POV: Volgrin
I felt the cool sharp edge of the ethame on my throat, even as she simply presses the thing on my neck it cuts skin. Jiust beneath it is my quickening blood pulse, I'm afraid to even breathe. But I'm brave enough to look Liora in the eyes before she kills me.
"Liora, I- allow me to explain." I plead.
"That you're not a mage? I'm seeing that now." She sneers. "Were you one of them– the ones that tried to scorch the school?"
"What? No, pleae just hear what I have to say..." I raise my hands slowly offering empty palms to her, "Judge me before you persecute me."
A million scenarios ran through my minds. 'Grabe the knife.' But she would be quicker.
'Evade the blade.' But my throat would be slashed.
'Stab her back.' We would probably just die together, if not just me.
This is the only way I think... to keep pretending. Make more lies.
She looks in my eyes and I look into her and see my gold-tinted self in them. "Tread. Carefully."
She kicks me back and I allow myself to fall back further. I slowly sit up. "It wasn't supposed to go like this..." I mutter to myself.
"Go like what?" She prods.
I forced a sigh, "I... smuggles myself into the institute. After I heard it was being revived after the Vatuvian wing broke and I wanted to join. I was going to act like a mage apprentice that left for the institute and fight... I want to be a mage so desperately but I can only cast 3 low spells at best..."
I look away from her heavy glare, "You, worm. Did you think you wouldn't be found out?"
"No, I just hoped my mana would get stronger after training."
She started giggling, but her steely face barely showed amusement. She ran a finger through her hair, "This is the most profoundly abysmal joke I've ever encountered." She pointed her ethame, "This institute is for war-mages– NOT daydreamers. You don't belong here."
"I do..." I protest.
"Ha! Why?" She pressed on.
"You must be the best mage in this school and I beat you on equal ground." I retorted.
She didn't like that, her face turned sour, "You caught me off gaurd."
"Exactly. I want to be a..." I try to find the words the will cement my point, "this is embarrassing for what I'm going to say." I try to give myself more time until I found it, "I want to be a warrior mage, in the vangaurd casting forefront spells and joining the battle." I look into her eyes, "If you could help me use mana effectively I can carve a way for our army and end this war."
She dropped her ethame, eyes softer for me now, "You idiot. You talk big for a peasant and all that crap."
"But it could work. If it does not I'll die an idiot."
I want to ask her if she still believes me to be a spy but I hope she forgot she even asked that by now.
At that moment she asked, "So that attack was a coincidence?"
I fake a laugh reflexively, "No, they definitely tried to burn the place to the ground or to scare us is my guess."
I get up to my feet, "So are you done interrogating me?" I ask and shrug.
She steps close to me eyeing me up and down, "Our paths ought to intertwine to a minimal degree. Understood?" She marched past me without hearing my answer.
I dared to look back as she disappeared up the stairs out the arena. When I think she's far enough I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders slump when an unseen weight is lifted form me. Thank the Gods.
I need to revise on my identity, my new "motives". I pick up my ethame and look at myself in the slick white blade, the look in my eyes were something of an old nostalgic feeling. A sudden revelation, the memory that crawled from the pit of my minds.
I dropped the ethame and crumbled to the ground. It made my knees weak and my body tremble. A line of blood flowed from my throat, the would stung with sweat.
Fear.
Not of death, but failure that plagues. I have no direction, I don't know what to do. I can't do it. I am submerged in a lake of enemies. But Miss Sundown could, she's doing that right now... how can I be her squire if I can't do the same.
Snap out of it.
Get up.
Focus on the mission, Volgrin.
I rise and pick the ethame, it shakes in my grip. I can't stop now I need to become a warrior.
POV: Tobu
These past few weeks have been hell. The Westerians must have put at least half their forces on this front, the main roads roam with patrols. Supplies and new troops to the battlefield campaign South-Westwards to Utmun. I am now blocked off from Vatu.
My initial plan was to disrupt advancement enough for Vatu to take back this land and ruin the institute. Instead I march with liberated farmers and peasants 100 strong to another stronghold.
Cadran rides his horse up beside me from the ranks of the peasants.
"How do they fare goodman?" I ask as he matched his pace with mine.
"Their favourite past-time is complaining as of late." He mumbled as he ried to to tame his mustache now turned to a wild beard, "Can they not understand this is for the betterment of this kingdom." He fumes.
"They are simple people." I reply.
"They're useless and slowing us down. These are not warriors, they're not even fighters." He grumbled on.
I looked back and saw the faces of some one hundred peasants, tired and mournful they trudge forward behind us, most are men. Some women and orphans who insisted on joining for a degree of revenge.
The Westerians have massacred their camps and we're left with scraps of manpower. He was right, they were slow, and weak and undisciplined but they were numerous and would do well in other ways.
I turn back to Cadran, "We need them, still."
"For what? Being meat shield?" He cracked at me, "Your judgement has been impaired trying to get the Queen's favour. This mission is lost, we recieved reconed the area, we've planted Volgrin he'll do well on his own. Let's retreat and request an anozher battalion and come back harder." He demanded.
"Captain Yort that is enough!" I snapped, "That is enough... enough. You are tired, I understand but do not question my intentions nor my authority." Cadran tips his head and grits his teeth.
"I'm sick of this." He says to himself before steering his horse away into the back with the rest of the Braves and the squad that stayed.
It made me feel uneasy but I had to keep moving forward, the rest can come later. When I'm finally back in Improst.
For now I called to rest and we slept today, so we can hunt at night.
The camp site was set, makeshift tents up and the sun was setting. I sat at my camp, the only one with a fire. The smoke doesn't billow from this one that roars in a dug-out hole. It cooks in a massive beaten pot as tall as me and bubbles.
Once it finished cooking the stew was splattered into everyone's metal helmet caps and bowls. Some shared. I saw old mothers and those with compassion try to give theirs to sons and daughters weaker and hungrier.
I sigh and make a mental note to put them in the front lines. Looking up I saw the faces of my braves, my captains and the people who gather around them. Maybe they think they will be better protected this way, they gather around me too.
I yesrn to shed my armour and clothes the grind my flesh and boils my sores underneath it but I cannot show weakness to these people. They are silent and watchful for every reason to be irrational.
"Cadran." He looks at me sour, "Your mind still aches?"
He grimace at the eyes now on us, "Aye..." he sips at his bowl.
I nod slowly, "Aye... I wagered. Tell you what all our minds ache." I look to a young man beside me, "Aye?"
He nods slowly.
I staightened my back and raise my voice, "I See you all." The fire crackles, "You all are simply scared dumb."
The mummur among each other now, thinking I cannot hear them critisize me.
"I'll tell you a secret, i was scared too." I looked around me and the more peassants turned their attention on me, "It was my first raid I was part of 4th attack. When we charged I crashed into a Wester and I could tell he was new too. We swung our swords and they clashed he closed the gap started pulled his dagger. Almost sunk that blade fist deep into my skull but I held it from me by his wrist. We fell, he was a top me tring to press harder now and winning." I gesture him pressing the blade and look around, "See now you might be wondering how I lived... I tickled that bastard right on the side. He fell beside me laughing and I stabbed his face!" I heard chuckles in the crowd.
I smacked my fist into my palm, "Who bloody mare knew they were ticklish‐I didn't but it damn tried and discvered it."
The laughing and snickering grew as Valdyr was the first to break into a fit of laughter. The joke spread and the camp was filled with it, then more gathered.
"That's the only embarrassing thing you'll hear from me... without dropping a whole lot of coins first." I allow myself to smile as the laughing died down, "15 years later I nought lived a month without battle. Even then we get restless gor the next battle and cannot sleep we Vatuvian soldier sing."
"Allow me general." Cadran offers loudly, "My voice is smooth as silk and such sweet songs I sing indeed." They settled down slowly.
Grimbald and the braves filled the air with a high-low hum.
'I march these paths of stone and meadow,
Where autumn leaves drift down below me;
Each step I take leads toward tomorrow,
Through winter winds may fiercely blow.
I'm seeking light beyond the mountains,
Where morning breaks upon the grasslands;
I'm marching for a new horizon,
I'm marching for a brighter home...'
A choir of humming filled the air and slowly danced with the words, some joined and mummbled along, most hum. This song is meant to sober the mind and inspire the heart. My braves and captain sung as well.
The peasants, they are scared things. Revenge and mourning be damned it has only taken them this far. They need to think they can do nothing else but fight.
---
The moons died that night, with clouds hanging thick and low. There was an absoluteness to the darkness that was perfect for a percise ambush, but that peasants hated it. Stumbling, kick and bumping into eachother they were uncoordinated.
At least they had the common sense to keep quiet enough in a moment like this.
With a group like it would be impossible to coordinate them to a ambush with the least casualties. The are now lined up into packed rows, they have crude sythes and sticks, some have swords and gamesons. But the only use they have is a simple frontal assault, they will have the advantage.
Not by much but I'd be surprised if I lose half of them.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, I look at them and see only a dark figure in the miasmic blackness. Judging my his smell I already know it's Valdyr and he makes a show of unsheathing a part of his blade.
I reach for his shoulder and rub it apologetically. None of my men will fight, not yet. He sighs and disapears into the night. A heavy hand falls on my shoulder next, Grimbald.
It's time.
I walk off to the side and let it begin.
"RAAAAAAAAAGH!" I hear the peasants shuffle and jolt startled, "Goodmen, tonight we will slaughter some Wester devils! And we will liberate our brothers and sisters stoned by them tar-pissers!" He moves closer to the front line turned his boack on them and at the stronghold he yelled, "Charge!"
They did not move, only the sound of fear shuffling at first. The among the crowd in the malitia someone yelled, "Oi! Move, charge. If you are scared pissants get our from my way!"
More voices joined the commotion as I heard them shift throught the crowd and run forward screaming, then more ran and more. Over fifty cut through the darkness in to the light of the Westerian stronghold meeting confused and suprised soldiers. The first few were cut down but they began to make progress pushing into the camp.
The cowards stayed behind.
"Do you want your brothers and sister to die because you're pathetic and weak!?" Grimbald chided while they stayed silent.
Grimbald gripped his pommel and a manace of a voice cut the tension, "If the Westers do not cut you down in this battle, I will. This kingdom has no room for sheep."
They only whimpered and shuffled in their place. I was about to tell them to leave and survive on their own when I heard the sound of flesh cut and screams. Women screams, some sounds of old men gasping boys call out for mercy.
My heart skipped a Bea at the sounds of violence on our own. "Oi!" I called out and unsheathed my sword, striking it flint onto a torch that roared to life I threw it down to the sound.
Revealed through the darkness was figures of Cadran, Valdyr and 6 of my braves look down, bloody swords in hand standing in a scattered field of bodies. They writhed and others were already lifeless, our people. Cadran walked among them and stabbed down into a throat of an old dame playing dead and begged before she really was.
"Cadran what have you done! What have you all done!" I yelled.
He looked at me sheathing his blade, his face heavy and brutal in the flickering light.
"Rooting the weak, general. Rooting the weak like we always do." He said slowly.
He pointed to the skirmish happening in the camp only distant battle can be heard now, "Only warriors will survive in war."
"We needn't nothing else."