As Corvus entered Valerius' barrack with heavy footsteps, the silence inside was suddenly replaced by exuberant movement. His uncle's eyes lit up as he recognised him, jumped to his feet with joy and threw his strong arms around his nephew. His hug was so firm that Corvus felt his bones almost crushed.
"Well done, Corvus, well done!" roared Valerius, his voice dripping with pride and joy. "I never liked that Nabek dog anyway! Now he can't even step outside for fear, did you hear? Everyone has realised once and for all what it means to mess with us! No games with the Tiamats!" Valerius crowned his words with a hoarse, coarse laugh. Then he pointed to the feast-like food on his table and invited Corvus to join him.
"Thank you, Uncle, but I must leave immediately. I have to deal with Varek's men, and I came to ask if there was anything you wanted from me." Corvus replied gently but firmly.
Valerius' face changed, and though he would have liked to spend a little more time with his nephew, but duty came first. He slowly sat down, a serious expression settling on his face. "There will be those among Varek's soldiers who will leave you. Let me know what is missing and I will organise it. We will also support you in terms of salary. You must take good care of your soldiers." he said, fixing his eyes on Corvus' eyes. "But I don't want any slack! You will be at my service when I summon you. Keep your soldiers well trained, choose the best of them. Let me know who among them has the potential to become Sharazir. You may leave now."
Corvus felt the weight of the order. "Yes, sir!" he replied in an obedient voice and walked out of the barrack and into the silence of the camp. After a few minutes of walking, he reached the place reserved for him and his soldiers. Here he was met by Zarqa and two warriors. They had also just arrived.
Zarqa, in his early twenties, had earned the title of Sharazir, not an easy achievement. Though he was not a Tiamat, his family had swung swords for the Tiamats for generations. That tradition had led him here, to the centre of the camp. Zarqa had been under Corvus since Corvus had become Sharazir, it was an honour to serve under this young leader. The two young warriors with him, Kragan and Baldrek, were only a few years older than Corvus. Their military training together had made them both strong warriors and bonded them tightly together. They were both friends and comrades they could count on each other on the battlefield.
"The soldiers under Varek's command and the soldiers under yours are waiting for you." Zarqa said, her voice controlled but with a hint of worry. Corvus, with Kragan, Baldrek and Zarqa at his side, walked towards the encampment where the soldiers were gathered. Each step was like a slap echoing through the silent camp. His eyes were staring ahead, his face was determined. Before him were three thousand five hundred soldiers, all waiting for him. When Corvus stepped onto the field, the soldiers were instantly disciplined and lined up. But Corvus was authorised to have only three thousand men under his command, whereas here there were three thousand five hundred. Three thousand were the men of Varek Nabuk, their former Sharazir. The other five hundred were soldiers who had fought alongside Corvus and remained loyal to him.
Zarqa, Kragan and Baldrek quickly stood at attention and lined up in front of the soldiers. All three were carefully watching the faces of the soldiers, trying to guess which men would stay and which would go. Corvus stepped forward, taking a deep breath. His eyes were cold and determined. The power echoing in his voice seemed to cut through the air.
"I am Corvus Tiamat!" he began. His voice broke the silence of the camp. "I have defeated Varek Nabuk and all that was his is now mine!" He ran his eyes over the soldiers, one by one, looking at each of them defiantly. "If any of you would like to take another Sharazir's command, you may leave now! I swear on my name that I will bear no grudge against those who leave! But those who remain, I guarantee you that you will no longer be the soldiers of a bungler like Varek, but of a true Rhazgord warrior!"
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These words created a conflict among the soldiers. Some of them were filled with dreams of victory, while others gritted their teeth in anger. Especially those close to Varek Nabuk or loyal to the Nabuk family did not like Corvus' insults. Some lowered their eyes to the ground, while others stared angrily away. None of them dared to make eye contact with Corvus. Finally, those who were not satisfied with Corvus' words began to leave the camp step by step. But it was not only Varek's men but also those who refused to be under the command of a young Sharazir. For several minutes Corvus watched in silence as everyone left.
When Corvus looked around, he realised that nearly a thousand soldiers had quietly left the camp. Now he had to move to reorganise with those who remained in front of him. He now had just over two thousand men at his disposal. It was a force many lower-ranking Sharazir dreamed of, but it was still too much for Corvus. He was determined to reduce the number even further.
"I thank those of you who stayed and believed in me!" he exclaimed, taking another step forward. But the determination in his face betrayed the seriousness of the words that followed. "But most of you will join those who have just left!" His words were not unexpected for some of the soldiers, but others looked at each other in surprise. "There are people among you with whom I have fought shoulder to shoulder. I know what good warriors they are, but the rest of you have something to prove to me!"
These words fell like a weight on the shoulders of even the most confident warriors. They would have to prove their own abilities. Corvus gave his order as he scanned the surroundings with his stern gaze: "All men, except those who were with me before, take up your training positions!"
Five hundred loyal soldiers lined up around the field, while the rest split into pairs. Corvus, Zarqa, Kragan, and Baldrek quietly moved amongst the soldiers as they took up their training positions. Each of them stared intently at the men preparing for battle. Suddenly Corvus' voice echoed through the tense air.
"It does not matter whether you win or lose!" he said, sweeping his gaze over the soldiers. "Just prove your skills!"
This order created a silent tension in the square. The soldiers were no longer just preparing to fight, but to prove their existence and loyalty. Their eyes were filled not only with the ambition to win the trust of a Sharazir, but also with the desire to defend their own honour.
In two separate corners of the camp, two commands echoed simultaneously, drawing all attention: "Fight!" This single word brought a tension as heavy as the air. On one side, Corvus had given this order to his soldiers to prove their skill, while on the other, an old instructor had given the same order to start the fight between Belisarius and his opponent. Both scenes were full of different moods; one was a test of military discipline, the other an arena of personal challenge.
As Corvus passed through his soldiers, his eyes watched every movement of the warriors. Every sword stroke, every defensive manoeuvre was important enough to decide a soldier's fate. The training ground was transformed into a battlefield, echoing with clashing swords and heavy breathing. Each soldier was trying to display his skills with all his might, endeavouring to prove himself with every move. Corvus was determined not to miss even the slightest mistake by advancing cold-bloodedly.
On the other side, Belisarius' face was completely focused, his eyes locked on his opponent. As soon as the fight began, the old instructor's eyes narrowed as he watched the two struggle. The battle here was not only a physical clash, but also a test of pride and ambition. Swords clashed in the air, each blow testing the strength and determination of the opponent. The instructor's face was solemn with deep lines, judging every move, weighing the skill of each fighter.