Lune tells me the people are afraid of what they saw. But why would they fear anything? I used the weapon against our enemies. Only those who may threaten us and our way of life.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 8th Note.

A line of prisoners walked towards the cells. It was a closed building far away from others, dead looking and eery. They cursed the soldiers who pointed weapons towards them, and some tried to run, but none of them would get far before a Bladeborn would beat them back into place.

Dolish watched the whole affair from the side, the Phasgorians eventually filling up the cells that comprised their one and only prison. It was one of the only solid structures that wasn’t made for a minister or a general. It was a stone brick of a building, with metal bars set into the walls that prevented the escape of anyone inside. Once all the prisoners were contained within the cells, the Bladeborn escorting them walked to Dolish’s side.

“General, will you be going?” the woman in front asked. She had a scar running down her face, but it didn’t look to be caused by any kind of battle wound.

“I’ve got to interrogate some of them. You can leave now, soldier, I’ll be fine,” Dolish replied.

“With all due respect, sir. This group of scum might try and pull something,” the woman replied, glaring at one of the prisoners through the bars. Dolish took a look at that individual, who’d been here much longer by the state of his clothes, and the loathing in his eyes.

“Still, I do not require your help. You’re excused, soldier,” Dolish said, putting emphasis on his words. The woman gave one last glance back at the cells before saluting and leaving him to watch them.

“Look, Tellainous, Ravenishtani so full of pride he’d float,” one of the prisoners, a bald man scratching the floor with a rock, said in Antir.

“And a Phasgorian so ignorant he thinks his tongue is unknown,” Dolish answered, garnering the bald man’s attention. He stood up, throwing the rock to his side before walking up to his bars. His intimidating glare didn’t faze Dolish in the least, no matter what he tried. Dolish was on the other side of those bars, well enough away from the man’s grasp.

“Keep my tongue… out your mouth,” he replied in broken Ravenishtani.

“Or Say-Rah-Faas smite you.”

“Only if you answer my questions,” Dolish answered again in Antir, which set off the man as he tried to pull at the metal bars. It was a fruitless endeavour, sending clangs throughout the walls of the room and garnering more attention from the other prisoners there.

“What do you want Ravenishtani? Or are your people so bored they torture prisoners for fun as a pass time?” the bald man asked.

“I’m here because I have questions to ask you. And if you answer, maybe even something to offer you in return,” Dolish answered.

“Hah! Offer me something. I won’t reveal a single thing to you, Ravenishtani,” the man chuckled, letting go of the bars. He turned away from the General, walking to the back of the room where the other prisoners sat and moped.

“You’ve not been treated the best, have you?” Dolish asked. The prisoner didn’t answer, still looking away.

“That would be an understatement. The filth you feed us, it’s disgusting,” the bald man answered.

“Then what if I could get you better food?” Dolish asked.

“I’ll stomach the slop if it means keeping my country safe from you, Ravenishtani,” the prisoner said.

“Clean clothes. Better supplies for your rooms. You are prisoners, but that doesn’t mean you should live like animals,” Dolish offered, other prisoners looking up at him. They started muttering to each other, holding onto the bald man’s rags. They whispered to him, things that Dolish couldn’t hear, but sounded like begging. Eventually, the bald man grew tired of them and pulled his clothes away.

“No!”

He looked back at Dolish finally, speaking again.

“I don’t even know anything useful to you. I don’t know supply lines, who leads who, what our regiments look like. I’m just a soldier, not even a hallowmancer,” he told him.

“And what do you know of your own history?” Dolish asked.

“History? What do you mean?” the soldier asked.

“Your country. It’s unstable. What do you think is causing that?” Dolish spoke, moving closer to the bars as he did.

“I… I don’t know? Why are you asking this?”

“Call it curiosity. Tell me this, and answer me truthfully, and I swear on my Form that I will get you whatever amenities you need,” Dolish offered.

“You could just as well get this from a book or from one of your scholars. They must know something, don’t they?”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t have as intimate an experience as you. So help me… please,” Dolish said hesitantly.

“I… where do I even begin?” the soldier asked.

“With your name, usually,” Dolish said. The soldier actually snickered a bit, before sitting himself down on the cold hard floor. Dolish flared his Commander aura for a moment, sending a quick instruction before dismissing it entirely. It startled the prisoners for a moment, but the bald man didn’t move from his spot.

“What did you do that for?” he asked.

“Just a quick order,” Dolish replied. “Now, your name?”

The soldier sighed. “My name is Elann….”

****

The man told Dolish all he knew of the justifications his king could use. He would always refer to him as His Highness, or His Grace. He must be a man of the king then. Elann would continue onto the defining event of his life. The civil war twenty odd years ago.

The way he spoke about it, he wasn’t much older than a child when it happened. And for a child of that age, the things he saw still haunted him, from what Dolish could see.

“You couldn’t cross a road without seeing a pyre on the side, or the sight of a rotting body, pillaged by bandits…”

“Why? Why did your people fight so harshly against each other?” Dolish asked. Elann spat to his side.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“That fool prince Yugric. He thought he could rule over us better. It was Ravenishtani philosophy that he’d read and tried to implement. I don’t know why he went mad, but he dragged the rest of the kingdom with him.”

Half of the country, locked in battle with each other? How did their king even win?

“How does that matter to you now, though? You’ve been matching our forces, so it can’t be for defending your country from foreign powers.”

“That’s the thing, General. You and your country might not care much to attack Phasgoria, but that doesn’t count for the forces within our borders. Do you believe that we wiped out all of the supporters of Yugric?” Elann asked.

“There’s still some remaining?” Dolish asked.

“Not just a few. More than you can count. Waiting, plotting and given the chance to take out His Highness, I’m not sure they won’t take it.”

“…That’s why he wants the Weapon in Sanasira. He wants it to protect himself,” Dolish spoke out loud.

“Tsk, our king isn’t so simple minded, Dolish. If I were in his place, and my family were at risk of being slaughtered by dissenters, I’d kill anyone who got in my way to that Weapon too,” Elann said.

But what could he do with the information? Could he guarantee the safety of king Selerin’s family? Grant them asylum in Ravenishtan? No…

The King didn’t seem the type to run from his own kingdom. He won’t give in until he finds surety in his safety, will he?

The doors to the jail opened at that moment, revealing to Dolish the sight of a normal servant. He was a smallish boy wearing a tunic with a vest. He was holding a giant plate of some kind of dish, the smell of which faintly wafted over to the prisoners.

Some of those who were sitting at the back brightened up and Dolish stood up to greet the boy.

“Soldier, have you brought what I requested?” Dolish asked him.

“Ah, yes… sir. But the other portions are going to take a while. The cooks weren’t happy that we kept them in the kitchens past their work hours,” the boy told him.

“They can complain later. Serve them up, would you?”

The boy nodded, another servant walking in behind him holding several plates in her hand. Guards entered after them, confused at what the General was doing. The servants began to pour out portions of beef in a kind of savoury sauce, soft and warm bread and potatoes that had been roasted.

“Sir! these are prisoners, what are you doing?” the guard asked, his own eyes glancing over at the magnificent meal.

“You could join us if you want, soldier. I myself am going to be taking dinner here,” he replied.

“B-but…”

“And I’m going to need the keys to these locks as well,” Dolish asked, holding out his hand.

The guard eventually gave up, handing Dolish the keys and sitting down on the floor beside him. The prisoners’ moods improved drastically once they had food in them, and they began to talk and converse among each other in jovial tones. Most ate in silence though, keeping their eyes away from Dolish. Some of them even refused to eat at all, knocking away the plate offered to them.

Dolish caught the guard glaring at the prisoners often, though, and wondered to himself what he was doing. He was sat on a dusty floor enjoying a meal with his enemies. But that was something he could think about later, once he’d finished eating.

****

Another battle gone. Phasgoria had brought out the cavalry for this one. Dolish sat beside a horse on the field, an arrow sticking out of its leg as it whinnied.

“There, there…” he tried to soothe the stallion, gesturing over to Raisha, who held the arrow gently. The leg it was caught on kicked a few times, but she kept her hand steady over the wound.

Dolish nodded towards the woman, and he yanked it out as quick as she could. The horse let out a neigh, shouting and trying to move, but Dolish kept it down. He had to use his strength to do so, and even then, the steed proved stronger. He only kept the outburst of the horse contained, as it took some time to stop.

“Now, bring a medic over here. I think this one could still come in use,” Dolish told Raisha, who stepped through another one of her portals. She came back not long after, Dolish letting her presume his duties.

He let go of the horse and Borne landed beside him, scratching his head.

“The Brigadier seems to be alright, Dolish. His elephant didn’t land on him,” Borne told him.

“Did you figure out how they hit it?” Dolish asked.

“Far as I can tell, they got lucky with their artillery. That, and some Afterburner decided to put a jet on the boulder before it took off into the air.”

“Hmph, clever.”

“Why did we bring them out to such a small skirmish, anyway? It’s a waste,” Borne pointed out.

“The men need to know how to ride the elephants or they’ll grow rusty,” Dolish explained.

“I think the horses outdo them. They’re smaller and faster. Still nowhere as fast as me, but quick still,” Borne replied.

“And an elephant is much more useful for a charge,” Dolish countered.

“They can move out of the way of the charge.”

“Yes, they can, which is why they’re so useful,” Dolish replied. Borne huffed, but raised no further arguments. Dolish appreciated that, because he didn’t know how much more of the man’s inanity he could handle in a day.

****

Rozu fell on the ground, beside the other bodies of Bladeborn. They weren’t dead. Not a single one of them in fact.

“Why… don’t you kill me?” he huffed, stalling as he searched his pockets for his bewllan.

Dero walked over to him, lowering his guard like the fool that he was. How much could one mask risk their own life before their choices caught up with them?

“Perhaps the same reason you try to hunt me down so often, Katar. Curiosity of what’s going to happen next,” he replied.

“That won’t save you for long….” The pouch came into his hand, but something felt off. He tried to absorb the bewl through the touch of the smooth crystal, but nothing flowed into him. He looked down and realized something horrible in the moment. All of his crystals were drained.

But… I didn’t even use these?

“Your bewllan? Thank you for that, by the way, I was beginning to run low,” Dero said, then he looked up to see the Ravenishtani forces retreating.

“It seems this one was a victory for us. Tell me, is it a tally you’re keeping? Do you think my death would even the score of some game?”

Rozu didn’t reply. He instead just threw a handful of dirt at the man and began to run. Dero must’ve expected it, since he blocked it with the sleeve of his clothes. Rozu knew that the man could catch up with him at any time, which made it all the more infuriating that he was putting so much effort into running away.

He ran and ran until someone dropped down in front of him, holding up a talwar to his neck.

“Get that away from my neck, Tanz!” he shouted at his subordinate, who snapped back into place.

“I… sorry, Rozu, I didn’t think you were, you were covered in so much blood, it-”

“Never point that thing at me ever again, Tanz,” he said, knocking away the blade from his hand.

“I won’t, I-I promise,” he replied, averting his eyes as Rozu walked past the man. He sheathed his sword and scrambled up to his squadron commander.

“What are you doing scouting out here?” Rozu asked.

“General Dolish requested all the Afterburners pick up anyone we could find, Ravenishtani or Phasgorian,” he answered timidly.

Is he some kind of obsessive idiot? What’s the point in that?

“Sazir and Raisho? Did they follow my commands to the letter?” Rozu asked. If they were to get him into trouble again, that would be an annoyance.

“They weren’t commands as they were… guidelines…” Tanz said, recoiling once Rozu looked at him.

“Well then, Tanz, did they follow the guidelines I left for them?” Rozu asked.

“T-they did. We didn’t see any break in formation or made any mistakes,” Tanz replied.

“Good.”

They walked a bit more, cresting a hill that put into the sight the other pieces of the retreating army. The elephants stayed at the back of the formation, soldiers following. And of course, Afterburners stayed in the sky, surveying ahead and behind them.

“Rozu… the Commanders are wondering where you are. They’ve asked Raisho and me so many times we’ve run out of excuses,” Tanz asked.

“Tell them that I’ve got a mission of my own,” Rozu replied.

“But what kind? I can’t just tell them it’s some secret mission. They’d want to hear about it.”

Would they? Would they even let him go after Dero after they found out that he was wasting all this time on one Devourer? But he’s the most dangerous one the Phasgorians have. If I bring them his head, they’ll understand.

Then they’d realize their mistake in punishing him. And he’d get the respect he deserved.

“Devourers are supposed to be on the frontlines. Tell them that if they wanted someone to command, they should’ve picked some other kind of Bladeborn.”

“Understood…” Tanz replied, falling back and taking off into the air, while Rozu was left to walk by himself. He joined among the ranks of the other soldiers who were walking back, scoffing as they passed him.

When a wounded man bumped into him, Rozu snarled.

“Watch where you’re walking, you Formless idiot,” he insulted.

Another man, this one much taller and stronger looking, walked in between Rozu and the other man before they could get into a fight. He held them at bay with his hands as he spoke.

“We’ve all had trouble today, okay? No need to fight over it,” he said. Do you even know who you’re talking to? Rozu was about to raise his voice again, but desisted. He told himself it was because he was low on bewl, and that wasting it on teaching some insubordinate soldiers a lesson wasn’t worth it.

Instead, he moved away from that man without giving him another word, pushing past the crowd of soldiers and walking by himself.