Sunrise filters through the open flap of Abdel’s tent. He groans in annoyance. He feels weak, which he hopes will go away once he starts moving. If he can start moving.

Pushing the blanket away, Abdel rolls onto his side and pushes himself up slowly. A jolt of pain rises in his stomach, threatening another cramp. Thankfully, it never comes and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He looks around his tent, and finds it as he left it. His eyes land on the bag holding his uniform and armor. It sits snugly against the far wall of the tent, well out of his reach.

He stares at the bag, willing it to rise up and float towards him.

Seconds pass, but the bag remains unmoved, indifferent to his hopes and sufferings.

Abdel frowns as he studies the flat dirt between where he sits and the bag’s location. His eyebrows furrow.

He counts the steps. Five; maybe four if he takes long strides. If he can take a step at all.

“Damn.”

It doesn’t matter though. He will need to walk far more than that today.

With a grim expression, Abdel stands. The pain from the night before hits him like salt in a fresh wound. The [Captain] grits his teeth and stubbornly ignores the pain. He arduously crosses the floor, each step sending further stabbing pain through his body.

By the time he arrives at the bag, a tear is rolling down his cheek.

He waits, allowing the pain to subside before he opens the bag. Three uniforms and high-quality scale armor are revealed.

__________________________________________________________

Normally, it takes Abdel a minute or two at most to put on his clothes and armor. Today, he requires ten minutes. Once dressed, the pain had lessened somewhat. The linen clothing is very soft, so the pain of walking has become manageable.

He checks himself in the mirror once more, taking a moment to admire the quality of his dress before ever so slowly walking out of his tent.

He stops, watching the Red Cross, supposedly the [Healers] of the army, bustling about and treating people.

He frowns but gives them no mind as he heads to the commander’s tent.

“Why are you giving the [Soldiers] poisonous food!? Are you trying to kill them?” a human woman berates Darrow. At her ministrations, the big guy takes a step back and raises both hands up in a placating manner.

“Hey, it’s fine! We eat it all the time. Had some myself.”

“You Gejan have a natural resistance to poison. Humans do not. The soldiers were suffering all night!”

“Look, Nafissa, right?” Darrow glances at another Gejan that Abdel had missed. A blue scaled Gejan with the mark of a crow on his chest and a white scarf embroidered with the Red Cross stands on the other side of Nafissa.. The blue scaled Gejen smirks.

The human woman continues glaring. She takes a step forward, which causes her cape to shift and reveal the red cross.

“They’re alive. Nobody died, so it’s alright,” says Darrow.

Nafissa’s face curls into a snarl. “They’re only alright because the Red Cross is going around casting [Heal]! Without them, most of your army would be bedridden.”

Abdel watches the back and forth between the huge Gejan and the small woman as they argue. During the argument, Darrow doesn’t act aggressively in any way, but refuses to give ground. To Abdel, the human woman appears to outrank his commander.

“Human, you all right there? Did you need to talk to Darrow?”

While the two argue, the blue Gejan addresses Abdel.

“Y-yes,” he says after a moment.

The blue Gejan stops lounging and walks to Abdel.

“Don’t move,” he says. He raises his hand and puts it on Abdel’s head.

“[Lay on Hands]” he intones.

The Gejan’s arm lights up with the activation of his skill. His hand only glows for three seconds before the light disappears. With it goes the burning pain in Abdel’s gut and backside.

“Thank you,” Abdel utters.

The Gejan chuckles. “What’s your name, [Captain]?”

“Abdel, Sir,” he answers, and the Gejan nods.

“I am Orlan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“All right, fine! I’ll do something about it,” Darrow groans. “Ughh, I feel like I’m talking to Jessica.”

Nafissa tries to keep a smile from breaking her serious expression but fails.

“Good,” she announces and then turns around. “I’ll be back if the food problem isn’t fixed,” she declares as she walks out. Orlan glances at Darrow’s defeated look before following Nafissa outside.

Darrow sighs, walk’s to his desk and plops down into his oversized chair. He looks at Abdel. “Abdel, are all human women so bossy? Is this a normal trait?”

Abdel frowns, “Not normally sir. Women tend to not be aggressive like that. They would usually not risk a physical altercation.”

Darrow snorts. “Winning an argument with your fists. I’d love that, too bad it’s going to be reciprocated and my tail will end up being shoved up my ass.”

He shakes his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. She’s got a point. I didn’t think humans wouldn’t be able to eat the same food as us and then you all were howling throughout the night.”

Abdel’s expression turns grim as he remembers the suffering he both saw and felt. He would not wish that night upon anybody.

“Anyway, that’s something I can deal with later today. For now, I need to talk with you.” Darrow says and gestures to a seat on the other side of his desk.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Abdel takes a seat.

“Now, I’ve got some bad news, some good news, and some more bad news.”

Darrow places his elbows on the table and his gaze bores into Abdel.

“The first bit of bad news is that only a single [Captain] is willing to serve a new [King]. All the others stayed loyal, unfortunately.”

Darrow smiles. “Which leads us to the good news. Since you are the only [Captain] of the recruits, you are thus the highest-ranking new recruit.”

“And the other bad news, sir?”

Darrow purses his lips. His facial scales turn a slight pinkish color.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

______________________________________________________________

“What kind of idiot is he? How could he feed poison to humans?” Nafissa asks the air with a frown while watching the Red Cross heal those wounded. It’s an interesting company she’d been cajoled into joining when she arrived at Sanavil three days ago. Over a thousand [Priests] and [Priestesses], all inducted in a single day… all who worship the… Tyrant. It’s the first time since Eir has ever been called that. Usually, she’s called the Eternal Healer or the Mother of Medicine.

But Tyrant? That’s a first. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. They wear Eir’s mark and follow her guidance in healing far more… passionately than Nafissa herself.

Healing for the sake of healing, regardless of the patient’s mental wellbeing.

Orlan sighs. “Darrow is… an interesting sort. Out of everyone, he is probably the most loyal person to our [King] though perhaps the least competent.”

Nafissa frowns. “So why did they choose him for that position?”

Orlan continues walking, his tail swishing left and right as he matches her pace. “Because nobody else wanted to.”

“Really?” she asks in surprise. Most [Captains] would kill for a leadership position, especially one that puts you in charge of a large portion of an army.

“Yeah,” Orlan nods, “all the [Captains] were asked and every one of them refused. They don’t want to be in charge of a bunch of humans whose loyalty is still in question.

“Except for Darrow,” she reiterates.

Orlan chuckles. “I think he just wanted to be useful, but didn’t realize what work would be involved.”

________________________________________________________

A day ago, Abdel was a prisoner of war, then he became a [Captain] of a growing army made solely of such prisoners, now, as of an hour ago, he is in charge of running an entire camp while the real commander has left to fix a food problem.

He sighs and wishes he could rest his back on the chair, but he is sitting in Darrow’s chair, which is not built for a human. The size is too large, not to mention the accommodations made for a tail. He looks over Darrow’s notes as well as the map of the camp. Locations to train, where to eat, where to obtain equipment, where to poop… and that’s it.

It’s a mess.

The tent flaps open and a [Soldier] nervously enters. He glances at two muscular Gejan guards before his eyes land on the oversized desk.

“Abdel? Wha… What?”

Abdel nods. “Yeah, sit down. I’m going to need some help.”

Istra gapes at the unexpected sight.

“What?”

Abdel taps his hands on the desk. “Long story short, I’ve been put in charge of running the whole camp, at least until the [General] or someone more qualified shows up. Until then,” he leans down, grabs an extra red bandanna, and places it on the table. “Congratulations, you’re a[Captain] now. Your first job is to round up all the [Lieutenants] that served under Gravitus and bring them here.”

The befuddled Istra blinks, but slowly nods. He walks to the desk and takes the bandanna.

“I’m still not sure what’s going on, but I trust you. Give me a moment, I’ll be back.”

Abdel watches Istra run out before looking over the notes again. He grabs a new piece of paper, one that is extremely thin and malleable, unlike the usual scrolls. He also grabs a writing instrument that uses graphite and wood instead of a quill and ink.

On the top of the paper, he writes Chain of Command. For whatever reason, Darrow was expecting to lead the army with only a single level of command, which works only so long as the numbers are small. A single [captain] to a score of [Soldiers] is workable, but once you get into the hundreds, then you need [Lieutenants].

“A logistical nightmare,” he grumbles aloud, eliciting a snicker from the Gejan guards Darrow had left him.

He ignores them and gets back to work adjusting the camp’s layout.

__________________________________________________________________

“Marcia, I need help.”

The tall Gejan shifts her eyes away from the wall’s construction and glares at Darrow.

“No, get lost. I already helped you get the [Soldiers] situated. Whether you fail in your command of the camp is not my problem. I’m already busy with building the wall and planning the entire city. I’ve no time to fix your problems.” Her expression screws up. “Why are you even here? Who’s in charge of the camp while you’re over here?”

“Oh, Abdel, the [Captain]. I left him in charge.”

Marcia touches her forehead as a headache begins to form.

“You put… a former enemy [Captain] in charge of an army of armed [Soldiers].”

“Errr, yes?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Marci-”

“OUT!”

___________________________________________________________

“That is a most egregious conundrum in which you have entangled yourself, Darrow.” says Groknak while he sips tea, “and while I would like to aid you, alas, my presence is required here to lead the Minotaurs. They require the guiding hand of one most astute.”

Groknak takes another sip, enjoying the rather refreshing taste of mint.

“Have you tried speaking with the other leaders yet?”

Darrows sighs. “Anathema is busy leading the Gejan civilians, Lilly doesn’t want anything to do with me, Tessa is scouting, Thorous and Aldonis are busy training, Orlan is leading the red cross and all of the Centaurs are either with the [General] or escorting the new [Soldiers] to my camp.” He shakes his head. “I don’t really know anyone else to ask for help.”

Groknak raises a bushy eyebrow. “While I appreciate you being candid, it pains me knowing I was to be your final choice. Have you attempted querying any of the humans residing within the city?”

___________________________________________________________________

Scarlet bursts out of the city on horseback as she pushes the animal to its limits. A dust trail forms behind her as she makes a beeline towards the camp.

Next to her is Darrow who is using several skills to keep up with her blistering speed.

“You are a fucking idiot!” she roars. “How can you just put someone who was a prisoner a day ago in charge of a fucking army!? Are you out of your fucking mind!”

“He seemed like he knew what he was doing?”

“You idiot! If that [Captain] chooses to, he could lead the entire army to attack Sanavil! Thousands, if not tens of thousands could be killed because of your incompetence.”

___________________________________________________________________

When the duo arrives at the camp, both of them stop and stare. They expected anarchy or armed rebellion, but instead, they witness the complete opposite.

The whole camp has been restructured, a chain of command is in place, and every [Soldier] moves with purpose. Squads of [Soldiers] are patrolling, others are taking down and repositioning tents, most are busy sparring with makeshift wooden weapons.

In the several hours that Darrow left, an enormous change has occurred, enough to boggle the mind.

“My, uhh, tent is towards the center,” Darrow says and leads Scarlet through the camp. As they pass by, every [Soldier] looks away from them in abject fear.

By the time they reach the central tent, it is clear to both of them that the camp is a well-organized machine.

The two enter and find Abdel sitting in Darrow’s chair. The [Captains] hands are a blur as he writes plans and orders. This goes on for a whole minute before Scarlet coughs into her hand.

Abdel stops and looks up, finding Darrow and a woman with bright red hair staring at him.

“Abdel,” Darrow starts, “How did you fix the camp in mere hours?”

Abdel gulps and scratches the side of his neck as his cheeks turn red, “I uh, told everyone that if we don't get the camp organized quickly, we might be stuck to eating the green stew again.”