It was around the twelfth night since they had escaped Ashfang Village that the first major incident took place, as the events that unfolded that morning shook every child in the marching group to their very core while forever changing the way they viewed both the wilderness around them and the man leading them through it.
The morning itself was no different from any other that they had experienced in the wilderness, as aside from the faint crackling of the dying campfire and the occasional chirping of insects hidden deep within the surrounding forest, almost complete silence blanketed the clearing.
However, what followed that silence was not normal at all.
"Half the candle has burned away, it’s time for me to wake up...."
Garron muttered, as he woke up roughly half an hour before the children did and began preparing for his usual morning chores, when something unusual caught his attention.
One of the boys sleeping near the edge of the camp seemed... wrong.
His blanket had been kicked aside, foam had gathered around the corners of his mouth, while his fingers remained tightly clenched as though he had spent his final moments desperately struggling against something invisible.
"That boy looks dead."
Garron muttered, as watching him in such a sorry state, his expression immediately darkened.
Without wasting another second, he strode over before crouching beside the boy and placing two fingers against the side of his neck, as although the answer was already obvious from a single glance, years of experience compelled him to confirm it regardless.
"..."
Several long seconds passed, yet he could feel no pulse, as touching the cold of the boy’s skin, Garron eventually let out a deep sigh.
*Sigh*
"Dead like a dog..."
Garron muttered beneath his breath, as disappointment slowly crept across his otherwise emotionless face.
"That’s countless precious silver coins down the drain."
He added, as there was no anger in his voice, only quiet irritation over the needless waste of a child that he had invested time, medicine, and resources into cultivating.
"Probably died from ingesting the wrong sort of mushroom..."
He concluded, as the absence of any bite marks upon the boy’s body coupled with the dried foam around his mouth led him to believe that food poisoning could be the only cause.
At some point during yesterday’s march, the child had almost certainly picked up something from the wilderness that had appeared edible.
Then, sometime during the night... It had killed him, which was unfortunate, however, avoidable if only the night guards had been more vigilant.
"This cannot be allowed to slide without punishment."
Garron muttered, as he reached into his pack before retrieving an empty leather water pouch together with a small skinning knife, as after placing both items beside the corpse, he calmly lifted one of the boy’s arms and inspected the veins running beneath the skin.
Finding what he wanted, Garron positioned the pouch beneath the wrist before drawing the knife cleanly across one of the major veins.
*Slash*
Dark blood immediately began flowing into the leather container, as Garron patiently waited for the first sack to fill up, before replacing it with a second, as he filled both up to the brim before sealing them and cleaning the blade against the dead boy’s clothes.
As only then did he finally stand back up, and wait for the circus to begin.
—---------
Soon, the entire camp gradually began waking up roughly an hour before sunrise, as one after another, the children slowly emerged from their blankets while mentally preparing themselves for yet another grueling day of marching beneath Garron’s command.
However, it wasn’t long after the first few children had awakened that somebody finally noticed the lifeless body lying near the edge of the campsite, as a terrified scream immediately shattered the quiet morning silence and drew everyone’s attention toward the horrifying scene.
"H-He... he’s dead!"
One of the younger children cried, as within moments every pair of eyes in the camp turned toward the corpse, while those standing closest instinctively stumbled backwards in horror after recognizing the boy they had shared dinner with only the previous evening.
"What happened?"
"Was he attacked?"
"How...?"
Voices immediately erupted throughout the clearing, as confusion and panic rapidly spread among the children while many instinctively backed away from the body, uncertain whether some unseen danger was still lurking nearby.
However, while most onlookers were simply shocked and confused, the two children assigned to the previous night’s watch gradually found themselves turning pale, as although neither of them yet understood what had happened, an overwhelming sense of dread had already begun settling inside their chests the moment they looked into Garron’s fuming eyes.
"YOU TWO!"
Garron roared, as his voice exploded across the clearing with such force that every child instinctively flinched.
"WHAT I WANT TO KNOW..."
Garron demanded, while pointing directly at the corpse.
"IS WHAT THE HELL THE TWO OF YOU WERE DOING LAST NIGHT WHILE HE WAS DYING?"
Neither child managed to answer.
"You were assigned the night watch."
Garron continued, as every word left his mouth with barely restrained anger.
"Your duty wasn’t to stand around admiring the moon or warming yourselves beside the fire. It was to patrol this camp, check on everyone’s condition, and wake me the moment something looked wrong."
He said, as both children lowered their heads without daring to meet his eyes.
"HIS DEATH WAS NOT INSTANT!"
Garron suddenly shouted.
"The boy most likely picked up some poisonous mushroom or berry during yesterday’s march because he thought it was edible."
He explained, while clenching both fists tightly at his sides.
"He didn’t die the moment he swallowed it."
Garron continued.
"He died slowly."
His voice became colder.
"He would’ve struggled to breathe. He would’ve coughed. He would’ve convulsed. He would’ve shown signs that something was terribly wrong for a considerable amount of time."
Silence swallowed the camp.
"WE HAD TIME TO SAVE HIM!"
Garron roared.
"A full hour... perhaps even longer... if one of you had simply done the job I assigned you and woken me before it was too late."
He said, as the fury within his eyes made neither child dare utter a single excuse.
"So don’t stand there thinking this was unavoidable or just unfortunate."
Garron concluded, as disappointment gradually replaced his anger.
"This child’s death rests upon your negligence."
As those words settled over the clearing, every child instinctively looked toward the two young guards, as although neither of them had intended for anyone to die, the crushing weight of Garron’s accusation left both standing frozen in place while tears slowly began forming in their eyes.
"There’s no point in you crying now. Because actions come with consequences.
If I were you, I would not waste precious water in your body over tears, because you’re not going to get any water over the next twenty four hours."
Garron declared, as he pressed the two pouches full of the dead child’s blood into the hands of the two children.
"This is the blood of the deceased. And if I’m not wrong it should still contain some of the poison that killed him.
Ideally it should be harmless enough when ingested over a long period of time.
So if you space it out well and sip it one sip at a time throughout the day, you should make it to the night without dying.
However, that’s not a guarantee."
Garron began, as piss began to roll down the thigh of one of the kids who had been handed the pouch, while the other began to quake above his knees.
"The two of you will finish these pouches through today’s march.
Because unless you do, I’ll personally break your kneecaps and leave you to die in the wilderness.
And when I say finish, I mean you must swallow each and every last drop, because if you spit out even a single drop, I’ll still break your kneecaps and leave you for dead."
Garron warned, as his cruel punishment made the stomachs of all onlookers twist just thinking about it.
"Let’s hope the nights watch tonight do a better job at saving your lives than you did yesterday.
Because if not, you’re going to pass away in your sleep, just like him."
Garron concluded, as it was only then that the children truly began to understand the kind of man their instructor was.
Whenever someone was injured during training, exhausted themselves beyond their limits, or accidentally hurt themselves while marching, Garron was always the first to step forward with medicine and treatment, as despite his harsh methods, he never hesitated to help those who had genuinely fallen victim to misfortune.
However, when somebody neglected their responsibilities or disappointed him through carelessness, he could become far more terrifying than even the slave masters they had left behind.
As after watching the two children spend the entire day drinking from the canteens Garron had handed them, vomiting repeatedly before eventually collapsing that night and barely surviving after Garron treated them, every child in the camp came to understand just how seriously he regarded the duties he assigned.
From that day onward, nobody ever dared treat the night’s watch, or any other responsibility Garron entrusted to them, with the slightest hint of carelessness, because they all understood that failure would not simply earn them a scolding, but the full wrath of their instructor.