The festival was today, and Legosia came back just in time to celebrate with us. Some of the philosophers who were attending seemed to grab his attention. Curious, since he never showed interest in those types before.

I myself enjoyed myself among my subjects. Seeing the people under me happy fulfils me. It helps me with the conviction I need to go through with creating the weapon. For them, and for the sake of the knowledge we’ve gathered. For my people.

-From The Last King of Elneshe’s 5th Note

Rozu walked through a blood-laden battlefield hateful. He’d been chased around for so long, surviving on so little bewl that it made him feel like a mouse in a field of cats. I’m not a mouse. I’m not some damned prey, he repeated to himself as he crossed bodies and groaning men alike.

Smoke rose from several places, fires started by soldiers on either side to gain an advantage. His bewl pool still wrung dry, he walked with aches and wounds all across his body. He’d barely managed to fend off the last of the Phasgorians who’d attacked him, losing his knife in the process and bending his Katar too far.

In the distance, he saw soldiers sitting outside of the stronghold. Most of them stayed still, wrapped in bandages, tired and wounded. Those who weren’t silent wailed softly, and only a few of those who’d gotten past with barely any scratches ran around tending to those who hadn’t.

Rozu didn’t care for any of them. Not for their talking or what they had in mind. He’d been embarrassed so horribly by Dero that he just wanted to lay down and sleep. But sleep would not have him, as his path was barred by the Colonel.

The Colonel left here by General Venastian. The Colonel who looked none too pleased to see Rozu.

“Where were you, Katar?” that same Colonel asked him.

“Fighting, sir.”

“No. According to your squadron, you weren’t there defending the fortress, like your squadron was ordered to. You were running around on the frontlines taking out soldiers,” The Colonel told him in a condescending manner. What did he know? He had no powers of his own. Rozu could take him out in an instant, end this stupid conversation before it even began.

But he wasn’t that stupid. Tired? Yes. Beaten? Even more so. But getting sent to the brig or worse would strip him of everything he’d worked for. Everything he’d become.

“I’m sorry, sir. I saw more Bladeborn approaching our ranks so I thought it’d be better to take them on first before they ruined the formations,” Rozu reasoned, and the Colonel sighed.

“Listen to your orders next time. To the letter, understood?”

Rozu nodded and the Colonel walked away. It wasn’t until he did that Rozu realized the stiffness in his movement. How long had the man been outside? He didn’t care to answer the question for himself, though. Now that the Colonel was gone, Rozu could find the man who’d sold him out.

Instead of returning to a soft bed, Rozu walked around the stronghold until he found a fire outside and several people sitting beside it. They were making a stew of some kind, a chef in the middle stirring the pot and smacking away errant hands.

Rozu smelled the sweetness of the stew and his stomach grumbled. But he blanketed it under his anger. He walked up to his squadron, looking around until he noticed Tanz, Raisho and Sazir. They were sitting among the squadron telling stories.

He clapped his hands together and a ring of metallic sounds swept through the camp. Everyone turned to face him, some of them looking unpleased at the annoyance or holding their ears.

“Which one of you reported me to the Colonel?” Rozu asked them.

“They just came back from a battle, Rozu, let them rest for a-”

“Quiet, Raisho. I wasn’t talking to you,” Rozu said to the hawkish man, then turned on the rest of them.

“Now, tell me which one of you reported me or I’m sending all of you back on empty stomachs.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

No one spoke up for a while. The chef tried his best to ignore the argument, stirring the stew over and over in the same way. Then finally, someone sighed. Rozu looked over and saw a tall man in uniform place a bowl down on the ground near him.

He folded his arms behind himself and looked at Rozu with frown.

“It was me, sir,” he said. Rozu walked over to the man and grabbed him by the collar. He knocked over the man’s bowl without looking, spilling the soup onto the grass.

“You’re the one who told the Colonel I did nothing while I was out there hunting down the enemy?” Rozu asked.

“We needed you back on defense, sir. Sazir and Raisho couldn’t match the forces getting through. It’s how they pierced the walls.”

“Then maybe you should step up. Stop being so worthless and actually contribute to the fight,” Rozu said, giving him a push with enhanced strength. The soldier stumbled a bit but was held up by the others, none of which looked pleased with Rozu.

“Everything I do, I do for the good of the squadron. I’m the one fighting out there against other Bladeborn. I’m the one securing points and defending. The rest of you are just there as backup.

“So, when I do something, you don’t question me. You just shut up and listen like you’re supposed to,” Rozu said, sweeping a finger across the crowd. Their annoyance turned into glaring quickly after that, but none of the men spoke up against him. None of them raised a sound as Rozu left the group, but out of the corner of his ear, he did hear the words,

“Ran like a coward.”

****

Dolish was tired. They’d expected an attack on Latren, but the number of forces that the Phasgorians had dedicated against them were much bigger than they’d hoped.

Dolish thought he’d been overcompensating by putting so many soldiers at the stronghold, but they turned out to be the only thing that kept it from falling into the enemy’s hands. He sat now, trying to organize the departure of several of those injured soldiers away from the battlefield.

Some time at home would do the soldiers good. He penned the requests of his men, signing away on them for the injured and regrettably rejecting the ones from those who were still fit to fight in his eyes.

He’d have to prepare himself from the headache he’d face when the other generals learned of this, but they could bear the days with a deficit of soldiers.

He finished the last of the requests and walked out of his tent. It was near the edge of the camp, so he walked to where the injured soldiers would be arriving. Dolish activated his Commander field and sensed the people walking far away. Soldiers came back carried by Afterburners, or walking through portals. More and more blips on his Commander senses alerted him to the fact that he’d been on time.

He stood on stony ground, a beacon for the returning soldiers. A sea of soldiers came from the horizon, most nursing wounds that bled through their bandages. They walked with limps and half-made formations.

Dolish assessed the condition of the soldiers as fast as he could. Speaking into their minds and asking of their conditions as they arrived. He folded his arms as more soldiers passed him by. The ones too tired to give proper greetings just glanced in his direction.

Those who still walked in ranks gave him a nod. Even those that did not salute him, he let go for the moment. Wounded men needed help, not reprimanding. After a while, a group of medical workers ran past Dolish and started to guide soldiers to their positions. Dolish did his best to help those of them that he could.

Loren, put them in ranks and take them to the medical wing. Gather the other squadron leaders as well and guide them as well.

Ares, give me the report when you’re rested. And send your Afterburners to the bewllan supply to replenish before they bring back the soldiers at the back.

A portal opened next to Dolish, the green light irritating his eyes. Of his Honour guard, Raisha walked through with glowing green eyes. She dismissed the portal behind her and saluted him. Dolish couldn’t spare the time to talk to her, busy with giving orders as he was. So, he gave her only a nod of acknowledgement and let her stand until the procession of soldiers thinned.

He continued issuing orders through his field until he saw the last of the soldiers walk past him and into the camp. Only then did Dolish turn it off, his head throbbing a little from the mental communication. He raised a hand to rub his temples, then finally spoke.

“What do you need, Raisha?” Dolish asked her.

“A-ah, you should get back to someplace warm, General,” Raisha said, her voice meeker than usual.

“I will, Raisha. But you have something to request of me, don’t you?”

“Yes… Would you be able to bring my husband to the war camp, Sir?” Raisha asked.

“I could. But why? The camps are going to be more dangerous in the coming weeks until we resupply.”

Raisha tucked a strand of her hair behind her head. “He’s a trained doctor, Sir. Very skilled with his hands. He could help with the wounded we have.”

“I’m sorry, Raisha, but that’s not reason enough to risk your spouse. As a Bladeborn, you’re a higher target for most enemies,” Dolish explained.

“But… it’s been so long. Months at this point, sir,” she said tiredly. Dolish put a hand to her shoulder and sighed.

“I know, child. I know. You’ll get all the time you want with him once this war’s over. But until then, you’re going to have to make do.”

Raisha scoffed bitterly and pushed the Dolish’s hands down. “If you say so, General,” she said, though her shoulders slumped. Shann would be angry with me for being so strict again. Raisha turned and another portal appeared before her, tinged green at the edges. She walked through it far into the camp, and Dolish just stood there.

Before the portal closed, he opened his mouth again.

“Trust me when I say, Raisha. I will make sure you get to see your husband again soon,” he consoled her. She turned and stared with her glowing green eyes, before pressing her fists together as the portal closed.