"Where are they going!?"

"I sent them to the frontlines"

"The frontlines? Are you mad?"

"Mad? Look around! Those man are hungry. We are fighting for months and the winter just began! You want all of them to die?"

Those words hit me. I was inexperienced and I had barely seen a few small battles. The enemy was marching way faster than we could. We needed time. Those man were being sent to their deaths for the sake of the rest.

...

I was taken back from my memories and stopped looking at the musket hung on my wall, just above the chimney. I heard some light knocking and Bertrand soon entered the room. He put a goblet just in front of me and poured some wine.

The smell of Chardonnay was very pleasant and my loyal servant stood beside me to promptly refill it for me. Wine is good to evade memories.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Did you find anything?"

"Yes, Milord"

"And..?"

"There is a man that might interest you"

"And how can I meet with him?"

"He lives in the city of Lion"

I frowned as I heard that name. I didn't expect to go back anytime soon and Bertrand could see how displeased I was.

"Do you want me to find someone else?"

"No... I would have to go there sooner or later"

He said nothing more. He didn't need to. I openned the drawer to take a paper and my crowquill. I took a small bottle of ink to dip the pen. It was a formality to send a letter before going to the lands of another aristocrat..

The movements of the quill gave form to the ink. It bacame words, praises, titles and some sort of fancy writing. I asked for an envelop as I folded the paper. I took a small piece of wood and plunged it into a red mixture. Bertrand put the paper in and gave it for me to press the tainted wood on it. It would soon go dry and leave the symbol of the family, proof of the legitimacy of the piece of paper.

I took another sip to feel the taste of wine.

"It is time for us to meet them..."

"It seems so"