The Supply Chain yard was a different world entirely.
No training grounds, no weapon racks, no obstacle courses. Just crates. Stacks of them, arranged in rows that stretched across the yard like the streets of a small city. Tarps were spread for sorting. A small forge glowed in one corner, its embers banked for the morning. The air smelled of grain, leather, dried meat, and metal.
Cian arrived on the nineteenth day of his cross-training, his legs still carrying the ache of Skirmisher footwork, his mind still turning over the principles of shaping Kael. The supply yard was a relief. Here, the lessons would be practical. Measurable. Useful.
Ilyra was already there, standing beside a table where a sergeant was laying out maps and ration scales. She looked up as he approached, her expression neutral, but something in her posture eased.
"You came," she said.
"I said I would."
She gestured to the table. "Then let's get to work."
Sergeant Hale was a broad woman with a face that had seen too many supply shortages. Her hands were calloused, her uniform worn soft at the elbows, her patch marking her as Supply Chain, her collar as Senior Vanguard. She did not introduce herself. She simply began.
"Supply Chain keeps armies alive," she said. Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "If you can't eat, you can't fight. If you can't move, you can't fight. If you can't repair, you can't fight."
She pointed to the crates behind her. "First lesson: know what you have, where it is, and how long it lasts."
Days 19-21 – Counting and Planning
The first three days were spent in the yard, learning to read ledgers as Cian had learned to read terrain.
Hale gave them scenarios: a unit of twelve soldiers, three days' travel, limited pack space. What do they carry? Cian's answer was precise. He accounted for terrain—forest, limited water sources—and the season. He calculated rations, water, spare blades, medical supplies. He left room for contingency.
Ilyra worked beside him, her fingers moving over the scales with practiced ease. She added refinements he had not considered: distribute weight based on soldier strength and role. A scout needs less food, more water. A blade fighter needs more rations, less water. The difference is small, but it compounds.
Hale watched them work, her expression unreadable. When they finished, she nodded once. "You'd survive. That's the point."
Days 22-24 – Fieldcraft and Foraging
The yard was too small for the next lessons. Hale led them into the forest, where the light filtered through the canopy and the ground was soft with fallen leaves.
Cian's terrain reading served him well. He spotted a seep where water collected between rocks, identified edible roots by the shape of their leaves, noted the direction of deer trails by the broken branches and pressed earth.
Ilyra showed him what the forest provided beyond food. Bark that could be boiled for medicine. Pine resin for sealing wounds and waterproofing. Certain mosses that grew only where water was clean.
Hale tested them: find enough food for a squad of six for two days, using only what the forest provides. Cian located a patch of edible roots, a stand of berry bushes, a seep with clean water. Ilyra added mushrooms, edible leaves, and the resin she had noted earlier.
When they returned, Hale looked at what they had gathered. "You read ground like a scout," she said to Cian. "That's useful here too. The forest provides, if you know where to look."
Day 25 – Route Planning and Movement
Hale spread a map across the table. A supply convoy needed to reach a forward camp through contested ground. The terrain was forest, broken by a river and a low ridge. The enemy was not present on the map, but their patrols were implied.
Cian traced the route with his finger. He avoided open ground, used forest cover, planned rest stops near water. He calculated the convoy's speed, the weight of the supplies, the time needed to cross the river.
Ilyra worked beside him, her voice low. "What if the bridge is out? What if a patrol delays you?"
He adjusted. A secondary route through the streambed. An extra day's rations. A contingency for ambush.
Hale observed. When they finished, she said: "You think like a quartermaster. That'll keep people alive."
Day 26 – Repair and Maintenance
The forge was lit, the tools laid out. Cian learned to sharpen a blade without ruining the edge, to patch a tent so the seam held, to replace a broken wheel spoke so the wagon would roll.
He was not skilled. His hands moved slowly, carefully. But his patience served him. He worked until the edge was clean, the patch was tight, the spoke was seated.
Ilyra was faster, more practiced. She had spent weeks maintaining her unit's gear during the campaign. She showed him the efficient way—the angle of the whetstone, the fold of the canvas, the set of the spoke.
"You'll never be a craftsman," she said. "But you'll know when something is worth saving."
Day 27 – Final Exercise
The last day. Hale gave them a complex scenario: a unit has been forced to retreat, leaving behind its supplies. They must survive three days until reinforcements arrive. They have only what they can gather or salvage.
Cian worked with Ilyra to plan. He identified likely foraging locations, water sources, defensible camps. She calculated the rations, the work needed to gather, the distribution of labor.
They argued over one point—whether to risk crossing open ground for a cache they had seen earlier. Cian said no; the risk outweighed the reward. Ilyra agreed after a moment, her trust in his terrain reading clear.
When they presented their plan, Hale listened without interruption. Then: "You'd survive. That's the point."
The rotation ended as the sun began to set. Cian helped Ilyra stack the last crates, the yard quiet around them.
"You're different from the campaign," she said. "More settled."
"I've had time to think."
She studied him. "You were the one who found the blind route. You burned their supplies. You made us surrender without a fight." She paused. "You'll make a good officer someday."
"I'm just trying to pass the exam."
She almost smiled. "That too."
Cian returned to the barracks that evening and opened his journal. He wrote his final observations: supply calculations, foraging notes, route planning, repair techniques.
Then he turned back through the pages. Skirmishers: footwork, terrain reading at speed, the importance of trusting instinct. Focus Casters: shaping, not forcing, control through mind, the space where Kael should go. Supply Chain: logistics, fieldcraft, the knowledge that armies live or die on what they carry.
The journal was thick now. Filled with lessons that would not be on the written exam but would shape how he fought, how he thought, how he survived.
He closed the journal and set it aside. Tomorrow was Day 28.
A day of rest. No training, no new lessons. Just preparation.
He lay back on his bunk and closed his eyes.