At his command, Bertram and Camille stepped forward into the heart of the clearing. The area was a natural arena, surrounded by towering oak and ash trees whose branches intertwined overhead. The scent of earth and leaves filled the air.

  Jamie, Thomas, and Aldwin settled themselves on the soft grass at the edge of the clearing, their gazes fixed intently on the pair. A quiet hush fell over the group as the combatants prepared themselves.

  Bertram adjusted his grip on a sturdy wooden shield, lifting it close to his face so that only his determined eyes peered over the rim. In his other hand, he brandished a mace, a rough-hewn piece of wood capped with iron. His broad shoulders rose and fell with measured breaths, trying to quell the anxiety that buzzed within him.

  Across from him, Camille stood poised and unflinching. In each hand, she held a small crossbow. Her raven hair was pulled back into a tight braid, accentuating the sharp angles of her face and the piercing focus of her emerald eyes. Earlier, Jamie had meticulously inspected the bolts she intended to use. Their tips were blunt, safe enough to prevent lethal harm, though still capable of delivering a stinging blow that would bruise both flesh and ego.

  "Begin!" Thomas's voice resonated, signaling the start of the duel.

  Bertram hesitated briefly before stepping forward, his shield held firmly before him. His movements were cautious, each step deliberate as he attempted to close the distance without exposing himself.

  In stark contrast, Camille moved with feline agility. She darted to the left, her footsteps light and barely disturbing the grass beneath her. Circling Bertram, she sought an angle of attack, her eyes never leaving her opponent. There was a predatory grace in her movements.

  Bertram turned to keep her in his sights, but his heavier frame and slower reflexes betrayed him. Beads of sweat formed along his brow as he tried to anticipate her next move.

  Without warning, Camille raised both crossbows, the mechanisms clicking softly as she took aim. Bertram saw the motion and instinctively raised his shield higher, bracing himself. The first bolt struck with a resonant thud, embedding itself harmlessly in the wooden barrier. A flicker of relief crossed his face, a small smile hinting at newfound confidence.

  But Camille was not deterred. To the observers, it was clear her initial shot was a calculated move, a feint to draw his attention and keep his defense high.

  In a fluid motion, she sidestepped and fired the second bolt. It sailed beneath the edge of Bertram's shield, striking his thigh with a muted impact. A sharp sting radiated from the point of contact, and Bertram let out a grunt of surprise and pain. His grip faltered, the mace slipping from his fingers to thud against the ground. Instinctively, he clutched at his leg, and his guard momentarily dropped.

  Seizing the opportunity, Camille sprang forward with relentless speed. The world seemed to slow as she closed the distance, her focus narrowed on her target. Bertram's gaze was lowered, his attention consumed by the throbbing in his thigh. He never saw the strike coming.

  Camille drove her knee upward with precision, connecting squarely with Bertram's chin. The force snapped his head back, and his eyes rolled upwards as consciousness slipped away. His large frame teetered for a heartbeat before collapsing onto the grass with a dull thump.

  "That's enough," Jamie called out, rising to his feet. His tone was firm but not unkind. Thomas joined him, and together, they approached the fallen Bertram. Gently, they lifted him under the arms, careful not to aggravate any bruises, and carried him to the shade beneath a sprawling oak.

  Aldwin watched with wide eyes, equal parts awe and apprehension.

  Jamie glanced back at Camille. She stood calmly, already reloading her crossbows with practiced ease. There was no trace of triumph or malice on her face, only a calm professionalism that belied her youthful look.

  'Interesting,' Jamie mused silently. 'I know her class is [Witch], so she must possess spells, yet she doesn't fight like a typical caster.'

  Throughout the waning hours of the afternoon, the sun cast a golden glow over the training ground. Jamie stood at the edge of the clearing, his keen eyes following every movement of his recruits as they sparred and drilled. A leather-bound notebook rested in his hands, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze as he jotted down observations with a quill.

  The air was filled with the sounds of exertion, the clash of practice swords, the heavy footfalls of combatants maneuvering across the grass, and the occasional grunt of effort or muffled thud as someone hit the ground. Jamie's gaze was sharp, missing nothing, the slight hesitations, the sparks of ingenuity, the telltale signs of fatigue setting in.

  He turned his attention to Aldwin, who faced off against Thomas in a bout that crackled with intensity. The young half-elf moved with a mixture of confidence and raw energy, his strikes bold but sometimes reckless.

  'Aldwin is confident and determined,' Jamie noted, his quill scratching across the parchment. 'However, he is hot-headed. When he's winning, he maintains pressure effectively. But when he starts to lose, his decision-making falters. He becomes impulsive, making poor choices that could cost him dearly in a real fight.'

  Shifting his focus, Jamie observed Bertram dueling with Camille. The burly youth wielded his sword and shield with steady precision, his movements deliberate and measured.

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  'Bertram exhibits consistent performance,' Jamie wrote thoughtfully. 'He makes decisions coolly, avoiding unnecessary risks. Yet, his fear of overextending or exposing himself leads to missed opportunities. He hesitates to seize the moment, which could be the difference between victory and defeat. Camille has a blind eye; he never exploited that. Is it pity or fear?'

  Camille darted around Bertram with feline grace. There was a seasoned air about her, an ease born of experience beyond her apparent years.

  'Camille is experienced; she has clearly fought a lot,’ Jamie penned, glancing up intermittently. 'She capitalizes on openings and isn't afraid to make difficult decisions. However, none of her opponents have tried to exploit her blind spots, and interestingly, she hasn't utilized any magic during combat. Must consider why a Witch would refrain from spellcasting in battle.'

  As the shadows lengthened and the sun dipped toward the horizon, Jamie called an end to the day's training. The recruits collapsed onto the soft grass, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. Damp strands of hair clung to their foreheads, and their limbs felt like lead after hours of relentless drills.

  The tranquil moment was abruptly shattered.

  A shimmering ripple passed through the air above them, and an ethereal voice resonated in their minds:

  [The God of War finds this training interesting.]

  [The God of War liked your notes.]

  [You have received 100 Experience Points.]

  [Thomas, Aldwin, Bertram and Camille have received 100 Experience Points.]

  A stunned silence followed, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird.

  "What the hell!" Aldwin exclaimed, bolting upright. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared at an invisible point before him.

  Bertram and Camille sprang to their feet as well, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. Jamie observed them curiously, noticing the way their gazes fixed on something invisible, their expressions a mix of shock and bewilderment.

  "Did you all see that?" Aldwin demanded, turning to the others. "I've never gained so much experience at once!"

  Bertram ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "Neither have I," he admitted, awe creeping into his voice. "What just happened?"

  Jamie offered a knowing smile, closing his notebook with a soft thump. "Ah, one of the perks of being in my company," he explained casually. "As members of my group, you receive a copy of any experience I gain. In return, I receive a portion of the experience you earn."

  Bertram's eyes widened. "Wait. You received 100 Experience Points?" he asked incredulously.

  "That's right," Jamie confirmed, his gaze steady.

  Aldwin shook his head in disbelief. "But that's insane! A hundred points is... I've never heard of anyone getting that much at once. Maybe [Heroes] or high-ranking classes?"

  Thomas stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He watched the recruits with an air of amusement, recalling his own reactions upon first experiencing Jamie's unique blessing.

  Jamie chuckled softly. "As a Bard, my specialization allows me to enhance and 'buff' my companions," he elaborated, choosing his words carefully. "Think of it as a symbiotic relationship, we grow stronger together."

  Camille's composed demeanor faltered slightly, her brows knitting in surprise. "I've only ever received one or two points from defeating a goblin," she confessed, her voice tinged with a rare hint of uncertainty.

  "What can I say?" Jamie replied with a shrug. "Fortune seems to favor us."

  [Bertram has gained +5 Trust.]

  [Camille has gained +5 Trust.]

  [Aldwin has gained +5 Trust.]

  Aldwin blinked in surprise, his eyes widening at the unexpected message. He exchanged glances with Bertram and Camille, unable to suppress the smiles that tugged at the corners of their mouths. The shared recognition of earned trust warmed them, forging a deeper bond that transcended mere camaraderie.

  With the first day concluded, the trio began to understand what life in a mercenary company truly entailed. Their days settled into a rigorous routine: mornings and early afternoons were devoted to intense training under Jamie's watchful eye, while he spent his evenings tending to The Golden Fiddle. The initial thrill of rapid progress gave way to the steady grind of disciplined practice, each day honing their skills with unwavering focus.

  Two weeks flowed by like a swift-moving river. The grand ball drew ever nearer.

  Recognizing the need to take the next step, Jamie called the group together after a grueling session beneath the waning afternoon sun.

  Gathered beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, Jamie addressed them with solemn intent. "As it stands, we're a company only on parchment," he began, his gaze steady. "We lack the rights and recognition granted to official mercenary companies."

  Aldwin furrowed his brow, brushing a lock of sandy hair from his forehead. "What do we need to become a 'real' company?" he asked, curiosity and determination evident in his eyes.

  Jamie produced a rolled parchment from his satchel, its edges creased and sealed with a wax emblem. "We must undertake an expedition to eliminate monsters threatening the city's outskirts." He unrolled the document, revealing the details of their first assignment. "This is our initial contract. A band of goblins has been spotted in the southern woods, and it's our task to clear them out."

  Thomas, standing beside Jamie with arms crossed, offered a confident nod. "Shouldn't pose much of a challenge. It's a small forest; unlikely we'll encounter anything more formidable than goblins."

  Bertram shifted uneasily. "But won't the reward be minimal for such a simple task?" he questioned, concern flickering across his face.

  Jamie met his gaze reassuringly. "Don't worry about the pay. Our true objectives lie within the city walls, where our efforts will have a greater impact. Think of this mission as a training exercise." He paused, his eyes lingering on Bertram. "Especially for you."

  "Me?" Bertram echoed, surprise evident in his tone.

  Jamie nodded. "It will be your first time facing a real adversary. You'll need to overcome any hesitation about engaging a living foe."

  Aldwin placed a supportive hand on Bertram's shoulder.

  Bertram absently rubbed his chin, contemplation etched in his features. "I understand," he said quietly.

  Camille, who had been listening intently, spoke with her usual calm demeanor. "When do we depart?"

  "At dawn tomorrow," Jamie replied. "We'll meet here and head out."

  With the plan set, the group dispersed to make their preparations.

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