14th Winter Moon, 907

A whole week had passed for the Woodlands in Fort Lucus, taking up their designated training under their mentors. Jason performed a routine check around the base to make note of everyone's progress. From the looks of things, everyone seemed to be getting along with their mentors, and there were hardly any complaints raised, save for issues raised by Wyatt and Avel, along with half of Pandora's course.

He got updates from the Greenwoods assigned to leadership roles. According to Shingo, his group appeared to be progressing nicely. Kenny, in particular, showed enthusiasm towards the heist assignment and already had something picked out that Shingo deemed worthy. Despite being the youngest member of the Foresters, Jason admired Kenny's determination.

One report he was keenly interested in was Fabrice's. Progress appeared to be moving slowly for his four (or rather three) charges. Klaus had been the least of his concerns, what with being the most levelheaded of the bunch in Jason's opinion. The twins, according to Fabrice, had an inkling of a cockamamie idea in mind too absurd to take seriously, yet they were adamant about going through with it. Jason made a mental note to carefully consider what rookies to stick with that group.

His interests namely lied with Melissa's progress, who seemed to be having a tough time with the assignment despite only being in Echo Bell for two days. It was a lot on the Buneary, he admitted, but he didn't make the assignments easy just to breeze on by. If she was dead set on becoming a Greenwood, she needed to put in the work. From Fabrice's report, however, it seemed likely Melissa wasn't going to come up with an idea within the week.

Jason stopped to the sound of wings flapping overhead. He looked up to an female Unfezant swooping down and landing behind him. She wore Forester-based poncho over her body and a blue vest underneath. She also wore a scope-like instrument over her right eye.

She saluted to Jason. "Greetings, sir! Brooklyn, reporting for duty!"

"Ah, Brook. What are you doing here?"

"I came to give a report straight from Jet regarding our current mission, sir."

Ah yes, the mission Jet was sent on. With the rookies and such busy with their training, Jason needed to continue routine searches regarding the other Wraith distributors. Under the condition Jason would be filling in for his duties, Jet was assigned to get intel on the other distributors as well as information on Last Autumn's modus operandi.

"Alright, what did you find?"

Brook saluted again. "We didn't find the distributors, but we did find a nest of criminals with the stuff. We made sure they were all destroyed after we apprehended them." She shuddered. "I don't even want to talk about what happened after they pissed Jet off. That poor, poor Rhydon will never walk again…"

"Did you find anything on what they were doing with the vials?"

"They were resilient. Should we have them brought in for questioning?"

Jason stroked his chin. "I don't want to make a repeated habit out of kidnapping and interrogating criminals. Besides, Shade's still testing the samples we got from the invasion, so we should come up with something soon."

"Has he made any progress?"

"All we know for certain is that it's a poison, but we don't know where it originated from or why Last Autumn's been so desperate to keep it hidden. It's definitely not a well-known poison. Unfortunately, we don't have the means to test it on a living creature. It'd be one thing if we found a victim, but using it ourselves would be crossing a line."

Brook nodded. "Understandable, sir."

"I suggest you rest up before heading back to Jet."

"Of course. Thank you, sir." Brook stretched her wings, then spun, creating a mini tornado around herself before taking off within the updraft. She flew off to another part of the base.

Jason crossed his arms and glared at the floor. "We haven't been targeted yet by Last Autumn. They know we're after them now. What's their next move?"

What does one do to become a Weald Ranger? To Wyatt and Avel, they believed learning the layout of the trees, learning to make traps, fighting to the bitter end against invading forces as Fort Lucus' first line of defense. They were meant to be the stronghold that kept the base running, safe, and protected. That was what they were promised when they decided to sign up as Weald Rangers.

Instead, here they were, sitting in a tree. Watching. Watching what, exactly? Altair never specified that part.

If it weren't obvious, Wyatt and Avel weren't exactly enjoying their training under Altair. Calling it trained seemed like a stretch given he hadn't taught them much beyond the perfect vantage points to sit and stare off in a singular direction for hours. Wyatt fell asleep several times while Avel barely attempted to keep his eyes open.

Their Cramorant companion sat idly in a tree, taking to his own lessons with heart, or complete vacancy. Hard to say, really. The brothers were certain he hadn't blinked once all day. It started to creep them out a bit. How can anyone remain that still and absent for so long? It's one thing to daydream or fall asleep, but Altair took it to absurd levels of dedication.

Wyatt finally voiced his frustration and rolled onto his back, letting his legs hang loose over the thick branch. "This is torture! How long do we have to wait until he actually teaches us something?!"

Avel huffed irritably. "Patience, Wyatt. Ursula and the others said we have to trust Altair's methods."

"He has been telling us to do the same thing all week: sit and stare! That's it!" Wyatt slapped his face and groaned. "Anyone else would've been cooler. Why did we have to get stuck with Altair?"

Avel looked up at the bird who sat one branch above them. "Sadly, I do have to agree with you. I don't want to assume anything bad about Altair. I'm sure he earned his position legitimately, but he's not a very good teacher."

Wyatt rolled onto his stomach and kicked his legs in the air. "So, what should we do?"

"We could ask Jason if any other mentors will accept us."

"More choices," Wyatt groaned. "That's the reason we're even in this group, because I took too long to make a decision." He glared up at the bird. "You sure he just wasn't given the position?"

"I doubt Jason is that generous."

"Well, I want to do all I can to help out, but not when I'm sitting around like a bum." Wyatt rolled onto his feet and dusted his clothes off. "Guess I'll just have pick a new group at random. Maybe we should take a look at Shade's course again. I think there were some spots available," Wyatt said as he picked Avel up and back onto his lily pad.

Avel nodded. "Very well. Shall we?" Wyatt nodded and started climbing the tree.

"HONK!"

Wyatt gasped and slipped off, landing back on the branch with a hard thud. He caught Avel in time before he fell out of his lily pad. "Ow…"

Altair descended down onto their branch and pecked Wyatt's head. "Hello?"

Wyatt lifted his head dizzily. "Yes?"

"…Who are you two again?"

The brothers snapped into irritated looks. "Wyatt and Avel!" they both yelled.

"Oh, right." Altair looked around absently. "Ah, we are in the forest."

Avel deadpanned. "Yes, yes we are."

"Very nice out today."

"I…suppose."

"Quiet." In an odd showing of expression, the bird's eyes narrowed into a tight squint. "Very quiet."

Wyatt blinked, then backed away slowly. "Well, you look like you have things covered. Say, Avel and I are going back to base to…check on something. We'll definitely be back, I swear."

Altair faced them and tilted his head. "Funny. The last batch of students I had said the same thing. They also said something else, though I don't quite remember. I have an inkling something about it sounded rude."

Wyatt whimpered, now feeling the guilt turning his legs into jelly. Avel sighed and stepped up for his brother. "Altair, can we be honest with you?"

"Eh?"

"I'm going to try to put this as nicely as possible, but Wyatt and I believe we're not gaining any benefit under your instruction. Frankly, you haven't really taught us anything about being a Weald Ranger."

Altair tilted his head. "Why would I know anything about that?"

Avel's eye twitched. "Because…you're a Weald Ranger?"

"I don't work with the traps or routine patrols."

Wyatt's eyes widened. "Wait, WHAT?!"

Altair nodded. "Nope. I am, what you would call, the alarm."

"The…alarm?" Avel repeated.

"The alarm."

"…" Avel inhaled deeply and asked, "What is it exactly that you do?"

"I keep an eye out for suspicious figures." Altair gazed up at the leaves. "…Huh. There used to be a leaf there."

"Huh? Where?" Wyatt asked.

"Right there. On that branch. There used to be seventeen leaves on that branch. Now there are sixteen."

Avel slapped himself with his tongue and groaned. "Wonderful observation, sir, but Wyatt and I want to transfer into a different course. This just isn't for us."

Altair blinked. "You don't like working with me?"

Wyatt whimpered. "W-Well, it's not like we hate you or anything, but…you haven't been clear about what we're supposed to be learning. All you've been telling us to do is stare off into space."

Altair blinked slowly, his eyelids out of sync, then looked around. After a moment, he pointed at himself. "You mean me?"

"Yes, you!" Avel yelled.

"Huh." Altair blinked again, then craned his neck in circles like a propeller. "Well, a small break wouldn't hurt."

Wyatt and Avel relaxed and looked at the Cramorant oddly. "A break?"

"A small one, yes. Sorry if I have not been a good teacher so far. As you can plainly see by my face, I'm very nervous."

"Uh…yeah, clear as day," Wyatt mumbled.

Avel narrowed his eyes. "What's this break for exactly?"

Altair gestured them forward, then hopped off the tree. Wyatt shrugged, grabbed hold of Avel, and jumped down. Altair fluttered to the ground while Wyatt slid down the tree. The brothers watched Altair pace in one big circle, leaving a trail of webbed footprints until they created a closed ring.

"Okay, lesson starts."

Avel raised his brow. "What lesson?"

"Wyatt, do you have a weapon?"

Wyatt pulled out his pole. "Yeah?"

"Great. Hit me as hard as you can with it."

"…" Now the brothers found themselves staring off into space. "…What?"

Ursula popped open a vial filled with a green liquid and passed it down to her pupils. "Today, I will be showing all of you some of the advanced techniques we use to misdirect anyone who comes to close to our base. This liquid is but a small sample of our main weapon."

Leon grasped the vial in his paws and glanced at it. "Is it safe to smell?"

"It shouldn't do any harm, but I wouldn't recommend it." Ursula crossed her arms. "As many of you know, we have a reputation for being completely untraceable in the Forbidden Forest. This is due the combined efforts of our lead alchemist, Shade, and local mystic, Basil. A shared union of expertise to create our most powerful agent."

A Scyther raised his claw. "Ms. Ursula, how is this stuff the ultimate weapon of misdirection?"

"In its liquid state, it's not very useful. However, when turned into a vapor, we can spread it through the air if anyone we don't know gets too close. This agent you all are holding distorts the senses. Very subtly, too. However, its effects are enhanced by implementation of archaic hypnotism."

Leon raised his brow. "Archaic hypnotism?"

"Specifically, traditional usage of hypnotism utilized by non-Psychics. Unlike the use of Hypnosis, traditional hypnotism can be used to put someone in a state of hyper focus. Basil happens to be a practitioner of this technique and knows how to use vapors like this in conjunction with it. With training, we're able to distort someone's perception and trick the senses, even those who can sense life force energy like a Lucario."

"Incredible!" a Slugma gasped. "And we get to learn that?"

Ursula shook her head. "Not today. If you wish to help with misdirection, I suggest taking lessons from Basil on hypnotism. This is only one of our main tricks. We have many different methods for camouflage and observation. That is why we will be playing a bit of a game today."

"Oooh," the rookies sounded. Leon just rolled his eyes.

"Something akin to hide-and-seek. You may have done something like this while training under Jet. Think of it as a more advanced game with our gear. We wear these uniforms to camouflage with the forest, but there are other ways to trip up invaders. For instance…" When the Toxicroak looked over her shoulder, she frowned. "Oh darn."

"What is it?" the Slugma asked.

Ursula slapped her forehead. "Ugh, I forgot I left the equipment with Tank the other day. I needed him to double check them for damage." She sighed and pointed at her students. "Does anyone want to run by and pick up the equipment?"

No one seemed terribly interested in being picked, looking away and whistling to themselves. Ursula waggled her finger through the group before hovering toward Leon. She considered not picking him, but remember how much Tank wanted to talk to him.

She recalled when she dropped off the equipment that he was a bit jealous Leon chose her course over the blacksmithing course. She was aware Leon had a history as a blacksmith, so it did surprise her, too. Heck, if someone actually caught Tank's attention, they must've been worth the complaining.

"Hmm…Leon."

Leon perked up. "Huh?"

"Run over to Tank's forge and pick up the equipment for me?"

Leon frowned. "The…forge? Where all the fire is?" He could've said no, but he wanted to show his potential as a Weald Ranger. No one else was volunteering, anyway, and he didn't want to waste Ursula's time. "I'll…I'll do it."

Ursula smiled. "Thanks a ton."

"Yeah, sure." Leon sighed, stretched his legs, and leaped away through the trees.

Leon kept his head down as he entered Fort Lucus. He practically had the route to the forge memorized. As long as he had a general idea of where he was, he could've navigated his way to the forge blindfolded. It said a lot about how much he swung by despite never actually entering.

He couldn't deny he longed to work as a blacksmith again. It had been a long time since he last crafted a sword or shield. Even though he was a Steel-Type, the fire never bothered him much back then. He felt a comfort from it.

At least, he used to feel comfortable around it. Now he couldn't go near an active flame without seizing up. He nearly gave up fighting Seismic Frank because of the fires that started. Sometimes, Leon had to swallow his fears down just to ask Blitz a question, always cautiously eyeing that lit tail.

He touched his half-mask and sighed. Sometimes he forgot he wore the darn thing. It became second nature to just put it on and go about his morning as per usual. Its cold touch reminded him too much of the accident. The raid on Boldvale. Its complete erasure off the maps.

Leon gritted his teeth. It's their fault I lost everything. The Talbots. They…they—

Something grabbed his hood and yanked him back. Leon gasped and stumbled back onto his rear. He panted softly, then looked up as the Smeargle he was looking for bent down to eye level. "Hey."

Leon blinked. "H…Hey."

"You know you almost walked off the ledge, right?"

Leon blinked again, then looked down. He was in the right area, right near Tank's forge, yet he nearly missed his destination for a less favorable route. He sighed through his nostrils and stood up. "Th-Thanks."

"Anytime." Tank stood up and patted down his overalls. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"

Leon frowned. "Training, training…oh. Uh, Ursula forgot to pick up the equipment for today's lesson."

Tank sighed. "Of course she did. I swear, that toad is either talking about how to chop things in half or forgetting she needs to eat." He shook his head and gestured Leon along. "Come on, I'll help you haul the equipment out."

"Is it a lot?" Leon asked as he followed Tank.

"Not much, but I wouldn't recommend carrying it through the trees. May have to make trips."

They arrived at Tank's hut and stepped inside. Leon hesitated a moment when the door open, feeling a blast of heat hit his face. His legs shook, telling him to retreat, but he kept firm and forced himself inside. He kept his eyes off the forge itself and focused on the weapons mounted on the wall. The usual, from shields to swords to daggers. Though, Leon noticed an abundance of hammers. Construction hammers, war hammers, oddly-shaped hammers, sledgehammers, and so on. Perhaps Tank had his particular taste in weaponry.

Speaking of the Smeargle, Tank threw some gear onto a trolley and rolled it out. "Camouflage armor, freshly mended traps, digging tools, etc. Should be everything."

Leon sighed. "Thank you."

"Eh, it's what I do." Tank rolled the trolley to the center of the hut, then rested his arms on it. "I imagine you're familiar with this kind of work. Always getting requests to fix broken equipment or make additions to the fort, usually at Pandora's request."

"You're the sole builder around this place, huh?" Leon guessed.

"Eh, there's a few who help out, but I'm considered the best around here. I've been building and crafting since I was a wee tyke. Heh, good times."

"You ran your own forge?"

"Family owned one, but pretty much. Just me and my sister. We were spry, young, and in better shape." Tank raised his gloved hand and flexed the bulky fingers. "Well, used to be in better shape, though I'd say I've improvised past my own setbacks."

Leon frowned and looked away glumly. "You said you lost your hand in a work-related accident."

"Yeah, something like that. Too gruesome to talk about." Tank glared at his hand. "I imagine you went through something similar. That's why you've been avoiding the blacksmith's hut."

Leon grunted beneath his throat, then approached the trolley. "Thanks for the equipment. I can wheel it back myself." He pressed his head against it and rolled it out of the hut.

"Hold it, Leon."

The Aron stopped and sighed to himself. "Yes?"

"Do you really want to become a Weald Ranger? Though you keep avoiding my hut, I know that look in your eyes whenever you pass by. It's something of longing. It's been a while since you last worked in the forge, hasn't it?"

Leon huffed. "What's it to you? Things change. I'm just not interested in that stuff anymore."

"I'd beg to differ. It's practically ingrained into your psyche." Tank crossed his arms. "It's a passion you can't escape from, but you keep running anyway."

"I'm not running from anything. I just don't want to go near any forges."

"Or fire in general." Leon's glare deepened. "You don't have to say anything. It's pretty obvious you're afraid of fire."

"…What gave that away?"

Tank shrugged. "I'm a blacksmith. I work with fire every day. I know the joys and fears like the back of my prosthetic." He flexed his glove's fingers. "You got to admire some of the science Pokémon these days can perform. I figured losing my hand would be the end of it all, but Grass-Types found a way to make me a working hand, even if it's not all that precise. The glove Pandora modified for me helps out."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because a detrimental injury isn't what's holding you back." Tank sighed. "Leon, I can't do much to temper your fear of flames, but I can see you still long to work with metal again."

Leon closed his eyes and scoffed. "I'm not interested in any of that. My mind's set on only one thing."

Tank glared. "I'm not sure I like the implications in that tone of yours. Need I remind you of the Foresters' Sacred Laws?"

"I'll deal with the consequences in my own time."

"Anything you do reflects poorly on us. Even if the region sees us as wicked crooks, there are those who look up to our noble actions. If everyone were to turn on us, it could be catastrophic on the future of the Foresters."

"I only joined the Foresters to satisfy my goals. If I ever reach them, I'll be sure it's anything but a Forester agenda."

Tank closed his eyes. "In other words, you want to conquer your fears, but you rather focus on what you desire most of all."

"Correct."

Tank scoffed, then grinned. "I see a lot of me in you, though I know we took different paths in the same direction." Tank leaned back against his workbench and sighed. "You aren't going to get very far as you are now."

"How so?"

"A purely defensive style is great and all, but you can't rely purely on Metal Burst to finish off your targets." Leon glared back at the Smeargle, who just shrugged. "I managed to wring some information out of Ragger. I offered to make a few things for him, and he gave me what I needed."

Leon sighed. "That alcoholic dragon, I swear…"

"I understand if you're not big on big, flashing attacks, so why not improve your counters? Many look at the shield as a defensive tool, but they fail to understand the advantages it offers in combat. If you want, I could give you some training tips on how to effectively counter even the strongest attacks."

Leon looked over his shoulder. "You're offering to train me?"

"I don't get to fight much. You'd be surprise what I'm capable of on the field." Tank smirked. "I was known as Battle Forge Tank when I first started out. I could've become a Greenwood, but I was complacent working within the hut, especially since I was the only competent blacksmith at the time."

Leon blinked, then turned away. "I don't know."

"It's your decision, by all means. You don't talk much to your teammates, so I figured you could relate better to someone who might understand you more."

"Hmph…"

Tank shrugged. "Just a suggestion." He turned away and picked up a hammer and tongs. As he walked up to the forge, he heard an audible gulp from Leon. "Yes?"

"…" Leon looked over his shoulder. "Are you free tonight?"

Tank blinked slowly, then smiled. "I have the time."

"Okay." With that, Leon pushed the trolley out of the hut and headed back for his group. He sighed under his breath. What am I doing? He looked back at the hut for a moment. I don't even know anymore.

To say Wyatt and Avel were lost was an understatement. Not lost as in they didn't know where they were, but the same kind of lost Altair seemed to find himself in every day whenever he started off into space. Only now, it seemed to be contagious, affecting the brothers and leaving them stunned by Altair's unusual request.

The Cramorant left them no time to think it over, having already gotten into position. Once again, he greeted them with that blank-eyed look that gave them the creeps. What went on in that bird's head? What does one think about so deeply that the passage of time is lost on them? Was Altair even thinking? He was breathing, but thinking? Who knows?

Wyatt shuffled up to the still Cramorant, hands clutched around his signature weapon. He used it before without thought, yet now stood in front of his mentor with skepticism and hesitance. Wyatt didn't want to assume Altair was…mentally challenged, but to knock him upside the head while zoned out? It seemed wrong.

Avel took to the request a bit more seriously. "Wyatt, stop hesitating and hit him."

Wyatt gulped. "I just…he can't be serious. Do I really have to hit him? I don't want to hurt him or anything."

"He's a Weald Ranger. He probably trained for stuff like this."

"I know, but still, this seems wrong."

Avel sighed. "This is the only bit of instruction we've gotten out of him. We might as well see to his request as told."

"What does he hope to accomplish from this, though?"

"All the more reason to hit him and find out."

Wyatt wiped his sweaty palm against his pants. "Hit him as hard as I can. That's what he said, right?"

"Yep."

"Ooookay."

Wyatt took a deep breath and held the pole over his head. It shook in his hands, stalling to commit the deed. Again, Altair just stood there, staring at them without blinking. It felt like hitting someone from behind. Rude and unfair. Even so, Wyatt pushed those feelings down and swung the pole down with a battle cry.

It stopped a few inches from striking the bird's face. One might think Altair deployed some trick to get the Lombre to stop his swing. In actuality, Wyatt hesitated.

"Wyatt!" Avel scolded.

Wyatt sniffled. "I'm sorry, I just can't do it! This feels so wrong!"

Avel rolled his eyes. Annoying, it was, but he sympathized with his brother. He was the more empathetic of the two, anyway. "Alright, let me take a crack at it." He grabbed the pole with his tongue. "Mind crouching so I can get a better swing in?" Wyatt sniffled, then knelt down so that Avel was in range. "Thank you."

Avel reared the pole back and took a moment to evaluate Altair's dopey face. Hardly a sign of life in his eyes. Paint him the right color and Altair could be mistake for a statue. Still, something about it seemed off. Why ask to do something so heinous if there wasn't a point to it? What kind of lesson was this? Did this have anything to do with being a Weald Ranger? Or did it have something to do with being Altair?

Regardless, without further delay, Avel swung into the Cramorant's head, torqueing his whole body into the swing. One solid crack across the skull!

It came a mere ten centimeters or so from connecting, but then the strangest thing happened. Altair's head moved in the same direction as the attack, matching its swing speed. Altair bent his neck all the way to the side and instantly dodged the swing.

Avel's eyes widened. "Wha—"

HONK!

Right before he knew it, Altair's head sprung forward like a cannonball and pecked him in the face. Avel soared off Wyatt's head and crashed into a tree trunk.

Wyatt blinked a couple times, then looked over his shoulder. After a second of processing, he gasped. "Avel?!"

Avel rolled himself upright and groaned. "What…just happened?" He glared at Altair, who looked as zoned out as before. "Wyatt, attack him!"

Wyatt spun back around, picking his pole off the ground, and raised it high. "Alright, now I'm getting into this! HAH!" He swung straight down.

Without moving his feet, Altair leaned all the way to the left. The pole grazed against his feathers and struck the top of his webbed feet. Wyatt heard a loud HONK before receiving the same treatment as Avel did: a retaliating peck to the side.

"AGH!" Wyatt didn't fly like Avel, but fell back onto his rear. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

Avel bounced over to his brother and glared at Altair. "What the heck? Look at him."

Altair's eyes kept their glassy, unfocused appearance. Had he even looked at them when he attacked?

"I don't get it. Is he pretending to be zoned out?" Avel wondered. "No, something about it doesn't look right. Maybe it's an enhanced move."

Wyatt picked himself up. "Well, the idea's to hit him, right? So, let's hit him!"

Avel flipped himself back onto his perch and nodded. "Wyatt, attack on my mark! Supersonic!" Avel released a piercing shriek at Avel to confuse him. "Run around him, then attack!"

Wyatt ran circles across Altair while Avel continued beating on him with Supersonic. Altair didn't seem to notice, only looking in the one direction without stumbling about. Seizing his chance, Wyatt kicked off the ground and launched himself towards the immobile bird.

Altair ducked under his swing.

"What?!" Wyatt and Altair gasped. They jumped back before Altair could peck them again.

"Okay, Plan B! Wyatt, run around him again! Ice Beam!" Avel shot the ground and, as Wyatt moved, created walls of ice around Altair. "We'll cut off his sight so he doesn't see us coming."

Wyatt grinned. "Good plan!"

"Use Bubblebeam to give us cover from above!"

Wyatt climbed up the ice walls and jumped into the air. He rained down Bubblebeam, completely obscuring their location. Wyatt bounced off the bubbles before they popped under his weight and landed inside the ice structure behind Altair.

Got you! Wyatt thrusted his pole at the back of the bird's neck.

HONK!

Wyatt pierced through a bubble he thought Altair was standing in front of, but the bird had vanished. His eyes flickered down, barely catching Altair spinning low to the ground on his feet with his neck scrunched up. Then, once more like a cannon, he pecked Wyatt's chest and threw him against the ice wall.

"Ow…" Wyatt groaned, collapsing to his knees.

Avel's eyes shook frenetically. What the heck is going on? He shouldn't have been able to see us. How's he keeping track of our movements?

The bubbles all popped. The sound snapped Altair out of his trance. "WAH! Where am I?!" He looked around, then back at the brothers. "Wait, who are—"

"OH, CAN IT WITH THAT!" Avel snapped.

"…Rude."

Wyatt pushed himself up against the ice wall and stood up. "Ow, ow. Mr. Altair, what was that just now? I thought we had the drop on you."

"Hmm?" Altair tilted his head for a moment, then gasped. "Oh yes, the break."

"Yes, the break," Avel grumbled bitterly. "You seemed completely unresponsive to anything we did. You didn't even notice us hitting you in the foot after you dodged."

Altair held up his foot and waggled his toes. "Ah. That's why they feel sore."

"What was that?" Wyatt asked.

"That was me sensing your intentions."

"…What?"

Altair nodded. "Yes."

"Sensing our intentions?" Avel parroted.

"Yes."

"…Are you jesting?"

Altair shook his head. "Nope."

"How?!"

Altair raised his wing. "My job as a Weald Ranger isn't to just protect the fort, but to all sense when danger is coming. When those come to strike down the innocent or the unprepared, one must learn to tell the difference. Each action is decisive. If you hesitate on anything, even for a moment, it could cost you your life. Even dodging can be a mistake unless necessary. So, I've learned to listen, see, and understand."

"Listen? See? Understand?" Wyatt repeated. "I'm not following."

Avel glared. "Unless…"

"Hmm? What's up, bro?" Wyatt asked.

"You didn't react at all when Wyatt first swung at you. He stopped, but you didn't flinch or retaliate. It's like you knew he wouldn't hit you. Or—"

"I felt the weight of his strike. I knew he wouldn't hit me, so I didn't need to waste energy dodging."

"How can you have that level of focus? And attention to detail?" Avel asked.

Altair closed his eyes and smiled. "Sitting and staring."

Their faces fell in disbelief. "Wait…this was a lesson about THAT?!"

Altair nodded. "Yep!" He turned away and crossed his wings. "Fort Lucus relies on me to spot out all possible threats at any time. The only other people who took a note or two from me were Ursula, Enora, and Marianne. Everyone else seems to avoid me for some reason."

Wyatt frowned. "Our other superiors…learned from you?"

Altair waved it off. "I only taught them a thing or two about what I know. I consider them the real defenders of this place. I'm perfectly happy spotting out the danger and playing my part when I'm needed. They said some nice stuff about me, too. Can't quite remember about what, though."

Avel narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying the foundation of the Weald Rangers was built in part because of your own guidance?"

"You could say I'm one of the originals," Altair said. "At least, I think I am." He shrugged. "Oh, what does it matter? I'd say I do a fine job keeping an eye on this place." He stretched his wings, then fluttered back up to the trees. "Anyway, breaks over! Back to staring!"

Wyatt and Avel, who rested in Wyatt's arms, looked at each other. "Did he seriously mean all that?" Wyatt asked.

"It's hard to believe, but…" Avel narrowed his eyes. "There's more going on in that bird's head than I anticipated."

"What kind of cockamamie, ego-stroking essay is this?!" Pandora barked as she reviewed the recently submitted tests. "I mean, seriously, you didn't even bother going into detail about how I will raze entire cities with my superior numbers! And you just kept using evil over and over again. Spice it up more! What about maniacal or wicked or—"

She yelped as someone knocked on her hut door. She shoved the papers aside and went over. She was greeted by Lucient, offering her his best smile. "Hello, Professor Day. I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Pandora rolled her eyes. "I could use a break from these insufferable tests."

"Oh? Were they bad?"

"The actual test? Half and half. The essays? Oh, those get my blood boiling. Yours, especially!"

"Mine?" Lucient asked as he closed the door behind him.

"I know your tactics, fancy boy! You just kept using big, complicated words to explain how evil I am. There was no passion or love put into it! Do you not have any frame of reference for the beauty of evil?!"

Lucient blinked twice. "Professor Day, I'm afraid you're the only person I know who's…obsessed with being evil."

"Obsessed?! I live to be evil! Mwuahahahahaha!" Pandora cackled, throwing her paws up in the air.

Lucient sighed. "How was my actual test, though?"

Pandora stopped laughing and huffed. "Honestly, you did the best out of everyone. Not that surprising, really." She crossed her forelegs. "So, what can I do for you today?"

Lucient sat on his haunches and set his bag aside. "I asked for private tutoring for my hard light constructs."

"Oh right, I forgot." Pandora huffed and walked back to her desk. "You've been doing those exercises like I asked, right?"

Lucient nodded. "I've been trying to replicate the blueprints you gave me to make a working device. I was able to make a working clock with my constructs with enough time, but I can't grasp the speed. All the parts and their positions are right there in my mind's eye, but throwing them together in a hurry is far from my capabilities."

"Have you tried assembling it all at once?"

"As I mentioned before, in a rush, I could overlook details. They are just hard light, but they could break if not summoned correctly. For instance, if I were to make a working cannon, I would need to make sure my hard light withstood the recoil, otherwise I risk firing psychic shrapnel everywhere. No one would want that."

"Speak for yourself. If anything, I'm writing that one down." Pandora quickly sketched something down before saying, "So, you can do it if in a calm situation where you can take your time, but putting an artificial time limit on yourself is the problem?"

Lucient nodded. "And that's just with the time I give myself. I'm much better having information at hand than thinking on the fly." He waved his paw and created swords, shields, and anvils. "Simple shapes and functions hardly require effort. Plus, I could do more than just create weapons. Perhaps a complicate device to support the battlefield."

"Like armor for allies?" Pandora guessed.

"That's within the realm of possibility for me, though I suppose sheer number would do me in."

Pandora crossed her forelegs. "Try building a cannon right now. A working one."

"You sure?"

"Just do it."

Lucient sighed, then closed his eyes. He raised his paws, took a deep breath, and lit up his gemstone. Teal light shined out. His Reflect and Psychic took effect, reshaping into various parts and mechanisms. Rather than a standard, archaic cannon, Lucient seemed to be going for one found in the Senbo Kingdom. No lit fuses required, just an explosive shell and an inner hammer to trigger the explosion.

And as stated, Lucient's process was meticulous. He assembled the pieces together one-by-one, taking up about five to ten minutes. Impressive for an ambush, but not in the heat of battle.

"Stop," Pandora ordered.

Lucient opened his eyes and dispelled the construct. "What?"

"I don't know how to help you with build speed. That's on you. However, since you leave yourself wide open while doing that, maybe we need to work on your awareness."

Lucient tilted his head. "My awareness?"

"You can make simple shapes on the fly, just as you said. So, what if we trained you how to construct these more complex structures while still moving? You can dodge, fight back, and multitask on the construction."

Lucient stroked his chin. "I am pretty good at multitasking, but I've never done something like this in the middle of a fight. I would have to focus on how to counter and read my opponent while putting together a complex structure all on top of my fight-or-flight instincts taking over half my judgment."

Pandora smirked. "And that's the beauty of my job: trial and error. Luckily for you, if I can turn Melissa into a somewhat decent Forester, I can teach you how to fight and think better."

"Hmm, I don't know."

"Look, you came to me, remember? If you're not going to do the project like everyone else, you'll need to do something under my instruction. And I say you're getting special combat training from me."

Lucient frowned. "I've heard the rumors from Melissa. Should I be concerned?"

"Oh honey…" Pandora smirked. "Very."

"…" Lucient exhaled through his nose. "Well, the price for progress, I suppose."

"We can get a head start in my underground lab later tonight if you want."

"I suppose that wouldn't hurt."

"Oh, you naïve boy." Pandora grinned. "By the way, what size jester costume to you wear?"

"What?"

"Oh nothing~! I'll just guess." Pandora skipped off to her desk.

Lucient blinked, then sighed irritably. "I wonder if it's too late to switch to the leadership course."

The Weald Rangers went about their training, taking the patrol routes around the forest or organizing the traps away from the base perimeter. The mentors focused most of their attention on training the amateur guards, but they would remain alert for any obvious signs of danger. An attack or an attempted break-in to the base would be dealt with swiftly.

Katsu didn't care for either option, though.

He kept watch of the Foresters closely, watching them go in and out of the trees like ghosts. With a little more time, he could deduce the whereabouts of their base. He wasn't familiar with the tactics they used to misdirect travelers, but he kept his distance. He didn't act, nor did he wait by passively. He simply waited and watched.

The Foresters have yet to notice his presence, and they never will. As he hung upside-down from the trees, watching the amateur guards go about their exercises, he considered his and his lady's chances of winning the bet.

Of the six participating members, seven if you count their mysterious Lucario friend, Katsu considered four of their opponents loud-mouthed, unsubtle nuisances who will either take an indirect, lazy approach such as waiting, or the direct, but painfully obvious route of hunting their prey. One shows weakness, the other shows impatience.

Katsu didn't care for the bet, but his lady did. Though Lady Regina herself would fall into the same category as their competition, Katsu would never breathe a word to her. His sole purpose was to assist Lady Regina by any means necessary. If she desired that reward money and the land deed, he would acquire it for her.

Katsu's eyes scanned the forest meticulously. By keeping an eye of their patrols and their routine patterns, I can determine the appropriate time to swing in and nab a Forester or two. I'd say five would be a safe snatch. In and out before anyone can find us.

Katsu laughed under his breath. Oh, but an astute individual would say I'd get caught even if I left the forest with my catch. I have no business dealing with the Foresters. If all comes to the worst, I'll be sure to pin everything on that odd benefactor of ours. He's the one pushing us towards the Foresters. Let him deal with the consequences, not I or my lady.

His eyes narrowed as the group he spied on moved on to a new location. The slow, methodical route shall win us this bet. Have patience, my lady. Katsu sprung off his branch and whizzed through the forest, hardly a rustle in his movement.

Save for a single leaf popping off. Oh, but it's the winter. Who would grow suspicious of a single leaf falling off its branch in the winter?