‘I’m sorry.’

Tarigen walked slowly behind Elethien as the group departed from the wreckage. Despite the hurried movements, there was a certain tiredness in the entire group, their minds still preoccupied with the scene earlier.

Elethien said nothing. This was a scenario that could’ve been avoided had she insisted and went with her intuition. Fate had planted that feeling into her for a reason. Instead, they missed the opportunity to save even more of their people, only able to come across the aftermath of a brutal conflict.

It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. She understood that much. Yet there was still a sense of bitterness as she turned away from his face, a face no different than the people that followed her, and the people that lay dead in that wreckage. Just green-eyed Foresters grasping, fighting for the glimpses of hope that lay in their lives.

All they could do now was to find and salvage those that remained.

Tell me, my God, is this what you intended for us to see?

There was no answer, only the gentle winds blowing northeast to guide them on their path.

It wasn’t long before they encountered the remains of a few items scattered across the ground, sacks laden with heavy weapons and Trelvenese armour. These were all smeared with blood, some of the surfaces slightly dented from physical impact. The tracks of dirt and crushed grass they were following now seemed to be less visible, the damage to the ground clearly reduced compared to before.

The survivors were fleeing from something.

‘Hurry,’ was all Elethien said. There were no traces of pursuers, but with the extremely flat plains, it wouldn’t be a surprise if some of the Trelvenese soldiers happened to notice the survivors. After all, they weren’t too far from the path that they used to loot the convoys. If that possibility turned out to be true… the Foresters may have no survivors left to rescue.

They soon found themselves tracking for over half a day, and finally, in the distance, was a flicker of light. A campfire.

‘Isn’t that fire a bit small?’ Teion wondered.

‘Go,’ Elethien directed. She didn’t care that there were small mounds and hills that obscured some of the Foresters’ field of vision, nor the fact that there was only a single campfire for a group that supposedly should number even more than the group she led. She noticed Tarigen wanted to say something, but this time, he chose to remain silent.

As soon as they arrived at the location, they found only a camp of dying young men and women, if it could even be called that. Dozens, almost a hundred of them lay sprawled around the campfire or propped up against some stones deliberately dug up and placed on the ground. The grass was tainted with splotches of blood and dirt, the area itself seeming to decay along with the Foresters at the brink of death. Some of them were in fact already dead, insects already beginning to crawl up their still-warm bodies. The rest were just silently waiting for their turn.

Elethien approached one of them, a young woman who still possessed a round, childlike face. A tourniquet was wrapped around her thigh, but the blood had already completely seeped out and soaked the ground in red. Her body was impossibly pale, her breaths laborious and shallow. She was bleeding to death.

‘Ah… Foresters. Have… you come to… rescue… us?’ the woman gasped. ‘They’re… up ahead.’

‘You are safe now,’ Elethien said. ‘I will protect you all.’

‘N-No need…’ she replied. ‘We’re all… beyond saving.’

‘You’re already saved. The Kingdom of Foresters has come. You’re already a part of it.’

There was no chance any Forester found here could survive beyond a day. Elethien understood that much. She’d seen these scenes before. But she couldn’t simply allow them to rot. These were her people, the ones now already at the brink of death because of what Trelven had done.

‘The kingdom, huh… And you… are…?’

‘Your queen. Elethien.’

The young Forester smiled. ‘My queen… May I ask… a favour?’

‘Go.’

She pointed to her neck with her trembling hand. ‘Please… have mercy.’

Elethien gently held her hand without a word. As she turned to Tarigen who was watching from a distance, she simply directed his focus towards the woman’s gesture.

He nodded.

Elethien stood up, grabbing for her sword after letting go of the woman’s hand. Slowly, she placed the blade on the woman’s shoulder, the edge towards the neck.

‘Tell the non-combatants to stay behind,’ Tarigen commanded solemnly as he turned to the other warriors. They all understood.

With the rest of the group now led to a further distance, everything was ready. Elethien looked at the warriors. None of them possessed any overt sadness, only grimly facing the injured young Foresters as they prepared their weapons.

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‘Thank… you.’ The quiet murmurs of the dying echoed through the entire area.

‘The blessing of Fate be with us all,’ Elethien declared.

And she swung towards the Forester’s neck.

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

They continued on their journey northeast after burying the dead, following the ever-fresher traces of the survivors. They were getting close.

The young Foresters they encountered before could’ve simply been a new batch of mercenaries for the battlefield, continuing the cycle just as it had always been before. Some of them still had an innocence on their faces, their purity not tarnished from their training, only to be slaughtered before they had even stepped foot on the battlefield.

In a sense, Elethien had killed them. Not by the edge of her blade, but her dream of a kingdom. A kingdom that would not only be built upon the corpses of her enemies, but also of her people.

She was their saviour, but any trace of hope that she’d be able to protect and save all of them was already long gone. She had the blessing of Fate, but that only meant its victory when she’d follow its guidance. She possessed magical power far beyond that of any Forester, but she was still powerless in the face of defeat.

Tell me, my God, what does it take for me to establish my kingdom?

Fate was silent. And still she prayed.

By this time, they had essentially returned to their original route east towards Prentdor, the area still surprisingly devoid of any recent Trelvenese presence. As far as the eye could see, there was no one else in sight but them.

‘How many survivors do you think are left?’ Teion asked.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Elethien replied. It didn’t even matter that they themselves were low on supplies. Whether driven by a sense of guilt or duty, she was to continue on. Whether there were ten thousand or only ten remaining, she would take them under her wings all the same.

This was her kingdom for all Foresters.

‘Elethien, look,’ Tarigen said as he pointed at the ground a short distance away.

It was strikingly devoid of grass, the blades all trampled into the dirt. A second, more violent trail. Further on, yet another trail in similar fashion. As they examined the ground, there were imprints of hooves embedded in the dirt. Dozens of them.

The traces were all fresh.

‘Hurry.’ That was all Elethien had to say. The entire group, even the noncombatants, picked up their pace to almost a slight jog, the stronger ones carrying the luggage of the weaker. An air of ever-increasing urgency had fallen on them, as if they were the ones being pursued and not the ones in pursuit.

There was a reason they hadn’t met any Trelvenese patrols up till this point despite being on such open ground. All the patrols had been attracted by a single group of sixteen-year-olds fleeing towards the northeast.

They were extremely close, but time was running out.

A soldier on horseback appeared on the horizon as they began to ascend a slope. Then a second one appeared. Then a third, fourth… until before them was an entire contingent of Trelvenese troops focused on something ahead of them, the cavalry wheeling about before charging into the crowd.

They finally arrived.

The blessing of Fate be with us all. Elethien clasped her hands together as she directed her energy from her core to her back.

‘Charge! Charge!’ Teion shouted. It didn’t matter that they had no idea about the enemy troops compositions, their numerical strength, or even if the Foresters were charging towards their intended destination.

All that mattered was that, right now, there were Trelvenese soldiers in front of them.

The Foresters found themselves stretching out, the vanguard with their stronger physical builds taking the front. The enemy wheeled around, the cavalry rushing to protect the vulnerable flanks. But it was too late to prepare.

The vanguard, led by Teion, crashed directly into enemy ranks without any semblance of organisation. It didn’t matter. They were the remains of the vanguard that fought at Maerila, the couple hundred that survived that hellish battle. The strongest of the Foresters.

‘Fire at the enemy!’ Tarigen directed from behind, having already fallen back a bit due to his weaker physique. Those not of the vanguard organised themselves into rough ranks, firing energy blasts at the rough location of battle. Even some of the noncombatants joined in, firing their energy erratically and irregularly alongside seasoned mercenaries.

This was a unity and fervour not seen since Maerila, the Foresters quite literally drawing out their all to help another group of Foresters they couldn’t even see. When some of the weaker ones collapsed from exhaustion, the children came forth and pulled them behind the ranks. Though this was their first taste of open-field battle, many of the children possessed a near-unnatural sense of calmness, their hearts and minds already battered and matured during the journey.

And at the centre of it all, three dazzling white wings and four pitch-black flying greatswords tore their way through the enemy, making their way towards the young Foresters. Elethien roared as she slashed rapidly at the Trelvenese with her sword, slicing through their necks with ease. No weapon, blood or even a single splotch of dirt reached her as she pushed her way inward, driving a deep wedge in the Trelvenese ranks. It didn’t matter if her opponent was mounted or on foot. They’d fall all the same.

She felt the energy burst out of her body with every breath, every slash of the blade giving her a blast of ecstasy. In that moment, she felt Fate was physically with her once more, her power unparalleled in the face of the disgusting creatures that stood in her way. Every single Trelvenese soldier reminded her of her mistake, every death they suffered temporarily removing some of her guilt. They were the scapegoats, the human sacrifices she made to her God for her transgressions and in repentance of her sins.

Fate would be pleased by her dedication.

It didn’t take long before she finally reached into the inner circle. There, thousands of young Foresters stood in tight quarters, stubbornly holding out their weapons and taking shelter behind the corpses of their companions. A majority of them were still alive.

‘Long live the Kingdom of Foresters!’ Elethien roared.

Her wings stretched and grew, shielding much of the Foresters while her greatswords weaved through the Trelvenese soldiers, cutting down many in an instant. As she continued to use her magic, she felt her breathing become laboured and her muscles weakening from overexertion. But that didn’t matter.

The next instant, she reached her limit.

She collapsed, falling at the feet of a Forester as her wings and blades disappeared into ash, her body rapidly growing colder and her skin a sickly pale. Teion, who had followed her behind soon after she began her frenzy, rushed in, lifting her up by the armpits as she slowly slipped into unconsciousness once more. She had far overexerted herself again, feeling her core, her lifespan being shaven further once more. But that didn’t matter.

The eyes of the young Foresters were all gazing at her. The eyes of fear and salvation, just as she had when she encountered Fate for the first time.

She was their saviour, their god.