It had become winter. The frost had already set in and the area in the Karantian Forests had gotten a little powdered overnight. But only a tiny little. Two men could be seen fighting each other on this white surface. It was Wenzel and Ferenc, exchanging sword blows. Brahm was not present at the moment. He was out buying a few necessities at the market. He also had to attend a meeting with August and Theodor. When he had told Ferenc that he alone would be training with Wenzel today, he had simply replied: "No problem! We'll manage, boss." Yes, he always addressed Wenzel as "boss", as the latter had strongly suggested that he didn’t want to be addressed as "Chosen One".

  "Cling! Clang!" the swords rang out. Wenzel blocked a blow from the left, then one from the right. Ferenc gave him no chance to counterattack, as he instantly dodged backwards and attacked again. The boy put some distance between himself and his stubborn opponent. He took up the "Ochs" stance, telegraphing an attack from above that could be seen coming from a kilometre away. He then ran towards his opponent, who had positioned himself for a parry. Suddenly, however, the lad did something completely surprising. He pushed himself off the ground, flew headfirst over Ferenc and delivered a blow to his back! The cut had only damaged his thick robe and had not injured him. Nevertheless, the man flinched and was momentarily paralysed by this completely unexpected move from his pupil.

  "That's completely unfair, boss! We want to train swordplay here," he shouted. But then his bodyguard thought for a moment and said: "Actually, using these skills in a duel is a great idea, because no challenger would ever expect it. But I can't help you with how to use them 'properly'. Would you like to expand your combat training in this way, boss?" - "Sure!" replied Wenzel, full of vigour. "The idea only came to me recently, but I think it could be quite useful, if I learnt to combine armed close combat with magic." His sparring partner agreed with him. It wasn't until lunch that Brahm rejoined them. Sitting together over lunch, they discussed the matter and he also thought that the boy's idea was a good one. Excellent! The matter was settled.

  "But you will continue to work on your fundamentals, Wenzel," Brahm reminded him. "Of course!" he replied. Then they all ate what they usually had for lunch: a stew with all kinds of vegetables and a little meat. The boy couldn't actually look at that stuff anymore, but he forced himself to eat the same food as everyone else. He didn't want to be treated all that much better than the others. "We should be careful. It's so slippery today that even the horses are slipping around on the roads like on an ice rink!" Brahm made his quips in the same manner as always. Wenzel chuckled a little at this, but Ferenc always had to laugh at all the jokes his colleague told him, no matter how stupid they were. "He's easy to entertain," the boy thought to himself. But the joke his bodyguard had just made was justified. It was definitely quite frosty today and the snow made everything much more difficult. Smoke rose from the food in their bowls, that was only warm at this point, as they sat there.

  Wenzel would still have to work a lot on his magic powers, which he unfortunately practised very little compared to his martial arts and endurance and strength training. Apart from telekinesis, he had practised almost none of them anyway. This was because he was already very good at levitation and could hardly practise the other skills. Or perhaps he could? The boy had an idea. "Hey, Brahm, can I ask you something?" - "What is it?" - "Could I perhaps practise mind reading on you? I've only practised this skill very rarely or, to be precise, hardly at all. And I've hardly explored its possibilities, yet. " - "I'd rather you not." The petitioner immediately fell silent at this answer. Apparently, his friend didn't want Wenzel to see some things from his past that might embarrass him. The young man could understand that. After all, he hadn't told them absolutely everything about himself either. For example, the lad preferred to keep quiet about the incident with his brother, which was the real reason for his escape to the Martyrs' Brigades. Fortunately, Ferenc then immediately came forward and allowed Wenzel to read his thoughts...... when time permitted it.

  "Come on, Brahm! Tomorrow is my birthday! You have to give me a little time to do something else." The man's pupils widened and he asked: "Really? How old are you going to be, Wenzel?" - "Eighteen." A big smile came over Brahm's face. "So that's how old you are! I would have guessed you were much younger." - "Most people do." His bodyguard tilted his head slightly to one side and stroked his non-existent beard. "Then you're actually already an adult!" Wenzel hesitated briefly and then said: "Well, it depends how you look at it. I wouldn't say I'm completely independent yet. I still need you people." - "Nonsense! You'll always be dependent on others in some way. What I see in front of me is a young man with a lot of vigour who could definitely swim, if he was thrown into the metaphorical water."

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  Wenzel had improved massively in sporting terms over the last few months, but he was still insecure. He believed that his friend's claims were exaggerated and meant to encourage him. He still didn't have much self-confidence. After this long lunch break, today's training continued, but surprisingly ended earlier than usual. Brahm said he still had "something to do".

  The next day, the boy quickly found out what this "something" was. After getting up, his protectors both wished him a happy birthday and informed him that as an exception training would be cancelled today. The young man was not too surprised, as he had asked for it himself. But that wasn't the whole story. In the morning hours they would give Wenzel time to devote to the things he wanted, which of course would be mind reading. Then later, after midday, they would all three saddle their horses and ride to the nearest settlement. The next village, which was actually marked on maps and was not as secret as their camp, was Soldach.

  "And what do you want to do there?" the boy asked curiously. "We're just going on a little excursion, have a bit of fun and then come back. Nothing special." Wenzel was sceptical but, as always, said nothing. The two of them could see his doubts, however, so Ferenc responded: "Don't worry, boss! We'll be back in the night. Besides, the locals know us and sympathise with us. We often trade with them. They wouldn't betray us and on top of that, nobody knows who you are anyway. Nobody except the organisation and its allies have heard about the arrival of the new Chosen One. Sure, people are talking and there are rumours going around, but that's all they are. Just rumours." The "boss" huffed and puffed and eventually gave his consent.

  In truth, the lad was also interested in seeing more of Ordania, even if this village would probably not look very different from their headquarters, where he had now spent a long time. Wenzel didn’t really manage to improve his mind-reading skills that day. After the main meal, it was time to mount up. The three of them rode off. The lad was kept in the dark about the fact that Theodor was not there again today and that they had not informed August or anyone else that they had left their quarters. They reckoned that they wouldn't be gone that long and that nobody would notice their absence. Let's see....

  The trip took almost a whole hour before they reached the small wooden town sign labelled "Soldach". It was exactly what one would imagine a farming village to look like. Lots of stables and simple buildings, often made entirely of wood or at least the four outer walls of some of them were made of stone. Dirt roads everywhere. The smell of livestock and everything that went with it hung in the air. But here, too, there was a village centre in the direction of which they travelled. Each house had a small front garden planted with flowers and decorated with all sorts of odds and ends, such as garden gnomes or small pinwheels. Of course, a small local church wasn’t missing either. The longer they travelled through the village, the more Wenzel realised that it wasn't actually that small. He saw a number of people on the street. They were all wearing clothes that could at best be described as dirty rags. Wenzel had to force himself not to look at the people. The reason for this was not the visible poverty, but the physical health of the inhabitants. Far too many of them looked thin and some were so emaciated that you could see the bones through their skin and in their sunken faces. The boy had no idea how to react to something like this. This misery shocked him. He had already seen the poverty and suffering of the population on his way south and later on the move to the Karantian Forests. But back then it was only from a distance. Now these people were standing right next to him.

  They finally rode into the main square. There were a few craftsmen's shops and a tavern here. The latter was Brahm's final destination. "Ah, here we are," he announced as the trio got off their horses, led them to the watering trough and tied them up. "I should have guessed it," thought Wenzel. His friend wanted to go for a drink. What the boy didn't realise was, that there was a reason why he didn't just go drinking with him in the camp. The Martyrs’ Brigades produced as many things as possible themselves, so that they had to buy as little as possible from outside. This also applied to beer, which they brewed themselves. But Brahm didn't like the taste of their beer at all. And from his own position, he had deduced that of the others. Of course, they also had to think that their home-brewed beer was terrible. Wenzel never actually drank anything, but, well, ....here we were.