Tehlmar Esmae stretched his tired body as he sat outside his small, one-person tent. With a small cloth, he wiped away the sweat beading on his brow and let out a weary breath. He felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.
After several days of hurrying through the Stragman forest with his local “escorts”, he couldn’t help but once again be impressed with just how quickly Stragmans could move through the jungle they called home when they really wanted to. This particular squad had been assigned to ferry him to the edge of the forest quickly and quietly so that he could take care of his end of the bargain while the Stragmans marched north. According to his new buddy Akhustal Palebane, the squad was composed of the best scouts the nation had to offer, and it showed. It was like they had some sort of sixth sense that kept them from getting turned around in the thick underbrush and a seventh sense that let them detect and avoid threats so far away from the group that Tehlmar never even got to find out what they were.
The end result was that they crossed distances each day that he would have thought impossible in such an ecosystem had he not traveled those same steps right alongside them. The other end result was a body sore from head to toe. He had never had to work this hard physically since reverting to his original form, and he hated it.
Jaquet had, in many ways, been built for this sort of thing. Large, strong, and with plenty of fat reserves for the long haul, the old “Jaquet” Tehlmar would have been able to handle such hardships with relative ease. His current body, on the other hand, was slight and short and rather lacking in strength compared to the others, meaning he had to work extra hard to keep up.
The weather didn’t help. Even in the winter, the jungles of Stragma never seemed to stray below “muggy and hot”. The humidity clung to his skin and made sweat leak from every pore. He wasn’t looking forward to the plethora of rashes he’d have by the end of the journey.
Sadly, the ambient heat did nothing to warm the icy looks sent his way by the rest of the party. It was obvious from the start that the group resented being ordered to assist him in returning to Drayhadal. He found the whole treatment quite irritating. Beyond the glares, they refused to talk to him outside of the bare minimum required and every so often, when they thought he wasn’t paying attention, they’d do something to try to trip him and send him falling face-first into the mud. He hadn’t fallen—yet—but still, he felt it was time to do something about it and he knew just what to do.
The next time he caught a glare—which wasn’t long at all—he stared right back at the Stragman, refusing to avert his gaze. “See something you like, tree-fucker?” he asked the man. Tact had never been Tehlmar’s strong suit, but he’d stopped caring about diplomacy since the second day of the trek.
The man stiffened from the unexpected rebuke. “What was that?” he asked, rising to his feet as the rest of the camp went still.
“You heard me the first time,” Tehlmar replied, taking a nonchalant swig from his water pouch and looking around the camp. “Seems like you all have something to say, so stop being cowards and just say it already.”
“Everybody halt,” the voice of the squad leader cut in as the first man took a step towards Tehlmar and several others got to their feet, malice in their eyes. “Don’t fall for the sharp-ear’s taunts.”
“That’s an awfully rude way to speak of a friend of your leader,” Tehlmar sent back.
The leader, a tall, muscular man in his mid-forties, stepped forward. “I don’t know what trickery you used to fool the Chos, but it won’t work on us!” he declared. “We would never make peace with the likes of you! Drayhadan aggression will not be forgotten so easily!”
Tehlmar couldn’t help but laugh. “You Stragmans are all the same. You attack us and yet we are the aggressors? Typical treelickers.”
“Your people set fire to the forest first! The forest is as much a part of us as our flesh and blood! How could we forgive those who would lay waste to our home?”
Tehlmar took another swig. “Let me see if I can make this simple enough for somebody like you to understand. How would you like it if, every night, your neighbor stole a small portion of your house and added it to their own? Would you simply shrug and watch as your house slowly vanishes, or would you do something about it? You Stragmans say that everything within the forest is yours—a bullshit position, for the record—and yet your beloved forest grows east every day. Your country is literally consuming ours. Why should we sit back and let that happen? We have as much a right to exist as anybody.”
Tehlmar’s answer was poorly received by his Stragman audience, as expected. The other Stragmans closed in, their eyes glinting with menace.
“Why don’t we just kill him?” one of them asked.
“You would dare to harm somebody under the Chos’s protection?” Tehlmar asked.
“We could just say you wandered off and you’d already become something’s food before we could find you. She’d never know.”
“I find it shocking that you would think your own leader to be so oblivious as to be unable to see through such an amateurish ruse,” Tehlmar remarked. “But hey, if you really want to try...” Still staying seated, he turned his gaze back to the leader towering above him and stared the man down, his gaze unbending. “...go right ahead.”
The leader flinched as he felt something sharp press against his neck. He quickly retreated a few steps and stared as the blood tendril, which Tehlmar had sneakily extended along the ground and up the leader’s side, retracted back into the elf’s body through the small cut on his palm.
“I’ll take all of you on at once if that’s what you want, but it would be wise to remember that Akhustal Palebane doesn’t befriend the weak,” Tehlmar warned. “So... are we going to have a problem?”
For a moment, nobody on either side moved or spoke. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the group leader cracked a small smile. “You have some guts—for a sharp-ear, at least,” he allowed. Turning back to the others, he clapped once. “Enough of this. We still have work to do before we slumber. Let’s go!”
Tehlmar let out a silent sigh of relief. It seemed that his problem would be over, at least for a little while. Still, that had been a closer call than he’d originally wanted. For all the bluff and bluster, Tehlmar didn’t want to fight any of these people. Without them, he’d lose his way in the forest in a matter of hours and lose his life not soon after. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed them to get home in time for the troop deployment.
Still, had events turned another way, he had confidence he would have emerged the victor. He could take them, even if they all ganged up on him at once. Probably. Unless they surprised him. Or attacked him as he slept...
Suddenly Tehlmar didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. Maybe this hadn’t been such a smart move after all.
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Not once in a million years would Tehlmar have ever thought that he would be glad to see Artiermius’s face, and yet here he was, nearly brought to tears by the sight of the persnickety assistant. It meant that he’d finally made it back to Esmaeyae. Indeed, for a place filled with such noxious memories, he found the sight of the palace gleaming in the mid-morning sun almost nostalgic.
The Stragmans had not killed him in his sleep, obviously, but they had taken his provocation as a challenge. Every day they’d pushed the pace more and more, perhaps hoping to break him through sheer exertion. They would head out earlier each morning and halt later each night as well. The entire ordeal had turned into a days-long endurance run, one he didn’t dare fail.
He didn’t mind it in the abstract; he’d wanted to get back to Drayhadal as fast as he possibly could, so that had worked in his favor. The problem had been surviving such a pace. It had taken everything he’d had physically as he’d pushed himself to his very limits, but he’d done it—barely, but barely still counted as success. Now it was all over and he could finally take a nice refreshing nap—or so he thought until the other man immediately began interrogating him.
“Prince Tehlmar, if I may say so, what were you thinking?!” he fumed. “You can’t just disappear for tens of days without a word! Your father is most irate over your actions! We had no idea if you would even return in time for the campaign!”
“Good to see you too, Artiermius. After all the problems I kept running into here, I decided I needed to go out and find myself,” Tehlmar lied. “The transition from my old life to my current one hasn’t been easy, you know? So I decided to travel north over the Baenen Mountains and spend some time camping alone up by the border. Just be with myself and the land and maybe figure some things out. Did something happen? Everybody seems on edge today.”
“Did-!” Artiermius cut off his exclamation and let out a deep breath through his nostrils as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “While you were gallivanting about, the clan heads decided to strike against the Ubrans in Eteria! And you were chosen to command the campaign! If you had not arrived today, the entire Esmae clan would have been humiliated beyond words!”
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“W-what?! Me?!” Tehlmar exclaimed with his best ‘totally shocked’ face. “Why me?! And why would such a change happen now? I thought the isolationist faction still held sway as they have for the last millennia! What happened?”
Artiermius shook his head. “Who can say what goes on inside the Council’s chamber? The thoughts of those high above me are not mine to discern. But whatever it was, it was impactful enough to completely shift the philosophies of enough influential people to reverse centuries of precedent!”
“Huh,” Tehlmar replied, putting on a perplexed expression. On the macro scale, he knew exactly what had happened: the Masked Battalion. How exactly they’d created this sudden reversal he couldn’t say; he’d purposely left the details up to the Battalion and his sister. The less he knew about the happenings, the less likely he would accidentally say something compromising and give it all away.
The dark secret to why any of Pyria’s plan had a chance at success was the incredibly sterling reputation of the Masked Battalion earned through millennia of absolute obedience. The order understood the scary implications of its members’ abilities quite well, and as such strove to ensure that their loyalty was never questioned. It prized the trust it earned in the ruling class greater than anything and would go out of its way to make sure that its actions never put that trust in jeopardy. The royalty of Drayhadal viewed Masks as the ultimate loyal subjects, and rightly so, for as long as the order existed.
That was why they would never see the Battalion’s betrayal coming. It would be like expecting your own mother to stab you in the back. On second thought, given Tehlmar’s experiences with Drayhadan royal politics, a maternal stabbing would be far more likely.
“You look filthy and it appears that most of your skin I can see is covered in rashes,” Artiermius observed. “Did you not bother to bathe while you were out there?”
“Well-”
“No matter, time is of the essence. Head to the baths post-haste while I prepare your uniform. You are expected to address the gathered commanders later today and we must be off within the hour or you will be unfashionably late.”
“Wait, today?”
“Indeed. Now get a move on. We do not have time for more questions.”
The assistant clapped twice and a horde of servants materialized from a nearby doorway and practically dragged the stunned Tehlmar out of the room. It seemed that a nap would have to wait.
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One by one, twelve men entered the command tent, disgruntled faces in full display on each one. The dozen soldiers comprised the top commander of each of the four ruling clans, along with their two top deputies. None of them seemed happy with his presence in their camp. He understood full well why: they resented his sudden promotion, something they viewed as unearned. Not even the trio from his own clan thought he deserved to command the army outside the tent, though they had the tact to hide their disapproval better than the rest.
“I have called you all here to address my plans for the upcoming campaign and give you all my initial orders,” Tehlmar began.
“Why should we respect the orders of a political appointee with no command experience?” one general immediately interrupted. Tehlmar recognized him as Tanquan Astr, the highest-ranking officer from the Astr clan and the longest-serving commander in the country. The man was so famous that Tehlmar recognized him even after spending the last twenty years out of the country. In a normal situation, he would be the top choice to lead the combined armies of the clans and the fact that he had been denied such an honor surely rankled him.
“Because I have more experience leading offensive actions than all of you combined, that’s why,” Tehlmar shot back. “When is the last time any of you have had to assault an enemy instead of staving off their assault? When is the last time you had to coordinate a pincer movement instead of a delaying action? I have years of experience taking fortified positions and you all don’t. I also have spent years traveling through Eterian lands. I know them well, while I doubt any of you can say the same. It’s that simple. Oh, and because the clan heads say so, that’s why.”
The scowls remained, but nobody spoke up to challenge his arguments.
“All right, then,” he continued, leaning over a map of the lower half of the continent. “We head north tomorrow. We will follow the Hebora Road north to the Baenen Range Pass. But from there we will head east to avoid Drogan when we enter Eterium. As we march, every available member of the Masked Battalion will move ahead of the main force. Their mission is to infiltrate and replace the scout patrols to the south and southwest of Crirada as best they can. It is vital that we keep the Ubrans from knowing we’re coming until the last possible moment. Any questions so far?”
Still, nobody objected, though Tehlmar knew that was about to change. He took a breath and resumed, readying himself for the imminent outbursts. “Once we have crossed the Baenen Range Pass, the specific timing of our march will depend on the movement of the Stragmans to the west. On the orders of the Council, Drayhadal has struck a deal for a temporary non-aggression pact and the Stragmans have agreed to join us in our attack on the Ubrans. Currently, they are making their way north towards Crirada, but given the distance and forest slowing them down, they likely won’t be ready until several days after we are.”
A chorus of angry voices rose up at once, eventually quieting down as each officer quickly yielded to the crimson-faced Astr commander.
“This is absurd! You want to coordinate with those savages?!” the elder sputtered.
“We can’t stop the Ubrans on our own. We need numbers and they have the numbers.”
“They can’t be trusted!”
“I agree, we can’t trust them, at least not completely. That’s why the Mother of Nightmares will remain in Drayhadal to safeguard the nation,” Tehlmar responded, deflating the older man’s bluster slightly. “But we can trust them a bit this one time. Our agents have been very clear on this.
“You have to look at the Stragmans in the context of their current struggles. The Shells protesting without warning for seasons on end nearly crippled their economy and caused great unrest in their society. They lost many valuable resources thanks to an unexpected early migration from Krose to Pholis in the summer, and then the strike cost them even more during the migration from Pholis to Hoxoni. The Stragmans are on hard times.
“Meanwhile, the Ubrans have a seemingly endless flow of supplies crossing through Gustil from the Divide to Crirada. The Stragmans want those resources, and they want them badly enough that they will even team up with us to get them. For perhaps the first time in history, the goals of our two nations align. This is clear in the reports I have received from my former comrades in the Battalion. I trust their assessment. If they say that the Stragmans will be no trouble, then I assure you they will not give us any trouble.”
“We should not be helping our enemy,” the old man countered.
“We will not win on our own,” Tehlmar stressed. “The Ubrans outnumber us ten to one at least, and unlike the Stragman invasions, we won’t have the benefit of walls to aid us. If you have to, think of it this way: nobody stands to lose more people than the Stragmans, so in a way, their involvement will actually benefit us.”
The Astr crossed his arms and let out a harrumph, but didn’t argue further. However, that wasn’t enough for Tehlmar.
“I need to hear it from your mouth right now or we can’t go any longer,” he told the old warrior. “Will you follow my every order on this campaign to the letter?”
Tanquan Astr’s scowl remained, but after a moment he gave a curt nod. “I do this under protest, Prince Esmae, but my troops and I will follow where you lead.”
“Good enough,” Tehlmar replied. He looked around at the rest of the people assembled in the tent. “What about the rest of you?”
One by one, each commander gave their begrudging assent.
“Excellent. I want you all to have your units ready to march first thing in the morning. Dismissed!”
The collective filed out one at a time, leaving Tehlmar blissfully alone. He stretched and let out a long, tired yawn just as somebody strode into the tent.
“My Prince!” Artiermius said as he stepped inside. “There are several matters-”
“No.”
“Prince Tehlmar, I must-”
“No. I don’t care what it is,” Tehlmar said as he pushed the functionary back out of the tent. “It can wait until tomorrow. If it can’t, I authorize you to deal with it for me.”
“But-”
“No buts. Tehlmar sleep now.” With one final shove, he was finally blissfully alone.
Tehlmar yawned again, even louder this time. Days of sleep deprivation had worn him down. He needed this rest more than anything. After stripping down, he crawled into his travel bed—a prince couldn’t just have a normal bedroll, that would be too functional—and closed his eyes.
Everything was coming together at last. There’d been so many moments when he’d thought it wouldn’t happen, but somehow it had all worked out so far. Now all he needed was the most important part.
“Just stay alive, Arlette. That’s all,” he mumbled as he drifted off. “Just survive.”