I walked down the street, my pulse erratic, stumbling into the celebratory citizens.

I should be sharing their joy, shouting my jubilations for all the world to hear, the fireworks a testament to Harron strength. For we had won a hard fought victory over the Urku raiders, their barbarian horde had crashed down from the north with no warning, just over four months ago.

It took the Harron crown almost two weeks to formulate a response, by which time the Urku hordes had already crossed the great Ighor river, a feat they had not managed before in centuries of trying. In the first true battle of the war, five of the seven Harron Heroes struck personally, stalling their advance in one fell swoop.

The Urku had been surprised by that action, I think. As were not only the other nations, but also Harron's own citizens. The Heroes of Harron had not shown their faces in almost fifty years, when the serpents of Greish had struck from the depths of the western ocean. And even then, it had only been Itamiir, the Silent. Out of the five that struck that day, only two had been seen in the last century. Everyone had thought they'd died, or moved on, or retired, or something.

The seven Heroes were the reason the Harron kingdom had stood for almost a millennia. Twenty years past, the beastkin kingdom of Berton had struck, carving almost half the District of Leth for themselves none of the Heroes remained responded, the first time in more than nine centuries Harron had grown smaller, rather than larger. Our other neighbours, sensing weakness started clamouring and squawking for their own piece of the pie.

Despite this, it took until the savage Urku struck at the start of summer before anyone truly tested us. Clearly the Harron Heroes had been waiting for just such an occasion.

They decimated the raiders on that day, brutally massacring any in their path, relying on their Magiks and Powers to deal a fatal blow to the Urku leadership.

The Great Urku Shaman, Grekka the Unbowed, who'd pulled together numerous Urku clans for his war, died in his sleep – or so it is said, I am always sceptical of such reports.

In any case, the Heroes didn't show up again during the course of the war, but they were hardly needed. The northern Legions had mustered by then, and alongside Powered and Magikers from the countries' Sects and Academies, broke the Urku on the banks of the same Ighor river they had crossed only a few months before.

As a first year student at the Three Rivers Academy, I had been unlucky enough to be drafted into the position of “Squire”. It was a tradition going back beyond the founding of Harron, that most countries still employed. As a Squire, you and one other were assigned to a Ranking Magiker (or Powered) for the duration, and generally considered a nuisance to the poor sod who we were assigned to. I spent most of my three months while assigned to the Magiker Journeyman Eltho Druss. An elder, hook-nosed, stick of a man, whose spectacles seemed to wear him, rather than the other way around. He'd reached Journeyman rank maybe fifty years before (I was being quite generous with this estimate), and promptly settled down as a clerk for one of the northern Legions' Magiker companies. He spent most of the war sequestered far from enemy lines, filing reports. Apart from one memorable occasion, I doubt he even saw the enemy, and at that time he'd simply turned around and walked back into his tent, ignoring the alarm bells.

Still, I could hardly complain, most of my compatriots in the ranks came back from the front lines nervous, frazzled men and women who'd jump at the slightest noise or shadow. Especially the first year Squires, who honestly had no place on the battlefield, fewer than one in ten survived.

It was probably a good thing the draft for students, first years, in particular, required so few numbers or else the Academies and Sects would have been decimated in truth.

Now, I'm not afraid of a fight, despite what my detractors might tell you, but I was glad I had been part of only one action over the course of the short war. I made a good showing of myself, I thought, even if I did end up in the Physiker tents for almost two weeks afterwards with burns over almost sixty percent of my body from the Urku Magiker I'd ambushed and killed that day.

I'd gotten a medal for it, it's not often a Squire defeats any Magiker, even an Urku one who relies more on the guidance of “spirits” rather than actual texts, scrolls, teachers, etc. A first year Squire had no place winning, yet win I did.

So, imagine my shock, returning home a week late due to my injuries (my fight had been one of the last of the war, technically happening after we had already “won”, the fleeing Urku accidentally stumbling into one of our supply camps). Buoyed by victory, and the Physiker Magiks that had assisted my recovery, rubbing the burnished gold of the Heroic Tempest medallion (one of the top seven medals of my country, this one granted for feats above and beyond the call of duty). Only four had received one of the Heroes medallions during the course of the war.

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The victory festival in full swing, I opened the door to the flat me and my girlfriend had moved into just a few weeks before the war began, expecting a victors welcome.

Instead, I found my girlfriend of almost a year, bouncing atop the rigid cock of a brown-skinned Tuli man. I didn't recognise the man (though I didn't exactly look close).

That is why I was stumbling down the streets, now side alleys, of the city of Ambris, where the Three Rivers Academy made its home, defeat in my heart and...

“Wait! Stop! Fucking hell, would you just stop already!”

My head jerked up from my pitiful musings, I'd know that voice anywhere, it was the same voice that had been crying out in passion just... minutes? Earlier. I couldn't remember if I'd shut the door when I'd begun my crazed rush out of the building, taking the steps down three at a time and spearing into the crowd, which I'd apparently left mostly behind. But it didn't matter, she'd found me despite that. Fuck.

“Damn it, Tarrin, stop already!”

“What?” I turned to face her, a dozen steps behind me, the road almost clear of any festival-goers, “what do you want? Clearly not me, so-”

“Why would you think that?” She panted, out of breath and flushed from her run, or perhaps her previous activities? She'd always been fairly fit, so that had probably contributed.

“You think I'm blind?” I asked exasperated, if she'd noticed my presence, then surely she knew why I might be a little mad, right? I mean Karon had always had trouble seeing the obvious in social situations, but even she must realise that I can't miss some other guys cock pounding into my girlfriend's vagina.

“No, but, it's not what you think-”

“Oh, so I didn't see my girlfriend banging some random dud-”

“Hey! He wasn't just some random guy, you know I don't do that”

“No? You just cheat on your boyfriend instead?” We'd gathered a bit of a crowd around us, drunken party-goers stumbling back to their homes at the end of a good night, stalled by our shouting match, unsure whether to keep watching, break us up, or ignore us.

“I hardly think it's cheating if you started it!” That came as a sucker punch, causing me to take a step back in shock.

“Karon, I'd.. you.. you know I'd never do that, I-”

“What do you call what you've been doing with that Green Hills Sect harlot for the last few months then!” Ah, so that's what this is all about. Squires come in pairs during the war, this is a slightly newer tradition, since Squires used to die off even quicker in the past. These days, anyone above the rank of Journeyman during wartime required assistance. Most of those had their own Apprentices to act as their assistants, those that did not, were sent Squires. The ability of those Squires matched that of the person they were sent to, hence a couple of first years ending up with Journeyman Druss. The Three Rivers Academy and Green Hill Sect weren't exactly high up on the food chain either, more to do with the neutral politics of the Duke of Ambris (the District the city was capital of, and named after) than the actual ability of the schools in question (both being in the top ten of their types in the country). All this being said meant I ended up sharing a tent (though never a bedroll) with the blue eyed, blonde haired beauty of the Green Hills, Asha Ambris, a talented first year student of the Green Hills Sect, distantly related to the Duke. She'd explained how distantly once, but honestly, being the son of a sailor and a seamstress, I didn't have the knowledge to understand the twisted family tree she tried to explain to me. It was enough to say she'd never been in the Ducal Palace before, let alone met the Duke himself.

In any case, we'd met at one of the quarterly competitions between the sects last year and hit it off (after hitting each other in the ring, she'd won, something she never let me live up), Karon had always been jealous. Understandable perhaps, Asha was as beautiful as the rumours insisted – and talented – but I'd never shown signs of straying. Clearly my girlfriend thought a few months apart from her and with Asha would change my mind. And while I'd been tempted, I'd never cheat on someone (cheating on others being why my parents no longer talked to each other anymore), besides, it was far more likely for Karon to cheat on me with her than vice versa, Karon was just her “type” apparently.

“Fighting a damned war, not whatever you're thinking!”

“Fighting huh,” she laughed, “Is that what you call counting beans in some backline supply base, you probably never even saw battle!”

“I,” I pulled up with the sleeve of my left arm to show her the slowly fading burn marks,” look, you harlot, you know I faced the Urku, it's why I'm late coming back! I sent you a letter ages ago!”

Her whole demeanour changed at that, and she slumped to the ground, tears beginning to fall, she shook her head repeatedly, “no's” falling out of her mouth like the raindrops that had begun to fall halfway during our arguments. The small crowd we'd gathered was falling away around us, the people continuing their journeys home, as the little domestic spat that come across was over and the spitting of the rain was increasing.

I took one last glance at the pitiful form of my now ex-girlfriend, before pulling my sleeve back down. I turned away and began jogging towards the spires of the Academy I could see in the distance. I no longer had a room there, as I had given up student accommodation upon moving in with Karon, but perhaps they had a room for me, or I could crash at a friends place.

I sighed. Not quite the homecoming I was hoping for.