I feel the wind brush against my body, and for a moment, I close my eyes. In the quiet of this place, I imagine I am a bird, spreading my arms as if I could take flight. The breeze lifts my loose, thin clothes, and they flutter like feathers, catching the air. I inhale deeply, savoring the moment. Being back in Improst always brings me peace.
"Goodness, is that really you?" A frail voice interrupts the moment, and I turn to see my mother, hunched over her cane, her eyes wide with disbelief behind those wrinkles.
I approached her and smile relieved, "Yes, ma-ma, I have returned home."
She leans heavily on her cane, looking me over with a frown. "I hope you've finally come to your senses! Women shouldn't be off fighting wars. That's the business of foolish men." Her grumble is as familiar as the wind.
I chuckle softly and take her arm to help her walk. "No, ma-ma. I'm still fighting for our country."
"Until what end?" she protests, her tone sharper now.
"Until victory is ours."
She stops in her tracks, gripping my forearm tightly. "You sound just like your father. And he's dead because of that. You'll be next if you keep going." Her hands tremble as she holds me. "You're better off here, giving me grandchildren to spoil."
I help her up the stairs and into the house, closing the door behind us to block out the wind. The familiar smell of old stone and herbs fills the small home. She always kept it this way, simple, unadorned, and quiet.
"Aha, ma-ma," I say gently, "I could not bring my children into a world at war."
"Hmph, so you're calling me a bad mother, eh?" she jabs a finger in front of my face.
My eyes widen in surprise. "What? No, ma-ma! You're a wonderful mother."
She bursts into a dry chuckle, "Ehh, just messing with ya."
I force a laugh with her and wonder if she believes that.
I help her settle onto the couch, her frail body sinking into the worn cushions. She's alone here, by choice. Even now, as age takes its toll, she prefers this solitude. If she were to die out here, I'd be the one to find her first.
"You're not staying, are you?" Her voice is soft now, resigned.
I shake my head, rolling my shoulders. "Just passing through, to see how you're holding up." I look out the window, feeling the weight of what I can't say—how close we are to victory, how dangerous the next steps will be. "We're close, ma-ma. We'll win soon. I promise you'll see it happen."
She says nothing more, just watching me with tired eyes. She had spoken her piece long ago, and I had chosen my path. I kiss her forehead, and she pulls me down, planting soft kisses on both of my cheeks. Her scarred hands feel light in mine as I pull away. With a final glance, I leave her in the silence of our home.
-
The past three days in the capital were meant for rest, but instead, they've been filled with meetings and briefings about the war's progress.
I met with General Talios, a man I've fought alongside with for 6 years, my intellect lies in battle, his lies before the battle has begun. If anyone knows the state of the war, he's one of them.
He begrudgingly updated me on the latest battle, we once held a solid grip on Westeria. Our forces once encircled their kingdom like a beast with prey in its' jaws. But now, the Westerian forces shattered our left wing, that hold is slipping and our jaws are weakening.
"I suspect they'll use the regained territory to launch smaller, tactical raids," I say, studying the map laid out before us. Biting the loose skin on my lips, "Their commandos will sweep through, striking key positions and threatening our lines."
Talios grunts, his eyes narrow. "We've anticipated that. Cavalry commandos are already on their way to harass their forces, to keep them in check. If they succeed, we'll threaten to cut them off and encircle their forward units."
"And if they fail?" I counter, crossing my arms. "You'll be left with an exposed flank and a demoralized force."
He nods reluctantly. "Which is why we've bolstered the center and right wings. The next wave of new recruits should reinforce us soon enough."
I stare at the map, my mind turning over the possibilities. "Good. We must maintain pressure on their left flank, force them into defensive positions. That will buy us time until reinforcements arrive- No." I shake my head from the idea, "Bait them to go on offense to spread them out thin." I narrow my eyes, "But there's something else."
Talios raises an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
I point to a region on the map, the mountain range we share with Westeria. "They aren't trying to get the mage education institute running, are they? That's why they're making bold moves like this."
He sighs heavily, his expression hardening. "Seems so to me. If they succeed, they'll tip the balance of this war. Those trained mages can disrupt the entire flow of battle. You know better than anyone."
I nod, my thoughts darkening. I've seen firsthand what a fully trained mage can do. They are annoying. Their versatility is what makes them so dangerous. And after years of purging their numbers and destroying their schools, the fact that Westeria has begun training them again is more than just an annoyance. It's a threat.
"I'll take my forces and strike the institution. We need to starve them of that investment before it's too late," I say firmly. "But in return, you need to reinforce me from the rear with an army that comes in 3 fold than mine. Give me a month."
Talios watches me for a moment, then nods. "You have my word. But don't get sidetracked, Tobu. I won't tolerate any... distractions such as bloody fighting your comrades."
"-Valoise was not an comrades to me."
"I don't care, he was an comrade for all of us. You were too, my respect for you is gone." He leans in, "Earn your respect back among the ranks, and perhaps we'll see you return victorious."
He leans in, his voice low. "Prove yourself. Again. I very much would to call you my comrade again."
"I will see to it."
I prepare to leave the city to go to the Valoise stronghold with Cadran and Volgrin, who by then was enjoying the comforts of the capital. We gather our horses and straddled them.
"I'm gonna miss being so clean, ma'am." Volgrin says looking back up at the royal castle and beyond it, Improst.
"You'll get used to the feel, Volgrin." He nodded, "I feel like I already get used to being in filth." I shake my head, "I mean you'll get used to the feeling of leaving nice things."
"Hopefully the war ends before that." He joked.
I laugh and galloped my horse to Cadran, "Ready, captain?" I ask.
"To die, yes. The others I'm not so sure..." he answered, "You're in awfully a good mood to be executed. Wager your little orange-haired son will impress the queen when we get back?"
I look to the horizon, "I trust the boy doesn't like dying and will find a way. Now then..." I ride ahead infront of everyone and anounce, "We go with our army to bring back our territory and liberate our peasants that slave under the enemy. If any of you have known me, you know that this mission will succeed."
They nod and we ride to Valoisem, 6 powerful legs push our horses forward as we ride them and eat the distance. The wind blows in my now braided back hair, my new red and black styled gambeson wraps around me, my clean attire makes me look new to war now.
Without the baged embroidered on my chest the blood soaked cloak on my back and the deep river scars on my face validate my veteran status. Volgrin and Cadran less so, they are clean shaven and handsome stone carved faces. They only have the hard look in their eyes.
I gallop next to Volgrin as Cradran surveyed the area, "Hoy, Volgrin. When's your last term."
"2 more winters ma'am."
Goodness... you sure did grow fast, from a wee lad to a soldier and soon-to-be knight." I sigh, "Where did that time go?"
"Don't worry, one day I'll either follow you or lead a army beside you."
I don't know why that sentence bothers me more than soothe me.
-
We finally meet at house valoise after two days, the Valoise castle doesn't look like the imposing air it used to have. Simply looks like what it was pain-stakingly built to be; an impregnable stronghold. From a distance I can already see there was a group there watching wearily as I approached.
My army.
I can see them dressed for battle, there is only one man on white horse and he gallops to us. From the square face, black lacey hair and a dramatic moustache, I can tell that it's Grimbald.
He turns his horse parallel to mine and we share a handahake, "General, how did it go?" His voice is low.
"I'll spare you the details. The queen hates me now. The battle on the capital failed, war rages on." I adjust my horse, "we have a new campaign on the horizon so we will ride by night."
"General."
"From here to there, I'd say it would be a 2 week journey and maybe a month excursion."
"General."
"What, Grimbald?"
He sighs, "The 432 battalion does not stand with you." He answered.
I stay quite and look at him confused as he continued, "They want to execute you for treason against the kingdom- their blaming you for 'misleading' on our own." His voice shrinks to a whisper, "They are calling you a witch and if you set foot in the Valoise grounds I'm afraid you will die."
"Do they think I will not massacre them with just 11 men." I reply in absent rage, "General, don't... the people have spoken poison in their ears since you left."
Suddenly there is a whistle in the air I know all too well. An arrow pricing the air. I don't look up as I think long and hard and it heads to me. My cloak with not be pierced by it to harm me, gambeson and chainmail will eat it and only graze me, unless it arced for my face.
I don't fret my integrity because the arrow's shaft is stopped in the hand of Grimbald the War-Hound. He breaks the arrow head that once dared fly moments for my throat with a thumb.
My grip on the reigns tightens as I sigh a breathe I didn't know I had held in. My heart beats.
My men trusted me, then marched them to a battle that could've waited. Why was I so blind to the fact? My sigh is heavy with frustration and I finally whisper back to Grimbald and pull back looking at him as he nods and galloped to the castle.
I'm sure Valoise must be jumping for joy at this turn of events, he's probably still scheme inside that castle I ripped him out of like a dry hungry leech. I try to distract myself and smile at the memory and look at the castle, it fades after spotting the Archer that loosed the arrow. A skinny man I thought archery during the Valoise raid, he scowls at me and I point at him and then gesture to my heart.
He doesn't respond and Grimbald walking back to us, with three ravenous barking dogs frothing at the mouth spitting ropes of thick saliva. They try to bit Grimbald but are kept from his fleshy legs by a steel muzzle as he drags them along.
I dismount my horse and meet them half way violently writhing masses of taut muscle. I bring out a finger out to them as they climb over each other to try to reach mevwrestling the leashe, barking as if for blood.
My babies.
"Shht." They fell silent.
They licked their nose and panted, watching me, waiting for their next order and I clapped. They sat down.
"It was pretty hard to convince them to let these girls go." Grimbald says giving me their leashe.
"Thank you, Bladdi." He groans at the nickname and shrugs, "I'm serious thank you."
"When are you ever, not serious..." Grimbald replies and Volgrin chuckles on his horse behind. I was never good with words that came from a part of me more personal, "You're acting like I'm not joining you, I've already said a few ripe words. These guys can suck my beard for all I care, they'll come to, after our campaign is done."
"You're lucky I took that extra horse after giving the boy," Cadran came forward, "The rents in the capital is bloody insane, goodmen." He dramatically emphasises with every word copying the noblemen lingo.
Grimbald climbs the vacant horse with a invigorated laugh. I whistled to my dogs and they climbed their way on to share the horse backs with Volgrin, Grimbald and I.
I took one last look at the castle and spurred my horse to full gallop away, we ought to be at the border in 2 weeks. Valdyr riding beside me as we devour the distance and tear through the air.
"What's the plan captain!" His teeth chatter as he calls out weary of his tongue.
"We invade the border... interrogate, for the location... infiltrate the school and a every teacher!" I shout through the wind.
I'm certain he heard and hope he'll relay the same to the others. I look forward, half blinded by the wind I ride forwards.
I breath in the cool air and close my eyes, I see a red battle with a warrior and a general. The warrior charges alongside his army and the general charges behind, both screaming they clash. One barked the other raored, one shed and the other bleeds. The general lost and I know who I must pick.
We ride forward because I cannot fail- I do not fail. I hear the grass get trampled and torn under my horse's hooves.
Gods bless those who stand in my way. They do not know they play with a titan.
Fifty thousand,
Thirty-five thousand,
Eighty thousand,
Two thousand,
Five hundred,
Three hundred,
Twelve...
I make hungry armies out of them all, teeth sharpened for flesh. The twelve sing, my war-hounds howl in anticipation.
-
Our horses heave heavy, bestial, smoky breaths through their noses. We stop at the peak of a cliff, the half-eaten moons casting shadows that make us seem like primeval shadows of the night. We've long passed the borderlands that Westeria carved from our left-wing region, and all the outposts and castles should be riddled with skirmishes by now.
"These poor things ought to rest soon, don't you think, Volgrin?" I pat my horse's thick, taut neck.
"Yes, ma'am. Yours looks like it's about ready for retirement," Volgrin quips, his eyes taking in the scars that cover my horse's flanks, remnants of battles both fought and won.
"Got something to say to the General there, Volgrin?" Valdyr grinned, teasing. "Don't you know it's rude to call a missis old?" The men laugh, their voices carried away by the wind.
I let it die down before nodding toward the faint glow bleeding out from the forest canopy. "Did you know that they also like shiny things?" I said. "I wager they are cooking up a feast for us."
Quiet cheers and snickering follow my words as we all turn toward the farmhouse.
What was once a quiet homestead is now a post for stationed Westerian soldiers. An estimate of 5-9 men hold the fort, they didn't seem to even bother to rotate patroling the perimeter.
Sloppy, or inexperienced.
I don't doubt Cadran for now, he is an experienced scouter. We move in on the enemy- not on horse- too loud, but on foot. Hands are wrapped around hilts, ready to dance with death.
I don't spare the suspense and walk to the front door as the rest flank the house. I swing open the front door and walk leisurely into the living room- no soul in sight but the voice are loud,echoing deeper in. There is no alarm in them as I stalk closer until I enter into the dinning room with humble chairs and a table, 3 men sit gambling away their crackers.
"Neh, tarvik kommost sar nala token, na unte estranu." One of them said shuffling his cards.
I haven't spoken Veltren for a long time but I stay silent and walk to the table as one glanced at me, then looked again jumping out of his seat.
"Ke varn torfi zarfei?!"
The others follow suite but they have no weapons to hold by their side. I do, but I pull my knife out instead.
What was sit again?
"Unte." I finally say, "Or else I'll cut you down."
I see their thoughts, wether to be courageous or obey. When they see me, they see me wraped in my cloak, under it i do not wear my armour but dreadful cloth wraps me, part of it wraps my lips into a mask. The only flesh they see is scarred and unblinking eyes, cold and forged like steel.
I finally hear them screams and shouts, silent blades on moaning flesh and sometimes steel on screaching steel. They hear it too and findbravery in them somehow. Now two rush me.
two steps and they already reach me. One threw a punch to my jaw, I exchange it with cold steel deep in their eye in the same motion.
He falls down like a puppet while the other grabs my arm and swings a fist for my face too. I duck under his punch, twisting my knife free from the first man's skull in a quick jerk.
The wet sound of flesh and bone parting fills the space as I grab his shirt and bring my knee into the second man's stomach, he let's go letting out a gasp backed away into the wall cautiously. He glances back and forth from his comrade and my knife.
Good.
I back up waving him to come to me and he does slowly, making sure he's out of reach of my arms as he threw quick jabs that simply leaning back was enough. I step forward, he steps back but he is not out of reach from me. I twist my hips, pivoting on my heel. Thighs thick as oak trees, I swing my leg like a pendulum. My legs crashes into his ribs with a dull thud, something breaks inside him but he stays standing. I am not done either as my leg rebounds swinging again in a blur and cleaves through sweeping his legs from under him.
In the dim light, I see his eyes widen as I plunge the knife into his belly, twisting it up under his ribs. I step over the first's body toward the last man standing at the table. He is silent. He stares at me, mouth agape, words lost somewhere in the back of his throat.
I flicked the blood off my knife onto the floor without a word. "Unte estranu... boy," I repeat, voice low and calm.
His wet eyes darted toward the door. toward the window- anywhere but me. "Torfi, na manrik mi sa." He begs, I think.
He does not listen.
I point at him to sit down and he finally does. The sounds of fighting from outside are already starting to die down, the shouts and clashing steel growing distant as my men finish their work.
I walk out of the dining room, letting the door creak open behind me. Volgrin is at the far side of the house, wiping his blade on a dead soldier's tunic. He nods at me as I step out into the cool night air.
Valdyr drags one in with a grin on his face, then kicking the body of a Westerian soldier as he bled to death. Volgrin walks forward to me.
"Crazy bastard." He says low enough fo only me to hear.
"Tell him to take them out and burry them, I am thinking of holding this post." I point to the man inside the dinning room, "Interrogate him, kill him if he lies, torture him if you must."
He gave me an unreadable expression before saluting me and nodding for a few to join him. My stomach moans and I wonder what food Westerian soldiers eat lately.