4

Avēte, Instructores!"

Like a scythe through wheat, a loud, elderly voice disrupts the quiet of the wagon, followed by quieter, inaudible sounds that may have been greetings in response. This appears to stir the majority of the adolescents from their restless slumber and rouses the unfortunate few who were unable to do so from their aimless gazing. As a result of your failure to fall asleep, you are one of them. A sensation of foreboding continually cautioned you not to fall asleep as it haunted you. You shouldn't, it repeatedly insisted. In the end, this meant that you were unable to get any rest and spent the majority of the time closing your eyes in a flimsy attempt at sleep.

You suddenly open your eyes and rub your temples for a brief moment. You must confess that the discomfort you are experiencing in some areas of your body as a result of your bruises is making it difficult for you to concentrate. Before you or your fellow young people can even begin to compose themselves, something heavy is heard being eased out of its hold. Then, when they are wrenched open, the reinforced wooden doors groan. They reveal a hefty, average-sized man wearing a wool tunic and a chestpiece fashioned in an unfamiliar way. It was thick and appeared to be constructed from linen that had been padded. In all likelihood robust enough to survive any type of violence you could commit.

He was intimidating despite his normal height, and this was particularly true toward a bunch of youths. Age had taken its toll on his face, and a portion of his brown beard was turning white. Although he had a pleasant countenance, all impressions of warmth were swiftly dispelled by the frown on his face. His voice matching his vibe as he spoke: "Out. Now. Until instructed otherwise, you remain in your group ", he declared with a firmness in his voice that left no room for debate. As would be expected, none of you chose to argue with a person like him; instead, you followed the instructions. As orderly as a motley collection of children could manage, you and the other children carefully make your way out of the cart.

You are greeted by an awe-inspiring sight: the interior of what appears to be an oversized camp surrounded by a wooden wall. Furthermore, your cart is not the only one but rather part of an entire column of carts. Some already having entered before yours and others still making their way inside. Upon closer inspection the camp appears to be merely an extension of a collection of stone buildings stationed further inwards. You can see the stone buildings stand defiantly among the countless tents and wooden constructions of the camp even from here. You are seldom the only group of youths gathered her, which is plainly evident by the countless other groups moving after their own guides to different areas of this section of the camp.

Speaking of which, your group starts to move to somewhere. Where? You do not know. After all, your group simply follows the elderly man, who ordered you out of the cart. Sadly, your group isn't quite as orderly as one would hope and the inevitable occurs: you collide with another group. This being said, it was quite unexpected and caught you by surprise. Just as you turn your gaze to inspect the other side of the camp you are met by a youth trying his best to make his way past you without actually bumping into you. You can't help but assume that he might plow right through you if he bumps into you, given his heavyset stature. His attempts are futile, unfortunately for you, as he has too little time to properly move out of the way. With mere seconds to react you...

Or well, you imagine it that way but things are often not the way we want them to be. While you do stand your ground, your sore body fiercely protests against your decision. The youth barely catches himself on the ground and stops himself from completely getting floored. You, however, do not fare better as pain shoots through your entire body and you have to hold back a gasp. Your legs wobble and it takes quite a bit to remain standing. Luckily for you, someone comes to your rescue and helps you remain standing. While a youth from the other group helps the fallen boy up just to quickly rejoin their group. You glance over to the person, who has helped you, and are greeted by a sly grin. Without even knowing how they look a name surfaces among your thoughts: Acacius.

In the name of Sol, the last person you expected to help you in a moment of weakness was Acacius. However, this feeling of appreciation is strangled in an instant as Acacius opens his mouth to speak. "Wow, you really took that bump like a champ! I mean, I've seen babies with more stability than that. But hey, at least you tried to stand your ground, right? I bet you could give a whole new meaning to the term 'fallen soldier'."

He smirks and then adds, "But hey, I'm sure it's not your fault. It's hard to resist the pull of the ground sometimes, indeed." Acacius gently nudges you with his elbow and offers his assistance, but asks for a favor in return. "I can lend you a hand, friend, but remember that you'll owe me one. How about treating me to a delicious meal? Few things are more satisfying than good food!" (cold)

Acacius smirks, giving a playful shake of his head. "Alright, big guy, alright," he says, releasing his grip on you with a flick of his wrist. Instantly, the weight of your bruised and sore body becomes too much to bear, and you buckle under the strain. Your legs wobble, and you find yourself dropping to one knee, gasping for breath. Acacius chuckles softly, not unkindly, as he watches you struggle to maintain your composure. "You really should learn to accept help when it's offered," he remarks casually, his mischievous glint still present. "There's no shame in it, you know. We all have our moments of weakness."

He extends a hand, not to mock you, but to genuinely offer assistance this time. "Here, let me help you up. It's not about owing anyone anything; it's about being there for each other when we need it." Despite his teasing nature, there's a hint of sincerity in his voice.

You hesitate for a moment before accepting his hand, feeling the genuine concern behind his actions. With Acacius's support, you manage to regain your footing, albeit a bit unsteadily. Your pride might have taken a small hit, but you recognize the truth in his words - sometimes, accepting help is a sign of strength, not weakness.