The two years that followed were inactive and, as far as Quercus was concerned, completely wasted: with no wars going on, inaction became quickly unbearable. While everyone else in the country relished in the newfound peace, he grew more and more restless. And when he began looking in every newspaper he could get his hands onto for the smallest disagreement with any country that could turn into an actual war, he knew that it was time for him to take leave and try to keep himself busy until… until something happened.

Still, once he finally took leave, he found himself unable to think of one single thing he could do. For a moment he considered the idea of travelling back to his hometown, or what was left of it – he had never gone back there, not even to pay his respects to his family, and perhaps he should do so now. But when it was the moment for him to ask for his ticket is wasn't for the closest station to his old hometown he asked – he found himself asking for a ticket to a completely different place. Langei.

It didn't come as a surprised to him: far from it. He had long since come to realize that when he tried to think of home, he could think of nothing but that place – not the now non-existing town where his family had lived and was now buried, but a small backwater village where he only truly knew one person who would never call him by his grade or name. A person he hadn't even thought of for a long time. But now he wanted to go there and speak to her more than anything, if only for a little while: she could soothe him once, so perhaps he wouldn't feel that restless anymore after meeting again.

The train left at the crack of dawn to arrive in the mid-morning, and the hours in it seemed endless; trains used to make him sleepy once, a long time ago, but now he couldn't will himself to sleep any time but at night. Life in the army had changed that, too; even civilian clothes made him uncomfortable now, he mused as he finally stepped off the train, missing his uniform more than anything. Still, he appreciated the anonymity civilians clothes granted him, along with the hat he was wearing: he had no doubt more than a few people would recognize him, and he didn't feel like having to deal with anyone at the moment.

There was a small inn not far from the station – he remembered a fair share of his men spending their nights drinking on the ground floor – and he wasn't too surprised when he saw that the man behind the counter was one of those who had been under his command; it looked like he truly had come back there after the war was over for the innkeeper's daughter. It looked like he couldn't avoid being recognized by him, but at least he could tell him to keep his mouth shut.

"Good afternoon," the man said affably as he approached him. "Do you want to eat something or rent a room? Our policy is that you pay the first night in adva-" he trailed off and blinked. "Lieutenant Colonel!" he exclaimed with a wide smile. "My, I almost didn't recognize you in civilian clothes! It's a honor to have you here, sir! What do we owe your visit?"

"I'm glad to see you're doing fine, Lieutenant," Quercus said, having forgotten his name but not his grade. "I'm here to visit a few people. And since I came here without warning, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my presence to anyone."

The man laughed. "My lips are sealed, sir. I take it you want to rent a room? We have a nice one that's still empty. The biggest one."

"I don't need much space. Any room will do."

"No, no, I insist!" the other man was going on, reaching to take the register so that Quercus could sign it. "I really do. Don't worry about the price, you'll pay it like a regular one. No need for advanced payment," he added as he saw him reaching for his wallet. "And if you want anything to be delivered in your room, like meals or drinks or whatever, just ask. It will be on the house."

Quercus couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You're acting like I'm a special guest."

"But you are, sir," was the reply, and his smile faded for a moment. "I haven't forgotten I'd be dead if it weren't for you. Me, and the others. And how you protected is village is something no one is going to forget anytime soon. I'm going to tell my son everything once he's older – have I mentioned I have a kid? He was born nine months after the end of the war, give or take a few days, so hey, I got the job done before we left. Didn't I have a heart attack when I got back to find Mylitta with a belly this big!" He laughed again. "But I was back here for her anyway, so there, no harm done. I was a little worried her old man would strangle me, but he wasn't too angry. Sure, he said I'd have to marry her, but I came back to propose anyway, so the kid just speeded things up and-" he trailed off as Quercus lifted a hand to silence him.

"I will certainly be glad to listen to all of this later, perhaps while we share a hot meal," he said. "But right now I'm afraid I'm too tired to make much sense out of anything I hear, and I wish to leave my suitcase in the room before I go meeting someone."

"… Oh, right," Stylomecon chuckled. "I talk too much, everyone is always telling me that. Alright then, we'll speak some more later on. Here is your key. I'm glad to see you again, sir."

"I'm glad to see you as well," Quercus said mechanically before taking the keys and heading upstairs. The room was simple but large, as he had been said, and smelled of wood and freshly washed sheets. It was almost too much luxury for him, he mused as he put the suitcase down on the bed and turned to leave. The idea of resting a little didn't even occur to him: he never rested before night, not anymore.

Thankfully, Stylomecon was busy putting some order among some bottles when he went back downstairs, so Quercus could leave without being spotted or held back. The streets were still familiar to him, so familiar that it was unsettling, and only minutes later he was standing in front of a house he had come to know well. He didn't stop to think about anything at all – whether she still lived there or not, whether someone else would be home, what reaction she might have, what would he even say to her – and simply knocked the door before standing there, waiting, ears straining to catch any noise coming from inside. There was the sound of steps, so light he barely heard them, and a few moments later the door opened.

She hadn't changed much; the only difference now was that she wasn't wearing the headscarf and her mousy hair was tied back somewhat carelessly, several strands escaping the rubber band she had used to tie them. And apparently he hadn't changed much either, for she recognized him right away despite the hat and civilian clothes; come to think of it, Quercus thought with some amusement, the nose was often a dead giveaway.

She didn't seem surprised in the slightest to see him. "Young old man," she said softly. "I heard you've made quite the name for yourself – you were a major when you left, were you not?"

"It's Lieutenant Colonel now. I was promoted once more during the war," he said with a self-satisfied smirk before reaching to take off his hat, his rigid posture finally relaxing. "May I come in?"

Issoria nodded and stepped aside. "Of course," she said, letting him in. Quercus walked in, taking notice of the fact nothing had changed in that house, either. It felt oddly reassuring. And, he also noticed, no one else was home. Her husband and older son were probably working, while the boy was most likely still at school.

"Do wish for something to drink?"

"Some water will do, thank you," he said. He followed her to the kitchen and sat at the small table. She fetched the water and stepped back to the table looking at him once again with that motherly expression he both dreaded and yearned for. "You don't look any different," he found himself saying.

"You do look different instead, young old man. Older," she said fondly, reaching to brush back his hair a little before handing him a glass. "More than just two years have passed for you."

"You think?" he smiled a little wryly before drinking some of the water. "Perhaps you're right. Many things happened right after I left. Not many after the end of the war, I'm afraid."

"That is not what I was referring to," she pointed out, a slightly amused smile on her lips, but she didn't add anything more. She reached to take the now empty glass, and he grabbed her hand. She glanced at him, not at all surprised, and he pulled her closer. He didn't get up from his seat – he only put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to rest his head on her breast, his cheek pressing against the freshly cleaned blouse, and he inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes as he felt her fingers gently running through his hair.

"I have another week of leave. I planned on paying a visit to my hometown, but… it can be done later," he added, not really wanting to think that all he had left to visit there was a grave he didn't feel like visiting anymore, then he shut his eyes again. "I'd rather stay."

"I see," she said, her fingers still running through his hair. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"The inn near the station. In the last room on the left," he paused, then, "will I see you there?" he asked. She took a moment or two before replying and for that moment he felt a twinge of something akin to panic in his chest at the thought she might say no, because he had no idea what he would say if she refused. Then her hand resumed stroking his hair.

"Yes," she said softly, and he found himself relieved beyond words.

"Promise me you will come," he murmured against her blouse.

"I promise, young old man."


Two days passed – slowly – before she was able to keep her promise.

During those days Quercus did his best to keep himself busy by paying a few visit to the other two men he had fought with who had returned to that village after the end of the war, but despite the warm welcomes and the high regard he was kept in he couldn't manage to enjoy himself. Seeing all of them so satisfied with the little they had – a warm home and home-cooked meals and a family – made him uneasy. So in the end he had always excused himself as soon as he could without giving the impression he was running away… except that he was.

On the morning of the third day he didn't bother getting up; not that he wasn't wide awake at dawn, but he decided to stay in bed and try falling asleep again. Quite predictably he could not, and before long he was bored out of his mind. He shot a glance at the clothes – civilian clothes – folded on the chair nearby, and he found himself scowling at the thought of wearing them again. He wished he could wear his uniform while on leave: he felt so much more comfortable wearing it. He had no business wearing civilian clothes anymore – how could anyone go back to civilian clothes after wearing the army uniform and experiencing the authority that comes with it?

But apparently, his men could; and they looked so unbearably happy he couldn't stand being in their presence for long, happy with something he once had and lost, and that would never again be enough for him. They looked like they needed nothing else at all but what they had already.

Was it the same with Issoria? Was that why she hadn't showed up yet – that she didn't need anything more than what life had handed her, didn't need him? That could be: she certainly didn't need anything of what they might share, for she was clearly happy with the life she had to begin with – on the other hand, he… he did need that. He had no idea how to call it: all that was there was need and longing from his part, and some kind of detached fondness from hers. And while he could imagine, as much as he loathed to admit it to himself, the reason for that longing – home, she made him feel home – he couldn't for his life imagine the reason of that fondness she had for him. He had been unpleasant to her from the start, purposely so, so why-

Quercus was startled out of his thoughts by a soft knock at the door. He sat up and stayed still for a moment, wondering if he had just imagined that, but then another knock came, and he quickly stood up to go open it. He wasn't too surprised to see Issoria standing in the doorway, but he was almost ridiculously relieved. "You've come," he found himself muttering.

"I promised, young old man," she said, smiling a little. "But I had to wait for Stylomecon to get distracted before I could come in. The village is small, and people could start wondering. Did I choose a bad moment?"

That was true, Quercus realized. He hadn't even thought about it: it wasn't like she could come and go as she pleased without anyone noticing, and she was married. "I… no. I was thinking," was all he said before closing the door once she stepped in. "I'm glad you could come."

"So am I," she replied, and then she didn't speak anymore because Quercus had drawn her close and pressed his lips on hers with urgency and something not too far from desperation. She complied once more, as she had done the first and – until then – only time, and for a few more hours, in that room in a backwater village he had come to both love and hate, he felt like he was home again.


Babahlese region, 1985

In retrospect, Quercus wasn't surprised when the rebellion happened: it had been a long time coming, as the people in the Babahlese region had grown less and less willing to accept the heavy taxes and militatization of the area in face of little to no representation in the government that resided in Allebahst. The rejection of their request to be allowed to sell some of their whitecrystal oil to Zheng Fa, a country that was in less than friendly terms with the Cohdopian royal family but whose markets would allow some development for the weak economy of the region, had only been the last straw.

The rebellion had started right after the rejection of their request, something the people of the Babahlese region saw as another attempt at keeping all their work directed to only add up to the richest of the more advanced Allebahstian region, and by the time Quercus – now a Brigadier after ten years of successful campaigns – made it there it had spread in most of the major cities, several battalions of Babahlese soldiers having even joined the rebels' cause.

Quercus wasn't technically supposed to take care of it, but since he and the troops under his command were the closest to the area and the railways were in the rebel's hands, he had been told to move quickly and stop the rebellion – whatever the cost, he had been told. He had no problems with that: he hadn't fought more battles than he cared to count to lose to a bunch of ignorant miners brandishing pickaxes.

"Brigadier Alba, sir!" A soldier saluted him as he walked inside the building of one of the cities they had taken under control again. The rebels who were in it had been quick to retreat to the next town, but a few of them had been captured – and among them there was what seemed to be one of the leaders of the rebellion. Quercus was going to ask him a few questions, and he had better answer unless he wanted to weep first and then answer. Not that it would change his fate in the end since rebels were to be executed without a trial, but if anything he wouldn't have to suffer before it happened… and Quercus was more than ready to make him suffer if he had to.

He wasn't ready, however, to see the prisoner standing up and saluting him the best he could with tied arms when he walked in the room he was locked into. He blinked, a little confused by the unexpected reaction – then he saw the blond hair and green eyes starting at him, and he found himself unable to speak for a few moments. "You," he finally said, barely able to believe his eyes. "You are-!"

"It's Captain Palaeno, Brigadier Alba, sir," the man said before smiling a little and lower his tied hands again. "It's been… my, twelve years already. Quite some time. I had hoped we'd meet again, but I certainly hadn't thought it would be in such circumstances."

Quercus clenched his jaw. "What are you doing here?" he demanded to know. "There must be a mistake!"

Palaeno shook his head. "No mistake, sir. I am a rebel. I have been loyal to our county and the Royal Family for a long time, and I used to think the two things were one and the same. I was mistaken. I still am loyal to Cohdopia and its people, and that is why I can no longer stand the fact half of its population is considered lesser than the other half. Perhaps life in the army kept you from seeing how things are for civilians."

"And you really thought trying to go against the army loyal to the Royal Family with nothing but miners and pickaxes would serve any purpose?" Quercus snapped. "You must have lost your mind!"

"There have been troops that joined the cause," Palaeno said quietly. "We have more than just pickaxes; we have weapons, and people trained to fight, as much as it saddens me that we've come to this."

"A handful of soldiers and weapons on your side won't make you win this," Quercus replied with a snort. "You're severely outnumbered, your supplies are going to run out and-"

"We already received offers of help from both Zheng Fa, and Borginia," Palaeno replied, cutting him off. Quercus found himself staring at him for several moments before the magnitude of the statement began sinking in his mind – if the hostile countries that wanted nothing more but prying some of the riches of the Cohdopian soil for themselves had time to send support to the rebels before he could stop the rebellion...!

"Do you even realize what you've set off?" Quercus snarled, unable to believe Palaeno could have supported that madness for even a second.

Palaeno nodded. "I do. That is why I'm telling you about the plans from other countries to give us weapons and men. If they had time to, the country might be torn in two; I don't want that. All I wanted was to make the government in Allebahst realize we'll no longer stand the treatment that has been reserved to us. And whatever happens now, I need you to remember what the reason for the rebellion was. The government needs to set things right once for all, of all this will happen again. You're an important man now; you'll be allowed to speak at the War Council if you so wish. You have to make them end hostilities and listen."

Quercus frowned. "I doubt I'd be listened if I asked them to cease hostility and speak to the rebels first. It was you to start this."

"What solution would you suggest, then?"

"I'd take the due measures to make this… madness you started end as quickly as possible, before any other country gets a chance to take part to what's a Cohdopian matter. Only after that I might try to solve the issues that caused it in the first place," Quercus said quietly. "As far as I can tell, it's the only solution. The High Command wouldn't accept asking for a compromise first; it would be viewed as a weakness from the central government."

Palaeno sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had been laid on them. "I suppose you know how such things work better than I," he murmured. "I have only one more thing to ask of you, if I may."

Quercus scowled. "I shouldn't promise anything to a rebel," he said sharply. "Just so you know, the only reason why I'll grant you what I can is that I couldn't have fought off the army of Reijam without your help twelve years ago."

Palaeno nodded. "Fair enough. Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me just yet. What is it you want?"

"I'm due to be executed as a traitor to the country, and I fear my family may be in danger once I'm gone. I have a wife now, and… and a child. Colias is only three years old. I don't care what happens to me, but I can't stand the thought they may have to suffer because of my choices."

A child, Quercus thought in mild surprise, and he scowled as the memory of his sister's faceless corpse surfaced from the depths of his mind. He shook his head to chase away the memory before speaking again. "You have my word you won't have to worry for their lives. Or yours."

That caused the man to blink. "Mine?" he repeated. "But I am due to be executed as a traitor without even a trial. I don't think you can change-"

"I can and will," Quercus cut him off before turning and storming out of the room, shutting the door behind himself without another word. He turned to the man guarding the door. "The execution is to be put on hold until my direct order," he said.

The soldier blinked. "Sir?"

"You heard me," Quercus said sharply. "Keep the execution on hold until you receive further notice from me and no other. Should King Primidux himself returns from the afterlife ordering for any execution to happen, the answer remains no. It that clear?"

"Yessir."

"Good," he said with a brief nod before he walked outside and began barking orders so that a helicopter could be ready to take off for Allebahst in minutes, and his request to speak to the War Council would be passed up to the High Command immediately.

It was true that he could not change the law on how traitors were to be treated, but what he could change with some luck was Captain Palaeno's status: if that rebellion were to turn into a civil war, Quercus would both be able to have it end quickly by using the full forces of the regular army and to have anyone fighting for the other side declared war prisoners… and treated as such. Which would mean no execution for Palaeno, and glory for whoever led the Allebahstian side to victory.

It was worth a try.


Quercus hadn't been at the royal palace in twelve years, not since the won war against Reijam, and he had never before set foot inside the palace: he had only been in the yard, once as a simple soldier taking the oath and once as a war hero receiving a medal.

He was therefore taken aback by how huge the Council room was: it was the size of a small square, semi-circular and with high ceilings. Along the walls, above him, there were decorated wooden benches where at least fifty people were now sitting – all the most important generals. And, on a throne placed at the highest bench, staring down at him with eyes cold as long-dead amber, sat Queen Luzula.

"Your Highness," High General Vulneraria, a tall man with iron-grey hair and carefully trimmed mustache, was speaking. "This is Brigadier Alba, who requested to speak to us with urgency. We normally wouldn't have interrupted the deliberations for anyone, but as you might know Brigadier Alba is a distinguished-"

"I am fully aware of who this man is, High General Vulneraria," the queen interrupted him, one elbow propped on the velvet-covered armrest, her chin resting on her fist as she looked down at Alba. "The Plague of Reijam, I believe is how some referred to you – the man who defeated an army with a handful of men. I remember you. I had the feeling we truly would meet again. Rise," she added, gesturing for him to get up from his kneeling position.

Quercus stood, looking straight at her. She had grown into a beautiful woman, as he had thought she would; now he could only hope she would prove herself as clever, too, and that she'd see things as he did. "I did tell you I was confident we would, Your Highness," he said, his voice firm despite the nervousness he couldn't quite push back. "I'd never say anything I don't truly think."

A sly smile curled her lips. "I see. What urgent matter do you wish to discuss with me?" she asked, and from the badly concealed frowns on many generals' forehead it was clear they did not appreciate it how she hadn't even acknowledged their presence. "I was under the impression your duty, at the moment, is at the front lines against the rebellion."

"It is of the rebellion I'm here to speak of, Your Highness. Things could get beyond our control if we don't act fast. The situation is looking rather serious, and I've come to the conclusion the only solution-"

"You're supposed to report on the situation, Brigadier Alba. That's what you say you wanted to do. It is not your place to give suggestions on matters you don't-" the High General began as soon as he realized where Quercus was going, but he abruptly shut his mouth as the queen sharply gestured for him to stop talking.

"I do believe," she said coldly, "that it is my place and no one else's to decide what he may or may not speak of. And unless I'm mistaken, he just arrived from the Babahlese region after seeing with his own eyes what the situation is. Has any of you been there in the past, say, several years?" she asked slyly, looking down at each general. None of them spoke. "Case in point," she said with a smile before turning her gaze on Quercus again. "Proceed, Brigadier Alba. What solution are you suggesting?"

Well, Quercus thought, that was it. He drew in a deep breath before he spoke, bracing himself for whatever reaction his words could cause. "It is essential for us to end this as quickly as possible. The only way to do that is immediately using all of our forces against the Babahlese region – something that can only be done in one case. This is why I'm here – I'm asking the High Council and Your Highness to declare the state of civil war."

His words caused exactly the uproar of protests he had expected from the generals.

"Civil war? You must be insane!" the High General snapped, his voice causing all the mutters to die down – when he spoke, all other generals fell quiet. "Your Highness, this is nothing but some miners' rebellion. We can easily crush them without having to-"

"With all due respect," Quercus spoke up, completely ignoring the generals' glares, for he knew it was the queen he had to convince, and her alone, "I'm afraid Her Highness and the Generals were not informed of the magnitude of this so-called rebellion. It has spread in most of the main cities of the Babahlese region, and most of our troops in the area joined the cause – no wonder, considering that most of the soldiers in the area are from there originally and will support their friends and families. Half of the region is in their hands already, with all the supplies of weapons we had there; the troops that stayed loyal to the royal family of Allebahst have been driven away. They have control of the mines, and of all the train tracks that go through the region; not to mention that both Zheng Fa and Borginia offered the rebels their help. Your Highness, this is more than a mere rebellion: we're facing a war, and for it to end without too much damage we need to treat it as such and act quickly, before other countries can get to have a hand in it. The Council needs to-"

"Nonsense!" One of the other generals barked. "It's some miners. We can crush-!"

"Miners alone wouldn't have managed to put a country under siege. Yes, under siege – how else would you describe our situation?" Quercus remarked. "What do you think we'll do when they've cut us all supplies? The more we wait, the stronger they get; for Cohdopia to survive this night, the High Council needs to declare the state of civil war and give the military the power to put an end to it."

"We've had enough, Brigadier Alba! As though your idea weren't insane enough, speaking up to your superiors truly is-"

"Enough," Queen Luzula spoke quietly, and the High General trailed off with a choking sound. It took him a few seconds to recover.

"Your Highness, you can't be really considering-"

"I said enough," the queen said a little more forcefully before turning her attention back to Quercus. "If it is true that Borginia and Zheng Fa offered the rebels their help, how would you know it?"

Quercus breathed a little more easily at the realization she wasn't set against the idea. "We captured one of the leaders of the rebellion, and I interrogated him, Your Highness. He confessed me as much."

"I see," she said thoughtfully before turning to the generals. "It is a very real threat; both Borginia and Zheng Fa would have everything to gain by helping the rebels, in hopes to tear the region and its riches for themselves. How come none of you seasoned soldiers thought of it?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words.

"I… Your Highness, that is a matter of politics, I'm afraid, and it is war we-"

"You could have fooled me," Queen Luzula said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

High General Vulneraria's face turned red with what was most likely a mixture of indignation, anger and embarrassment… if men who obtained high ranks simply by birthright could feel a such thing, Quercus mused. "Your Highness, I beg you to reconsider. Even if it really is an option, there are still matters to talk through…"

"Dum Romae consulitur, Saguntum expugnatur," she retorted, and smiled at his confused expression. "Whilst in Rome they discuss, Saguntum is taken. History makes a good teacher, and one of its teachings is that discussing too long with a war going on is cause of defeat. And the defeat I just mentioned, the fall of one single town, started off a bloody war. I'd rather not get to that point. Would you?"

"I… no, of course not," the man stammered, trying to regain some composure. "None of us would. But without at least discussing it first, the High Command cannot approve-"

"Then the High Command can keep not approving," Queen Luzula cut him off before turning back to Quercus and standing up, a gesture that immediately made him sink on one knee. "Brigadier Alba, on behalf of the War Council, the Royal Family of Cohdopia declares the state of civil war. It will be you to lead the army: by royal decree you're hereby invested of all the power this calls for. The responsibility of the outcome, whatever it is, will completely fall on your shoulders. Do you think you'll be able to handle it, or would you rather let someone else lead the operations?"

Quercus immediately looked up, his heart beating somewhere in his throat. There it was, the occasion he had been waiting for! "I'm humbled by your trust, Your Highness. You have my word I won't fail. Civil war is the lesser of two evils, and I'll make sure to make end as quickly as possible."

"Very well then. I suppose there is little point for you to stay here while you have an army to lead," she said, gesturing for him to raise. "Just one thing, Brigadier Alba."

"Your Highness?"

"Return victorious, or do not return at all," she said, coal black eyes fixed on Quercus' own. He bowed.

"I will be back to report victory soon, Your Highness," he said, and he knew it was the right answer when the scowls on the generals' foreheads deepened and the queen's smirk widened. So that was it – all his work and ambitions were on the line; depending on the outcome, what waited for him could be either glory or disgrace… and Quercus hadn't made it that far to be disgraced like some kind of novice. He would not fail. He couldn't.

And he didn't.