(Third-person perspective)
After weeks of intense military training, the soldiers were exhausted. The training focused on building their endurance, fostering teamwork, and teaching them to think effectively under relentless pressure. Aermir realized that a balance had to be struck between discipline and reward, so he decided to throw them a well-deserved feast. After two days of revelry and rest, training resumed, gradually intensifying as they honed their skills.
As Nightfall fell, the silvery moonlight bathed the military camp and the surrounding forest, making everything appear exceptionally clear. Aermir's soldiers stood ready in the solemn night, prepared for the upcoming simulated battle. A tense atmosphere hung in the air, as both sides understood the critical importance of this confrontation. The losing side would face twice the usual rigorous military training.
On one side, spymaster Caygan assumes the leadership role, directing the infiltrators tasked with the mission. On the other side, Ser Harrick, as commander of the defense force, stands on either side of his loyal soldiers. However, the brightness of the moon is an obstacle; Caygan and his infiltrators need a moonless night, a shroud of darkness, to conceal their operations.
Caygan gathered his soldiers around him and gave a low but firm briefing on the situation. His voice carried the weight of the mission and the importance of secrecy.
"Remember, our objective is to strike swiftly and silently. Our mission is to eliminate the enemy commander, dismantle their siege fortifications, and weaken their supplies. Surprise is our greatest advantage, but we only have one chance; timing is everything."
Under the moon's gaze, the infiltrators melted into the Nightfall, their actions a testament to the stealth they had honed through rigorous training. Every step they took was a controlled and subtle ballet, their communication a matter of gestures and knowing nods, ensuring their every move was concealed in complete silence.
As the days passed, the infiltrators became Ghost of the night, gathering invaluable intelligence on the enemy's schedules, weaknesses, and surveillance patterns. Among the information they gleaned, a crucial weakness surfaced—a fatal flaw that would lead them to breach the enemy's formidable defenses. They had three weeks to infiltrate, or Harick's team would win; time was of the essence, and all they needed was a moonless night.
That night, they planned their attack. Ravenger Guard moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Caygan, their helmsman, was an expert on the terrain and possessed impeccable navigation skills, moving silently through the dense undergrowth. Navigating the maze of paths and the darkness, they advanced toward their objective. The camp was surrounded by wooden walls and torches.
Caygan divided his team into three distinct groups, each tasked with a specific mission crucial to the success of the covert operation. One group was responsible for dismantling siege facilities, another for disrupting enemy supply lines, Caygan's group had only one mission: to eliminate Harrick.
The infiltrators launched their attack in perfect unison, each movement meticulously planned for maximum effect. However, when they converged on their designated point of attack, they found no weakness awaiting them. Harick stood there imposing, fully armored, wielding a wooden spear. Aermir's decision was wise, as ordinary wooden weapons in Harick's hands could have resulted in accidental death. Essentially, Harick was brandishing a boxing baton, ready to defend his post at any moment.
Although the secret mission to paralyze the siege facilities and disrupt enemy supplies was successfully completed, the infiltrators encountered fierce resistance. Inside the tent, a fierce battle unfolded as Caygan and his team confronted the fearsome Iron Giants, Harrick. Caygan used all his strength and determination, but despite their best efforts, they could not subdue the indomitable Harrick.
The fierce battle continued, and Aermir roared at his soldiers, his voice filled with anger and disappointment.
"Stop!!" This is incredibly disappointing. Caygan, you successfully infiltrated and destroyed two targets, but you abandoned the third. You had to abandon one target to win this battle, but your arrogance led to the deaths of all your men. Don't we need these men? Did I train them just to be disposed of after a battle? You forgot your responsibility to your men. If you had chosen to attack two targets, at least 70% of them could have escaped.
Caygan lowered his head in shame, heavy with the weight of his defeat. He had not only failed his lord, but also his comrades, who had paid the price for his mistake. Aermir then turned his gaze to Harrick, his voice still tinged with dejection.
" Harrick, your camp is well-managed, but what's your weakness? If you have at least ten men standing in the tent, you'll win. You're no longer a frontline soldier; you can't fight alone!"
This statement hangs heavily in the air, emphasizing the seriousness of making mistakes during training.
In the heart of the North, the Temple of the Old Gods stands majestically amidst a lush forest, and Aermir is determined to protect this sacred place from anyone who might covet its power. Using his arcane knowledge and Druid traditions, he devises an intricate mist ritual that shrouds the forest in mystery and danger, transforming the area around the temple into a mystical and vibrant sanctuary.
On the night of the full moon, bathed in silvery light, Aermir began the first mist ritual. His voice, filled with ancient incantations, pierced the tranquil night. As soon as he finished speaking, mysterious Fog began to rise from the forest floor, tendrils swirling and dancing on the slender trunks of young trees. Under the influence of Aermir's powerful magic, this once familiar forest was now shrouded in an ethereal, mystical aura. This transformation served as a powerful deterrent to any outsider who wished to trespass into the sacred temple grounds.
After the initial ritual, Aermir repeated the misting ritual three more times, each time aiming at a red heart. After the mysterious ritual was completed, he carefully buried the focal points of the ritual deep in the embrace of the forest soil.
Now, visitors to the temple can only travel along the stone-paved path, and if they stray from the designated route, they will face a curious spell. The mysterious power inherent in the mist will have an effect, causing hallucinations and a deep sense of disorientation, ultimately forcing intruders to retreat from the depths of the forest.
However, once pilgrims successfully pierce the eerie atmosphere shrouded in mist, they enter a ethereal and vibrant world—a land seemingly touched by the gods. Many agree with this interpretation, seeing it as ample proof of the Old Gods ' vigilant protection and benevolent favor towards the temple.
Under Aermir's pioneering methods, the Moat Cailin gradually regained its vitality, and the region flourished anew, with residents celebrating their improved fortunes. However, sustaining this development required more financial resources. Driven by this need, Aermir delved into his past life, searching for simple inventive ideas to provide much-needed financial support.
During his high school years, he often regarded the knowledge gained in home economics and craft classes as trivial matters. However, now, these once-neglected lessons seem incredibly valuable. Although he couldn't recall the complex process of making soap, this information seamlessly returned to his mind when he used the " Identification " spell. He memorized every step and everything needed to make various types of soap.
The process of making basic soap was very simple. Aermir mixed natural oils with lye (a substance extracted from coal ash). The resulting soap not only improved the hygiene standards of the residents of Moat Cailin, but also gradually became a valuable trade commodity.
Recognizing the potential of this emerging industry, Aermir built a workshop dedicated to soap production and recruited 20 loyal followers. The workshop was under the constant protection of the Citadel guards, and no one was allowed to enter its interior. News of the high-quality soap quickly spread, attracting merchants from neighboring countries who vied to buy this precious product. Their demand further boosted the Citadel's wealth.