On the way back to Ironhold, Lucen began teaching Milos how to use the arquebus. The boy had never held such a powerful weapon before. His eyes widened the first time it fired, the recoil nearly knocking him off his feet.
Even so, Milos gritted his teeth and trained with unwavering focus. He listened to every instruction Lucen gave, determined to prove himself.
Aside from these moments of practice, the march back to Ironhold was uneventful. No monsters. No ambushes. Just the crunch of boots on the road and the occasional sound of musket drills echoing through the trees.
It wasn't long before the landscape began to change. The white-capped trees thickened, the wind grew sharper, and the sky turned a colder shade of gray.
They had finally returned to North.
"It's only been a few days, but for some reason..." Harlik muttered, a small smirk on his lips as he looked up at the falling snow. "I missed this cold biting my skin."
