“Alright! Everyone off the fucking cart!”

A hoarse voice came from the lead driver of the carriages as he suddenly snapped the reigns of his horses, making them stop abruptly shaking those sitting inside. With Captain Orwell and the other Rangers stepping out of the carriage, Sergeant Randall’s boots slammed into the semi-muddy ground as he straitened his legs and readjusted his plate carrier.

The convoy had ended up in a forested area. Trees covered the horizon, yet muddy fields were occupied by what looked to be wooden prefabrications. While the knights and other soldiers of the kingdom moved throughout what looked to be a combat course to set up wooden targets with metal plates, the other worldly men stood in a half circle facing the green forest before the carriages.

Lieutenant Patterson chuckled to himself as he patted his hands together. “Fuck man. We’ve really ended up in another world. As far as I know, they aren’t any pine trees in Pakistan or the middle east.”

“You’re just now figuring it out?” Captain Thompson sneered.

A sudden voice came from afar drawing the men’s attention. Turning around what was a run of the mill soldier approached the seven with caution. The words he spoke were simple; “The course has been set-up, please report to Captain Orwell”. Considering that the soldier said the word ‘course’, it was obvious that the test would be an evaluation through training.

Regretfully the men complied. To Captain Thompson, Patterson, Richard and Malkovich, the ‘test’ organized by the kingdom was unnecessary and would be wasting time. Thompson was still furious about being summoned to this god-forsaken world, but the least he would admit was the benefit of not being shot at behind enemy lines.

The humid air made the men sweat as they collected themselves under an olive-drab tarp set up by Captain Orwell’s men. With annoyance Sergeant Randall recalled his time during the “Florida Phase” during Ranger School. He did not want to repeat crawling through a humid forest only to come across a snake nest. That was true hell.

“Ah the Holy Knights.” Captain Orwell chided, “It seems the mouth your Captain has put you in this situation, thus my men have set up an evaluation to see if you are worthy of such a title.”

Thompson cleared his throat and looked away slightly flustered. “I hope you men can fight.” Orwell continued, “I don’t need petty disputes between us soldiers, so if you can pass this test, we won’t question your methods and we’ll stay out of your way.”

Stepping up to the front, Sergeant Randall gained the attention of Orwell as he spoke, “What are the parameters of the test? It would be unfair if we go in blind.” He said firmly.

“Fair?” Orwell repeated with a snarl, “I remember you from earlier. Tell me, is war fair?”

“No.” Mike answered swiftly, “But for an evaluation, it would be best for an even playing field for the best results. What we are doing is not comparable to war. There is nothing that will truly prepare you for a fight, not even mock battles.”

Clapping his hands, the captain momentarily wiped his forehead before bringing out a map and unfolding it on the wooden table. “Twenty-three targets in the first section.” Orwell pointed at a single large building then traced the map to the forest next to it, “Forest navigation is next, followed by a general examination of all knowledge.” He looked up momentarily, “Though I suppose we can omit history, and have you all write a scroll about your worlds own history.”

The captain stood up straight as he rubbed his fingers over his small beard, “Five minutes till start. Dismissed.”

Grunts came from the Rangers as they began to pick up their gear and exit from under the cover of the olive-drab tarp. Just around the corner Princess Lecca appeared with a scroll in her left hand and a cup of tea in her right. Her face was weary as she sipped on her drink while overviewing the contents of the scroll she had brought with her.

Grumbling to himself, Captain Orwell sat in a nearby seat as he roughly adjusted the sling over his chest. Unlike many of the other knights, Orwell chose to have a sheath on his back rather than the waist. Most of his deployments had been to neighboring kingdoms, thus he had no need to present his blade in any hostile manner. Though it had cons to the nature of drawing his blade, he had become more than efficient in his fighting style, relying on a strong, unbreakable defense.

Princess Lecca looked at the older knight with a sift smile. He had served her well through her younger years and had almost acted as pseudo-father when her own was not available. She snickered to herself as she recalled a nickname she had given the man when she was no less than five-years old, “Unkie Orwall”. The name annoyed the hell out of Orwell, but he eventually grew tired of responding to it, thus he became complacent with the Princess’s rambunctious names that she once could come up with on the fly.

As she went to grab a second teacup next to her, several sudden-sharp sounding cracks erupted from the makeshift house no less than one-hundred meters away from the temporary camp. As her hand grabbed the cup, she suddenly lost her grip and the cup fell to the muddy ground, shattering on a small rock.

Captain Orwell sprung to his feet and withdrew his sword from the scabbard on his back. Princess Lecca looked in the direction of the sudden roar with confusion and fear in her eyes.

On the other side of the camp, knights and soldiers scrambled to the complex. Both Lecca and Orwell swiftly followed. Upon reaching the observation point, what they saw made them stop in their tracks. Alongside them, the knights and soldiers also stopped their frantic mobilization as they watched what was happening.

The Rangers burst through the door and began to engage all of the targets within the building. Lead flew downrange as Captain Thompson gave orders.

“Room left side! Short, controlled bursts!” He shouted over the gunfire.

“Left clear!”

“Right clear!”

“Bound to the doorway!” Lieutenant Patterson said taking his position behind PFC Green.

Swiftly moving with his rifle raised, Sergeant Malkovich pied the door. Upon seeing the slightest silver from the armor adorning the wooden targets, he quickly squeezed the trigger of his carbine and shot a combined total of four bullets. A small amount of gas escaped the suppressor on his weapon and some of it was pushed back through the bolt.

“Dead space left! Hook left!” Malkovich ordered.

“Hooking!” Green said as he stepped through the doorway with his weapon raised.

As the men entered the room one-by-one, gunfire once more erupted on what appeared to be more than ten armored targets within the same room. Randall criticized the training course in his mind, but kept his mouth shut as he too shot a target.

“Go! Go! Go!” Randall yelled while pushing Patterson’s shoulder lightly.

Everything they did was not by the books. This was no ordinary training event in the middle of Fort Benning. This was a test that would drain them of their already scarce resources. Instead of multiple bullets fired to confirm a kill, only one was allowed to speed up the process. Danger assessment and proper breaching techniques were skewed to fit this ‘drill’.

“Room clear!”

“Get out! 300 meters!” Thompson bellowed as he set his safety on his M-5 and opened the rotting, wooden door leading to the forest. “Fucking move it, Patterson!” He said while motioning his hand out the door.

“Run it! Get to the tree line!” Malkovich yelled as he was the first to break outside the kill-house.

“If I wanted to do PT like this!” Simon began as he quickened his breaths while holding onto all his gear, “I would’ve pursued my dream to join the Olympics!”

In a five-meter spread, the Rangers ran across the open field while the knights and soldiers from the kingdom observed them with wide eyes. Down below in the kill-house, Lecca and Orwell entered the building with several knights. Some of the knights made crude comments of how the Rangers conducted themselves, but Lecca remained silent with wide eyes as she traced her fingers over the puncture made in the metal plating on one of the targets.

Well into the forest the men slowed and eventually regrouped in a small defensive circle. Holding a compass in his hand, Captain Thompson gained his squadron’s bearing as he explained the second phase of the test. “Our bearing should be heading towards the northeast. There’s a camp where the proctors along with the Princess and Captain should be waiting at.” As he paused, he looked around at the green foliage that surrounded them. Due to it being in the early stages of fall, there were spots of oranges, browns, and yellows around the pine trees, as well as a blanket of dead leaves all over the grounds.

“Get me a file. Ten meter spread.” Thompson ordered as he put away his compass. “Sling your rifles, and double down on water.” He said.

Located on the far-right side of the formation of seven, Sergeant Randall took a quick drink from his camelback. His heart slowed during the walk. He was breathing unusually fast during the kill-house phase, and the sudden sprint 300 meters into the forest did not bode well for his lungs and feet.

Being stuck inside of a forest wasn’t the greatest idea. Being trapped in a world where the unknown was everywhere was a bad omen, but not knowing what food was edible proved to be a larger problem that plumaged his mind rather than any hostile flora or fauna that could be quickly dispatched with their firearms or other weaponry.

Keeping note of the word unknown, being stuck in a world without any map or solid and reliable manner of navigation, outside of the few compasses collectively held by the squadron, there was no way to navigate the forest. No landmarks. No rivers. No tree lines. The only constant was the seemingly never-ending forest filled of orange, red, yellow, and brown hues.

Thankfully the time of year proved beneficial, as sunlight broke through the tree canopy and scattered rays of light onto the ground. Thompson could only hope that the moon would do the same, yet he wasn’t familiar with this new world’s lunar cycle.

Taking note of the trees of this world, and their similarities to trees of earth such as evergreens and pines, Mike kept his mind busy as he stepped over small puddles of water and mud. All around him and the other six, beads and orbs of light slowly ascended into the canopy. Sergeant Malkovich, Green, and Richard all mentioned this as random intervals, yet no one held an answer to what the orbs were.

Patterson suggested the idea of it being some unknown pollen, yet this was quickly disputed as several orbs flew into a tree branch; the result of the collision was a small pool of water dropping from the branch making the men jump at the sudden crash.

“Cool it! It was just an orb of water!” Malkovich shouted as he attempted to relive the tension that was shared between the men.

“An orb!?” Richard parroted, “What if it’s magma or some shit next time?”

“How the fuck did you end up as a corporal?” Green said in a joking manner making Richard sigh out of frustration.

“Don’t ask me fuckhead.” The Corporal responded with a hiss.

A cough interrupted the two soldiers. Sergeant Randall looked over his shoulder to Lieutenant Patterson, who was quickly moving his gloved hand away from his mouth. He couldn’t help but look confused as Patterson attempted to play off the action, he made just a mere second ago by looking at the different colored orbs floating around the forest.

“Alright gentlemen, breaks over.” Captain Thompson said as he emerged from behind a rotten tree. “Just stay clear of the orbs, we still have another eight hundred meters before we call camp.”

Rising from their respective points of cover and concealment, the seven moved closer to the end goal of reaching the opposite camp.

Waiting above the tree canopy, a shadowy figure laid against an abnormally large branch. Even in the setting sun, they were nearly invisible amongst the floras. It acted as a natural an impenetrable camouflage from any unsuspecting victims on the ground.

The only obvious sign of their presence was the long brown cloak and tight-fitting black mask. This person was trained, yet they were daring as their feet just dangled off the side of the branch with only two axes attached to catch their fall.

Even with being high enough to touch the clouds, the crunching of dead leaves caused by the ignorant men below was still clearly audible. It wasn’t until the first crack of darkness did the shadow decide to move amongst the azure moonlight. Over the course of an hour did the shadow descend the tree.

The first and only sounds that the shadow ever made was the crunching of their boots against the dead leaves surrounding the tree, and the fatigued breaths they took after securing their weathered climbing gear in a worn satchel along the backside of the person’s waist.

Raising their arm, the shadow glanced at their right palm which held a powdery substance. Gently closing their fist, the shadow gently disformed into ash as the wind carried any sign of life away from the spot the shadow stood.

Publicly Available Information: Specialized Training:

Conducted by members of the military such as: Archers, Musketeers, Mages, and Mountaineers, specialized training from marksmanship to survival skills are trained on a large piece of land owned by the royal family just outside of the royal palace.

The training regimens require high endurance, special awareness, critical thinking, and problem-solving skills.