The Exiled Duke's Lottery system

Chapter 213: Chapter 206: The Last Test

Before sunrise, the twenty-five remaining candidates passed through the northern gate and found five sealed crates waiting beside the road. Eight days of the assessment had taught them enough to distrust anything arranged neatly.

The crates were built with reinforced corners, iron bands, and carrying handles — though the resemblance between them ended there. One stretched nearly the full width of the road. Another was compact enough for four men to surround, yet when they tested its weight, all four quietly reconsidered their confidence. Warning marks covered the lid of a third. Something inside the fourth shifted every time it moved. The fifth looked completely ordinary, which made it immediately suspicious.

Cedric waited beside them with the morning orders tucked under one arm. The candidates formed five teams without prompting — fatigue had stripped away most unnecessary conversation, along with their appetite for questions that usually turned painful.

"Each team carries one crate to the northern watch post," Cedric said. "Every crate arrives with its seal intact. You will not open it, abandon it, or explain afterward that the mountain failed to cooperate."

One candidate glanced toward the dark ridgeline. Cedric followed his gaze. "The mountain has already been informed of your objections."

Malen moved between the crates, checked each seal, then turned to the formation. "A team that reaches the watch post alone has probably misunderstood the mission." That was the only warning they received.

The road climbed gradually through the forest, and for the first kilometre every team moved as though the others were competitors. The men carrying the longest crate pushed ahead whenever the trail widened. Those with the compact load refused help even as its weight dragged their shoulders lower with every step. The team responsible for the marked crate slowed on every slope. Another fought to hold its rhythm each time the contents of its crate shifted against one side.

They made good time until the road narrowed beneath a cliff.

A prepared hauling line climbed toward a narrow ledge, but the upper section had been cut away. The long-crate team had enough spare rope to repair it — but their load needed too many hands to control safely. The heavy-crate team had the strongest climbers — but most of their rope had already been used reinforcing the handles. The two leaders began arguing over who would go first.

"We reached the obstacle first."

"With the rope we need," the other replied.

"You should have brought more."

"You should have brought more men."

Candidate Nine stood beneath the long crate with one shoulder braced against its side. He looked between them. "You can continue this after the crate falls."

Neither answered.

He nodded toward the ledge. "Both teams send climbers up. We raise the long crate first and leave its rope anchored. Then everyone uses the same line for the heavy one."

"We lose time changing teams," the first leader said.

"We’re losing time right now."

Malen watched from higher on the trail without intervening. The leaders accepted the plan.

Climbers from both teams reached the ledge and secured the replacement line. The remaining candidates guided the long crate upward, using the lower ropes to keep it clear of the rock. Once it arrived, the rigging stayed in place and the heavy crate followed with both teams controlling its movement. The other loads came up by the same route.

By the time the last crate cleared the cliff, the original team boundaries had started to dissolve. Strong climbers moved ahead to prepare the next ascent. Candidates with steadier footing took positions beside the fragile load. Exhausted carriers rotated out before their hands failed.

Cedric watched the column reorganize from the rear. "They’ve discovered that twenty-five men can carry more than five groups of five."

Malen kept his eyes on the path. "They discovered it after trying the less intelligent arrangement."

"Failure remains efficient teacher."

"Yeah."

By midday the forest had thinned and the trail climbed across exposed rock. Wind swept along the slope, striking the crates hard enough to force carriers sideways whenever they failed to brace together. An instructor waited at the next bend with five folded orders, each containing the same command: *Replace your leader immediately.* The replacements had already been chosen.

Confusion rippled through the teams. One new leader began changing assignments without first learning why they’d been made. Another kept the existing formation even after two carriers admitted their grips were failing.

The candidate placed in charge of the marked crate handled it differently. "How long can each of you hold your current position?" The answers came without pride.

"Ten minutes."

"Five."

"My right hand is slipping."

He shifted that candidate away from the downhill side, replaced him with a fresh carrier, and shortened the rotation interval for everyone. "Call it before your grip fails. I need warning, not apologies." His team was moving again before the others had finished arguing over their new arrangements.

The shift spread through the column. Candidates began reporting numb fingers, weakening shoulders, and unstable footing before those problems could become dropped loads. The strongest men were no longer left carrying until they staggered — rotation happened while they could still move cleanly, and the whole formation gained ground.

"They finally understand that exhaustion is information," Cedric said.

"They understood earlier," Malen replied. "Pride stopped them from reporting it."

"An expensive delay."

"Most lessons involving pride are."

As the trail rose, the team carrying the longest crate reached a narrow turn and rushed it — trying to gain a few steps before the next gust hit. The rear corner struck the cliff with a metallic crack. Everyone stopped. An iron band had bent away from the timber, and the nearest handle shifted under pressure.

"We can continue," one candidate said. "The seal’s intact."

The leader looked at the climb still ahead. "Set it down."

"We’re already behind."

"We’ll be further behind when the handle tears free."

They lowered the crate and reinforced the damaged section with spare cord and a metal brace. Other teams passed while they worked. Two candidates from another team stayed to help, then rejoined their own loads once the repair was done. Less than half an hour later, that same handle absorbed most of the strain on the steepest ascent. Without the repair, the crate would have fallen.

By then, the separate teams had become little more than entries in Cedric’s record book. Climbers prepared every rope line. Candidates with good balance guided the fragile load through difficult turns. The strongest men moved between crates according to need, not assignment.

The northern watch post appeared shortly before sunset — a shelf of weathered stone overlooking the valley, its old signal mast broken across the roof. The candidates climbed the final slope without cheering. The crates had grown heavier with every kilometre, and seeing the destination only confirmed how far they still had to carry them. They entered the gate together.

Inside the main chamber, five mounting frames had been arranged around a central worktable, with assembly drawings resting beneath a weighted sheet of glass and a limited set of tools beside them. The candidates lowered the crates and broke the seals.

The compact crate held a mana-power unit in a shock-resistant frame. The longest contained several antenna sections. The one they’d kept level all day protected a relay crystal and delicate tuning controls. The remaining two carried the transmitter, receiver, amplifier, cables, and protective housing.

No crate contained a complete device. Each held only part of a long-range communication apparatus.

Candidate Nine studied the components, then looked toward Malen. "That’s why every crate had to arrive."

Malen said nothing. His silence had long since become answer enough.

The candidates turned to the instructions, and their original teams dissolved almost immediately. Those familiar with fittings began assembling the support frame. Candidates with steadier hands unpacked the relay crystal and tuning controls. The strongest carried antenna sections onto the roof while others sorted cables and tools so no one would waste time searching later.

The group that had carried the transmitter tried to take control of the assembly. "We have the main unit — everything else connects around us."

A candidate kneeling beside the power core looked up. "Without this, your main unit is a box."

Another lifted the relay housing. "Without this, it’s a box talking to the wall."

The transmitter team’s claim ended there.

The frame rose first, followed by the protective housing and power unit. Cables ran along the inner wall toward the upper floor while the antenna team repaired the old mounting base and raised the first mast section. When one candidate tried tightening the relay crystal’s housing before the alignment marks met, another stopped him immediately.

"It’s almost centred."

"Almost centred is still wrong."

They loosened it and started again.

Night was gathering outside when they attempted the first activation. A violent burst of interference filled the chamber. The operator cut the circuit at once.

"What failed?"

"Judging by that sound — everything."

They checked the system connection by connection. Two cables had been reversed where the transmitter joined the amplifier; the relay crystal sat several degrees out of alignment. Simple mistakes, made costly by exhaustion. They corrected both and activated the system again. This time, a weak signal crackled through the receiver.

Before they could tune it, a smoke pot crashed through the western window, rolled under a bench, and released a thick grey cloud through the chamber. Padded bolts followed, striking shutters, stone, and timber around the doorway.

The candidates moved before Malen or Cedric gave an order.

Two teams stayed with the communication apparatus — covering the power unit, securing exposed cables, continuing to raise the antenna. The remaining three moved outside and formed a perimeter. Forward pairs took positions among rocks and fallen timber. A second line held closer to the walls, ready to reinforce whichever approach came under pressure. Two runners moved between positions and the communication room, carrying updates in both directions.

The first assault came from the eastern slope. Instructors advanced through the smoke and fired padded bolts into the courtyard. The candidates returned controlled shots and held their ground. When the attackers withdrew, nobody chased them. The western approach came under pressure moments later — three candidates shifted to reinforce it while the eastern positions stayed occupied in case the retreat was a feint.

"They would have followed the first group yesterday," Cedric said.

Malen watched the runners carry reports around the perimeter. "Yesterday, they still measured success by how close they got to the enemy."

Inside, the antenna team raised the second mast section. A locking collar twisted before seating, leaving the upper section leaning toward the roof’s edge. One candidate climbed higher to correct it while the men below held tension on the support ropes. A padded bolt struck the wall and tore loose a newly fitted signal cable.

"Cable down!"

Two candidates moved to repair it. Another activated the transmitter before the amplifier had fully stabilized, and the mana-power unit surged hard enough to make the controls flare.

"Cut the power!"

The circuit went dark before permanent damage occurred. Nobody stopped to assign blame — they reset the controls and continued.

"Relay aligned."

"Receiver active."

"Power stable."

"Antenna nearly upright."

Outside, the instructors intensified. Smoke concealed the northern approach long enough for four of them to breach the outer line before being spotted. The nearest defenders gave ground in controlled steps, drawing the attackers into overlapping fields of fire instead of rushing forward to meet them. Candidates declared hit under the exercise rules withdrew from direct fighting but kept carrying messages and moving simulated ammunition where permitted. The perimeter contracted around the watch post. It did not break.

Inside, the communication teams made their first transmission attempt.

*"Watch Post North. Twenty-five personnel present. Apparatus assembled and operational. Hostile force surrounding position—"*

Interference swallowed the rest. The operator waited. Only static returned.

"We send again."

A runner reached the doorway. "The northern line has pulled back — they’re within sixty paces."

"Then we finish before they reach fifty."

They adjusted the relay and raised the antenna another fraction. One candidate read the required report aloud while the operator repeated it, making sure exhaustion didn’t cost them a critical detail.

Outside, the defenders now held two layers around the watch post. Two teams pressed close to the walls and protected the communication room. The others pushed outward where the ground allowed — striking from cover, falling back before the instructors could surround them. The attackers concentrated on the eastern approach. Candidate Eleven held a position near a broken section of wall when an instructor slipped between the forward pairs, struck him across the shoulder, then drove another padded blow into his ribs. Eleven stumbled but didn’t abandon the position to retaliate. A second candidate arrived from the inner line, and together they forced the instructor back through the breach.

Cedric made one mark in his record book.

Inside, the transmitter activated again.

*"Watch Post North. Twenty-five personnel present. Long-range communication apparatus operational. Hostile force surrounding position. Western approach blocked. Southern road suitable for movement. No critical injuries. Request confirmation."*

Static filled the receiver. The perimeter gave another few paces.

Then a voice cut through the interference: *"Watch Post North, message received. Hold position."*

The attack ended at once. Instructors lowered their padded weapons and stepped out from the rocks, trees, and drifting smoke. The candidates held their positions, watching, waiting for the next assault. Nobody relaxed until Malen walked through the perimeter.

"Lower your weapons."

The candidates gathered in the courtyard while the two communication teams remained near the apparatus, keeping the signal stable. Their uniforms were soaked, their hands shaking, several carrying fresh marks from the padded bolts. All twenty-five were inside the watch post.

Malen faced them.

"The mountain route tested whether you could keep operating when certainty disappeared. The attrition phase tested whether you could still think after sleep, comfort, and routine were stripped away." His gaze moved across the group. "This exercise tested whether you could stop behaving as separate teams and function as one unit."

Nobody spoke.

"You brought every component to this post. You reorganized when the original division became inefficient. You assembled unfamiliar equipment under pressure, formed a perimeter without abandoning the apparatus, and completed the required transmission."

Candidate Nine glanced toward Cedric’s closed record book. "Is the selection over?"

"Yes."

The answer felt too simple after everything that had preceded it.

"How many passed?"

"All twenty-five."

The courtyard stayed silent for several seconds. One candidate lowered himself against the wall as though his legs had finally received permission to stop. Another laughed once and covered his face with both hands. Several just stared at Malen, waiting for the condition they were sure was coming.

Cedric stepped forward. "You passed selection. That does not make you commandos." Whatever relief had surfaced became cautious again. "It means you’ve earned entry into the Knight Commando Programme. The training ahead will be longer, more specialized, and far less tolerant of avoidable mistakes."

A candidate near the communication room looked back at the completed apparatus. "What happens to the equipment?"

"It remains here," Cedric said. "You built something useful. We see no reason to dismantle it for your convenience."

"And us?"

"Transport will collect you."

"When?"

Cedric glanced toward the southern road. "When it arrives."

The candidates waited for the hidden exercise within the answer. None came.

Water and food were brought into the courtyard while the instructors collected the remaining smoke pots and training ammunition. The candidates settled against the walls and around the apparatus — too tired for celebration, too relieved to care.

The signal continued travelling from the repaired antenna toward Elarion.

At dawn, they had entered the mountains as five separate teams, each guarding its own crate, measuring progress against the others. By nightfall, they had carried one another’s loads, assembled one apparatus from scattered parts, and held the watch post as a single force.

When the transport finally appeared on the southern road, all twenty-five rose together.

None of them asked what waited after recovery.

They already knew.

*The Knight Commando Programme.*