"Three... two... one... start!" Jamie's voice rang out across the clearing, sharp and clear, signaling the start of the trial.

For a heartbeat, the assembled crowd remained motionless, a palpable tension hanging heavy in the air. Uncertainty flickered across faces as each participant sized up the challenge before them. Then, breaking the stillness, a seasoned mercenary took a decisive step forward. Lowering himself to the ground until his face nearly touched the mud, he began to crawl.

Jamie watched as others followed suit. He and his companions ascended to the crest of the hill encircling the testing grounds, granting them a commanding view of the unfolding scene.

The first wave of candidates began their arduous advance, moving slowly as the mud fought to hold them back. Those clad in heavier armor found themselves at a severe disadvantage, the weight threatening to drag them down as the mud reached hungrily for their chins. Realizing the futility, some hastily began to shed pieces of their armor, casting breastplates and greaves aside to lighten their load.

Yet this choice posed its own peril. Without the shielding of armor, their backs and shoulders were vulnerable to the jagged barbs above. As they inched forward on hands and knees, many felt the sting of metal scraping against the flesh, leaving shallow cuts as unwelcome tokens of their progress.

The mud itself was treacherous. Participants slipped frequently, their hands losing grip as they slid face-first into the mire. Visions blurred as mud smeared into eyes and mouths, inducing coughs and sputters. Panic began to take hold for some, a claustrophobic dread born of the oppressive weight of the mud and the seemingly endless expanse ahead.

From his vantage point, Jamie observed every reaction with meticulous attention. His gaze was sharp and discerning, weighing the resolve of each participant. He nocked an arrow to his bow, the polished wood smooth under his fingertips. Taking aim high above the crowd, he released.

The arrow whistled through the air, arching gracefully before slicing down to pass meters above the struggling candidates. Though blunted, the arrows still carried enough weight to cause harm, but their true purpose was psychological, to instill a sense of urgency and a brush of fear.

"Fucking hell!" one participant exclaimed as the arrow hissed overhead, his voice edged with panic.

"This is impossible! Let me go back," another cried out, his words choked with desperation. Tears streaked through the mud on his face, uncertainty gripping him as he hesitated.

"Shut up and move forward!" a woman behind him snapped, frustration flaring in her eyes. Trapped by the narrow confines and the bodies around her, she saw no safe way to retreat, even if she wished to.

Jamie recognized several faces among the crowd. There were workers from the Lower Quarter; their clothes now caked with mud, determination etched onto their features. A few familiar street toughs, bandits he'd seen lurking in shadowed alleys, now stripped of their bravado as they grappled with the physical and mental demands of the trial.

Most striking, however, were the Academy students. Clad in simple tunics and breeches, they showed no hesitation. Some had been the first to plunge into the challenge, diving onto the muddy ground without a second thought. They advanced with a disciplined rhythm, their movements efficient despite the clinging mud.

However, the other half of the academy students remained behind, still contemplating whether it was truly worth doing. They stood at the edge of the testing grounds, eyes fixed on the grueling challenge unfolding before them.

"Nobles," Aldwin muttered under his breath, a hint of disdain coloring his words as he watched those who hesitated.

Yet it wasn't only nobles who lingered. Some mercenaries and even common folk from the Lower Quarter stood alongside them, observing the ordeal of those who had chosen to advance. The sight of participants struggling through the treacherous mire seemed to make them reconsider whether the effort was worth the potential reward.

"How many do you think there are? Around two hundred?" Thomas asked, his eyes fixed ahead, not bothering to glance at the crowd.

"More. Close to three hundred," Jamie replied, drawing another arrow and releasing it smoothly. The arrow arced gracefully over the participants before embedding itself harmlessly in the ground beyond. "It'll serve as an excellent filter for the next stage. But it's still too many."

"No problem," Thomas responded, understanding that it was time to initiate the second part of the test.

As the participants reached the midway point of the course, the toll of exhaustion began to manifest. The first signs of faltering appeared; some participants halted where they stood, muscles quivering with fatigue. Others began to raise their heads or arch their backs, seeking a brief respite from the relentless strain. A few even dared to push against the barbed wire overhead, hoping for a bit more space in the cramped confines.

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From his vantage point, Jamie observed keenly. He caught the subtle signal from Thomas to Camille. Without hesitation, Camille nocked an arrow, her movements swift and precise. She released it, and the arrow flew true, striking one of the participants in the knee.

A sharp cry echoed across the field as the man stumbled, clutching his injured leg. A crimson stain spread rapidly, and those near him recoiled in shock.

"My gods! He's bleeding!" one of the nearby participants shouted, eyes wide with horror.

Panic rippled through the ranks. All around, people began shouting in alarm, their determination wavering in the face of genuine injury. The sight of blood and the realization of potential harm sent a wave of fear coursing through the crowd.

Those who had not yet committed to the challenge needed no further discouragement. "No way. This is suicidal," some declared, stepping back from the starting line.

"The pay isn't worth all this," others muttered, shaking their heads as they turned away.

Gradually, the crowd began to thin. Individuals and small groups retreated, making their way back to the village or heading toward Hafenstadt. Even among those who had already started the course, many began to withdraw. Dozens who were at the beginning of the trial reversed course, while others in the midst of the challenge raised their voices in surrender.

"I give up!" they shouted, hands raised in a plea for mercy, eager to escape the arduous test.

Minutes passed, marked by a steady exodus of participants. One by one, they abandoned the trial, the initial enthusiasm giving way to practicality or fear. The testing grounds, once teeming with hopefuls, emptied swiftly.

Finally, after what felt like an age, the first participant emerged on the far side of the course, gasping for breath yet triumphant. By then, only about fifty determined souls remained on the field, persevering despite the obstacles and the diminishing numbers around them.

"From almost a thousand down to fifty," Camille remarked, her voice carrying a note of both astonishment and satisfaction. She stood alongside Jamie, surveying the weary yet determined faces of the remaining candidates. "Do we still have enough?"

"We do," Jamie replied confidently. His gaze was steady as he looked over the group, seeing not just the exhaustion but the resilience etched into their expressions. "Now we've weeded out the cowards and the faint of heart. You've all seen our plans. Do you really think it would be wise to include someone who balks at the first sign of danger in the kind of high-risk operations we've been doing?"

Camille considered his words, then nodded slowly. "You're right," she conceded.

Over the next thirty minutes, the remaining participants emerged one by one from the treacherous course, each dragging themselves across the finish line with sheer willpower. Faces smeared with grime, clothes torn and muddied, they fought against the last vestiges of fatigue to stand tall before their evaluators.

"Has Thomas taken care of the injured?" Jamie asked, turning to Aldwin.

"Yes," Aldwin confirmed, brushing a streak of mud from his cheek. "He's with the cleric now."

"Send my thanks to Rat," Jamie said with a slight smile.

"I'll be sure to let him know," Aldwin replied a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Rat was a vagabond and former thief whom Aldwin had known during his time with the Cutpurses. A cunning fellow, Rat would do just about anything for a pouch of silver coins, even volunteer to be part of a ruse that involved crawling through mud and taking an arrow to the knee. His staged injury had been a calculated move to test the candidates' mettle, and it had served its purpose well.

Jamie stepped forward to address the exhausted group. "Congratulations to all of you who remain," he announced, his voice carrying across the clearing. "You've demonstrated determination and grit. However, your day isn't over yet. We have another test ahead."

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Some exchanged wary glances, while others straightened, readying themselves for whatever came next. Those who had witnessed the previous trials seemed to steel themselves with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

They made their way back to the wide clearing where a sturdy wooden platform stood, framed by the towering trees that encircled the area. The late afternoon sun cast dappled light through the branches, painting patterns on the ground.

Jamie ascended the steps to the platform's center, his movements fluid and assured. Behind him, Thomas, Aldwin, and Camille took their seats in simple yet dignified chairs, their faces impassive as they observed the candidates before them.

"For this next stage," Jamie began, his gaze sweeping over the assemblage, "you will have to duel against us. It's quite straightforward: climb the steps, state whom you wish to challenge, and give it everything you have."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "Understand this. I'll be evaluating you based on your performance and the qualities we need within our ranks. Winning isn't the only way to advance. Show me what you're capable of; prove your skill, your creativity, your resolve."

A hush fell over the group.

"Who will be the first?" Jamie asked, his voice ringing out clearly.

For a moment, no one moved. The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring. Then, breaking the stillness, a young man stepped forward from the crowd.

He was striking, his hair a dark cascade of ebony that framed a face of sharp angles and intense eyes. His skin was the warm hue of burnished bronze, and though his blue and white robes were smeared with mud from the earlier trial, the delicate embroidery and quality of the fabric hinted at noble lineage.

In his right hand, he held a spear with a slender shaft and a gleaming steel tip.

Jamie's eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized the young man. He and Thomas exchanged a glance; it was one of the teens they had seen in the Academy, the one who had displayed proficiency in controlling lightning and thunder.

The young man climbed the stairs with measured strides, each step deliberate. As he reached the center of the platform, he turned to face the evaluators, his gaze settling firmly on Thomas.

He raised his spear, pointing it directly at Thomas. "I wish to challenge the [Farmer]," he declared, his voice clear and resolute.

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