A hand reached down to grab a rusty, bloodstained sword, wrenching it from the stiff corpse that clutched it, lifting it for inspection. The sword appeared of poor quality, the kind cheaply mass-produced, a type he was more than familiar with. Apart from a few minor chips on the blade, he could discern no major structural damage, no cracks or bends. Deeming it usable, he tossed the sword onto an ever-growing pile of weapons a few meters behind him.

"Watch, they'll make us carry all of this too," a man complained to his left, crouching over a corpse a few meters away, reaching for a small pouch tied to a dead man's belt.

"Nonsense," he replied. "The animals will carry them."

"Do you see any around?" the man spat, his face immediately brightening upon seeing the contents of the pouch. "Hey, we've got coin. How about we share and keep quiet, eh?"

"No," he said with a scowl. "That's war loot, it's for the clan. No stealing; you'll get killed for that."

"Are you blind? Our army has abandoned us. Who's going to claim this loot? It's a waste of fine coin. Someone else will just take it if we leave it here."

"I said no, are you deaf? And we aren't here to loot. You heard our orders: equipment only, and quickly, before those Imperial dogs come crawling back."

The man gave him a scornful glare, but he paid it no mind. He barely knew the guy, didn't even know his name. The man was one of the two replacements for his team right after the skirmish had ended. Frankly, he didn't like this new comrade of his very much. It disgruntled him to think that he would have to depend his life on this person in the future. He looked around for a moment, his eyes scanning the ragged outlines of fellow soldiers scattered across the field behind him, framed by the imposing forest that loomed in the background.

Sighing, he bent down to pry the chest plate off the corpse, his body protesting with fatigue. He made short work of it, but just before he removed the chest plate entirely, two pairs of boots entered his field of vision. He looked up with mild surprise, wondering how they had gotten so close to him without his notice.

The first detail that caught his eye was the hair of the newcomers, a ghostly white, although it could have been an ashen gray, the darkness made it hard to discern. Their faces appeared youthful, perhaps not much older than his own daughter. His gaze instinctively drifted to their armbands, and a jolt of recognition coursed through him as he read their ranks. Without thinking, he straightened, snapping to attention and rendering a crisp salute. Then his eyes fell upon the embroidered emblem of the Rose on their chest, and his mind went blank, breaking into a nervous sweat.

He had always kept his distance from knights, content to admire them from afar. The moment he had learned of their kind he resolved never to interact with them. A prey is a fool to befriend a monster, whose aggression is held only through restraint. A saying with more nuance than it implies at face value. One he lived by the moment it was told to him by his mother. He cherished his anonymity, his unremarkable existence.

So why in hell, by fate's grace, were there two of them standing before him now? To compound his unease, one of them, the woman, held the rank of support officer, a position even generals viewed with wariness, and one achieved by only a select few. In the recesses of his heart, he silently thanked his own integrity. Had he succumbed to greed and taken those coins earlier. He dared not imagine the punishment he would face from this woman if she found out.

"Sir, Ma'am," he said, almost shouting, "I am Colen—"

"No need," Nova interrupted, firmly and bluntly. "We can skip the formalities. My companion and I only have a few questions, and we'll be on our way."

"We're a little lost you see, and wish for some general directions. A brief summary of the current situation would also be appreciated," Raid added.

"How long has it been since the fighting ended?" Nova asked.

"I d-don't know for sure," the soldier blurted, internally relieved. He had initially thought they were here for inspection, or weeding the grain as the soldiers called it. "But the commanding officer of my company has one of those pocket thingies, the one that tells you the time. A nobleman that one. He said something to the likes of 3:47 or 3:51 when the fighting ended. I don't remember exactly, but..." The soldier now pointed towards the eastern horizon, where the sky was brightening. "Dawn is a stone's throw away, so mayhaps two hours it's been, or almost anyways."

"Does your commanding officer have a journal? The kind one keeps closer than a blade?" Nova inquired, a hint of amusement in her tone.

The soldier nodded eagerly, "Say, how'd you know? He writes almost everything down, perhaps he has a missus or something."

"A war journal most like, a growing trend amongst my kind," she replied.

"Nova," Raid said sternly. "Stay on topic. Two hours you said? It seems we rested for longer than expected."

"Didn't feel that long, must've been the exhaustion. Find it hard to believe it's already been two since the signal," remarked Nova.

"Is there anyone currently in charge of the 1st line? Or is it still under disorganized command?" Raid asked.

The soldier furrowed his brow in thought for a brief moment before responding. "Yeah, word has it a knight is in charge. A lead sergeant I heard, from the reinforcements. I never got his name."

"Reinforcements? Really, when?"

"I think asking him for details is pointless," said Nova, her eyes glued to the soldier's armband. "It's blatantly obvious he doesn't know much, as is expected given his rank. How about we go find an officer instead?"

"Guess you're right," Raid agreed. "Soldier, can you lead us to an officer, preferably someone above the rank of 1st sergeant."

The soldier pointed towards the forest behind him, saying, "This way. All the surrounding officers are currently having a meeting in the forest over there. We've been told to loot in the meantime, only equipment though, anything useful for the next engagement."

Nova gently nudged Raid's shoulder as they began to walk. "I am breaking off."

"Hm? Why, what for?"

"I just want to have a look around, see the aftermath. You know, inspection. Unless we're in some kind of rush?"

"We aren't," Raid chuckled. "Cut the nonsense. You just want to hightail it the moment you heard the word meeting."

"Only the ones I don't need to attend."

"Normally I would complain about your lack of responsibility but we just need information from this one. Try not to be gone for long, alright? I plan for us to regroup with the others once I find their location after assessment."

"I won't be flying anywhere, don't you worry. Shouldn't be gone for long, just a quick look. Who knows, I might find something valuable."

"My, I am jealous. Going around doing whatever the hell you want. Your rank already has a bad enough reputation and you're definitely not improving it."

"They can say what they want; we exist outside the rank structure for a reason. If we're making friends and earning favor points, then we're clearly doing something wrong. Anyhow, I'll see you soon?" she smiled.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Alright, take care," he smiled. "But if you take too long, I am sending a runner. Make sure you're easy to find."

After initially walking around and asking random soldiers irrelevant questions, just for the sake of keeping appearance, she quickly grew incredibly bored. Watching soldiers strip corpses wasn't exactly entertaining in any sense. That was when she spotted a distant hill, small and steep, crowned by a solitary, large tree. In this mostly flat field, this hill stood out as the highest point she had seen.

In a moment of impulse and curiosity, she decided to ascend the hill, beginning a slow advance towards it. It didn't take long for her to reach its base, beginning her ascent, her eyes fixed on the lone tree above all the while, passing by the bodies of both enemies and allies alike.

She had read that trees in the world beyond shed their leaves in winter. She wasn't sure if they all did or why. But what was certain is that in her world, trees only did so if they perished. And this one, unmistakably lifeless, appeared to have been so for quite some time now.

Upon reaching the hill's summit, she turned her gaze eastward. There, an indigo glow bathed the horizon, slowly transitioning into progressively lighter shades of blue as it stretched overhead. Like most things lately, it would have been a breathtaking sight if not for the field of bodies below, staining the view somewhat. The battle line had extended for kilometers throughout the battle. So as a matter of course, the field of corpses stretched all the way to the horizon like a path.

The smell did not help either, bearable but far from pleasant. The oldest corpses were nearing a day old by now, considering how the battle had begun yesterday morning. Yet, despite the gruesome surroundings, she felt an unexpected sense of calm and relief. One day, she survived for at least one more day. More importantly, and as far as she knew, she had survived without losing anyone important to her. There were really only three people she truly cared for, two of which were Marcus and Raid. While she was unsure about Marcus's current condition, she was confident he hasn't met his end yet. That fool did not live this long just to die here.

A loud, rough cough disrupted her train of thought. Startled, she spun around, her hand instinctively drawing her sword with a metallic hiss of steel, quickly identifying the source of the disturbance. She pointed her sword warily at it for a few short moments, before lowering it with a resigned sigh. Deeming it harmless. There, an Imperial soldier lay against the large tree. His labored breaths were punctuated by grimaces of pain, the agony etched across his face, an arrow in his right chest and another in his abdomen.

He had struggled to maintain silence throughout her presence, but his own uncontrollable impulses had ultimately betrayed him. Now, with Nova's keen attention, he knew there was no use in concealing himself any longer. He began coughing violently and gasped for air, radiating fear as he stared intently at her. Nova clicked her tongue, her mood souring as she assessed his injuries. The arrow in his chest must've punctured his lung, she deduced.

Nova cautiously approached him with morbid curiosity, her steps slow and deliberate, until she finally loomed over him with cold, dispassionate eyes. He appeared to be in his late fifties, with short grayish-white hair and a fair number of freckles. Other than his pale face and leather armor under a blue and white surcoat, there was nothing else noteworthy.

"Do you want me to end it for you?" she asked coldly.

The men's trembling body leaned harder against the oak, terror gleaming in his eyes, fixated upon her blade. Nova held his gaze for a moment, her decision unspoken. With a fluid motion, she sheathed her sword, and without another word, she turned away. If he desired a slow death, she had no intention of preventing it.

"Stay... please," he pleaded, his voice strained, before succumbing to a coughing fit.

Nova paused, before turning back around. "What?" she said, bewildered. "Did you just…"

"I... I don't want to die alone," he wheezed, breathless.

Nova leaned her head in thought, mildly intrigued. "I see. You've come to terms with your fate, but you want to cling to life for as long as possible. How brave… It's not a thought that many can take."

She slowly approached him again, wondering what she should do. Maybe she should just kill him and end this. He was going to die eventually, it shouldn't matter when. Her right hand itched, about to shift towards her sword. The man anxiously awaited her decision, his wide eyes betraying his fear. He flinched when she grabbed her scabbard, then confusion introduced itself when she took her sword off her belt. Then settled beside him, positioned to his left, her legs crossed, and her arms lovingly cradling her sword. He stared at her in disbelief, stunted, trying desperately to stop the next bout of coughing.

"What? Isn't this what you wanted?" Nova almost snapped, her tone edged with more hostility than she had intended. What the hell was she doing? she thought, berating herself internally. Nova knew herself well. If she possessed a defining trait, it would be impulsiveness. Although it rarely dominated her personality, it often led her to actions she wouldn't normally consider otherwise. She had a complex, love-hate relationship with this facet of her personality.

The sun finally pierced the horizon, its first golden rays casting a soothing glow upon them. Its vibrant yellow-orange beams seemed to embrace her very soul. Yet, despite the warmth, discomfort gnawed at her. She grappled with an inner turmoil, trying to find a justification for her presence beside an enemy soldier on the brink of death. In hindsight, she wondered if she should’ve ignored his plea and left him to his fate, alone. What was the purpose of extending sympathy to a man whose comrades had met their end at her hands without a shred of remorse? The soldier's labored breaths only served to amplify the awkwardness that had taken hold of her.

"Do you have a family?" she asked. It was a meaningless question, born out of unease in the unsettling quiet, minus his pained gasping. A social habit, an attempt to stave off the awkward quiet that seemed to threaten her, momentarily forgetting his current condition regarding speech.

He raised two trembling fingers and whispered, "D-Daughter..."

"And a son?"

His head shook, and he strained to articulate words, but all that escaped his lips was an incoherent rasp.

"So, two daughters then," she murmured, her voice tinged with fatigue. Her eyes remained locked on the horizon as the sun continued its ascent. She absently pulled up her knee, resting her chin against it. It was a surreal moment, watching the dawn break beside a dying enemy soldier, a stranger of foreign make no less.

The man raised a solitary finger, his hand trembling violently. "Wife."

This time she gave no reply, hugging her sword more tightly as her body finally began to relax. Her gaze drifted down toward her dirt-stained hands. Her body felt sticky, filthy even, and smelled awful. She has been in the same outfit for days, ever since the standoff began. She yearned for a bath, the kind that cleansed everything, even the lingering presence of the countless dead who seemed to cling to her now.

He inhaled loudly, the sound harsh and painful, followed by a guttural gurgle as saliva obstructed his airways for a moment. Nova winced, her right hand itching incessantly, fingers crawling from the scabbard toward the hilt of her blade. It would be a favor to end him now.

"Family… behind. Scares me," he said finally, before giving up on speaking entirely. His labored breaths now noticeably louder.

"I am sure they'll be fine," she replied reflexively, immediately and unexplainably regretting her words as they hung in the air. Words of comfort, or attempts at comfort. Words she didn't realize had left her lips until she heard them herself.

He mustered a fragile smile, tears brimming in his eyes as they both sat in silence, watching the sun ascend from the ashes of the dark. They stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for her to completely relax under the warmth of the morning sun. Fatigue claimed her with each passing moment she didn't fight it off, her body aching for rest. She permitted her heavy eyelids to gently shut, succumbing to the tender embrace of drowsiness. Her consciousness drifted so far into the abyss that even the dying man beside her had been reduced to naught but a distant echo of ragged breaths.

She has earned it hasn't she? Even an hour or two was fine. It didn't matter if corpses lay scattered around her or if the ground felt as hard as stone. She simply longed to slip into slumber, to forget the world for a moment in a fleeting dream. Just for a moment.

Nova's eyes snapped open, disturbed by the eerie silence. She had just grown accustomed to the man's troubled breathing when its sudden absence startled her. She turned to face him. He lay slumped against the tree, eyes wide open, his expression leaving it unclear whether he had found peace in death. Gently, she put a hand over both of his eyes, and with a resigned, heavy and drawn-out sigh, closed them shut.

"Rest well, nameless one. While I cannot invoke my code, because I did not fight you, we did not duel. I'll still choose to remember you. Rest assured your existence will now live through me until I myself… also die. I'll remember your final moments as no one else knew. Sadly enough, you never gave me your name, so instead, I'll recall the time when the sun roused from its slumber to greet your death. I hope you find peace in the silence, for the living will never earn such a privilege."

Parting word to a man whose entire existence had been reduced to a single moment in her memory. Why did she do all this? Did she harbor even a glimmer of genuine care for him? No, his death meant nothing to her. She had taken many lives, why should this one matter? It didn't. Respect was the answer, yes, that's why. She did all this out of a fusion of impulse and respect. If she allowed herself to care about every life she took, it would be a perilous path to tread.

They say to look upon one's own mountain of corpses for longer than a moment brought nothing but pointless turmoil, and she had no intention of making such a mistake. If one does intend to look for long, only do so for introspection. Self-reflection on one's past is best done in moderation, just a fleeting glance, not a deep dive. She never considered herself much of a swimmer, and so she'd never risk such a reckless plunge.

Why did she even try to justify her sympathy? Did she need a reason for it? Perhaps not. Ultimately, regardless of the reasons, none of it truly mattered. Nova rose slowly, giving the corpse one final glance before she began her descent down the hill.