France, December 20th 1803
7:48 AM
Lucius left his tent. As soon as he was out, he could feel the cold weather washing over his body, which made him shiver, and soon after, he sneezed.
The black-haired boy sniffled. "Damn it," he mumbled while rubbing his nose.
After stretching his body lazily, Lucius noticed both Luther and Johan doing something... considerably strange a few meters from him. It was as if they were slashing the wind with their swords.
Johan thrusted forward right before clicking his tongue. "Oh no, Luther! He dodged!" he said, with an overdramatic tone of voice.
Luther scoffed lightly. "Don't worry! He's withing my reach!" he said, apparently acting better than Johan.
And soon, Luther slashed his sword, making Johan cheer enthusiastically. "Great job, bro! You killed him!" he said.
"Well, we can say that I killed it," Luther replied.