The trail narrowed into a shallow ridge. Trees crowded tight along the sides. The snow thinned out, broken in patches by old roots and black earth.
They walked without speaking for a while.
Ardan kept a steady pace. Measured. Efficient. The kind of walk that didn't burn energy, didn't wear down joints. Lindarion matched it without trouble.
His ribs ached on the uphill. He didn't show it.
[Greater Core Recovery: 17%]
He felt it more in the way his boots didn't drag anymore. His balance came back without thought.
Midday light filtered through the trees, flat and silver.
He spoke first.
"What were you before the court?"
Ardan looked over at him. Not surprised by the question.
"Military. Not high-ranking. Mostly attached to forward units."
"Fighter?"
"Support. Mana reinforcement. Supply coordination."
Lindarion thought about that.
'Practical. Not a battlefield showpiece.'
"You ever command?"
"No," Ardan said. "Didn't want it."
