Warchief stood in what had become his office inside the Dragon Order’s western pillar. It was smaller than most of the other rooms, with bare stone walls and floors as he had removed all of the valuable rugs that once covered it. He chose the space because it was the only one devoid of furniture, except for the stone-made desk that stood at the center. To most, the study would have felt too empty, but for Warchief, it provided a sense of serenity.

At least it normally did. Currently, he was staring at the two envelopes in his hands while leaning on the writing table behind him. They had been delivered that day and were the meager returns of the dozens of letters he had sent months prior.

One, he recognized at a glance as belonging to his brother. There was just no mistaking his tendency of writing on speckled gold paper. He was an Elf after all, how could he resist flaunting his wealth? The other letter had a normal off-white color, and as Warchief turned to open it, he noticed the rare blue seal was imprinted with a familiar insignia depicting a magic crystal. Iberios had answered.

Although he was glad to receive a response, he couldn’t help but feel deflated.

Iberios was the most remote territory he had contacted, so if they had the time to respond, it meant that the others should have responded by now as well.

Using the small dagger strapped to his leg, he opened the envelope. Inside, he found a letter written in swirly cursive lettering, considered fashionable to the nobility all around the continent. To Warchief, it just seemed unnecessarily complicated and ridiculous. He scanned the letter, feeling a sense of relief as it stated that Iberios would support them. Their support might be symbolic, as the country had no military means to back them up, but it was better than nothing. At least they would be willing to send supplies or be a safe haven if things went wrong.

Frustrated, he set it aside and turned his attention to the elven letter. He debated whether he was in the right mindset to deal with his brother's nonsense. Before he had a chance to decide, a short rap at the door interrupted him.

Without waiting for a response, Crystal walked in, carrying her medical bag.

“Am I disturbing you?”

It was a rhetorical question, as they both knew that it didn’t matter if he had been busy or not.

“Do I need to answer that?”

She shot a smug grin and came to stand beside him as she her eyes landed on the envelopes. Picking up the letter from Iberios, she quickly scanned its contents.

“That is good news, for once.”

“I suppose so. The king has expressed his support for our mission. Not that it makes much difference. But at least someone recognizes that we should band together and stop that insane religion from spreading. I can’t wrap my head around what the others are thinking.”

The half-demoness nodded halfheartedly at his rumblings. They had the same conversation countless times before, and she showed no interest in reiterating the same points she always did. Instead, her eyes shifted to the elven letter.

“And Neoire?”

Warchief looked at the envelope as she waved it in front of him, shaking his head. He didn’t need to read it, to know what it would say. The elves felt secure behind the barrier of the deadlands, trusting that the God of death would prevent humans, or anything else, from passing through.

She nodded in understanding as she handed the letter back to him.

“Perhaps we should consider leaving Lynoës and heading south. As they threat advances, people might start changing their minds.”

Warchief knew it was a valid suggestion, but he couldn’t help but immediately dismiss it.

If he were a wiser and more ruthless man, he might have followed her advice. But he couldn’t bear the thought of the lives it would cost before the powers at be would take action.

“You know I can’t do that. We will make do, even if I have to stand alone.”

His grin widened as Crystal rolled her eyes at his nonchalant tone. She believed him to be too carefree, but he wasn’t. He simply couldn’t abandon these people.

“And I suppose I’ll have to patch you up again, won’t I?”

“I know I can count on you.”

She grew increasingly annoyed with his flippant answers, but her expression quickly shifted to resigned acceptance. They had known each other long enough to understand when they couldn't change each other's minds, and while Crystal might nag, she had never once abandoned him.

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"At least assure me that you aren't planning to wage a war with only that ragtag group of men."

Her exasperation was evident, and Warchief could understand why as he thought about his men outside. They were all civilians who had never fought a day in their lives. The reason he agreed to lead them was because he recognized their desire to fight for their homeland. Fighting for one's country could be a powerful motivator, and he saw them as a valuable source of information.

Never had he considered them to be a serious battle regiment, hoping instead for foreign armies to join their cause. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be going his way so far.

"Well, they're all I have. Unless you're hiding an army somewhere, they'll be the only ones assisting us. Them and our new recruit. How is she doing, by the way?"

Seeing the chance to change the subject, he seized it, knowing that Crystal was always open to complaining about her patients. The healer narrowed her eyes at him, but upon seeing his smile, she rolled her eyes once again and relented.

Turning to the desk, she started to unpack the contents of her bag onto it.

"She's progressing well, considering everything. The worst of her wound should be healed by the end of the month, and her vision seems mostly unaffected, which is good. However, she'll need time to regain her weight and muscles. It was impressive to see what she was still capable of today, but I don't want her participating in training sessions just yet. It puts too much strain on her body."

Warchief recalled the moment he had retrieved her after she had lost consciousness. He had been shocked at how light she was, considering she was as tall as him. He had expected her to remain in the infirmary for a long time, but she had surprised him by showing up for practice.

“She seemed to be doing well.”

Crystal snorted unladylike and regarded him as if he were the biggest fool on the planet.

"She doesn't know her limits. And it's no wonder, considering she has been training daily for years now. I'm sure she's been injured before, but it was simple. You train, or you risk dying. However, her body has undergone too much now to simply shake it off. She'll need to learn to rest and recover. But that's just the physical aspect. I don't even know how long she'll suffer mentally."

He pondered her words and nodded in understanding. She had seemed fine, but Crystal was right. There was no way she could recover this quickly after being imprisoned for two months. He remained optimistic that she would heal, but it would take time.

With a sigh, he accepted yet another unforeseen obstacle in their plan. He had hoped to have her train with his men so they could familiarize with her and potentially accept her as a possible figurehead.

“Have you told her yet?”

"Of course not. I'll tell her in the morning when she's not half-asleep on her feet."

Warchief wondered how the girl would react. She seemed to be of the stubborn variety, but then again, so was Crystal. The healer tended to get her way more often than not.

"Oh, before I forget. Can you send someone to get her some new clothes? I would rather not have her walking around as if she is drowning in fabric.”

Warchief smiled as he remembered how Lidea had looked as she arrived on the training field. Despite being as tall as him, she missed his width and as a result, the clothes practically fell off her frame. He had seen how she had to roll up her sleeves and pants to even try and join the training.

"Sounds reasonable. I'll sort it for her. Any specific requests? Since she'll mostly be resting, it might be good to get her some nightgowns."

Crystal tilted her head to the side, deep in thought, and Warchief couldn't help but find her little habit endearing. She reminded him of a dog when she did it. Not that he would ever say so to her.

"Just comfortable clothes in general. I don't think she'll enjoy nightgowns, but you can bring one and we'll see if she likes it. I'll give you a list."

"That would be helpful. Also, add anything you need for the infirmary. No point in making two separate trips."

Crystal nodded and reached for the pot of Silverroot salve on the desk, looking at him expectantly.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Warchief groaned and turned his back towards her. Sometimes he wondered if she had the gift of foresight, given how easily she noticed when something was ailing him.

"I barely noticed it myself. I just didn't think to let you know."

The frown on her face told him she didn't believe a word he said, and he decided to leave it at that. He removed his shirt, revealing the bandages that covered him from his waist to his shoulders, concealing the old burn scars on his back. Even before she removed the dressings, he could hear Crystal cluck her tongue in disapproval, indicating that the blisters must have started to ooze again. He hadn't been lying when he mentioned that he barely felt anything. His back had been scarred so heavily over the years that he didn’t feel much in that area anymore, except for the persistent burning sensation that plagued him every night.

“You need to come in daily Warchief. That is the only way for me to stay on top of it.”

“I’m sorry, I was just busy and forgot about it.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Neither of them spoke for a while as Crystal began treating his blisters, and Warchief focused on keeping the memories at bay that resurfaced with every touch.

“I will give you a sleeping draft for tonight.”

He didn’t like taking something that would make him sleep like the dead, but he knew it was necessary if he wanted to prevent his back from worsening. At least Crystal hadn't pestered him about seeking help, even if he could see the frustration in her eyes once she finished treating him.

He knew it wasn't right and that he had to do something about it, but he wasn't ready to confront his inner demons just yet.

He watched as the healer retrieved a potion bottle from her bag. Apparently, she had anticipated this outcome and had prepared it in advance. Sometimes he was still amazed by her healing skills.

“Thank you, Crystal.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as she pushed the potion into his hand.

“Don’t thank me, if you are just going to continue hurting yourself.”

She hurriedly packed her bag and left the room. Warchief knew that her anger stemmed from genuine concern for him and that it would be short-lived. But it didn't make him feel any better.

He glanced over at his brother's letter but decided he had enough for the day; it could wait. Grasping the potion instead, he hoped to leave the world behind him, for once not plagued by the nightmares that usually tormented him. Even if it was only for a few hours.