The Words of a Firebrand

A small band of Khivans moved through the contested lands east of Esmouth. In their company walked an Asterian mageknight. While all had their weapons sheathed or shouldered, with no outright sign of hostility, nobody seemed at ease either. The Khivans stayed watchful, spreading out while glancing in every direction, especially the further west they came; the Asterian in their company watched her companions.

At night, she slept some distance away from the others, casting runes of warning on the ground. If her use of magic angered the Khivans, they kept it to themselves. It was not clear if any of them spoke the Asterian language; they communicated with Eleanor briefly using gestures and the occasional word in Khivan. They did not speak much with each other either.

Their path took them southwest until they hit the coast after three days, which necessitated going straight west thereafter. Their progress slowed; the terrain was the same, wild and untamed forest, but the Khivans grew more cautious. They followed winding paths, often deliberately choosing to push through denser undergrowth and thickets. On one occasion, they even stepped into a stream and walked in the water and thereby avoided making any tracks on the ground.

Eleanor simply followed their example, no matter where the trail led. For another two days they travelled in this manner until early on the sixth day, the leader of the scouts stopped, and the other Khivans quickly did the same.

Eleanor looked around; nothing about this area seemed unusual, nor could she hear sounds other than the creatures of the forest. The Khivan in charge walked up to her, stared at her for a moment, and finally pointed in the forward direction. He spoke a few words and repeated his gesture, jamming his finger against the empty air.

"Right. You want me to go that way," Eleanor replied, talking as much to herself. She inclined her head. Still, the Khivans remained, watching her and waiting. She began to walk in the direction shown to her, looking over her shoulder as she did so. Once she had taken ten steps, the Khivans finally turned away and left. Moments later, she was alone.

***

For two hours, Eleanor moved west. At first, she used the sun's position to keep her bearings until she reached familiar trails that she and Martel had often walked. Her speed increased greatly compared to when the Khivans had set the pace, though she kept her Tyrian bow in her hands.

Sounds. Someone moved through the forest, more than one, even. Eleanor took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. Not twenty steps ahead, an Asterian patrol stood. They lowered their spears as an instant reaction, but their expressions quickly turned to disbelief.

"Well met, soldiers," she greeted them.

Their princeps took a step forward. "Prefect, I'm sorry, but… We have orders if we come across you."

"I assume you are to take me back to camp."

"Aye, sir. You won't fight us?" He tried to ask the question with a steady voice.

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"I shall keep my weapons, but I have no argument with you. We may all accompany each other back." She slung her bow over her shoulder and stood with empty hands. "That is the best you will get from me, princeps."

"Right then. Everyone, we're turning back." Together, the band of ten legionaries and their presumed prisoner set into motion.

***

As they passed through the gate to the camp, all eyes turn towards the returning band of soldiers, surrounding the mageknight. "I'll take you to the legion prefect," the princeps declared. "She'll have to figure out what to do with you."

As they moved through the thoroughfare, more and more soldiers gathered, exchanging incredulous outbursts. When they reached the centre of the camp, Eleanor halted. "Forgive me, princeps. Before we continue, there is something I must say." She jumped up to stand on a few crates, allowing the crowd to see her. "Soldiers of the Tenth Legion! You know who I am, and you know my companion, the Firebrand! But do you know what the legate has done to us?"

"They said you killed the decurion!" someone yelled.

"He did, I saw it with my own eyes!"

Other exclamations followed.

"Sir Martel did so, to save the fifth and sixth cohort from certain death! Any of you men present here today?"

Several hundred legionaries shouted and raised their hands.

"You think you would be here if we had stayed as the decurion demanded, under siege?"

"No!"

"You think you would be here if the Firebrand had not held the Khivans back, unleashing magic unlike any of us has ever seen?"

"No!"

In the crowd, the legion prefect appeared. "What is this?" Lara shouted.

Eleanor ignored her. "When the Khivans besieged the town where your families live, who sailed past their whole army to join in the defence?"

"The Firebrand did!"

"Who stopped a cannonball in the very breach of the walls, protecting your families?"

"The Firebrand!"

Other prefects arrived as well, pushing their way through the crowd, but seeing Lara stand idly by, they did not take action either.

"Do you know how the legate rewarded him?" Eleanor yelled.

"Tell us!"

"He ordered the Firebrand to his death! Told him to march into Khiva alone on a mission certain to kill him!"

"That can't be true!"

"And when the Firebrand refused, the legate threatened to have me killed to force him! This is what the legate thinks of us!" Eleanor roared with the fury of a lion in her words. "While he remains safe, he orders us to fight and die, day after day! All for his masters in Morcaster! Why do we fight this war?"

"The Khivans!"

"They'll kill us if we don't!"

"Bastards, all of them!"

Eleanor removed the scroll case she had carried with her for the last six days. "The Khivans only fight because we do! The moment we stop, so will they!" She held aloft the parchment in her hand. "This is a guarantee of an armistice, signed by their commander."

"How can we believe that?"

"Yeah, who can trust those bastards?"

"I trust them!" Eleanor shouted with renewed force. "I was a guest of their commander for several days, and he treated me and the Firebrand with respect and honour. He is as tired as you of watching men under his command die for nothing." She looked directly at Lara. "The only people who want war are those who never have to fight it."

"I don't believe any bloody fire eaters!"

"It's barely two months since they attacked our town!"

"They are men of flesh and blood like you!" Eleanor argued. "They have families they long to see. Homes that await them, fields to sow and harvest. Tell me honestly, if you could choose, would you fight this war of your own volition?"

For once, nobody in the crowd yelled an immediate reply. Finally, a voice spoke out, curt but firm. "No." Everyone looked towards Lara.

"Nor do you have to." Eleanor raised her hand holding the Khivan declaration once again. "The war could end this very day if you simply choose it."

Murmurs spread through the ranks, repeating Eleanor's arguments. But nobody declared for or against; it seemed none felt certain on what to do or how to react.

"What is this?" A menacing voice cut through the quiet. Pushing soldiers aside, Legate Varus appeared, looking like a storm ready to break.