Dusk draped itself over Epretos, casting long shadows across the military compound. The fading light painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and red, while the air hung heavy with palpable tension as if sensing the approaching storm.

Appius Mucius was a [Corporal].

In the military hierarchies of Epretos, that was above a [Soldier] and below a [Sergeant]. It meant he had enough authority to command a small cohort of ten people.

During his training, they had made it clear that his job would have been merely to relay orders and make sure his group followed them. Not that Appius had cared.

Appius stood close to his bunk, his thoughts a whirlwind of past regrets and unfulfilled dreams.

From a young age, Appius's singular ambition had been to join the esteemed Royal Guard, and he had devoted himself tirelessly to achieving that goal.

However, fate had other plans.

And now, whenever he enjoyed one of the treats from his hometown, he was left with a lingering sense of bitterness in his mouth; even his childhood memories had been tainted by his failure.

Currently, he was enjoying one of the said treats—Elk jerky. His family routinely sent some to him from Nivalis; that was where he came from.

Nivalis was one of the few mountain cities on Epretos. It was renowned for producing some of the strongest [Warriors] on the continent. The Royal Guard itself was known for recruiting every year, promising kids, and inducting them into their files.

As he bit into a thick piece of Elk jerky, expertly seasoned by his mother's servants, he couldn't help but remember his past. His family, one of the wealthiest in Nivalis, had provided him with training from a Royal Guard member who would return to his city to rest every few years.

It was guaranteed that his instructor would draft a special letter of recommendation for him thanks to Appius’s family ties.

However, during his training, the instructor had been called away to address a skirmish on the Northern shores, where a band of despicable Humans had been harassing the [Miners].

Anxiously, Appius had awaited the return of his mentor. He had been told more than once that with diligent effort, he could potentially secure a place within the Royal Guard. Yet, without his instructor's guidance, Appius found it impossible to adhere to a proper training regimen. Consequently, he soon fell behind Nivalis's most exceptional talents.

He clenched his teeth as he bit into the jerky, those memories still causing pain.

And he hated when those memories came back to him like that.

Lost in his reverie, Appius barely registered the entrance of Clementius, a [Soldier] with a rotund figure and a face riddled with red blemishes.

“Appius!”

He turned to see his [Private].

There was a kid on his shoulders, with its legs on each side of the [Soldier]'s head.

“Look who’s visiting the barracks!” Clementius said with a large smile.

“Hey, Lillus,” Appius actually smiled, looking at the six-year-old.

Lillus, Clementius’s son, was possibly the ugliest child Appius had ever seen. While he himself wasn’t as good-looking as their disgustingly heroic [Sergeant], Plinius, he wasn’t even close to Lillus’s ugliness.

Clementius lifted his less-than-adorable child high above his head before gently placing him next to Appius. Lillus tended to be rather quiet in his father's presence, but on the occasions when Appius had met Clementius's wife, he had noticed the boy's livelier demeanor.

At least he's not entirely born naturally stupid, Appius thought to himself as he used his dagger to slice a piece of Elk jerky.

"Here, Lillus, try this. It's a delicacy from my hometown."

"Oh, are you sharing, boss?" Clementius asked, his eyes lighting up with anticipation.

Appius was notorious for never sharing the treats his family sent him. He had even spent a week in the barracks' cell once for nearly beating a fellow soldier to death after they had stolen some honey cakes from his care package.

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"With your son, Clementius. Would you really take food from the mouth of your own flesh and blood?"

Clementius sighed dejectedly. “Eat up, Lillus,” he ruffled his child’s hair. “You are one of the lucky few who Appius shares with.”

“Listen to your old man, Lillus,” Appius chuckled. "Eating this makes mountain folk like me strong and powerful. I grew up consuming heaps of it every winter."

After exchanging some small talk about the recent events at the barracks, Clementius glanced around and lowered his voice. "Finzius checked our marked tree," he said.

"What about it?" Appius perked up, eager to hear more.

"He said the despicable worm has been venturing out less often lately."

A smile spread across Appius's face. They had been assigned a few night guard shifts as punishment for their involvement in a fight, but it had been worth it. The Human, on the other hand, had received a not-so-warm welcome that came with broken bones.

"We need to step up our efforts," Appius said. "If we allow even one of those vermin to feel secure here, we'll have a full-blown infestation by the Day of Blooming."

"We can't stain the Flora Sanguinis red, Appius," Clementius cautioned, aware of his comrade's fierce nature.

"Lillus," Appius suddenly addressed the unattractive child who was struggling to tear the jerky apart with his teeth. "Do you know what Humans are?"

Caught off guard, Lillus looked at the man with a puzzled expression.

“He’s a kid, Appius. He doesn’t know much,” Clementius grimaced. “He just plays all day with those other kids that Plinius looks after.”

“Good, good. It’s time he learns something, then,” the low-ranked officer said, turning to the kid, “Humans are little monsters who want nothing but to eat small Elven children, Lillus. You have to be careful if you ever see one.”

Clementius cringed at that, but he knew better than argue with Appius over Humans.

“Did Finzius say anything else?” Appius turned to ask the [Soldier]."

“The marked tree wants some new leaves, Appius.”

Appius chewed on those words for a second, thinking hard.

“I have been hatching a little plan, Clementius. Tell Finzius to come and see me as soon as possible. I have an idea that will drive that disgusting little worm out of Amorium once and for all. But I need some more information.”

Clementius nodded. They both shared the same kind of hate for Humans, but Appius had something more in him; the [Corporal] would bring out a particularly twisted part of himself only when it came to the flat-eared bastards.

…

Outside, the sky was now a deep shade of orange as the sun set behind the distant mountains. The air was crisp and still as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come. In the distance, the sounds of the bustling market could be heard, as well as the clanging of swords in the barracks, and the shouting of not-so-far-away merchants, blending together in a symphony of chaos.

The room where Plinius and Appius stood was dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles casting shadows onto the walls. The tension was palpable, with both men aware of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Plinius gazed out of the window, his eyes scanning the city as if searching for something or someone. He sighed deeply, turning back to Appius. "We can't let this go any further.”

“[Sergeant]?”

“The [General] won’t be happy about one of my [Corporals] wasting time on this, Appius.”

“The Human—”

Plinius raised a hand, cutting off his man.

“What do you propose?”

Appius hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth as he weighed his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady and measured.

“I have something.”

For all Appius could be unpredictable, he had always looked after Plinius’s best interest after he had been promoted. And so, the [Sergeant] listened.

“I want to drive the Human out and send a message.”

“Do not go ahead with it for now,” Plinius said with a deliberate tone, looking at Appius intensely. “I don’t know what the [General] will allow to slip. Let’s secure the mission and the promotion. We’ll deal with the Human on our way out.”

Appius looked at his [Sergeant] with a frown. That wasn’t what he had planned for the Human. At all.

“[Sergeant], what if the Human damages Amorium even more? It’s a sickness, a [Curse] that must be eradicated. Are we going to let him run amok for months?”

“The promotion should come after I secure some objectives after the Day of Blooming, [Corporal]. Don’t worry. I want all Humans out of Epretos as much as you. But let’s take it one step at a time. If we don’t, we might end up spoiling the bigger plan. The [General] has warned me repeatedly. We have to look carefully at each branch of the tree before jumping, lest we find ourselves on the ground with broken bones.”

Appius exhaled slowly, relaxing his posture. It was a sign of disrespect toward his superior, in a way, but it was also some tiredness about all the nonsensical rules they had to look at.

“Will you take responsibility if the Human harms someone, Plinius?” Appius asked with a heavy voice.

The [Sergeant] nodded, unbothered by the question.

“Yes.”

“I will hold you accountable to that, then,” Appius said, saluting his superior and dismissing himself.

…

When the door closed behind Appius, Plinius shook his head and let his gaze linger on the wooden rectangle.

He stretched in the chair before getting up and pacing around his room.

He knew very well how much Appius loathed Humans, but he also knew that [General] Aurelianus wasn’t to be trifled with. In a way, Plinius considered himself extremely lucky to have received guidance from him. Few would have gotten the opportunity to get on the path to becoming a [General]. It wasn’t just a matter of capabilities but building the right kind of relationships.

And that was Plinius’s biggest problem. While the [General] was also a master politician, he had come from nothing and knew basically nothing about subterfuge. That’s why he decided to be careful with the Human in Amorium. He didn’t know whether it could have been used against him if someone found out they had been responsible for it. For all Plinius knew, in fact, there might have been a pro-Human faction inside the military.

Well… it was unlikely, but who knew?

Not Plinius—that was for sure.