The sun had progressed several angles, passing from midday to evening and finally sinking into dusk. Zamael’s full moon peaked over the northern horizon as Norali’s Sun fell into the west. Zander’s gaze followed the path of both celestial bodies, wondering if the two would share a brief glimpse of each other across the heavens. He pressed his hand to his heart, thoughts drifting to Alexia. He needed to survive the night to witness another sunrise on the eastern horizon.

Zander stood at the northern breach alongside his new companions. Fifteen of the finest lancers and spearmen waited at the southern breach, shoulder-high mounds of filth beside them—an improvised defense made from the encampment’s cesspit. It seemed that Asa had deemed each hometown hero the equivalent of three men plus a large pile of shite. Zander had grinned at his jest, unsure whether he ought to feel honored or insulted.

Behind him, siege equipment stood ready, poised to rain stones over the trench to thin out the enemy before they attempted to breach the walls. The same preparations were made at the southern breach, with additional onagers stationed near the main gate, ready to hurl stones at any attackers in the flowery fields beyond.

Anyone trained with a bow lined the battlements and watchtowers between the breaches, arrows dipped in Asa’s poisons. Their orders were clear: target and kill the Sapphire leaders. Alfread stood among them, proudly positioned with Asa and the lordling Varon Von Gaelrich above the central gate’s fortifications. The drawbridge had been removed and moved inside the camp, and siege engines were braced against the gate to make it nearly impenetrable.

Asa had taken charge of all the poisons in the camp, combining them with her own stock. Medicans, potioneers, and apothecaries worked tirelessly to mix more, coating thousands of arrowheads with their venomous concoctions. According to Alfread, the arrowheads themselves were a marvel. Designed by Princess Serapheena, they could pierce metal plate. So intense was Alfread’s infatuation with the platepiercers and the brilliance of Serapheena Ruby that Asa had teased whether he was planning to bond the precocious princess. Zander didn’t hear Alfread comment any further on the arrowheads. He did, however, hear Alfread praising Asa’s aura, battle plans, speech, and just about everything else that was praiseworthy.

Even those untrained in battle had roles to fill. Medicans waited near the breaches, ready to tend the wounded, while the priestess of Meladon moved among the ranks, offering blessings in Gidi’s name. When she touched Zander’s muscled arm, she smiled, remarking that he was Gidi’s blessing. Swelling with pride, Zander hoped that the craftsmen, camp wives, and orphans gathered near a line of apple trees inside the palisade would never need to fulfill their duty—that his strength would keep them safe and allow their frontline defenses to withstand until the Sapphire retreated.

“HEY, ZANDER!” Theo’s voice boomed despite standing mere feet away. He was a wild one—tall and gangly, with an eccentric sense of humor and a tendency toward bizarre outbursts. Zander found his antics endearing, and Theo was unexpectedly skilled with a sword, reminding him of Kenneth, despite being the physical opposite of the short, stout, square-faced squire from Bear’s Crossing.

“HEY, THEO!” Zander shouted back, grinning.

Vernon, the group’s stickler for decorum, bellowed, “SHUT UP!” His round face turned red with frustration.

“HEY, VERNON!” Theo howled, making Vernon’s face flush even deeper. The others laughed.

River patted Vernon’s back. “Come on, Vern. Take a breath.” River demonstrated, breathing in deeply, and Vernon followed. His pudgy, yet handsome face, lost its flush, his shoulders relaxed as the tension melted from him. For the first time in angles, he looked to be standing at ease, like he didn’t have a stick wedged up his arse. Almost. The stick wasn’t lodged as far in at least.

“That’s better,” River said. A ferocious fighter, calm under pressure, quick with a smile, and an inspiring leader, River was everything Zander aspired to be.

The Hometown Heroes looked at River the way Zander wanted people to look at him. He was their beloved hero, the keystone that held the group together. Zander wanted to be that someday for the entire Peacewatch.

“HEY, GORDAN!” River shouted, breaking the tension with a playful grin that made even Vernon chuckle.

“Hey, River,” Gordan said, looking at River with the same earnest love that River had for him. Gordan looked average in every way and, like Alfread, had a soul that seemed too gentle for battle. Alas, he bravely stood with his friends and shared River’s strong convictions. Zander knew that, like Marigold, Gordan had an inner strength that betrayed his timid exterior. Zander knew that River saw his best friend’s strength too, though the question was if Gordan saw it himself.

River grabbed Gordan’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Their eyes locked and a smile spread across Gordan’s face so far that Zander felt his own lips rise.

Zander glanced over to the battlements where Alfread stood, looking out into Mirrevar. Then he glared at the full moon shining blue in the night sky. Folklore spoke of the full moon with fear. It was Zamael Waxing and when the moon was full, so was Zamael’s influence. Zander exhaled hoping that the bonds shared by best friends such as them could withstand the evils of a night such as this.

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“Mission accomplished,” Theo announced dramatically, raising his arms in mock triumph like a performer after a grand show.

“At being a gaping doofus?” Vernon retorted, his tone light, followed by a chuckle.

Theo flapped his arms like a bird, smiling wide. “Now everybody knows everybody!”

Vernon gaped at him. “We already knew each other, Theo.”

“There are many layers of knowing,” Gordan chimed in, drawing quizzical looks from the group. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I know this is a sword,” Zander said, unsheathing his blade and giving it a flourish. “And I know that’s a sword,” he pointed to River’s bastard blade, “but I know my sword more intimately.” He held the blade high, the moonlight glinting blue off the iron as he admired it. “It’s an extension of my arm.” He sliced through the air, the very same stroke that would soon fell countless Sapphires. His gut fluttered with excitement.

“It’s like how I may’ve seen some of you guys have a piss,” Theo added, flapping his bird wings, “but I know my sword better than any of yours.”

Laughter rippled through the group. “We share a tent with you,” River said dryly. “We know how well… acquainted you are with that… sword.”

“Truly inseparable,” Gordan chirped.

“Hand stuck to hilt,” Vernon contributed, miming.

“Some sticky adhesive,” River muttered loud enough for all to hear, as he too mimed being unable to free his hand from his hilt.

“Really strong grip,” Zander offered, his knuckles going white on his pommel.

To his credit, Theo didn’t blush. More likely, he didn’t know how. He didn’t seem to have an internal social moderator that told him when things were inappropriate. “All true,” he confessed with a wide grin.

“Meladon gave us swords to swing them, right boys?” Gordan added in Theo’s defense.

“Your divinedamn right!” Theo exclaimed.

The Hometown Heroes kept up their lighthearted jabs, the banter masking their fears of the impending battle. Zander was proud to serve along each of them. These were his comrades, his friends, and he vowed they would all survive to see another dawn.

The moon had risen high, casting its blue glow across the land when the war horns blared—one from the bastion, another from the eastern fields. The Hometown Heroes drew their blades, the scrape of steel harmonizing with the growing symphony of war. Like music to Zander’s hungry ears, the sound heralded the coming of his glory.

River, standing in front of the breach, turned to face them, his shout resonating. “Who are we?”

“Hometown Heroes!” they roared in unison.

“We are Leveria’s truest protectors and our cause is the righteous one!” Zander added.

“Let’s cut their bloody heads off and piss down their necks!” Theo bellowed with gleeful ferocity.

“Let’s not and say you did,” Vernon reproached, his voice shaking.

The camp roared to life as the enemy approached. Sapphires marched across the land, a living tide of iron crashing toward the Ruby encampment. Zander’s heart danced frantically to the tune of excitement. He looked to the heavens, past the full moon, and thought of his mother looking down at him, remembering something she once told him.

Life is a series of small moments that lead up to a few greater moments, the moments that define you, that determine where you’re headed down life’s path. This was one of those moments. The years of training, the hard-fought battles, all those small moments led him here. It felt preordained, as though the Divine Thirteen themselves had placed him in this exact moment, back in his homeland, beside these companions, where he would finally obtain his glory and become a great warrior.

He closed his eyes for a fleeting turn, then opened them again, his irises as blue as the moon above, radiating an intensity that seemed inhuman. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, his thoughts were gone, and instinct reigned over his senses. The battle had begun.

Asa’s magic pierced the night, her aura blazing bright against the looming darkness. She raised her staff high and shouted a word that shook Zander to his core. “Noralis!”

A brilliant beam of silver light shot from her staff, cutting across the battlefield like the hand of Norali. The Sapphire army faltered, soldiers shielding their eyes from the blinding luminescence. Knights fell from their horses, men stumbled into one another, their formation collapsing. Zander stood in the breach, in awe of Asa’s power.

Her commands rang out, loud enough for the Sapphire to hear from their knees as the light continued to blind them. “Archers! Draw! Aim! Loose!”

A hundred bowstrings twanged, and the night sky filled with arrows, streaking toward the Sapphires like angry eagles swooping down toward a mischief of blind mice. Poison-tipped arrows found their marks, and the Sapphire lines crumbled. Soldiers twisted in agony—some froze in place, others collapsed, seizures wracked their bodies, while others thrashed blindly around them. Screams filled the air, but the onslaught continued, wave after wave of arrows thinning the Sapphire ranks as they stumbled forward through their blindness.

Despite the heavy losses, the Sapphire pressed on. Zander’s hand tightened around his sword’s hilt. His moment of glory was fast approaching.

Behind the main gate, the trebuchets fired, launching heavy stones crashing into the enemy’s core. As Alfread predicted, the Sapphire force split into three, dividing their assault between the two breaches and the fortified gate.

The turns stretched into eternity as Zander watched the horde approaching his breach. Sapphires scrambled toward the trench, struggling to avoid the rocks hurled by the onagers and the relentless hail of arrows from the battlements.

“Stand by me!” River bellowed, the Hometown Heroes forming a solid line—shields and swords ready for the first wave.

The Sapphires surged into the trench, a relentless wave of bodies colliding with the earth. Zander might have admired their bravery, might have seen them as fellow Leverians, but his mind had surrendered to the thrill. Glory filled his vision, not faces. His sword screamed to be unleashed, and his body was ready to oblige. A single thought echoed through his mind: Finish strong.