The morning started with an argument.
"Absolutely not," Roland said flatly, arms crossed as he faced Reinhardt across the breakfast table.
The lord had just proposed what he called "field training" – taking Elena into the forest for practical wilderness experience. He'd said it with the confident tone of someone presenting an obviously good idea.
Roland disagreed. Vehemently.
"Why not?" Reinhardt asked, his tone reasonable but firm. "She's progressed remarkably in controlled environments. But real situations are unpredictable. She needs experience outside the manor's safety."
"She needs to not get eaten by whatever's lurking in those woods," Roland retorted. "We've got, what, ten days before she leaves? Plenty we can do here without risking wildlife encounters."
Elena, sitting between them, looked from one to the other like watching a tennis match.
"I could handle—" she started.
"No," both men said simultaneously.
She slumped back in her chair.
Reinhardt leaned forward. "Roland, with respect, you can't keep her in a protective bubble. The academy won't coddle her. Neither will the world beyond it. Better she faces challenges now, with you there, than later when she's alone."
"Better she stays alive to reach the academy in the first place," Roland shot back. "Field training sounds great until something goes wrong. And things always go wrong."
"Then prepare for things to go wrong. Isn't that what you do? Debug problems before they become critical?"
Roland's eye twitched. The man had a point, damn him.
"This is different. In a workshop, worst case is a spell backfires and maybe burns a table. In the forest, worst case is—"
"Is what you'll be there to prevent," Reinhardt interrupted. "You faced down wyverns without breaking a sweat. You're telling me you can't handle forest wildlife?"
"I'm telling you I'd rather not have to."
They stared at each other across the table. Martha, refilling tea cups, made herself very small and quiet.
Finally, Elena spoke up, her voice careful but determined.
"I want to go."
Both men turned to her.
"I know it's dangerous," she continued quickly, before either could object. "But Father's right. I can't just... practice in safety forever. What's the point of learning magic if I'm too afraid to use it when things get real?"
Roland rubbed his face. "Kid, there's a difference between being afraid and being smart—"
"I know. But I need this." Her hands clenched in her lap. "When I go back to the academy, I'll be facing students who've had real training. Real experience. If all I have is controlled exercises in a training yard, I'll still be behind them."
"You won't be behind—"
"I will be," Elena insisted. "In confidence, if nothing else. Please, Roland-sensei. I need to know I can handle myself outside safe walls."
Roland looked at her determined expression, then at Reinhardt's expectant one, then up at the ceiling as if asking the universe why it hated him specifically.
"Fine," he said finally, the word tasting like defeat. "Fine. But we do this my way."
"Agreed," Reinhardt said immediately, clearly having expected to win this argument.
"And I mean my way," Roland emphasized. "No guards, no attendants, no 'just in case' backup plans. If we're doing field training, we do it properly."
Reinhardt frowned. "I was going to assign two guards—"
"No guards. They'll just get in the way, make noise, scare off the wildlife we might actually want to study. Besides—" Roland's expression went flat— "I'm scarier than anything in those woods. Trust me on that."
"Roland, I can't in good conscience send my daughter into the wilderness with no protection—"
"I'm the protection," Roland interrupted. "You wanted field training with real stakes? Then let me train her properly. No safety net. That's the whole point."
The two men locked gazes again. This time it was Reinhardt who broke first, sighing heavily.
"You're confident you can keep her safe?"
"I'm confident that if I can't keep her safe, your guards won't make a difference anyway."
It was not a reassuring statement, but it was apparently convincing enough.
"Very well," Reinhardt said. "But you'll take emergency signal flares. And you'll return within three days. Non-negotiable."
"Deal."
Elena looked between them, excitement and nervousness warring on her face.
"When do we leave?"
Roland drained his tea. "Tomorrow morning. Gives us today to prepare supplies. And gives me time to figure out what I've just agreed to."
The next morning arrived too early and too bright.
Roland stood in the manor courtyard, checking supplies with the methodical efficiency of someone who'd done this before – though "before" had involved different worlds and different stakes.
Bedrolls. Check. Cooking pot. Check. Flint and steel (even though they could make fire with magic, redundancy was smart). Check. Water skins. Dried food. Basic medical supplies. The emergency flares Reinhardt had insisted on.
Elena appeared with her own pack, stuffed so full it looked ready to burst.
Roland took one look and sighed. "What did you bring?"
"Clothes, spare robes, books, my notes, extra ink, spare boots, a blanket, my—"
"We're going for three days, not three months." He began pulling things out. "Clothes, yes. Spare robes, no. Books?" He held up a thick tome on magical theory. "Absolutely not."
"But what if I need to reference—"
"Then you don't know it well enough yet, which is what we're testing." He continued culling. "One change of clothes. One blanket. Your staff. That's it."
"That's barely anything!"
"That's the point. Light pack, mobile, able to move fast if needed." He repacked her bag properly, reducing it to a third of its original size. "Welcome to practical training."
Reinhardt emerged from the manor, looking like he'd barely slept.
"You're sure about this?" he asked for what Roland estimated was the fifth time that morning.
"No," Roland said honestly. "But we're doing it anyway."
The lord turned to his daughter. "Elena. Listen to your teacher. Don't take unnecessary risks. And for gods' sake, if he says run, you run. Understood?"
Elena nodded seriously. "Yes, Father."
Reinhardt pulled her into a brief hug – rare public affection that showed how worried he actually was.
"Three days," he said to Roland over her shoulder.
"Three days," Roland confirmed. "We'll be fine. Probably."
"That 'probably' is not reassuring."
"It's honest, though."
They set out before the sun was fully up, taking the eastern road out of the manor grounds. The forest lay about three hours' walk away – close enough for a day trip, far enough to feel isolated.
Elena chattered as they walked, nervous energy pouring out in words.
"Do you think we'll see any magical creatures? The books say the eastern forest has lesser sprites and sometimes forest wisps. Oh, and probably herb patches we could study. I read that [Water Purification] works better if you understand the natural filtration properties of—"
Roland grunted occasionally in response, conserving energy. His pack was heavier than hers despite looking smaller – he'd quietly added emergency supplies she didn't need to know about.
The landscape gradually shifted from cultivated farmland to wild growth. Trees grew denser, the road becoming a path, then just a suggestion of cleared ground.
"We're really doing this," Elena said, her chatter finally dying down as the forest loomed ahead. "We're really going into the wilderness."
"Having second thoughts?"
"No. Just... realizing how different this is from the training yard."
"Good. Awareness is the first survival skill."
They entered the forest properly around mid-morning. The temperature dropped immediately, sunlight fragmenting through the canopy into scattered patches. The air smelled of moss and old growth and things slowly rotting back into soil.
Elena moved closer to Roland unconsciously.
"How deep are we going?"
"Not too deep. There's a clearing near a stream about an hour in. Good water source, defensible position, enough open space for training without being completely exposed."
"You've been there before?"
"Scouted it yesterday."
She blinked. "You... when?"
"After you went to bed. Wanted to make sure I wasn't walking you into something stupid." He pushed aside a low-hanging branch. "Field training means preparation, not recklessness."
Elena looked at him with new appreciation – and slight guilt that he'd lost sleep on her behalf.
They walked in silence for a while, Elena's earlier nervousness replaced by focus. She was watching the forest now, really watching – noting the way light fell, where the undergrowth grew thickest, which areas looked traveled and which didn't.
"What am I looking for?" she asked quietly.
"Anything unusual. Broken branches at wrong angles. Tracks that don't match the local wildlife. Places where the ambient mana feels off." He paused, pointed. "Like there. See that patch of mushrooms?"
Elena looked where he indicated – a cluster of pale fungi growing in a perfect circle.
"Fairy ring?"
"Maybe. Or just mushrooms. Point is, in the wild, you don't assume. You observe, assess, then decide." He moved past the ring, giving it wide berth. "Also, don't step in fairy rings. Even if they're just mushrooms, better safe than cursed."
"Cursed?"
"Probably not. But 'probably' isn't certainty."
They continued deeper into the forest. Roland's casual attitude never quite hid his constant vigilance – his eyes never stopped moving, his mana sense extended in a subtle radius around them.
Elena tried to emulate it, sending out her own magical senses. But where his awareness felt effortless, hers required active concentration that gave her a headache after ten minutes.
"Don't force it," Roland said without looking back. "Mana sense is like peripheral vision. Try too hard and you lose it. Just... be aware. Let information come to you."
She tried to relax her focus, with limited success.
They reached the clearing around noon.
It was perfect – a roughly circular space maybe thirty meters across, with a stream running along one edge. The ground was relatively level, dotted with grass and wildflowers. Trees ringed the perimeter, providing shelter without crowding.
"Here," Roland declared, dropping his pack. "Home for the next three days."
Elena set down her own pack, looking around with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"It's functional," Roland corrected. "Beautiful is bonus." He began unpacking with practiced efficiency. "First lesson of wilderness training: make camp before you need camp. Setting up shelter when you're exhausted or in the dark is how people make fatal mistakes."
He walked her through the process: identifying the best spot for their bedrolls (slightly elevated, away from the stream in case of flooding, but close enough for water access), setting up a fire ring with stones from the stream (even though they could make fire magically, having a dedicated area prevented spread), establishing a "kitchen" area distinct from the sleeping area (don't mix food smells with where you sleep, attracts wildlife).
Elena helped, fumbling at first but learning quickly. Roland didn't do things for her – he explained, demonstrated once, then watched as she did it herself.
By the time they finished, the sun was past its peak. Their little camp looked surprisingly civilized – two bedrolls under a simple canvas shelter, a proper fire ring, supplies organized and accessible.
"Not bad," Roland said, which from him was high praise. "You learn fast when you're actually paying attention."
"Is that different from how I learned before?"
"Before, you were learning theory because you thought you had to. Now you're learning practice because you want to." He sat on a log, stretching. "Motivation matters."
Elena sat across from him, already pulling out her water skin.
"So what do we practice first?"
"Nothing. We rest. Camp's set up, we've got water, we're secure. Rest is part of training too."
"But—"
"Rest," Roland insisted. "You'll learn this the hard way eventually, but I'll try teaching you the easy way: conservation of energy. Don't exhaust yourself when you don't need to. Save strength for when you actually need it."
Elena clearly wanted to argue but forced herself to relax. She leaned back against her own log, looking up at the canopy.
"It's so quiet," she said after a moment.
"Is it?"
She listened. Bird calls. Wind through leaves. The stream's constant babble. Insects humming. Small rustlings in the undergrowth.
"I guess not quiet. Just... different quiet. No people."
"No people," Roland agreed. "That's the best kind of quiet."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Elena found herself actually relaxing, the nervous energy that had carried her through the morning finally settling.
Roland started preparing a simple meal – dried meat rehydrated in water, some foraged greens he'd identified as safe, and hard bread softened over the fire he'd started with a casual flick of mana.
"You cook?" Elena asked, surprised.
"I survive," Roland corrected. "Cooking implies caring about taste. This is just fuel."
But when he handed her the bowl, it was actually decent. Simple, but seasoned and edible.
"You're full of surprises," she said.
"I'm full of skills from a previous life I don't talk about. Different thing."
They ate as the afternoon bled into evening. The forest sounds shifted – day birds quieting, night insects growing louder. The temperature dropped noticeably.
Roland banked the fire properly, showed Elena how to maintain it at a safe level.
"Fire's your friend out here," he said. "Light, heat, cooking, signal if needed. But it's also dangerous. Too big and you announce your presence to everything in the forest. Too small and you lose its benefits. Balance."
"Like magic," Elena observed.
"Exactly like magic. Everything's about balance." He settled onto his bedroll, his staff within easy reach. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we start actual training."
"What kind of training?"
"Everything you think you know. Then we'll break it and rebuild it properly."
Elena lay down on her own bedroll, staring up at the darkening sky through gaps in the canopy. Stars were beginning to appear, more than she'd ever seen from the manor.
"Roland-sensei?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For agreeing to this. I know you didn't want to."
Roland was quiet for a long moment.
"Still don't want to," he said finally. "But you were right. You need this. So we're doing it."
"Still. Thank you."
"Go to sleep, kid. Tomorrow's going to be harder than today."
Elena closed her eyes, the unfamiliar sounds of the forest washing over her. She expected to stay awake for hours, too keyed up to rest.
But exhaustion from the day's travel and the emotional weight of stepping into genuine wilderness training pulled her under faster than she anticipated.
Her last conscious thought was that this felt real in a way nothing at the manor had. No safety net. No walls. No attendants ready to help if things went wrong.
Just her, her teacher, and the forest.
It was terrifying.
It was exhilarating.
And she couldn't wait to see what tomorrow brought.
Across the fire, Roland lay awake longer, his senses extended in a protective net around their camp. Nothing dangerous nearby – yet. But the forest was alive with things that could become dangerous if provoked or hungry enough.
He'd meant what he said to Reinhardt. He was scarier than anything in these woods.
But that didn't mean he could afford to be careless.
The girl was his responsibility now. Not just as a student, but as someone who'd trusted him enough to follow him into wilderness with nothing but his word that he'd keep her safe.
That trust felt heavier than any pack he'd ever carried.
"Don't die on me, kid," he muttered to the sleeping figure across the fire. "Would really ruin my teaching record."
Then he closed his own eyes, his awareness never quite shutting off, and let himself drift into the light, ready sleep of someone who'd learned long ago that complete rest was a luxury you couldn't afford when lives depended on you.
The forest breathed around them, ancient and indifferent to the two humans who'd entered its domain.
Tomorrow, the real training would begin.