27 Tavorhel. The seventh day of the ninth month.

Esiel led his troops towards the Forester camp. The prisoner Tarigen walked next to him, the rope that bound his wrists held by one of the lieutenants. The Trelvenese banners and flags were all raised, announcing their presence clearly to their enemies. Behind the army were several catapults, the heavy machinery trudging along in case they would be of use. A carriage was already prepared, ready to welcome back the crown prince.

For how big the occasion seemed, Esiel had little on his mind other than Amovishel’s condition. It was clear from the meeting yesterday that things were not optimistic. He had already reported his findings to the representative, but it was unlikely that’d do him any favours in court.

It was extremely likely that Amovishel wouldn’t be able to return to his posts for at least a while. The young man had become unfit for almost any public office after his captivity. Even if he did continue to hold onto those posts nominally, the responsibilities would’ve all been delegated to various subordinate officers.

Esiel sighed. Well, at least he could return to Prentdor after this mission was completed. As for the royal court and bureaucracy… he wished the king wouldn’t be too affected by his son and impair his already poor decision-making abilities.

‘I see a delegation of Foresters exiting their camp,’ a lieutenant reported. ‘It seems to just be the leader, a few warriors and Crown Prince Amovishel.’

‘So they’ve followed through,’ Esiel said. ‘Still, it’s quite disrespectful to only send a small portion of their troops to greet our entourage.’

To be fair, what that Elethien did was a wise move, at least if it didn’t include herself. Esiel had prepared his army to be primarily composed of shock troops, archers and cavalry. The moment the trade was complete, he would be free to kill off the rebellion. Sending a small delegation would minimise the risks such that, even if the Foresters sent were killed, the rest of the camp had time to escape.

But considering the centralisation of command around Elethien, at least to Esiel’s knowledge, her death would mean the end. And even the greatest of warriors couldn’t fight alone against an endless wave of soldiers.

Well, she already seemed more intelligent compared to the average Forester.

‘Do you see your future leader, Forester?’ he asked Tarigen.

‘No, but I see a friend.’

‘A friend, huh.’ He always assumed whatever friendships the Foresters might’ve had were either destroyed by war or separation.

‘I hope she still remembers me. It’s been two years, after all.’

The two sides approached further as noon arrived. Compared to Esiel’s army, Elethien’s delegation seemed smaller and smaller the closer they were to each other. Where the army walked they trampled and flattened the grass, while the fields remained practically untouched from the other side.

‘Halt,’ Esiel ordered as he raised his hand.

‘Halt!’ the other lieutenants shouted.

They stopped, waiting for the other side to arrive. Amovishel was unbound, his hair once again tied to a loose ponytail. Elethien was walking a considerable distance away from him, perhaps separated even further than Esiel with Tarigen. The Forester warriors marched closely behind, each carrying a Trelvenese spear as they walked.

Soon, the Foresters stopped as well, leaving just Elethien and Amovishel who kept walking forward.

‘Esiel! You dismount as well!’ she called. ‘Take only Tarigen with you!’

She knew his name. Esiel looked towards Tarigen. The man was smiling, of all things.

‘Esiel!’ Elethien called again.

‘It’s Commander-General Esiel,’ he murmured as he motioned for the lieutenant to drop the rope. ‘Forester, walk.’

The two went forth, Esiel still remaining on horseback while the rest were on foot. He was only a short distance away from his troops. If anything went wrong, he could easily retreat into the soldiers’ protection.

Finally, they met. On one side, the highest-ranked military commander in Trelven, and in his forced possession, a lowly Forester who had no real value other than the one imposed upon by the royal court. On the other side, the self-proclaimed Forester ruler of a new kingdom and her captive, the crown prince of Trelven, the only one who had any sort of sympathy for the Foresters until his captivity.

The exchange had come.

----------------------------------------

‘Well, see you in a bit.’

Elethien walked out of the emptied camp, taking with her only a few Foresters that formed a guard in front of her and Amovishel. Most of the others had already exited in the other direction, gradually making their way into the forests and beyond.

Teion had managed to split the Foresters into small groups of a hundred people, each closely following each other to prevent getting lost in the forests. Without many warriors, this was the best way to spread out their troops as they made their retreat away from Maerila, accepting the defeat that had come upon them.

He was going to be the last one to leave. While the rest of the groups had already departed, he would stay until the exchange was completed.

‘Come back quickly,’ he said.

‘I will.’

With those short exchanges of words, Elethien departed for the fields to meet with the Trelvenese army.

She placed herself relatively far away from Amovishel, only glancing at him every few moments. Her eyes instead were mostly fixed on the enemy banners and flags that dotted the landscape, the soldiers that spread out across the horizon with no gap in sight. As promised, the Trelvenese army was here to receive their prince.

Amovishel was untied, but he still walked as if he was a prisoner, his bruised legs dragging his injured, malnourished body forward. There was no life in his eyes, nor was he looking towards anywhere in particular. Every few steps it looked as if he was about to fall, but he’d always quickly steady himself to continue on. The Foresters that walked in front of him paid little attention to him, marching slowly and silently as they tried not to think too much of their perilous situation.

Thinking back, there was little reason why she kept him captive in the first place. Other than the common identity of being a mixed-blood, their differences were simply too vast. She should’ve killed him as he was probably integral to the enemy, but she never brought herself to do so. And after all that time in captivity, she still learned basically nothing about him.

All that was left was only a feeling of disgust and guilt over a single impulsive action

They could see the enemy and their Forester captive now. It was surprising that they even had one in the first place. From the captive’s clothing, it was clear he wasn’t part of the rebellion. The brown hair was in a shade similar to most Foresters, but there was something about him that reminded Elethien of someone. Perhaps it was his frail frame, the familiarity of his hairstyle and even his gait.

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After all, there was only one Forester she knew that went to Trelven to study instead of continuing to be a warrior like everyone else.

Tarigen.

As they approached closer, it became unmistakable. Whether of his own volition or not, her friend had returned. It had already been a while since they last met. Despite his status as a Forester, he seemed even more well-treated during his time in Trelven, looking healthier than the last time they saw each other. Whoever he served, they definitely took good care of him.

What a strange coincidence that it was here that they’d reunite once more.

When he noticed her, a smile crept across his face. He hadn’t forgotten.

For a moment, she forgot about the situation and nearly broke into a sprint, only stopping herself when she noticed the Foresters still slowly marching in front of her. It wasn’t of excitement or anything, just a pure joy from a time long ago being brought back to the surface to soften her turbulent heart.

‘Let us two go forward alone,’ she ordered. ‘The rest of you, stay here.’

The Foresters obliged, planting their spears on the ground as they halted.

‘Esiel, you dismount as well!’ she shouted. ‘Take only Tarigen with you!’

Ah. She just blurted his name out.

The Foresters looked at her briefly in surprise. She didn’t know who the other captive was until now, after all. And to call the enemy commander by name just like that was clearly quite disrespectful based on their experience as mercenaries.

She could care less.

‘Esiel!’ she cried out again. This time, the commander did move out alone with Tarigen but refused to dismount, instead still sitting up high on his warhorse, establishing his intimidating presence as he approached.

After a few more steps, they were now with a spear’s length from each other. The Foresters warily held their spears from a distance, refusing to be intimidated by the presence of the enemy army bearing down upon them, at least from their appearances.

Tarigen did not greet her, but as they made eye contact, both just nodded and smiled awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to each other.

‘So you’ve come, Elethien,’ Esiel said.

‘As promised.’ She switched her gaze towards the commander, her smile quickly fading into a blank expression.

‘And you actually do know this certain Forester.’

‘Yes. I was expecting you to only bring your army forth with no one to exchange.’

‘I wouldn’t want to risk the life of the crown prince.’

Elethien noticed Tarigen had now a display of worry on his face, his eyes focusing on Amovishel’s injuries. Well, he could be quite sentimental at times, at least from what she knew of him in her memory.

‘A-Amovishel…’ he stuttered. ‘What happened to you?’

Amovishel finally looked up. ‘Tarigen… You’ve come to rescue me?’

‘No. I’m here to trade places with you.’

‘So you’ve finally gotten sick of Trelven.’

‘I guess, perhaps. I’m sorry it took me this long to come here.’

‘It’s… fine. At least you can be with your people again.’

‘So you still call them people, huh,’ Esiel noted. ‘Look at your current situation, Crown Prince.’

They know each other? Somehow, Elethien seemed to be the only one surprised by this interaction.

‘They’re still… people, are they not?’ He was struggling to mouth those words out, as if those were only lies to keep a facade.

‘Please get medical help as soon as you return,’ Tarigen said. ‘There are probably decent doctors in the city. If not, then at least medics can do it.’

‘I know, I know. I’m not stupid.’ He managed to force a chuckle.

‘You’ve been a good teacher to me. Of course I know that.’

Teacher? Then the one who recruited Tarigen to Trellien, the Trelvenese capital… was Amovishel?

‘It’s sad I probably can’t teach you again, or anyone for that matter.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just… tired. But you’ve been a great student, Tarigen. It’s a shame you chose this path in the end.’

‘My heart is still with the forests. And now that I know Elethien is leading them, I have to devote more of myself to the cause.’

‘With Elethien, huh…’ Amovishel bit his lips.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘A year of training and you end up creating a valuable ally for the enemy,’ Esiel commented. ‘Amovishel, if you weren’t the crown prince I would’ve arrested you on the spot for treason.’

‘Hey, Tarigen?’

‘Yes?’

‘When we face each other on the battlefield… Whoever wins spares the other, alright?’

‘Alright.’

‘It’s such a shame it’s ending like this.’

‘I’ll never forget what you’ve taught me.’

‘I don’t know if I should regard that as a good or a bad thing,’ Amovishel chuckled again as a tear ran down his face. ‘I’ll miss your presence in the capital.’

‘Take a good rest when you go back. Please.’

Elethien looked at the two silently. There was a strange feeling inside her. In the year that Tarigen spent in Trelven, he already appeared and spoke more like a Trelvenese than a Forester. In a sense, he was now even closer to Amovishel than to her.

‘Stop reminiscing,’ Esiel interrupted. ‘We’re here for an exchange, not a casual conversation.’

‘Right…’

‘Both of you, walk over to the other side,’ he ordered.

Slowly, Amovishel and Tarigen stepped out. As they passed each other, they saluted for a moment before lowering their hands and arriving at the other side. As Amovishel approached him, Esiel dismounted and lifted the prince to his mount before climbing back up. Tarigen, meanwhile, stood in front of Elethien as the latter began to untie him.

‘Amovishel, do you now hate the Foresters for what you have suffered?’ Tarigen suddenly asked.

Amovishel looked away. ‘... Hard to say.’

‘Do you have any last questions for me?’

‘What will make you come to my side again?’

‘When Trelven sees the Foresters as one of their own.’

‘... I see.’

‘Any more?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Well, the next time we see each other will probably be on the battlefield.’

‘Just like the first time?’

‘Just like the first time.’

As the ropes fell to the ground, it was also time to depart. Elethien led Tarigen away, while Esiel began to ride back towards his troops with Amovishel sitting at the back of the horse. Her wings sprouted from her back, shielding her entire group as they marched back towards the camp where Teion would be waiting.

There was a possibility that Esiel would attack them as soon as he returned to his troops, after all.

‘Hey, Elethien?’ Tarigen asked.

‘Yes?’

‘Who was it that caused such injuries to Amovishel?’

She avoided his gaze. ‘... They’re dead now.’

‘Alright, then… Oh, also, your magic.’

‘What about it?’

‘It’s beautiful.’

Elethien felt a tinge of pain as Tarigen smiled.

----------------------------------------

‘You won’t oppose me if I ordered my troops to attack the Foresters now, will you?’ Esiel asked as they nearly arrived back in the ranks.

Amovishel looked back, the figure of Elethien shrinking with distance. ‘... Only fire your projectiles.’

‘Do you not hate them?’

‘The Foresters had nothing to do with me. Only her.’

‘Are you sure?’ Esiel just needed someone to share the blame if blame ever arrived.

‘Don’t… involve me in this. Do what you want. I need a rest.’

‘You saint,’ Esiel scoffed. Well, he could always just claim complete annihilation if the Foresters never returned to the region.

As soon as Amovishel was placed down upon arrival and moved to the carriage, he turned to his soldiers, raising his hands as fireballs began forming on his palms.

‘Fire your projectiles towards the enemy camp!’

As the order spread throughout the ranks, a hail of arrows and rocks were released into the sky, some coated with oil and lit up upon contact with Esiel’s flames. They did not stop until the catapults ran out of boulders to eject, the quivers in the soldiers’ bows nearly emptied of arrows. Soon, the field before them was turned to a hellish wasteland, the Forester camp turning to charred wood as the forest itself caught fire, large clouds of smoke wafting upwards to the sky. No trace of the rebellion remained but the ruins of their destruction.

It was enough.

‘Send a letter to the royal palace,’ Esiel ordered a messenger. ‘The Forester rebellion is destroyed.’