Legosia’s campaigns grow longer, and the people under my rule grow more fearful. I should hold a festival for them, I think. Send away the hallowmancers working back to their families. Yes, perhaps a break is in order.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 2nd Note

Dolish Venastian waited for his carriage to arrive.

He stood at the outskirts of his designated tent. It was no different from any of the other ones, except for the size. The flaps of his makeshift abode opened up into a room that he had furnished with everything he would need for holding meetings. In his eyes, it was just a particularly large office that he spent a bulk of his time in.

He’d been offered an upgrade before, but the general had refused it. What use was putting Bladeborn through the effort of constructing him a stronghold when the war wouldn’t even last that long? Or so he had thought half a year into the campaign. Now here he was, attending a party in the middle of one of the most drawn out campaigns in history.

He grunted. The military outfit he had on was one of function over form. Deep greens mixed in the perfectly fitted uniform. He was the picture of a military general in that outfit, with his spiky beard and short cropped greying hair. It didn’t hurt that his height among the Ravenishtani was exceedingly tall, something that lent him an air of intimidation.

Though it was taking a long time for his escort to arrive, Dolish didn’t move from his spot on the stony ground. If he were in his younger years, he might have used his powers to eavesdrop on any nearby emotions, but he’d long since disciplined himself from that course of action.

Besides, he was in the section of the camp where most of his own soldiers lay. He knew his own troops to be one of the most obedient and dutiful around.

As if noticing his increasing boredom, a squarish shape descended from the clouds. Even despite his age, Dolish could recognize the bottom of a carriage from so far away. As it got closer, he noticed that the wheels on the vehicle had been taken off, large Afterburner jets taking their place on the bottom and sides.

Dolish also saw Afterburners holding it up from the sides, making it look more like a palanquin than a carriage. They dropped down from the sky onto the ground in front of him. A few soldiers – those posted as guards – looked on in awe at the sight of the four Afterburners, but quickly went back to their positions once they noticed the scrutinizing gaze of Dolish.

A frown appeared on his face as he examined the wooden construction. When did they have this brought in? Why did they? He thought to himself, looking over the ornamental design plastered on it. He was broken out of his momentary questioning by one of the Afterburner’s coughing.

“Sorry for the delay, general. Are you going to take a seat?” he asked Dolish. He was a wiry looking fellow, who himself wore the uniform instead of some gaudy dress. Good.

“I will,” Dolish replied in a gruff voice. He walked into the palanquin and took a seat amongst the plush cushions. In his mind, it didn’t befit a soldier, no matter how high a rank, to enjoy such luxuries when in the middle of a war.

But when the Armon ordered something, Dolish would see it done. The Armon had been chosen for the position after all, so he must know what path was the correct one in all his wisdom.

As soon as he’d settled in, Dolish felt the palanquin lift up. Jets sounded from the bottom, pushing him up and up. There was a window looking out of the palanquin, and Dolish saw the scenery around him move away at an alarming rate. He should have been impressed, in awe of the fact that he could reach the clouds like an Afterburner, but he wasn’t. Why do this when we have normal horse pulled carriages? Why do this when we could save the effort instead?

Those thoughts bounded over and over again in his mind. He felt a chill from being up so high, but it was nothing towards what the Afterburners must have been experiencing. Clouds passed above Dolish’s head, so close they looked more like the ceiling of a tall room instead. He looked out and saw the moon, or one of them at least, shining in the sky. The tiny pinprick of light could be any of the six moons, but Dolish knew not how to differentiate them.

He leaned back in his seat, unable to appreciate the gaze. Should I have brought them here? They would’ve loved to see it… No… no, a battlefield is no place for innocents, he told himself, yet it was apparent that it was becoming so.

He would shift around on his seat, think of the work that he had ahead of him, tap his finger against the walls, but his sight kept being drawn towards the ground. The closer he got to the windows, the more he realized how big the war camp had grown below him. What was once a small place for soldiers and generals to gather and strategize had burst open to reveal a new frontier of civilization.

Idiots, the lot of them, Dolish grunted. He’d opposed the idea long ago, and had been shot down. Did they even know of the war? Or had it become so mundane to them that they thought no more of it than a skirmish between playground friends? Soldiers came back bloody and bruised every day, even those of them who had hallowmancy. And yet the people in the camps took those losses with stride. He guessed he should be proud of the Ravenishtani spirit, but it worked against him in this regard.

Eventually, his thoughts turned to the men carrying him to the Armon’s stronghold. They’d been travelling for a bit at this point, but it didn’t seem well for the Bladeborn to spend so much of their bewl on it.

Idly, he turned his powers on and a blue pillar of light exploded outwards from him. It did no damage to the wood or the lush pillows, but it did give him an idea of the emotions of the Afterburners around him. He could feel their weariness, some of their annoyance and their pride as well. No doubt due to being selected for such a high position, Dolish sneered.

He randomly picked one of the Afterburners and spoke to him.

You, what’s your name? Dolish asked. The Afterburner flinched a bit and Dolish felt the palanquin shift. A drop of panic went through him, but he calmed once he felt it change back to its original position.

Dolish cursed himself for startling the Bladeborn. Vartel would have thought before doing something so stupid, he reprimanded. He composed himself and tried again.

Soldier, I asked your name. I’m speaking from inside of the Palanquin, he told the soldier.

Ah, yeah, I guessed, sir. You startled me is all, the soldier replied in an awkward tone.

Never fidget or worry, soldier. It does you no good in the battlefield. If you need, do it after you’re safe. Now, I think I asked your name? Dolish reiterated.

O-oh, sorry, sir. I’m Ash Dagger, the man thought. Dolish could hear the voice of the man, awkward and high-pitched as it was.

Afterburner Ash, tell me which one of the generals put you up to this? Dolish asked him. There was a quiet as the man thought to himself. Unless they spoke back, he would only be able to sense their emotions.

Renolt, sir. Thought we should show the new lieutenant General something grand, Ash replied.

Dolish sat back in his seat. The glow of his powers irritated his eyes, but he ignored it. For Yennel? We’re bleeding resources and they want to impress someone? The more he thought, the more agitated he would grow. Dolish calmed himself, whispering words back to himself.

You’re the talwar. Discipline is needed to wield your form. You cut swiftly, but with a measured angle, he thought to himself. Outwardly, he addressed Ash again.

And what about you? What do you think of your role? Dolish asked.

I’ll do what’s asked of me, sir. That’s the will of the Armon after all.

Do you not… miss your family? Someone back home that you would like to see again. I know that you’ve been kept on the frontlines for a while, Dolish asked ruefully. He sensed the mans emotions shift once again. From nostalgia to pain to a determination that seemed to blossom out of nowhere.

I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed, sir. I was born hallowed to protect them, so why shouldn’t I? Ash gave his reply. A smile quirked up at the sides of Dolish’s face. He could sense the sincerity of the man’s speech.

I hope, Afterburner Ash, that you and I both get to see home soon.

He stopped peering into the emotions of the soldier. Dolish took the time to talk to the other Afterburners instead, taking their opinions. Though none of them would open up much, they did give him much to think about.

His musings quieted as he felt the carriage lower. At first, he thought he was following and a spike of fear shot up in his heart, but he realized that the descent was slow, drawn out. Dolish had taken enough leaps under his own power to know just how fast a person fell. When the palanquin landed on the ground, he peered out and saw a stone wall cover the entirety of his vision.

Dolish stepped out, grateful to be free of the suffocating space. Ahead of him rose a stone fortress that could only have been crafted by hands that did not bruise, legs that did not ache, and workers with the strength of five men over.

It rose up far into the sky, composed of cut stone that was slotted perfectly into place. The walls were topped with walkways for soldiers, some that Dolish could see even now. There were holes in the sides of the building that were big enough for archers to pierce through, towers that rose up into the sky and had ledges for hallowmancers to stand on and flags that waved in the air. Orange and blue bricks topped the peaks of those towers and a large set of double doors stood in front of him. The doors had elephants emblazoned on their surface in bronze, with lights peeking from under them.

Soldiers flanked the opening, talwars belted to their waists as they looked forward. They gave Dolish a nod as he walked inside. My honour guard should be here already. Dolish kept the special unit of soldiers by his side wherever he went. Whenever there was an urgent message to be delivered, a scouting mission to be taken or counsel to be given, his honour guard would be present for it.

The soldiers grabbed the door handles as Dolish walked by. They pulled it open for him, letting the inviting warm light shine in his face. He squinted his eyes a bit as the door closed behind him, moving forward. He crossed the long hallway of the fortress and ended up in the main party lounge, scoffing.

Lights hung on sconces placed equally across the walls and lush red carpets covered each of the floors. Around Dolish, servers ran carrying glasses of wine and finger food. Some hallowmancers did little tricks that impressed the other generals and commanders gathered in the hall. Most of them didn’t wear uniforms, instead going out in dresses that were garish and distracting. Has everyone gone mad? Dolish thought as he looked at the opulent display. It was like something he would see in a Phasgorian noble’s house!

He calmed himself, only then noticing that a server had been holding out a glass of wine towards him.

“Sir, do you not…?”

“No. No, soldier, it’s alright,” Dolish said, waving him away. The server raised an eyebrow and Dolish chided himself. He’s not even enlisted, is he?

“And there he is, general Venastian!” someone said from beside him. It was the old voice of an aged woman, who stood at Dolish’s left near a group of hallowmancers. Lieutenant General Amarna had a hunched back and creases covering all of her face, but that didn’t stop her from smiling widely. She had a coat draped over her shoulders and a half empty glass in her hand, making Dolish wonder how much she had had to drink in the night.

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“Come over here so we can give you a proper welcome, Venastian!” she shouted and Dolish shuffled over. Beside her were a few Brigadiers and Colonel’s who looked to be relaxed in their environment.

Apparently, he was the only one feeling alienated, as the rest of the group mingled freely. Amarna took a sip from her glass, and then smacked her lips before setting it down on a nearby table.

“Damn fine job you did over at Latren, Dolish,” she said, accompanied by a few claps on his back by the others. They congratulated him, and he gave subdued acknowledgments.

“What’s next for you then, Venastian?” Amarna asked him, folding her arms.

“I needed to speak with His Sharpness. Is he here?” Dolish asked. Amarna raised a finger over the crowd at the back.

“He’s talking with the new arrival. Lieutenant General Yennel,” she said, jealousy creeping into her voice.

“Yennel? Where is he from?” Dolish asked. He hadn’t been keeping up with news on the other side of the country, so he barely knew of the man.

“He’s just come here after finishing up some work for the Armon near the south west. Phasgoria sent some of their Afterburners to raze the crops there. Thought they could stop us I’m guessing,” Amarna said, still looking towards the large procession gathered around the Armon. Dolish looked over the crowd and found a brown-haired man shaking hands with the Armon and chuckling.

He clicked his tongue. This would make it harder to get to the Armon.

“How long is the Armon going to take with him?”

Amarna shrugged. “Long as he wants to, I guess. He’s a popular one, Yennel,” she said, pointing towards the whole gathering around him.

“Have something important to say to him, Venastian?” she asked him.

“Some things, yes. Nothing major,” he replied, but Amarna studied him. Eventually she just smiled, but he could tell that she had seen right through him.

“His Sharpness has a lot of work yet to do, Dolish. Maybe pass along a message through his son instead?” Amarna asked innocently. Dolish considered for a moment, but shook his head instead.

“I will wait instead,” he said. Again, I’m stalling.

“Besides that, where is my honour guard?” Dolish asked.

“You should know most of all. They’re raiding the tables for any food they can get their hands on,” Amarna replied, glancing over at a station where some men who were still in uniform stood.

“I’ll be taking my leave, then. Thank you, General Amarna,” Dolish said, walking towards the group. They stuck out like a sore thumb around the other attendees, creating a space between them and the rest of the party.

Borne, his most trusted guard, was filling up a plate for himself and his twin brother, Bark. He was a short and stocky man with no hair atop his head. Reisha, Jerre and the others were beside the table, talking with themselves until Dolish approached the lot. They quieted as he did, moving to surround him.

“General Dolish, sir,” Borne said, awkwardly trying to salute him with a plate in both hands. He ended up clinking them and Dolish waved him away.

“No need for propriety when no one else cares for it, Borne,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t have expected that kind of response from the likes of you, sir,” Borne chuckled.

“I know I can seem inflexible at times, but even I can see that it doesn’t matter here,” Dolish replied.

“A first for the general,” Borne said, looking over at the others of his honour guard. They popped a smile, but none dared to chuckle in Dolish’s presence. Was he really the only one there who cared for it? Or was it the fact that most of his honour guard consisted of hallowmancers that made them so… unconcerned with the war?

Borne handed over his plate to his brother, setting his own down at the table as he looked towards his general.

“Did you need us for anything, general?” Borne asked.

“Nothing in particular. Reisha, have you gotten the ration reports gathered?” Dolish asked another of his guard. She was a square shouldered woman with a few wrinkles showing, but more youthful than either Dolish or Amarna.

“Yes, sir. Had to run all over the camp to find minister Fersh, but he finally gave them to me after some convincing,” she replied dutifully.

“Convincing?” Dolish asked and Reisha just smiled back. Dolish sighed. He’d have to apologize to the man for the trouble he caused him. The ministers may not know what goes on in the battle, but they were still doing their utmost to help Ravenishtan.

“Don’t take too much of the minister’s time. He’s just doing his job,” Dolish lectured and Reisha acknowledged it, although he could feel it was half-hearted at most. He looked towards the procession leading up to the Armon and sighed.

The sights and sounds around him began to get to Dolish after a while. He tried distracting himself with the food, but even that was so fanciful his palate rejected them. Dolish walked away from the hall, up one of the stairs and through a door that led away from the party.

The energy in the air seemed to change as he finally exited the stronghold and looked out one of its balconies. A balcony. Pah. What if an Afterburner were to sneak in through here? Dolish questioned. He’d have to request the Armon to change his stronghold’s security detail, but he was sure the man would listen. He was, after all, the reason their country had been prospering.

Dolish heard the music from the party in his ears, though he was sure he shouldn’t be able to. He couldn’t deny the talent with which the performer’s used the flute, but he’d be unhallowed if it didn’t make him feel so… so tired.

What am I even doing here? Dolish looked up into the sky. An Afterburner patrol crossed the skies of the camp, guarding it from above. Their clothes swayed behind them, loose fabrics that left a streak.

Dolish’s ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He didn’t look back even as the door opened behind him, keeping his eyes to the night instead.

“Well, well, well… A quiet place for you, isn’t it, General Venastian?” the voice said, smooth and alluring.

“Shannara…” Dolish noted, still keeping his gaze sweeping outside. The talwar is only for those disciplined. Distractions will only cause you to lose a finger erroneously.

She pressed herself against the railing like Dolish, trying to find whatever it was that he was looking at.

“There is quite literally nothing of note out here. What’re you staring out at?” she asked.

“Sometimes the absence of something interesting generates interest by itself, don’t you think?” Dolish asked.

Shannara scrunched her eyebrows. She had a soft and beautiful face, but it distracted Dolish none.

“Explain.”

“A town with no festivals, for example. Why would it not have any?”

“Because it doesn’t exist. Every town has festivals.”

Dolish let himself smile just a little. He could always get a student with that question.

“But it does. A little hamlet to the east I visited once. Its name was Eastwood. Their religion forbade large gatherings as it might attract those that had chased away their god. But even still, they had small parties between families and such.”

“What a dreadfully boring people. A party is only as fun as the persons involved in it,” Shannara replied.

“Perhaps. But there are lessons to be learned from it,” Dolish told her.

“And would you tell me those lessons?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Then really, I’ve learnt nothing, have I?”

“You’ve learnt nothing if you’ve taken nothing away from what I’ve said. If I were to give you a lesson, you could disregard it. But if you were to take something away yourself?” Dolish said, facing Shannara fully for the first time.

“Then you’d cherish it all that more.”

Shannara didn’t reply for a bit after that, tapping her fingers against the railing instead.

“How about you and I…” she said, moving uncomfortably close to him, “talk about what I’ve taken away… together?” she smiled at him with a knowing look. She pressed against him, a gesture that he tried ignoring to the best of his abilities.

“I won’t be doing that, Shannara,” Dolish replied in a flat tone. Shannara looked genuinely bewildered by that.

“You know I have a family. Never do that again,” Dolish said further. Shannara broke herself off and sighed.

“Ah, well…” was all she said before walking back inside. Dolish felt disgust so vividly he couldn’t stay himself. Just as he was about to leave, however, something caught his eye outside.

A contingent of Afterburners lowered another palanquin down towards a location that Dolish could see from the balcony. A figure came out of the corner of his eye, cleft chin and brown hair identifying him as Yennel, and walked towards that carriage.

Strange, a party usually doesn’t end this quickly? Dolish thought. He could see Yennel holding something in his hand as he walked towards the carriage. It was a book of some kind, though Dolish could not make out the design or the title of it.

Yennel didn’t give him another second to identify it either, stepping inside of the carriage just as he put the book back into his pockets. The palanquin took them into the sky, leaving behind the stronghold and Dolish to wonder.

Dolish didn’t give it a second thought as he walked back into the venue. His arms and legs had started to ache, a sign of his age that he could usually ignore with some bewl. But that would be a waste now. Instead, he asked a servant for one of the guest rooms in the stronghold and was guided towards it with haste.

“Will you be staying the night, sir?” the servant asked and Dolish answered positively. He left in a hurry afterwards and Dolish walked down the hall towards where he knew the rooms were. The room was fit for a king, but Dolish knew that was just his own taste getting the better of him. He thought it a luxury as he sat down on the soft cushions.

Dolish let out a breath, looking around himself under the light of the bewllan crystals that hung off the walls. The pale blue light from those crystals made him feel as if the room was colder than it actually was. Perhaps its time…

Dolish opened up the buttons of his jacket, letting it fall open and revealing an inner pocket. Inside of that pocket lay two rectangular letters, folded a bit due to pressing against his chest for so long.

He pulled those two letters out and began to read them, making sure to savour every word of them.

I hope you’re doing well, Dolish. Eval misses you and I can’t say I don’t feel the same way. I always keep you in my thoughts, and often wish you were back here so I could enjoy your company.

We celebrated Eval’s birthday with my family. He was running around the entire building asking when he’d be able to take on a thousand soldiers like you.

Dolish’s smirk wavered a bit at reading the last line. No, not his boy. Never his boy.

Do tell when you plan on returning. I’m hoping to make your favourites.

Love you always,

Shann

Dolish felt a warmth blooming in his heart. The letter had done much for his mind, and he smiled beside himself in the night. Folding the letter, he stood up from the bed and out the window of the stronghold. It was a small thing, but he could still see the clouds parting outside, revealing the moon in its splendour once more.

Dolish spent more time than he would’ve liked looking at that. He should have been out of the room sooner, but gathering himself before the Armon would take him a bit longer to accomplish. Instead, he rubbed at the letter in his pockets and entertained idle thoughts.

Once he saw the last dregs of the guests leaving the stonrghold, he moved. Out the door and back into the hallways, Dolish stomped down towards the main hall. Inside of it, he found bowls and plates, dirtied carpets and moved furniture. Would that it had been one of his men and the hall their barracks, he would have been furious, but he couldn’t fault the others.

The Armon stood at the end of the hall, above a slightly raised platform that overlooked the entire hall. He was a clean-shaven man with long hair that flowed out of his back. He wore clothes that exuded regalness, yellows bordering on gold mixed with a forest green tunic. He had grey eyes that caught people’s attention and never let them go until he commanded so.

Now those same eyes were squinted as the Armon looked over the state of his abode.

“Have the cleaners take the carpets out and replaced. And get the servers to clean up all of the dishes.”

He intoned in such a way that left no room for argument. When his eyes swept over Dolish, however, he did not crumble. He kept himself raised, taking a step forward over and over until the Armon finally spoke.

“I heard you were going to be staying with us, General Venastian. I hope the cleaning didn’t disturb you,” the Armon said.

“It didn’t, your Sharpness. I just came here to ask something of you,” Dolish replied over the sounds of the servants bustling around the hall. Some of them slowed their tasks down to hear what the General had to say, but resumed intently once they caught sight of the Armon’s glare.

“Go ahead and ask then, Venastian,” The Armon allowed.

“When can we go home?” Dolish asked, and suddenly all sounds in the hall stopped. A second later, they resumed, the workers all moving faster than they had before. The Armon snapped his fingers, gathering all attention to himself.

“All of you can go clean up the other rooms. Now.”

The workers shuffled out as soon as the command was given. When they were gone, the Armon finally turned his gaze to Dolish and spoke slowly.

“Are you playing a joke on me, General Venastian? Or did you want every gossiper from here to the edge of camp to listen?” the Armon asked.

“I… Forgive me, your Sharpness. I’m not the most socially educated,” Dolish replied.

“Clearly. Now, explain to me exactly what you mean.”

Dolish took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve been here near the borders of Elneshe for over a year at this point. The Afterburners and Planars that we use as suppliers and soldiers are dying out, choking us on both fronts. The weather is getting colder and the yields from farms are decreasing. I fear we won’t be able to maintain the same fighting capabilities if we continue to fight over a weapon we don’t even know exists,” Dolish explained.

“The weapon exists, General Venastian. It’s not your position to choose when we retreat, but mine. Until then, you are to lead your soldiers and listen to my orders,” the Armon told him, staring down at the General.

“But that’s exactly it, your Sharpness. If we don’t retreat soon, who knows what kind of unrest we’ll face back at the capital? The citizens cannot handle the taxes being imposed,” Dolish argued, hoping for the Armon to see his position. Instead, he moved closer, lowering his voice.

“Then are you planning on betraying me, Dolish? I’ve considered those risks over a hundred times over, and yet we must keep going, do you understand?”

Dolish moved away, casting his gaze downwards.

“Forgive me, your Sharpness. I’m just worried for our people,” he said. “And… me and my soldiers, we wish to see home again after so long.”

The Armon let out a deep breath, his eyes softening as he did. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling back a few locks that had gotten out of place.

“If we don’t find the weapon we’ve been looking for, General Venastian, I’m not sure we’ll have a home to go back to,” The Armon said. “But those are matters best discussed when we’re not tired. Do you still plan on staying the night?”

Dolish shook his head. “I’ll be comfortable enough in my tent if you need me.”

Dolish pressed both of his fists together, bobbing them downwards. He turned around from the Armon, walking out of the door and back into the warcamp where his mind wandered until he finally found his tent and retired for the night.