Winter crept away stealthily from the Thorn Forest, leaving summer in its place. Spring consisted of a day of blossoms which quickly died beneath the sun. Already grass struggled to show beneath the shadow of the thorns.

Mero missed the snow. A man could always warm up; cooling off was more difficult. In his bloodstained leather armor, mere minutes after the sun rose, sweat tickled down his temples.

A thrum of drumbeats sounded far behind him as the rest of the soldiers took up formation. Mero wondered if the drums were like how waves sounded crashing against a beach. He’d heard the comparison from others who’d ventured that far east of Seena, but never been there himself. Maybe one day, when this war was over and he was with the woman he loved, he would go. They could charter a boat and travel to the faraway land of Kassia, where trees were said to speak and men wore great horns upon their brow.

Mero looked down at his left fist. The thorny rose branch he held finally punctured the skin on his palm as he slowly squeezed. It took longer now to draw blood than in years past. Even as a cadet, training behind the safety of Seena’s walls, his hands had never calloused. Now they were tough and raw. He barely needed his gauntlets in combat.

Footsteps crunched upon dead twigs behind him, and Mero knew by the rhythm who it was. Like so many veterans, even at this young age, he knew his comrades by smell, sound, and pace as easily as by sight.

“Lieutenant,” said his best friend, Quo, who held the same rank but preferred not the mantle of leadership. “The soldiers are ready and await our signal.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Mero nodded, eyelids drooping as he stared through the endless white thorn trees ahead. He hadn’t slept well in weeks.

“I want to go home, Quo.”

Quo, six inches taller and six inches wider than Mero, clapped a gloved hand on Mero’s shoulder. “If I had a woman like yours waiting for me, I’d stop at nothing to be with her.”

“Then let’s end this war.” Mero faced his friend. “Make clear no one is to hurt the young ones, nor anyone not armed.”

“They’ve been so informed.”

“Good.”

Mero opened his palm and examined the collection of crimson pinpricks in his skin. They formed a constellation of blood.

He let the thorn branch slip from his grasp and pulled on his glove.

Quo folded his arms and glared at the trees with their white bark. “The Scalus will be coming soon to the riverbank with their young. They’ll fight harder.”

“As would you or I.”

Quo growled—a noise he made frequently—and spit. “We’re not lizards.”

“Nor parents, but the truth stands.”

Quo turned at the waist to study his friend. “Your peaceful nature never fails to amaze me, Mero. But then,” he went on quickly before Mero could respond, “that is perhaps the best quality for a soldier. You should be magistrate some day, lead all of Seena to peace.”

Mero could not hold back a grunting laugh. “I fear the politics of Seena more than any armed Scalus.”

Quo laughed and thumped Mero on the back. Mero had to catch himself on one foot from the strength of the blow.

“March the soldiers,” Mero said, straightening his leather tunic. “We leave now.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Quo replied, and moved off through the trees to their encampment.

Mero stayed still, letting his gaze drift from tree to tree.

He had no desire for political power, despite his fiancée’s insistence. He had no desire to tangle with the two political forces in Seena whatsoever. He wanted only to return to the woman he loved, and put this damnable war behind him.

Yet when the drums grew louder, his heart fell into their rhythm and he drew his sword.

He had a duty.