Qarat stood motionless inside the collapsed shack. The roof had fallen long ago due to the weight of piled up snow. Lost in his thoughts, he ignored the assault of the freezing snow.

After some time, Qarat sighed. A steam puffed out of his mouth. “Forget it. I’ll feel bad if I passed the test like that. If I can’t become a soldier or a farmer, I can still apply for the position of a builder. The Young Master said so before.”

After steeling his resolve, Qarat wrapped his body in a thin blanket, grabbed the pot, then went towards the Mansion.

On his way towards the place, he saw some of the aspiring soldiers carrying the pots in their hands. They held it as though it was something precious, as though their lives depended on it.

To Qarat’s dismay, he saw some of them with three Cal Shrubs growing on the pots.

All three of their seeds grew. Damn it.

He gnashed his teeth as he tried brushing off the bitterness in his heart. Upon arrival in the Mansion, they once again gathered in the hall.

The Young Master was already there, with the old butler at his side.

The young master counted their numbers then nodded afterwards. He said, “Good. It seems that everyone’s here. So, how was it? Did you enjoy my little test?”

The Lord was definitely young, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, but Qarat would sometimes wonder why his gaze was full and deep, as though it held wisdom borne from decades of living. It was a stark contrast to the Young Master he had met a few months ago. The playful and arrogant Lark Marcus had totally vanished.

The aspiring soldiers simply nodded at the Young Master’s remark.

After spreading his hands, Lark grinned, “Then, let’s start the assessment.”

The butler told everyone to fall in line, while the young master grabbed a large piece of parchment in his hand. The first in line was a tall man with bony cheeks. His face was full of confidence as he held the pot in his hands. Inside the pot, three Cal Shrubs grew.

The man did not even get to speak when the young master suddenly said, “Failed. Next.”

Upon hearing those words, Qarat was baffled. The man clearly had successfully grown three plants. So, why did he fail? It was the question that rattled his mind, and Qarat was sure that it was the same question currently going through everyone’s mind.

The man gulped down the lump in his throat, looked at the pot he was holding, then asked, “Young Master? What do you mean ‘failed’?”

The Young Master narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? I said you failed the test.”

“But! I have grown all three seeds! Look!” The man raised the pot so that the young master could see it clearly.

“That’s the point,” said the Young Master. “One of those seeds are defective, dead, unable to grow. You’ve grown three of them. You’ve clearly cheated.”

The man froze upon hearing this. Qarat noticed that those that grew three plants were restless. Slowly, hope rekindled within Qarat’s heart.

The Young Master said that one of those seeds was defective. Then maybe the reason why my other seeds didn’t grow… Qarat was soon filled with excitement. The job as a soldier might not be out of reach after all.

“Listen, what is the most important aspect of being a soldier?” said Lark. At this question, everyone turned silent. “Strength? Stamina? Wealth? No. It’s credibility. The rest are secondary. A soldier is not simply a killing machine, a creature meant to subdue another. A soldier is someone that ensures the safety of the sovereign. If the core is rotten, so will be the body.”

A surge of heat flowed through Qarat’s chest upon hearing that speech. He could feel his heart start to pound loudly.

The most important is not strength. It’s credibility. The rest are secondary.

Those words kept resounding within Qarat’s mind.

“We can train your body. We can train your skills. We can train your spirit,” said Lark. “But we cannot train character. That’s the purpose of this test.”

One after another, the aspiring soldiers were judged by the Young Master. Soon, it became Qarat’s turn. The hairs on his brown skin stood upon facing the Young Master. He was nervous. He simply wished he would pass.

Once I passed, I can eat meat every four days. That would be paradise.

To a commoner like him, meat was a luxury he could only dream of. Unless the hunter next door shared the prey he had caught, Qarat was unable to eat meat at all. Just imagining the free meat made him salivate.

“Name?” said Lark.

With a trembling voice, Qarat replied, “Q-Qarat,”

Lark looked at the pot Qarat was holding then at the parchment. He smiled, tapped Qarat’s shoulders then said, “You’ve passed. Congratulations.”

Hearing this, Qarat could barely suppress his happiness. He bowed his head and said, “Thank you, Young Master.”

The young master merely chuckled, “The training for soldiers will be harsh. Ready yourself.”

“Yes! I will do my best!”

After the assessment, out of the fifteen aspirants, only nine successfully passed the exam.

Lark clapped his hands. “I will skip the formalities. Starting today, we shall immediately begin your training.”