction. With renewed focus, he hastened his pace, packing with precision and speed. Drawing upon the skills he had learned in his previous life, where every second counted, he maneuvered through the tasks at hand with practiced efficiency.

Before long, both Elara and Adam managed to pack the tent and its contents onto the waiting wagon. As they finished, Elara acknowledged Adam's readiness to depart. "I will dismiss myself to go to my tent, Commander," he blurted, his movements swift and purposeful. Elara's response was firm, emphasizing the importance of time, "Be fast," she called after him as he ran off.