It was night time. Five rugged souls sat around the fire they built in the middle of their small camp in the middle of the forest. Each one looked like a seasoned warrior that they were: heavily built, scarred, and donning weathered light and heavy armors.
It had been six months since the Immortal War ended, and their kingdom had won the battle. However, none of them were in the mood to celebrate at the moment. Instead of merriment, they were all embattled with great resentment boiling within their hearts.
One of the warriors sat with a grim expression as he polished his dagger roughly – like it was an enemy he was rubbing so hard, the steel glinted under the moonlight.
"This is absurd," he said afterwards as he dropped the dagger on the earth with a thump, and turned to look at his comrades. It was obvious that his frustrations had built up so much he couldn't help letting out some steam.
"Lucius, stop complaining," Midas, a bulky middle-aged warrior, the eldest among the five, reprimanded the man with the dagger. "You came here voluntarily – or did you forget?"
His words felt like slaps on the other man. Still, his sense of injustice was palpable.
"Midas is right. We all came here on our own accord." Another warrior, Horgall, the biggest among them joined in the conversation, marched towards Lucius and sat next to him.
All five of them were top soldiers belonging to the Ritz Kingdom, directly working under the warrior princess Alinea. They were the five bravest and most loyal vassals under her.
Lucius sighed. "I know, and I am not complaining about that. I'm just frustrated about our master's fate. She's our savior. Why did the empire task her something that would send her to her death?"
Silence met his words. No one could speak after Lucius spoke. After all, it was the same question they wanted to ask. It was obvious that their general, Alinea was betrayed.
Alistair, the cowardly half-brother of the princess had been filled with dread – a fear that was borne from greed and resentment ever since they were young. After all, it was Alinea who had inherited the power of Perun, the God of Thunder and Lightning, the royal family's ancestor. It was she who had led their troops in the Immortal War and won, and not him, the supposed King.
Even if Alinea had always shown her loyalty to her brother, Alistair was sure she would try and usurp his place on the throne someday, thus giving her this impossible quest. She was tasked to retrieve an artifact said to be left by Kronos, the God of time and space.
The item was said to be powerful it could change the flow of time. Anyone who could lay his hand on it could travel through time and dimensions. Alinea was pressured to take this quest for fear that if the artifact fell in their enemy's hands, they could change the result of the concluded immortal war.
But in reality, the king just wanted to get rid of his younger sister who was more popular and powerful than him. After all, everyone who came to retrieve Kronos'artifact never returned.
Even so, all five of them: Lucius, Midas, Sven, Rubic, Horgall, stood beside Alinea, their one and only general. Even if they knew they would die, they would perish serving her.
"It's inevitable. Our general's power and popularity had become so great," Sven said after a while. His voice was stern, but his eyes glittered with pride.
"His Highness would regret this treachery," Lucius vowed, his hands reaching for the dagger and stabbing the earth with it. "When I die, my soul would return to Ritz to haunt him! He will never have a peaceful sleep."
With this thought, all the others shook their heads at their youngest and most impulsive member.
Minutes passed, the fire they had built cackled as they fed it with more wood. They were preparing to go to bed and just waiting for their master who had gone to cleanse her body in the lake to come back.
"Sven, have you set up the traps around the perimeters?" A musical voice sounded, and all five warriors turned to the source.
Several steps away from the camp stood a tall figure of ethereal beauty. Her skin was white as milk; her long raven hair framed a small, innocent face with lips as delicate as rose petals, and a pair of silver-grey eyes that sparkled like diamonds.
Wearing a white chiton dress for the cleansing ceremony, nobody would've guessed that this fragile-looking lass was actually a warrior like them.
"Yes general," Sven answered as all five of them stood up, and bowed in respect to the newcomer.
Seeing their deference towards her, the beauty pouted.
"Alinea," she said. "I told you to just call me by my name."
Ever since this task was given to her, and these warriors had chosen to stand by her, they had all become her equal. With her insistence, they bashfully followed her wishes and called her by her name.
"A-Alinea…"
"Good," she articulated her approval with a smile.
"It's our honor," the men replied and she shook her head.
"No," she countered. "The honor is mine," she followed.
True enough, the honor was completely hers. After all, these men didn't have to be here. She was prepared to come here alone, but they refused to leave her. She was blessed by their loyalty. In life, in battle, and in their imminent death they chose her.
"Lucius, Midas, Sven, Rubic, Horgall, thank you…"