Fate

He instantly widened his eyes, his flattered disbelief plain on his face. After swallowing back a lump in his throat, he said excitedly, "Yes, my lord! You remember perfectly! You were the one who saved my life! For the rest of my days, I swear to devote myself unto death to Lord Karl! I will shed my final drop of blood for Carnford!"

His voice was loud and sincere, carrying the simplest form of a warrior's loyalty as it echoed across the silent training grounds, moving everyone present.

Karl nodded and forcefully patted Roderick's sturdy shoulder. Everything was conveyed without words.

This small interaction was not only a tremendous encouragement to Roderick personally; it also silently proclaimed to every soldier in the army that their lord remembered the efforts of every warrior and cherished the life of every soldier.

Roderick saluted once more. Only then, with his eyes slightly reddened, did he retreat steadily back into formation. The Spruce Wood Medal on his chest glittered brilliantly beneath the sunlight.

The medal ceremony continued, and a solemn yet fervent atmosphere filled the training ground.

Brendan stepped forward again and picked up another record of merit. His voice remained loud, but now carried a hint of emphasis regarding the special achievement:

"Peter! Third Battalion of the militia, Second Company, First Platoon soldier!"

A young man standing in the back row of the roll-call platform looked somewhat thin and dark-skinned, with the simple, honest air of a farmer. He suddenly froze, apparently failing to realize that he was being called.

Only when an old soldier beside him, who had also received recognition, lightly nudged him with an elbow and reminded him in a low voice did he come to his senses. Flustered and awkward, he almost stumbled out of formation with his arms