1214-02-22
Outside of Dios, we waited. The tension hung heavy in the air as we anticipated the return of our troops. Finally, they arrived, marching in steady steps, led by a single soldier.
"What happened to him?" I asked the soldier at the head of the column, my voice cutting through the cold wind.
"He died, Your Majesty," the soldier replied solemnly.
"And the city?" I pressed.
"It is ours, Your Majesty. We suffered few casualties."
He paused before continuing. "We left a thousand soldiers behind to guard the prisoners, in case of an ambush."
"You did well," I said, nodding. "What is your name?"
"My name is Rowan, Your Highness."
The young soldier stood before me, barely a man at eighteen or nineteen. He was short and slender, with a sharp glint in his eye that spoke of determination. His blonde hair peeked from beneath the edges of his helmet, tousled and bright even in the dim light.
"Get some rest," I commanded. "We leave in a few hours."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Rowan saluted smartly, his men following him into Dios as the city gates groaned closed behind them.
Hours later.
On horseback, I take a deep breath, letting the cool air steady my thoughts. The soldiers gather in front of me. I owe them more than just words, but right now, words are all I have.
"Brothers," I began.
"We've lost many today. Too many. But know this—their names will not fade into silence. Each one will be remembered. A memorial will be built in Pallas, their names carved into stone, so that generations to come will know what they gave for us to stand here."
The soldiers shift, straightening despite their fatigue. I see the spark return to their eyes, a flicker of determination reigniting in their hearts.
"They paved the way for us with their lives," I continue, my throat tightening. "We honor them by marching forward, by ensuring their sacrifice was not in vain. Their legacy will endure, and we will carry their memory with us into every battle, every victory."
I pause, scanning the crowd. Some nod, others grip their weapons tighter, but all of them meet my gaze. I dismount, stepping closer, placing a hand on the shoulder of a nearby soldier. "We fight for them now. And we fight for each other."
As I return to my horse, Voss waits for me at the edge of the group. Together, we ride toward the city entrance, the wide plains spreading out before us like an open book. The horizon is quiet, no sign of immediate danger, but the weight of what lies ahead presses heavy on my chest.
"They'll be ready by the time we reach Kima," Voss says quietly. I nod, watching the soldiers begin to break camp and prepare for the march. My words may have steadied them, but the responsibility to see this through is mine alone.
On horseback, Voss and I rode to the city's entrance, the vast plains around us stretching endlessly, their openness making it easy to spot any incoming threats. The wind swept across the landscape, carrying whispers of unease that mirrored the tension in the camp.
Hours passed, and more tents were raised to accommodate the influx of women and children pouring out of Kima. Hundreds of canvas shelters dotted the horizon, billowing in the wind. The soldiers worked efficiently, guiding the refugees, assessing risks, and ensuring no one passed unchecked.
I stood by the city gates with Voss at my side, my voice cutting through the activity. "Is this the emperor's plan?" The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Voss turned to one of his men and barked an order. "Pat them down, one by one. Then bring them to the encampment."
The process began. The soldiers, seasoned and deliberate, inspected each refugee. A woman with sharp eyes and white hair went first, her demeanor calm. Once cleared, she was directed into the encampment.
Then came another—different from the others. She had jet-black hair held up by an elegant butterfly pin and dark green eyes flecked with gold. Her hands trembled slightly, and her heart raced so loudly I could almost hear it from where I stood. Suspicious. If this were an assassin, the city was truly lost.
I watched as the soldiers moved to inspect her, their practiced hands quick but thorough. Our eyes met briefly, and she quickly looked away, her unease written plainly on her face. Something about her was wrong.
I dismounted and walked over, plucking the butterfly pin from her hair. The sleek strands cascaded down, framing her face. I turned the pin over in my hands, feeling its weight, its fine craftsmanship. A strange instinct gnawed at me, so I twisted and pulled it in just the right manner.
In a swift motion, the pin revealed a concealed blade.
"Oh, that's just a bitter knife," she said with a nervous laugh, her tone betraying her calm facade. "It couldn't hurt a fly."
I held her gaze for a moment, expressionless, before glancing at Voss and then at Rowan. Turning on my heel, I walked away, keeping my voice low as I motioned for them to follow. I didn't want her to hear what came next.
"What do we do with her?" I ask, my voice low but resolute. "She's just one woman. Maybe scared, maybe desperate. Is this who we've become?"
Rowan doesn't hesitate. He folds his arms, his young face set like stone. "Every risk, no matter how small, could cost us lives."
Voss nodded in agreement, his expression hardening.
"I'll let her keep it, but Rowan—have her keep an eye on her. Only this."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
The soldiers stopped patting her down. She stood there. Frozen.
I stepped closer. My fingers brushed lightly over the knife causing me to bleed.
"Is she really a threat?" Voss asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
I didn't answer right away.
"You're nervous," I said, my voice low, almost teasing. "Why?"
"I'm not nervous." she said.
"I've seen people in far worse positions than you," I remarked. "And none of them were as nervous as you."
Voss stepped forward, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "She's just a girl, Adrian. She's useless?"
"Useless!" she yelled
I stepped back, giving her space. Deciding what to do with her.. The air around us felt heavy.
"If your end comes from a mere dagger," she finally , "then perhaps you are not worthy to live."said
The air grew heavy as her voice echoed, fading into silence. For a moment, no one spoke.
What are we becoming? I thought, my gaze fixed on the woman before me. Can we afford to be soft, even for a second? The weight of the decision pressed against my chest, but there was no room for hesitation. If I faltered, everything could collapse. The lives of so many depended on what I chose next. I could only hope I wasn't wrong.
I tossed the pin into the air. She barely had time to react yet it landed gently in her hand.
I motioned to the soldiers, who shifted in unison, pushing her toward the encampment.
The rest of the children, confused and tired, were ushered into the tents. Their small figures huddled together for warmth, their faces blank from fear, but they had nowhere else to go. As they settled in, Rowan approached, his brow furrowed.
"I'm not sure we have enough food to last more than three months," he said, his voice tinged with concern.
I turned to face him, my gaze hardening. "Then let's hope they run out first."