It was a barren room. A room barren of all sensibility and faith. The Destiny War had come to it's bloody conclusion. The only Officer who could be dug up from the shattered remnants of the Zaibach Army was the man sitting on one side of the decadent table. He was bloody, scarred and tired. He'd barely had a day's sleep after weeks arduous fighting. Dressed in a simple grey tunic and leggings, with worn boots, he was not a pleasant man to look upon. A once handsome face drawn taut and splayed by glares and grimaces; with thick blonde eyebrows and a ruggedly short beard. A crown of inch-long honey-blonde hair crowned his broad face. This man was neither handsome nor ugly, but tired. Despite the incredible weight of responsibility he'd had thrown onto his shoulders, he held himself upright in his chair, hands cupped atop the table, even as his nation's rapists took their seats. First was Queen Milerna of Asturia. A beautiful woman, kind and soft, with sleek features and dazzling blonde hair, dressed spectacularly in Asturian Royal Robes. She was Zaibach's greatest chance of coming out of this with their dignity. Then, they came the others. Van Fanel, the once-bloodthirsty King of Fanelia, eager to exact revenge for the destruction of his Kingdom; or to end the War as quickly as possible...It was a mystery. Alongside him, Duke Chid of Freid. A young boy, indeed, but no less vengeful for that. He had been flown to Zaibach by Leviship.

A consortium of the other nations were represented by suitably mediocre men. They would follow the leadership of Asturia, Fanelia and Freid, as the main sufferers of the War.

The Zaibach Officer resisted the temptation to flinch, hesitate; to beg, plead. His name was Colonel Darl Fomfostradt. And he was the highest ranking soldier in Zaibach.

"Let negotiations begin. Zaibach surrenders unconditionally." The words stung his lips as they echoed forth. He'd fought so long...So hard. Now this. Dornkirk was dead. The Generals had all deserted. What was to happen? Colonel Fomfostradt was not a distinguished Officer, nor a great man. He did his duty to the letter; he was just lucky he hadn't cost him his life. He was the wrong man, in the wrong job; in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But he'd be damned before he cowered from this position.

Van Fanel rose to his feet, slamming his hands upon the table.

"I demand men and supplies for rebuilding my homeland."

"Done." That was expected; but it wouldn't be the end of it.

"Freid and Asturia also require recompense for the harm done in the war." The other nations wouldn't speak they had no-

"As do all the other nations involved in the war."

Darl's face visibly tightened, something almost impossible beforehand.

"That is unjust; we understand Fane-"

A hiss from that draconic runt, and he was snarling.

"Unconditional surrender, Zaibach."

Darl twitched his jaw angrily, before nodding his ascent. The harsh truth was, he had no choice. Zaibach's City had already been ransacked and torn down in preparation for this; the entire land was to be gutted and returned to how it had been before Dornkirk. A wasteland, with enemies constantly sniping at it.

"Damn you bastards." It was a shock, for this man who parleyed with them seemed remote, distant. Aloof. Superior. The growl from the Colonel's lips was twice as ferocious for it. "You can try to reduce my nation to the shithole it was before. You'll succeed. But we'll come back. You bury us, we'll crawl up through the dirt and make you pay. You can try and beat us to death, but you'll fail." It was said quietly and forcefully. in turn glaring at every last person in the room. And only then did he notice how he'd turned them all from angry and forceful, to timid and frightened. Except Van Fanel, of course. But, it seemed, he gave up, standing and leaving in a flourish.

It was all downhill from there. The moment he left, the jackals moved in. With Fanelia gone, Fomfostradt realised they could take their pieces of Zaibach, ripping apart the corpse

"Caesaron demands full reparations for all damages!"

"Baal wishes all expenses paid for development of the weapon

All Zaibach Guymelefs were ordered destroyed. The Zaibach Army disbanded. The entire country divided up amongst the petty nations.

Fomfostradt watched his nation torn apart. He was no longer a Colonel.

Some men are born great

Others take History with fire and steel.

********

Fomfostradt had to say one thing; it was ironic. Of all the nations he could have wandered into, he found himself hammering nails in Fanelia. A more out of place man there was not, but his movements were whimsical and quick, never taking too long. And the glares. The glares. Van Fanel had ordered that all were welcome in Fanelia, but he couldn't stop the glares. Dropping down from the scorched roof, into a narrow alley, Darl found his waterskin once again stolen. But this time, the light from either end of the alley was blocked. Men. Big burly men, survivors of the destruction of Fanelia. About 2 on either side. Their hair was cut raggedly, their beards thick. Darl still wore his black tunic and trousers, simply because he had nothing else to wear.

From each side, they closed in, muttering threats and insults as they did. Chunks of wood acted as weapons. But Fomfostradt was a soldier born. The first came at him, and a ferociously quick backhand sent him unconscious against the wall. Second, thrown hard over the soldier's shoulder onto the cobbles. Third, asphyxiated as the fourth was kicked into unconsciousness.

More came. Darl would have died there and then...

If a beast girl had dropped from the roofs.

"HEY! Get back! You know Lord Van doesn't like you beating up random people."

Darl sneered as the Fanelians dragged their fallen comrades out of the alley. His wolf-like eyes fell upon the beast girl. Dipping his head in respect, though keeping eye-contact, he went to go past her.

"I save your life, and you don't even say thanks?!" Her arms were crossed in stubborn affront.

Darl breathed, nodding.

"Thank you."

The first words he'd spoken since he'd been stripped of his post, since he'd seen his country torn to shreds.

Her honour satisfied, Merle plonked herself down on a box of haversacks and motioned for Darl to stay.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Killing Asturians." An awkward silence. Darl was too stupid to lie.

"Anyway, I'm Merle. And you're trouble. Zaibach, right?"

Darl nodded; she wasn't the first to make that assumption.

"Yeah, you should hear what they say about you out there. They really hate you." Her eyes were wide with bemusement at this lean man, who seemed hesitant to even speak.

"They have every right to. I was a Colonel, and we were sent here to make sure Van Fanel didn't return. Then Lord Folken sent us away." He shrugged, scratching his beard.

"You were a Colonel? That's like a Samurai, right?" She was somehow warming to this man, resisting the urge to be coy or snarky. He had that look in his eyes; as if he wanted to throw himself from the balcony.

Darl chuckled, scratching his eyebrow.

"Close enough. I commanded men..." He refused to think of that great battle, where he'd seen his men murdered one by one by their own aggression...Then...The Light...

Don't think about it.

"They're gone now." A tear appeared briefly, before a blink stole it away.

Merle took pity on him.

"Come on, let's get you some water. I'm sure Van will want to meet you." It was obvious he was tired, thirsty and hungry. The shadows under his eyes. The dry, peeling lips. That distant gaze. Darl found himself following her through the streets. He loved Fanelia, in his own way. Workmen buzzed about, with hammers, nails, and wooden boards. Stonemasons carved fine, artistic blocks. The sun shone upon the revival of this beautiful Kingdom of Dragons. Darl wished he would one day see Zaibach like this. But it could never happen; the Army was scattered to the four corners, it's people rundown and beaten..It could never happen.

After a few minutes walk, they came to a crossroads, being used as a square. Until then, Darl had ignored the glares and fierce looks, but at that moment, it seemed they were all pinned on him. Hence why he had stuck to the alleyways, stealing nails, boards and a hammer to rebuild. Stealing food in the dead of night.

But Merle simply glared right back at them, daring them to confront or insult her new friend. Wisely, they moved on. Setting down around a pot of steaming meat stew, Darl found his stomach grumbling.

"We'll get you fed, then take you to see Lord Van. He's been wanting to see all the warriors. And we can get you some new clothes; you stink." Holding her nose in a comical fashion did not soften the blow, but did bring a smirk to Darl's face

Bollocks, Darl thought. Well, the King would spot him eventually; if it had to be now, the Zaibach wasn't up for arguing with fate.

He found a bowl thrust into his hand, and stew poured into it, which quickly found it's way down his gullet. Then up again, as he realised it was very, very hot.

A clap on the back, the first show of affection from a human he'd received.

"Yes, my Zaibach friend; it's very hot!" A massive, grinning man.

He took a spoon, eating, blowing on the stew before consuming it. Merle was more set on her own, but kept her keen eyes on the crowd. You never knew.