She tapped impatiently at the mechanical keyboard. Not typing, simply pressing buttons in a vain attempt at warding off the worst of the anxiety. Anxiety threatening to bubble up, not helped by the cacophony of sounds and movement in her near vicinity.

People were running left to right behind her, in a room too small for the amount of people it contained, doing tasks she probably once delegated. Running a rebellion couldn’t be run alone, after all.

Tapping twice more, she gazed at the boxed screen, practically feeling the heat steaming off of the pixilated blue lights that bombarded her face. An old thing. How old, she did not know. She only knew that it was untraceable and secure, things one needed when one did not want their position exposed. Even if that security came with a sweltering heat that did not dissipate even with the strongest fans.

Realising how hot it was, she delicately brought a small handkerchief up to her forehead, discreetly wiping off the small droplets forming. A leader could not show weakness, no matter how human they were, and no matter how stupid they themselves felt that was. Or at least, that was what she’d been taught.

Shouting came from somewhere behind her. Not too unusual, always something happening somewhere, always something bad, something wrong. A tightness formed, coalesced, like a lump in her throat. The lump wasn’t a stranger to her, no matter how much she wished it was. But she would not let it stop her from doing what she had to.

Turning her head around, she looked over the chaotically ordered amount of people streaming from everywhere to somewhere, spotting two guards gently guiding a single man, standing just outside the windowed glass doors. His eyes were bloodshot, sweaty from head to shoes, dirtied and slightly bloodied, blackened with blood that she saw was not his own.

His eyes met hers, and she recognized the insignia on the man’s shoulder. She opened her mouth and shouted over the cacophony.

“Let him in!”

Immediately, a slight pause in the chaos, everyone stopping to look at her, and then the newcomer. The guards didn’t immediately comply, looking unsure, as if the newcomer wasn’t someone they knew or wanted near her.

A sigh, so small and soundless that no one but her could have heard it. She stood up, salutes flying from each and everyone nearby, waved off as she hastened towards the glass door. A man standing by the shadows slowly trailing behind her.

Her shadowed man then swiftly moved in front and opened the doors for her, and a storm of smells assaulted her senses. Musty and grey, the hallway that led to the barracks smelled. Their temporary stay at this temporary place.

Ignoring the smell, she turned towards the shaking man, looking distraught and, scared?

“My lady, this is Cristof from the dragon’s tail expedition. He’s brought, survivors.”

One of the two guards said, standing at salute and speaking with certainty. Words that made the lump in her throat grow bigger. For she had heard no words from the dragon’s tail yet. An expedition that she had ordered to return to base but had seemingly vanished from existence. And any attempts at contact or reconnaissance had been met by fierce resistance, both in air and on land.

Her vision turned towards the man, looking so small. Cheeks sunken, eyes narrowed, clear signs of dehydration. The man looked ready to burst into tears, but held fast as she knew a man must. It was, after all, unseemly to cry in front of their superior.

Turning towards the guard, she smiled tentatively while asking with authority.

“Why hasn’t this man been given a drink?”

Looking slightly shaken at being directly addressed, the guard took a second to respond.

“Uhm- uh, we thought it be best if we took him directly to you, my lady.”

She frowned slightly at that. She could understand, and would not fault the guard for thinking so, but in cases like this, one needed humanity before protocol. Her frown immediately disappeared, replaced by a face of neutrality, so quick that one would not be faulted for thinking it hadn’t disappeared in the first place.

“Whatever it is Cristof needs to report, as long as we’re not in imminent danger, I’m sure we can wait for Cristof to get a drink.”

She said quickly, turning to look at said man, at Cristof, seeing his eyes blink, blink a little faster. Then as he realized the unasked question, he quickly stammered out.

“N-No my lady. We are not in- in immediate danger.”

Spoken in a raspy tone, cracked and unused to speaking. Probably been on the march for several days. Her eyes grew harsher, for in him, she saw hardships that no man should have to deal with. Harsh, for she heard something fearful in his voice.

Unfortunately, a daily occurrence in war. A war she helped start.

Turning back to the guard, she spoke up louder.

“And the others?”

Standing taller, the guard spoke loudly, a little too loudly.

“Well taken care of my lady.”

“Good, good. Then show me to them.”

The guard seemed taken aback, staring down at her, before quickly looking forward again in his disgrace. Unsurely, he glanced towards his compatriot, the other guard. Then up and over her, staring at her shadowed man. Something transpired between them, and the guard hurriedly turned around, starting his march at a hurried pace.

“Then follow me, my lady.”

She nodded simply and followed closely behind. Cristof tried to walk behind the group but was gently pushed forward by her hand as they walked side by side. She looked down on him; he looked up at her even as he was taller, avoiding her eyes the best he could. A shadowed man trailing close behind.

A frown appeared on her face, hidden as her face was, eyes narrowed as she turned forward. To make a man this timid, something bad must have happened, something worse than bad.

The group of four made fast pace through the murky corridors. Past the barracks, the kitchen, and turned a corner before coming to the makeshift hospital. A hospital having been converted from a large dining hall fit for kings. Now littered with the smell of death and decay.

She wrinkled her nose unconsciously, for it smelt worse than she’d imagined. Then, as the guards stepped aside and gave her a view of the makeshift hospital, her eyes widened just slightly.

The room was halfway filled with wounded people and dead body bags. Severely wounded lay in beds, groaning and moaning, sleeping or plain being medically put unconscious. Wounds differing from holes in their bodies to body parts severed. Even those lightly wounded still looked devastated. Dehydration and exhaustion mixed in with something else.

Medical staff walking from patient to patient, the calm after the storm. Food and water given to those that could eat, food and water injected to those that couldn’t.

A scene she’d seen many times before and would see many times after. But yet, this scene was so much worse than she’d ever seen before. She couldn’t place her finger on it, she couldn’t explain it properly other than that the room felt heavy, her stomach twisted.

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No, no, she could explain it. For she saw it in their eyes, in their postures, in how they just didn’t react to those who wished to help. Every survivor seemed so, downtrodden, as if what they had witnessed made little sense.

Creeping dread spread in her mind, for she had a hunch of what could have done this.

Turning towards Cristof by her side, she guided him to an available table and whispered to her shadow to fetch food and water for them both. Then she sat down, gesturing for him to do the same.

The two sitting in silence. Her waiting for him and their lunch, Cristof not knowing what to say, staring down at the table in discomfort.

Soon enough, food and drinks were brought. Cristof staring down greedily on the food and water, then up unsurely, meeting a small smile as she gestured for him to dig in.

And dig in he did, starved like a dog before supper. As the first gulp of water entered his throat, it was as if the floodgates opened, and he devoured what was left. And even if she felt no hunger, she hadn’t for a long time now; she bit down as well. She couldn’t let him eat alone. For that would be shameful to Cristof.

Soon after, he had eaten all that there was, and she asked her burning question.

“What happened?”

To which Cristof nodded, slowly starting his tale. A tale that was spoken slowly and softly in the beginning, turning quicker, harsher and more vivid the more he spoke. She listened patiently in the beginning. Turning horrid later, all the while looking as unbothered as she knew she should.

For the man had spoken of Varangian’s, Varangians attacking a company of over five hundred men, slaughtering them like adults stealing candy from kids. The way this man spoke, she could tell that they had had no chance.

And as he finished, tears formed, opened as if speaking had opened a faucet within his mind, broken something. Tear flowing freely as he sobbed uncontrollably, a shameful display.

She did not fault him, instead; she gestured for a blanket before folding it over his shoulder. Hiding him before giving him space.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She wanted to embrace him, tell him it was okay, that nothing of it was his fault. But she couldn’t. Her status did not allow it, nor did she want to shame him further, not now that she was a lady.

Instead, she took a walk. Walking amongst the dead and the wounded, giving words of encouragement to those that was healthy enough to listen. Most, she could tell, listened with deaf ears, eyes dim as if they stared at something other than her.

It did not sit well with her, not at all.

Then she saw him, a man she herself had promoted to lieutenant for the merits of being a great man. He wasn’t the greatest tactician, but he knew how to control men and inspire them, talents one needed in a rebellion.

A man that shone with vitality and energy when she had promoted him. Now, looking like a burnt down husk, lacking an arm with soulless eyes staring into something far, far beyond. He lay on a bed, moist red with a bandage that hadn’t been changed for some time. Tubes with blood and IV trickled into his body from hanging bags, one nurse sitting by his side, reading a book.

She walked up to him, nodding to the nurse and gesturing for her to give them space. The nurse quickly complied and hurried away to another patient. She gave a curt, thankful nod to the nurse before turning her attention down on him.

Down on eyes that looked at her, but not really. They were far off; off into a distance, she couldn’t say where. She recognized those eyes.

“Lieutenant?”

She asked softly, spotting the lieutenant gaining recognition, clarity as his eyes finally met hers. Surprise forming on his face, quickly trying to sit up. Stopped by his own internal and external injuries, face morphing into one of extreme pain.

Gently, she pushed him down, speaking up just as softly.

“Don’t exert yourself lieutenant, I simply wanted to see that you were alright.”

A nod and a gentle smile, looking down with what she knew to be false confidence, also knowing that no one could tell the difference. The Lieutenant couldn’t, for he was panting, as if the simple act of trying to sit up had been like a tough sprint.

He gazed up at her, eyes weak, sunken and mellowed. The energetic lieutenant that had left for a mission that should have been secret, was gone. Instead, she saw nothing but pain on an old face.

She moved her hand resting gently on the lieutenant’s chest, but was stopped as his hand moved deceptively fast, latching onto hers and holding fast. Immediately, her shadow moved forward with something shiny within nimble fingers. She took a step in between her shadow and the lieutenant. A rumble from behind, ignored as she focused intently on the lieutenant as he spoke with a strained expression on his face.

“I couldn’t help them. I just couldn’t. You have to believe me, my lady. I did everything I could. I really did. They just came from nowhere. They were just so, fast.“

“I know lieutenant. No one blames you. It was not your fault.”

“No! No my lady. You don’t understand. I did everything I could! I really did! But I couldn’t- we couldn’t do anything. My lady, he was there. My lady, we can’t stop him. We can’t stop him.”

Tears formed on the lieutenant’s face, unbridled and unhindered, formed and fell so fast on a face that probably had never been wetted before. Speaking as if possessed. Not by a spirit, but by a conviction she’d only seen on soldiers daring to defy orders they knew would lead to their death.

Sitting down, she lowered herself to be eye level with the lieutenant, staring deeply into his brown eyes. Seeing a madness bubbling within, seeing a man on the brink. He continued speaking.

“My lady, we have to run. We can’t stop him, it’s impossible. He will find us, he will. He is hel’s chosen, and he has come to take us all.”

A name, one she knew of. A name many knew, drawing attention to their little corner of the room. A room filled with silence; changed to one of listening intently. Former blank stares gaining a semblance of a mind still working, working to listen, listen to their conversation.

She ignored them, ignoring the part of her mind that told her to stop, to think. She was a lady, and this was improper. Ignored the stares and the whisper from her shadow, telling her they should get going, telling her what she already knew. She ignored it all in favor of listening to the lieutenant, no, to listen to the broken old man.

Dexterously, she switched places of their hands, holding his in hers instead of the other way around. His eyes going bloodshot, maddened as tears fell fast. She did not look away, instead held his gaze in hers. Doing so for two reasons. One, she could not leave someone so obviously in distress. The other, she hoped others wouldn’t be able to guess.

Choking on his own tears, she used her other hand to gently caress the lieutenant’s head, blistered and bald. A move that seemed to freeze him on the spot. Then slowly, ever so slowly, his face crumpled like a paper in the blender. Ugly crying as he leaned his head towards the hand on his face and holding her hand harder while his tears grew louder. Screaming, like the baby from the womb.

She let him. She did not chastise him; she did not stop holding him. She simply sat there, there for him at this broken moment in time. Knowing fully that what he was experiencing was partly her fault.

She would have to live with that.

Eventually, his screaming grew milder, hiccupping as he tried speaking. Speaking sorrowful words.

“I want to go home. I just want to go home. I wanna go home.”

“It’s okay lieutenant, we will get you home.”

Finally, she released her hold on the lieutenant, to the dismay of said lieutenant, staring up and around in horror. Horror calmed hurriedly as a nurse came sprinting to him, administering calming nerve agents and sleeping pills, she knew.

Turning to her shadow, she looked around briefly, spotting several men and woman staring in her direction, some looking away as she looked up, some getting lost again, lost in their own minds.

Taking a step close, she leaned towards her shadows ear and whispered.

“I want the lieutenant to be taken off world with the next civilian transport. Him, and anyone who shows signs of combat weariness.”

“My lady, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Still looking around, she gestured for her shadow to follow her, whispering as they walked slowly.

“I don’t care. These men have been through something we can’t imagine, not even in our worst nightmares. They won’t be useful soldier if we force them to fight.”

“My lady, I agree with you. I’m not talking about fighting.”

Her gaze shifted towards her shadow, one brow over the other.

“My lady, they are a security risk. Now that we know we are facing Varangians, we should use proper caution and keep all personal that knows of your location within easy reach. If we release these men, your life will be at risk and we will have to relocate.”

Eye brightened, and she nodded, one of knowing.

“Yes, I understand. Therefore, we will have to relocate.”

“My lady, I highly advice against it. It's an unnecessary risk.”

“And yet, we will.”

“But my lady, please, why?”

The two had moved towards the corridor leading away from the makeshift hospital. She stopped there; her shadow taking one further step before also stopping, turning around to look at her face. She looked up at him, smiling gently. The only person she dared show weakness to.

“My dear Richard, do you remember why we started this rebellion?”

Looking surprised and confused, he spoke hesitantly.

“My lady, that has nothing to do with this.”

“But it does.”

She held his gaze as her smile remained.

“We started it to help those that had no choice. To help those taken from their homes at a young age, only to meet an entire life of slavery, tests, work and amputated limbs once they were of no use. We started this rebellion to stop the tyranny of a man we have never even met.”

She paused, turning to look out over the makeshift hospital.

“We started this rebellion to give people a chance to fight back. To finally give people a choice, a chance- a taste, of freedom.”

"If we force them to fight. How are we, any different?"

Finaly, the shadow seemed to realise what she was getting at, bowing slightly as he whispered.

“Shall I give out the order for mobilization?”

“Yes. And prepare our countermeasures for the Varangians.”

She spoke, almost hesitantly, and he disappeared without a word. Leaving her there as she looked out over the wounded people, over the broken people with their lives ruined by her and an empire she swore to destroy.

An empire she knew she could best. Her only worry being if she would survive long enough to see it crumble. For she knew just how easily a Varangian could vanquish life.