Chapter 41

[The Next Day]

The first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as 621 found himself amidst a ragtag group of new recruits, their faces etched with grim determination and the simmering rage of vengeance. They marched onward, their boots pounding against the earth with an offset rhythm, each step bringing them closer to the front lines of the Empire's war-torn territories.

The atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency, a collective desire for retribution burning bright in the hearts of the recruits. They had all witnessed the devastation wrought upon their once-peaceful towns, now reduced to rubble and ash by the relentless advance of the enemy forces. For many, the promise of joining the Empire's ranks was their only hope for justice, their only chance to avenge the lives lost and the homes destroyed.

Among the recruits, 621 stood out as a silent observer, his gaze unnoticed as he took in the scene unfolding around him. He felt no fear, no uncertainty, only a sense of detached curiosity as he watched his fellow recruits march forward with determination.

621 stood out as an anomaly, a child amongst men, his small stature belying the deadly skills that lay beneath his unassuming facade. However, he wasn't the only youth to join the ranks of the Empire's forces. Glancing around, John spotted several other children, their faces drawn and weary, their innocence stripped away by the harsh realities of war.

Amidst the ranks of eager recruits, he heard whispers of doubt and hesitation, the quiet murmurs of those who harbored a deep-seated fear of death, especially so for the youths. He noticed shaky hands, trembling lips and darting eyes which rested on deep shadowy eye-bags.

They were driven by the same desire for revenge, but beneath their bravado lay a gnawing sense of dread, a realization of the harsh realities of war.

Ahead of the marching column, a lone wagon trundled along the road, its purpose shrouded in mystery. 621 watched with mild interest as it led the way, its presence a stark contrast to the soldiers marching behind it. His rationale was that it may have carried supplies, but its position at the front hinted at something else.

621 remained at the fringes of the group, his presence almost imperceptible amidst the sea of faces. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, his mind focused on the task at hand, his true intentions known only to himself.

As they drew closer to their destination, the whispers of doubt and fear grew louder, mingling with the fervent cries of those seeking vengeance.

In the distance, the sprawling campsite of the Empire's forces came into view, a sprawling mass of tents and makeshift structures stretching out before them. From his position, 621 could make out wooden forts surrounding the entire campsite, he even noticed numerous amounts of sentry’s patrolling the makeshift walls.

As they neared the camp, the wagon ahead slowed to a stop, drawing curious glances from the recruits. John watched intently as the driver climbed down from his perch, his movements deliberate as he made his way towards the side of the wagon.

With a creak of rusted hinges, the doors of the wagon swung open, revealing its mysterious cargo to the world.

A youth stepped out of the wagon, his presence seemed to cast a strange calm over the otherwise tense atmosphere. His simple attire and composed demeanor stood in stark contrast to the surroundings.

With a curious gaze, 621 watched as the newcomer joined their ranks, his eyes lingering on the unfamiliar face. But before he could dwell on the matter further, he felt a tap on his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.

"Don't stare," the voice cautioned, prompting 621 to turn and face the source of the interruption. Standing behind him was a young boy, his expression a mixture of fear and caution.

"He's Baron Uril's last heir, Henry of Ingla," the boy explained in hushed tones, “Nobility”, he added as if sharing a secret. His silent words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, leaving 621 to ponder its significance.

He simply nodded in understanding, though inwardly he remained unmoved by the revelation. To him, titles and lineage mattered little in the face of reality, he found that there was no difference between him and those perceived to be of greater importance.

“After all, they still bleed the same”, he murmured silently.

621’s detached gaze now fell upon the young boy who had warned him, his appearance unremarkable compared to the latter of nobility. His unkempt face bore the marks of a life spent toiling around menial jobs.

His features were weathered, with dirt smudges and traces of sweat clinging to his clammy skin. He possessed unruly chestnut hair which fell in disarray around his dirt-smudged face contrasting the pair of wide hazel eyes that darted nervously from side to side.

His clothes, once simple and homespun, now hung loosely on his frame, evidence of recent weight loss due to the harsh conditions of attrition.

Subsequently, 621 couldn't help but notice the palpable fear that seemed to emanate from the boy. It puzzled him to see someone so clearly terrified, willingly marching towards the battlefield and inevitably throwing themselves into the meatgrinder.

Just what could drive someone to join the army despite their overwhelming fear? Was it desperation, a desire for revenge, or something else entirely? These questions swirled in his mind as the entourage pressed onward towards the camp.

..

Soon the entourage of new recruits reached the campsite; from here, they were greeted by the sight of a low-ranking officer of the Empire. This individual was clad in tarnished armor adorned with the sigil of his rank. His cape, once a vibrant shade of crimson, now hung faded and tattered around his shoulders.

With a weathered face marked by the lines of experience and determination, he stood before them, exuding an air of authority tempered by weariness.

The officer exchanged a brief conversation with the leading recruiter, his voice a low rumble that carried across the campsite. His eyes flickered with resolve as he relayed instructions to the recruiter, his gaze briefly lingering on the gathered recruits.

On the other hand, a sense of curiosity stirred among the recruits as they watched the exchange, wondering what awaited them within the fortified walls of the camp. However, their questions went unanswered as the officer departed, his steps heavy with the weight of duty.

To their surprise, the officer then approached the young boy named Henry, his demeanor shifting slightly as he led the boy away from their group and into the heart of the camp. Speculation buzzed among the recruits, but their attention was soon drawn back to the leading recruiter, who directed them to make camp just outside the fort.

They were barred entry into the main campsite.

The lead recruiter's commands then echoed across the campsite. Groups were formed, and with haste, they fashioned their tents from stained and torn cloths which stretched over rudimentary sticks which were foraged from a nearby forest. These shelters provided little more than meager protection from the elements, barely accommodating the huddled forms of three individuals within their cramped confines.

Inside his own tent, 621 found himself squeezed among six other recruits, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Their faces bore the marks of uncertainty, their eyes reflecting the harsh reality of their circumstances as they awaited their next orders.

After what felt like an eternity, the sun settled as it transitioned to dusk. Then, groups of soldiers emerged from the main campsite, their armour marred by battle and wear. With rough hands, they distributed sets of crude armour and weapons to the recruits, their condition almost akin to trash.

The armour, battered and ill-fitting, offered little in the way of protection, while the swords, worn and chipped, spoke of countless battles fought and lives lost. Despite the subpar quality of their equipment, the recruits accepted their meager offerings with stoic resolve, knowing that they would need every advantage they could muster.

He stared at the crude sword before him, feeling the stained handle which harboured a scent of sweat and old blood; he tried to see his reflections from the slightly bent blade, but he couldn’t.

Next, he eyed the ‘armour’ that he wore with curiosity; it was fashioned out from a simple red tunic adorned with pieces of old leather attached by strings of dry and dirty wool, the leather protected only the shoulders and upper chest, as for the rest—mere cloth.

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Strangely enough, no one found this set of arrangements strange as the recruits donned their ill-fitting armour and brandished their worn swords. In fact, an air of acceptance pervaded the campsite. Even the familiar young boy, nestled among the group with 621, appeared strangely reassured by the makeshift gear that hung loosely from his slender frame.

But while the others seemed content to embrace their new equipment and accommodation without question, 621 on the other hand, couldn't shake the instinctual feeling of unease that settled over him like a shroud.

Lost in his thoughts, he gazed out across the campsite, taking in the scene with a sense of detachment. The flickering light of torches dotted around the campsite casting long shadows across the ground, their dancing flames illuminating the worn faces of the recruits as they went about their preparations seemingly eager to participate in a world over their shoulders.

Simple tents rose haphazardly from the still earth, their ripped fabric billowing in the evening breeze as the outside camp bustled with activity.

However, 621’s thoughts were whisked away as a rather bulky man, erupted in frustration, his booming voice echoed through the cramped confines of the tent, shattering the uneasy silence that had settled over the group.

With a scowl etched upon his features, he glared at 621 and the other young boy, his eyes brimming with annoyance.

"Out!" he barked, his voice laced with impatience. "You two, get out of here!"

The other four men in the tent remained silent, their eyes flickering nervously between the annoyed individual and the two children. One of them, an older man with weathered features, decided to step forward, his voice tinged with concern.

"Nicholas, calm down," he urged, his hand outstretched in a placating gesture. "They're just kids. They shouldn't be out there in the cold."

But Nicholas paid no heed to the old man's words, his frustration boiling over into anger. With a swift and sudden motion, he grabbed the older man by the collar of his shirt, his grip like a vice as he pulled him close.

"Listen here, pops," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "My leg is getting tired squatting like this. So, unless you want me to kick you out too, you better shut that stupid mouth of yours, understand?" he snarled.

With a rough shove, he sent the older man stumbling backward, his eyes now flashing with a mixture of fear and indignation. As the tension in the tent reached its breaking point, 621 and the other young boy exchanged glances, unsure of what to do in the face of Nicholas's volatile temper.

“GET OUT! I say!”

Nicholas's booming voice filled the cramped space once more, commanding and authoritative as he ordered 621 and the other young boy to leave.

Unceremoniously, 621 simply rose from his spot, his expression unreadable as he silently made his way out of the tent. The other young boy, sensing the initiative in 621's movements, scurried after him, fear etched into his features as he hurried to obey.

Outside the tent, the cool night air enveloped them, a welcome relief from the stifling confines they had just left behind. 621 glanced back at the tent briefly, his eyes meeting Nicholas's satisfied gaze before turning away without a word.

Nicholas's sneering remark echoed in the air, his disdain for 621 and the young boy palpable. "Fucking runts," he spat, his words dripping with contempt. "You two don't even have a use here."

621 ignored the insult, his gaze fixed ahead as he strode away, his mind already drifting to other thoughts seemingly unfazed by the man’s outburst. Behind him, the unkempt youth trying to catch his tail.

"Hey! wait up" The nervous youth hurried to catch up with 621, his breaths coming in short gasps as he finally reached his side.

"Um, sorry to bother you," he stammered, his eyes darting nervously around the camp. "I just... I was wondering if I can tag along with you," he confessed, casting a glance back at the tent where Nicholas still lingered.

621 regarded the youth with a neutral expression, his demeanor calm and composed despite the tension in the air, “Why?” he asked honestly.

"B-Because no one should be…alone," the youth explained simply, his gaze slightly perplexed. "A-And besides, it's better to-to stick together in a place like this. Strength in numbers, ri-right?" he stammered hastily.

621 thought for a moment before nodding.

A grateful expression crossed the youth’s features as he took a moment to catch his breath. "Great!" he murmured, his gaze flickering back towards the tent once more.

"I'm... I'm Alex, by the way," he added, offering a tentative smile.

"John," 621 responded simply, offering a brief nod of acknowledgement. He could sense the fear radiating from the latter, but beneath it, there was a determination to survive that resonated with him.

"Well, John, where are we headed?" Alex said, falling into step beside John as they approached the edge of the camp. The trees loomed ahead, their branches casting long shadows in the fading light of the day.

“Nowhere in particular," John replied, his voice calm and measured.

Alex nodded, though his expression remained uncertain. "Right…" he said.

As they entered the forest, John's senses sharpened, his instincts guiding their steps as they navigated through the dense undergrowth. They moved in silence, the only sounds the rustle of leaves beneath their feet and the distant murmur of voices from the camp behind them.

After a time, they reached a small clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the trees. John stopped, his gaze scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

"We'll rest here for now," he said finally, gesturing towards a fallen log at the edge of the clearing. "Keep watch while I gather some firewood."

"A-Are you sure? I can help you gather them" Alex said with lingering doubts.

John hesitated for a moment, considering Alex's offer. He was new to this type of relationship which didn’t revolve around killing. The latter seemed eager to help in his eyes and he couldn't deny the fact that the task would be easier with assistance thus he relented.

"Alright," John nodded towards a nearby stand of trees. "Let's start over there."

Together, they set off towards the trees, their footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor. John led the way, his eyes scanning the ground for suitable branches and twigs, while Alex followed closely behind, his gaze darting nervously between the trees.

As they worked, John noticed Alex's continued sense of unease, the tension clearly evident in the way he moved and the furtive glances he cast over his shoulder. Out of curiosity, John asked Alex,

“Why are you so nervous?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, the constant swaying of branches and leaves the only sound breaking the silence of the forest. Alex shifted uncomfortably, his eyes still darting around the clearing as if searching for an escape route.

"I...I don't know," Alex stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I'm just scared, you know? Scared of what's out there in the dark", he pointed towards the looming shadows beyond the trees.

John nodded in understanding, though inwardly he was perplexed as he stared into the shadows behind him, he was born in the darkness, moulded by it. So, to him, there was nothing more comfortable than staying within its soft embrace; he considered darkness as a friend. He was stumped by the fact that Alex was afraid of that same companion.

"Hey, John," Alex's voice broke through John's thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present. "Do you think we'll be okay out here?"

John paused, considering Alex's question carefully before responding. "We'll be fine," he said, his voice steady and reassuring, though his tone sounded slightly fake.

Despite the weight of their short conversation, they continued to work together in silence, the rhythm of their movements gradually easing the tension between them. By the time they had gathered enough firewood and materials for a makeshift tent, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in deepening shadows.

With their task complete, John and Alex made their way back to the clearing, where John set about building a small fire while Alex watched anxiously from the sidelines. It wasn’t long before the flames crackled to life, casting a warm glow over their makeshift campsite.

"Why did you join the army?" Alex asked as he sat beside the campfire basking in its warmth.

John paused for a moment, considering his reply.

"I want to be stronger," John said finally, his tone casual yet there was truth in his words.

Alex nodded, seeming to accept John's answer at face value. "I understand," he said quietly, staring into the flames. "I also want to be strong” he paused, “To protect my family, and to live happily with filled stomachs.”

There was a heaviness in Alex's voice that John couldn't ignore, a weight of emotion that seemed concealed beneath a façade.

Sensing the unknown undertones in Alex's words, John decided to probe a little deeper, curious about the source of his hidden emotions. He wanted to learn, for 621 was deeply confounded on what it meant to be human. He thought back to the shopkeeper’s profound question as he directed one towards the youth before him.

"You seem... different," John remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of perplexity as he observed Alex's subdued expression. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

Alex hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the distant horizon where the last remnants of daylight were fading into darkness. "It's nothing, really," he replied with a forced smile. "Just... memories of home, I suppose."

"Is that... sadness?" John voiced suddenly.

Alex's eyes widened slightly at the question, caught off guard by John's blunt inquiry.

“I…I don’t know, maybe?” he replied softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's just... sometimes I miss my family, you know? And... and I'm scared of what's gonna happen.”

John furrowed his brow, his mind grappling with the concept of sadness. It was strange to him, this idea of missing someone, of feeling scared. In his world, emotions were often drowned out by the harsh realities of survival.

"What is sadness like?" John asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. "Is it... painful?"

"Do you not know what sadness is?" Alex suddenly intoned feeling uncomfortable with John's question.

Alex's question caught John off guard, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed the inquiry. "I know of sadness," he replied slowly, his tone measured. "But... I've never truly felt it myself."

A flicker of confusion danced in Alex's eyes as he regarded John, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. "Never felt it?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "But... how?"

John shrugged nonchalantly, his expression impassive, in fact he genuinely didn’t know.

Alex regarded John with a mixture of curiosity and pity, his youthful features creased with concern. "But... everyone must feel sad sometimes, right?" he insisted, his voice earnest. "It's... part of being human."

“Human…part of being…huh”, John repeated after Alex, attempting to decipher the logical meaning in his words, he then asked him a question that was asked of him before,

"What do you think of humans?"

"Um, humans?" Alex replied, his brows knitting together in confusion. "I... I dunno. They're just... people, I guess. Like us?" He scratched his head, clearly puzzled by John's question.

John nodded slowly, considering Alex's response; it was a different perspective which contrasted his own. "People," he repeated, testing out the word. "Yes, people."

The two boys lapsed into silence, the crackling fire the only sound between them.

Moments lingered before suddenly, 621’s ears instantly perked up as he raised his senses to the extreme. After a brief silence, John hastily extinguished the crackling flame of the campfire, sending embers scattering into the air like sparks of panic.

Alex's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth open to question, but John's urgent shushing silenced any words before they could escape. The forest seemed to hold its breath, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs amplified in the stillness of the night.