Prologue
"Your legion is no more, Tresdin. Do you still wage war?"
The armored woman didn't need to think her answer for even a second: "As long as I am its commander, the Legion fights. Now, what do you want from me?"
The old drow fissured his eyes, gazing into the bonfire as he kept talking. Glimpses of flames lightened his dark, consumed skin.
"Mpf" his shoulders shuddered as he bursted into a small laugh "Do you really need to ask? You know, your banners are soaked with blood, both from enemies and friends. And the stain of the latter is much more strong."
The Commander punched the soil hard, lifting a small dusty cloud that made the blazes flinch. "If you're here to mock me, you'd better start running, or your blood will dye my banners too."
"Oh, my. Watch your temper, girl...oops, sorry. Commander." There was no fright in his voice, not even a bit. He knew she would've never attacked him, and she knew that as well.
"SPEAK OUT!"
She stood, her fists clenched. "State your business. NOW."
The drow didn't mind her heavy breathing nor her furious look, he maintained his voice calm and low: "Ok, ok. I'll be more clear, Tresdin. Despite your claims, you are alone now, all of your legion mates are either dead or disappeared, which is basically the same."
He pulled back the hood covering his forehead, letting his long, white hair shine against the fire. "War is still raging inside you, and this is painful, am I wrong?"
She snorted, her fists now relaxed again. Her voice was strong and clear as usual, but something was different. There were traces of sadness in her answer. Glimpses of awareness that he wasn't wrong.
"War is endless, it changes aspect and people fighting for it, but never sleeps. It never sleeps on the battlefields, and inside my head as well. But if it's a job offer what you're trying to get me into, you're wasting your time. I'm not a mercenary."
"I'm not looking for a mercenary, Tresdin. I'm looking for a commander."
"Then look elsewhere, there are plenty of creatures eager to bathe in blood and guts, to have the slightest excuse to unleash their powers against any kind of enemy. Talk to them, and leave me alone."
The drow stoop up, matching her gaze with his little, dark eyes.
"I have no interest in them. I want you. I want someone able to do the most difficult thing to achieve on a battlefield."
"You mean to survive?"
"Hahaha, you got me. Ok, the second most difficult thing: to turn odds."
Her mouth went still, her lips still opened in an answer that didn't come out.
"..."
"I will have you informed about time and place. You'll be ready, your armor shiny and your blade sharp. You will fight again."
Without a single word, he turned his back and walked away toward the same path that led him there. Tresdin sat down again, silent.
"I won't go." Her whisper to the flames was feeble and ominous. She knew she was lying.