Six years earlier
It was known as the "Pig Pond", a nasty swamp that was filled with slimy muck and moss that grew even atop the water. And that didn't even mention all the insects and other creatures that clearly infested the place as the sounds of buzzing and hissing filled the pond. It had to be the most disgusting place in all of Camp Pendleton, which was probably why it had been selected as part of the Scout Sniper training course. The instructors seemed to have taken particular glee in the event as they told the candidates exactly what they would be doing, a hell of an opening act for what was supposed to be their first day.
Crawling behind the first two men as they began dipping themselves into the warm swamp water in their ghillie suits, Justin had to fight from retching as the smell of fetid mid began to creep its way into his nostrils. He did his best to convince his mind that there wasn't anything wrong with the drink he was dipping into, and pushed all thoughts of any mosquitos that might have been using it as a breeding spot and carrying all kinds of diseases.
In a way, it had been rather impressive how fast the instructors had been able to sap all his excitement for finally making it here. Becoming a Scout Sniper was all he ever wanted, all he could reasonably see himself doing with his life after leaving home. He wasn't an idiot by any means, but he didn't have any real skills that would benefit him in the outside world. Justin had pretty much dedicated all his pre-adult life to his twin passions of hunting and martial arts, two very time-consuming activities that he did instead of studying subjects that he hadn't been all that interested in anyway. The only topic that his grades didn't suffer in was math, where his mind seemed able to grasp the concepts far more quickly and easily. But the only kind of careers math would get him would park his soul behind a desk for the rest of eternity, definitely not where he wanted to be.
So Justin had chosen to take a path with long odds; keeping that goal in mind as he went from the recruiting station, Basic Training, School of Infantry, and all the other fun activities the Marine Corps had to offer to get in the way of his dream. It had taken over two years of waiting and training to make sure he met all the right qualifications. But was finally here now, and he had been nearly bouncing with excitement as he had stepped off the bus and made ready for the first day of Sniper School.
He wasn't feeling like bouncing anymore. Again and again, Justin fully submerged his body beneath the funk water and came up covered in mud and algae as the instructors shouted at them to push on through the pond. His forehead was caked in sludge, and the loose strands of his ghillie suit clung to his eyes and mouth. At one point he'd accidentally swallowed some of the swamp drink and had shaken violently as he fought against the vomit rising in his stomach. This was going to be his life now, the "dream" he had worked so hard for after all. He'd just need to get used to it.
Mercifully, their time in the Pig Pond came to end not long after that. The class waded their way out of the swamp and emerged with the foul water cascading off what had been new ghillie suits just a few hours earlier. None of the other candidates looked any cleaner than Justin, but almost all had small smiles on their faces. They were in the thick of it now, and it was time to start proving that they belonged here.
Of course, the instructors didn't seem to care much about the mindset of Justin and the others, as they got right back to work with some conditioning. It was over two miles back to base from the swamp, and it didn't take a genius to see that they were going to make the candidates sweat for every inch of that ground. Bear crawling up hill, burpees, mountain climbers, it seemed like they couldn't go more than a hundred feet without the instructors calling a halt and beginning another round.
"Think I'd rather….be in the swamp…" One of the others beside Justin breathed as they finished another series of pushups.
"You kidding?" He gave a small chuckle, feeling the muscles in his arms burning fiercely. "They'd probably make us do the three-hundred-meter swim there if we'd stayed any longer."
He laughed a bit more at his own joke, until he saw a shadow of a man cross in front of him.
"Find something funny, Lance Corporal?" A voice asked. Justin's blood ran cold, as he looked over to see Gunnery Sergeant Mills, the Senior Instructor, looming over him.
"No, Gunny. Nothing at all."
"If you've got the breath to be a joker, then I think you've got enough wind to lead everyone in an Indian run." He pointed to the front of the group. "Get your ass moving."
"Aye Gunny." Justin sprang to his feet, running forward as he heard some grumbling from the others.
"Suffer in silence, pigs!" Mills shouted, as the groaning quickly died down.
Yes, it was a dream come true to be here for Justin. Now he would just have to survive said dream for the next nine weeks.
~oOo~
The hard clash of steel nearly sent Hexen off his feet, his opponent shifting his stance to strike at the new opening presented by the struggle. He brought his sword around in a guard stance, parrying the blow even as it came and attempted a counterattack by swinging upwards towards the stomach. Hexen hoped that the sudden switch from offence to defense would cause at least some confusion, but the other man was able to read him like a book. His opponent simply sidestepped out of reach of the attack and brought his own weapon down to strike against Hexen's outstretched arm.
"Gods dammit!" He swore, dropping the blade and trying to shake the fresh pain from his limb. "This is supposed to be just training, you know!"
"I'm well aware." Edmund laughed, resting the tip of his blunted training sword against the ground. "If it wasn't your arm would have been cleaved right off."
"You know what I mean." Hexen scowled at his brother while picking up his fallen weapon. "You didn't need to strike so hard."
"Pain can be a fantastic teacher all on its own. You'll be more careful to not make the same mistake next time with that kind of reminder."
"And what, pray tell, was my mistake? Aside from asking you to help me spar."
"Your stance is too wide, it's much harder for you to bring your sword around in a rapid movement when your weight isn't evenly distributed. Look." Edmund got into a fighting stance once more, shifting his feet to make clear their location. "Too close together and your legs can get tangled together. Too far apart, and your balance is all wrong."
"But we're supposed to step forward when we strike, to give the blade momentum." Hexen pointed out.
"True, but you have to return to the basic stance immediately once you complete your swing. If you leave yourself open too long, it will be too late to correct the error. Remember: strike hard and fast, but not recklessly. It should become second nature to you, so it doesn't take much thought in battle to execute."
"So then I just need to practice more, preferably with someone who isn't going to try to break my arms whenever I make a mistake."
"Well if you feel that strongly about it, I'm sure father could send you to the Order of the Rose for some more experience." Edmund smirked. "The Princess would just love to have you."
"Don't even joke like that." Hexen grumbled, trying to stretch the pain away as best he could in his armor. "The last thing I need is father deciding that I'm not ready after all and sending me to squire for some Order or haughty Senator."
"That's not going to happen, so long as you keep putting the effort in." His brother assured him. "You still have a couple years before you'll even be able to receive a full knighthood, that's plenty of time to hammer out the problems."
"It's easy to say that when you've already made it."
"Of course, because I've already been through it all. Every mistake you've made I did the same exact thing, if not much worse. And I had the added benefit of father being my tutor instead of gentle Myron."
"If you think Myron is gentle, then maybe you did take a few to many hits to the head." Hexen snorted. "Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask. Are the rumors true?"
"There are many rumors about me, dear brother." Edmund laughed. "You'll have to be more specific."
"I mean about Prince Zorzal, that he's petitioning to lead a military campaign himself now that he's officially of age."
"Ah, that." His brother nodded. "It's true enough, though I'm not sure how realistic his hopes are. He has his eyes set on the Voglia tribes in the northwest plains."
"The Warrior Bunnies?" Hexen asked. He'd heard of them a few times, mostly from old Duron Men-At-Arms who had gone on to mercenary professions before returning home to spread tales of their adventures. The stories said they were violent and debauched demi-humans who looked to make sport of any man unfortunate enough to be seduced by their beauty. "That doesn't sound like it would be an easy fight."
"You share the views of the Emperor; he doesn't think the resources it would take to conquer them would be worth some land and slaves as plunder." Edmund shrugged. "But Zorzal is nothing if not persistent. It may be a while, maybe even a few years, but the Prince will probably have his way in the end."
"If he goes, will you join him?"
"He's already asked me to join as one of his generals." The knight chuckled, shaking his head. "Not even an army to his name and he is already selecting subordinates to lead them, like I said, the Prince quite eager to prove himself on the battlefield. Not that the rest of us are any different."
"Do you think father would let me join you? Even if it was as an observer, I think the experience would be valuable."
"I'd love to have you along, but I doubt father would approve. You know how he feels about Zorzal, and he'd likely be angry enough that I'd be following after the Prince."
"Yet, you don't seem to share in father's concerns." Hexen pointed out.
Edmund visibly hesitated, his jaw shifting as he thought his next words carefully.
"Father is a wise man, don't get me wrong. But he can often be so focused on the individual trees he can miss the forest. The Prince can be arrogant, selfish, and vain; but he has also shown bravery and charisma when it counts. More than that, there is a distinct possibility that he could be our next Emperor, and showing some loyalty to him now and again doesn't cost us anything."
"I suppose I see your point." Hexen agreed. "Just be careful around him, father believes he's giving you bad habits."
"Please brother, I am perfectly capable of forming bad habits all on my own." Edmund smiled again, then brought his training sword down into the ready position. "And you have kept me talking long enough, it's time to get back to our sparring session."
"Very well." Hexen matched his brother's stance, grateful that he had kept the other distracted until the ache from his weapon arm had mostly faded. "Whenever you're ready."
~oOo~
Present day
Calling it a wasteland somehow seemed too kind of a description. The edges of the hillside where the enemy army had decided to make their offensive had been turned into a blasted string of craters and bodies that reminded Reaper of old pictures of the First World War's no man's land. What had once been green and growing grassland was now a mixture of mud and blood that squished beneath his boots as he and Joker did a loose patrol around the area. It had been a couple of days since the "battle", and the cries of wounded men had been replaced with the stench of decaying bodies. The rot wasn't anything new to his nose, but the sheer number of cadavers made even his iron stomach churn every now and then.
"At least the vultures seem to be happy." Joker commented as he looked over the scorched remnants of a banner that stuck out of the ground. Reaper glanced to the sky, seeing dozens if not hundreds of carrier birds circling above the killing ground as they sought out the easiest meal.
"I don't think there's going to be enough." He answered. "At least not to pick this place clean."
"Well, intel will probably want people out here collecting weapon fragments and the like anyway. Might as well do that while we clear out the remaining casualties."
Strictly speaking, they hadn't been ordered to come out here. But Joker had insisted on getting a closer look at the remnants of the destroyed columns and had volunteered to be part of one of the small foot patrols through the carnage, though he hadn't shared why. Reaper would have rather taken a few hours of R&R over taking a stroll through the mass graveyard, but as things usually went, he followed wherever his friend decided to go.
The other looked a bit distracted as they walked on, like he was thinking of something that had managed to dull his usually unconquerable cheer, looking around at the carnage and fiddling with the hog's tooth he wore around his neck along with dog tags. Reaper had only seen him like this once before, and it hadn't been a time in his life he longed to relive. Despite having spent close to two years together by this point, he still found Joker a hard man to read sometimes, like there was an internal battle between the empty headed comedian and the rock steady sniper who put his eyes to the scope. Every combat veteran was like that in one way or another, it was a coping mechanism to help keep yourself sane, but some had harder turns then others.
"Think we'll be stuck here for a while?" Reaper asked. It was a question that had already been asked at least a thousand times, but it was the only thing he could think of to make conversation.
"Guess it depends on how many more times the enemy just comes charging at us like this." Joker shrugged. "And how many they lost since this whole thing started. It's gotta be at least three divisions worth of troops just on this attack alone."
"And that's not even talking about what was lost in Tokyo and when we first got here." Reaper agreed. "Those kinds of hits would be hard for anyone to take, even us."
"Intel thinks they lost at least two Army Corps." Someone said from behind them. "Maybe more, but it's hard to know for sure the number of enemy wounded after we took the hill."
The Marines turned to see a small group of JSDF troops, one officer and a pair of Sergeants, coming up from behind. It took a moment for Reaper to recognize one of them, but he had already been beaten to it by the Sergeant he remembered from their time in Japan.
"Sergeant Salter, right?" The woman asked, stepping closer with a wide smile on her face. "I was wondering if you'd been sent through with us."
"I kind of stowed aboard one of the transport trucks, don't tell anyone." Joker answered, suddenly back to his usual self as he returned the grin.
"You know these guys, Kuribayashi?" The other NCO asked.
"We fought in the battle of Ginza together." She explained. "Helped clear out that German Research building. The Sergeant here tried to toss a fully armored knight over his shoulder during the breach!"
"You forgot the part where he ate shit because of it." Reaper chided.
"No one asked you to add to the story." Joker retorted, before looking back at the Japanese. "I'm Sergeant Salter, but just call me Joker. This is Corporal Martinez, goes by Reaper."
"Afraid we just have our normal names with us." The Officer joked. "First Lieutenant Itami, this is Sergeant Kurita. And you apparently already know Kuribayashi."
"Itami?" Reaper cocked his head. "Why does that sound familiar...oh yeah, you the guy everyone's calling a hero or something?"
"Yeah...that's what they are saying." Itami rubbed the back of his head. "But it wasn't a big deal."
"The Lieutenant is being modest!" Kurita piped up. "He saved thousands of people during the battle! Helped organize the defense of the Old Palace and-"
"It wasn't anything anyone else couldn't have done." The other said, clearly hoping to talk about anything else.
From what Reaper could tell, Itami was about Captain Mitchel's age, if not a little older. Seeing a Lieutenant in his thirties wasn't totally unheard of, but it usually had an explanation of someone joining when they were older or had been previously enlisted. Then again it did seem sometimes like half the JSDF that outranked Reaper was younger then he was even though he had far more experience than them, so clearly trying to guess at ranks based on age was probably a lot cause.
"We'll hold off on having your parade for a while, if that's what you'd like sir." Joker said.
"Please don't start too…"
"Care to join us on our trip through a blasted hellscape then? It's not like we weren't all going the same direction anyway." The Sniper offered, though it wasn't hard to tell he was far more interested in talking with Kuribayashi than the others as he was looking right at her when asking the question. The other two didn't seem to pick up on it.
"Don't see why not, we'll call it an 'expeditionary cultural exchange'." Itami said as the combined group continued onwards. It was lucky that the JSDF troops were able to speak English, as the two Marines hadn't paid all that much attention during the language training portion of the leadup to departure. At least, not the Japanese language portion.
Or more accurately, it was lucky for Joker, as he and Kuribayashi were chatting away at the front of the group. Though this was only their second time meeting, and the first time had been in the middle of a battle, Reaper was already starting to dread what could come of it. Kuribayashi was shorter than even the below average Joker, and was fairly attractive even in full kit, something that was difficult for anyone to pull off. Worse still, they were talking a lot about hand to hand combat, something she seemed to be just as excited to talk about as the Sniper. And of course, based on what he had seen during the battle, she was probably crazy.
A perfect recipe for disaster.
"Uh oh, looks like we found a second Kuribayashi." Kurita whispered just loud enough for Reaper to hear. "You know what that means?"
"That they can keep themselves entertained and leave us out of it?" Itami answered.
"That won't last very long. Pretty soon they'll want to start showing off to one another, think of all the property damage."
"And all the paperwork…"
"I think this is a good time to talk about custody issues." Reaper said, dropping back to where he could join in on the whispering. "The United States is more than happy to leave Joker behind in Japan for the sake of the Alliance. It's a hard price to pay, but we are willing to pay it."
"Damn, I was hoping you'd be the one taking Kuribayashi away." Kurita snorted. "Don't worry, we'd pay child support or something to make it worth your time."
"Bro, you wouldn't have enough money to make me put up with two of them."
"Woah easy there!" He heard Joker say. "That drop came out of nowhere."
Reaper brought his attention forward again, seeing that they had reached the edge of a large crater that had likely been the ground zero of a focused artillery barrage. Remnants of what had once been some kind of siege engine sat near the middle, smashed to matchsticks along with the soldiers who had been around it. The scent of rotting flesh was stronger here, the carrion birds went along and picked at body parts that laid scattered. Itami said something in Japanese while Kurita covered his nose, even Kuribayashi seemed to have a grim look as she gazed out at the carnage.
"Hot damn." Reaper whistled softly. "This strike alone probably wiped out a whole battalion."
"Maybe more than one." Joker agreed. "Depending on how massed their formation was."
"You two seem to be taking this all well." Kurita said, looking like he was about to gag from just opening his mouth.
"It's not anything we haven't seen before."
"You've seen stuff like THIS before?"
"Well, not this kind of body count, but the carnage is nothing new." Reaper shrugged, deciding to lead the way away from the crater. "We saw it all over in Afghanistan. Piles of corpses, women and children who had been burned alive, people who'd been blown to pieces by mines, you get used to seeing gore pretty fast."
"Then you two have already been to war before this." Kuribayashi said, looking at them like she wanted to ask a question. "How...how bad was it over there?"
"Bad enough." Reaper said. "Trust me, you don't want to know the details."
"I do." She insisted. "Especially if we're going to keep fighting like this."
"It's not that simple. It was a kind of bad that can't really be described with just words." Joker shook his head, and Reaper could see his cheery demeanor slipping away once again. "We were told that our objective over there was to help people, protect them from the bad guys and assist in rebuilding. But no one wanted our help, pretty much everyone either wanted us dead or at the very least to go away. People who WERE happy to see you tended not to live for very long, and you went through every city wondering which building you were being watched from, whether the road you were driving down had an IED sitting off to the side. And all the locals would just happily watch you drive on, because we weren't saviors to them. We were invaders, infidel invaders to boot, who were only there to oppress them and kill their children."
"...That sounds terrible." Itami said. "I can't imagine what it must have been like, being accused of things like that after all you were trying to do."
Joker was silent for a few heartbeats, his eyes cast off in the distance as they seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Reaper watched his friend, unsure of whether or not he should say anything.
"Let's just hope this is a different kind of war." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then the mask came back on with a smile, and the door of vulnerability that had been opened for a brief moment slammed shut once more. "I think that's enough depressing talk. How about we start making our way back to camp? I want to see if we can't set up a sort of makeshift dojo so I can show off some of my moves."
~oOo~
"There about a few dozen militia members in Bexley Village, if we count the women volunteers with the men." Myron said as they walked along the drilling field. "They are fortunate to have a quite capable blacksmith here, so their weapons are of fine quality. Overall, I believe it's one of the better prepared villages in our territory."
Hexen nodded absently, watching the assembled group practice swiping and stabbing with their spears over and over again, led by a former Duron Man At Arms who had taken residence at the hamlet after his military service. Normally this was a usual occurrence, as village militias were to drill at least once a month under House Duron law. But Hexen could see many nervous expressions among the villagers as they hefted their weapons, several even risking a glance over in his direction while they went on.
Word of the Empire's defeats had long reached them by this point, along with the terrible losses suffered by the Allied Kingdoms in their doomed attempt to retake Alnus Hill. Everyone from the commoners to the remaining bureaucracy knew that the once mighty Duron Army was no more, and that their Lord and his heir had been taken with them. It wasn't just a matter of losing their protection, the way of the sword had been engraved into Hexen's family and the people they ruled for centuries, even after the most terrible of defeats they had managed to withdraw and rally some kind of force. That the army had just marched away and vanished never to return was striking a blow to the very foundation of their culture. The militia could feel it, no more were they considered the last line of defense or an auxiliary force to protect the homeland when their forces were away. Now, they were almost all that remained of any fighting forces under the Wolf Banner.
Their confidence was further shaken by the sudden change in leadership. Hexen hadn't been nearly as well known to the commoners as Edmund, who had made a point of visiting nearly every town and village, nor did he have any sort of experience in real battle. Their confidence in him was shaky, at best, and Hexen forced himself to stand up straight and proud with all the regality and charisma his father had tried to imbue him. It seemed to only have a marginal effect.
"What of the Orc band the traders reported seeing?"
"There have been no sightings since then, but as we have no real scouts left to investigate such matters, the best we can assume is that they are heading south away from the wilds. They are still quite a distance away; we should have at least a fortnight before they could potentially reach us. With luck, they will bypass our territory entirely."
"We can't make that kind of assumption, especially considering how our fortunes have been of late." Hexen shook his head. "But neither can we throw everyone into a panic before we even know where they are headed."
"What are your orders?"
"Search for good riders among the population, see if we can get some volunteer scouts in lieu of the real thing. Until we have some better information, just make sure all the militias have accurate headcounts and adequate supplies."
"Very well my Lord. Should we continue on our way?"
"Yes, I think we've seen everything worth laying our eyes on here. Have the Mayor come meet us before we-" Hexen stopped, the sound of approaching horses reaching his ears. "Is there a trade caravan coming?"
"The Mayor didn't mention anything like that." Myron said, frowning as both he and Hexen looked towards the main path into the village.
Three men on horseback were approaching, all well dressed and riding upon glimmering saddles that gave away their status as nobility. Leading the group was Hexen's cousin, Edwin Duron.
"Oh gods above." Hexen hissed between his teeth. "This is the last thing I need right now."
"Just relax, he may be here to check up on things like you."
"Judging by the look on his face, I must disagree." He schooled his features into a look of civility as he stepped forward, meeting the band near the end of the dirt path. "Hail cousin! I wasn't expecting to see you out here."
Edwin continued forward, only stopping when he was far closer to Hexen then would have been comfortable, forcing him to step backwards in surprise and mentally kicking himself for not standing firm.
"I could say the same of you, Hexen." Edwin had no similar civility in his tone or expression, outwardly glaring at his younger kinsman. "When I heard you were out having a pleasant stroll through the countryside, I thought it was someone's idea of a joke. Yet here you are."
"I don't understand." Hexen frowned, taken aback by the sheer hostility in Edwin's voice. "This isn't just some summer stroll."
"Isn't it." His cousin gave a wide sweep of his hand to encompass the entire area. "Playing with militia? Meeting with Mayors? At a time like this?"
"This is exactly the time to be-"
"This is the time to be taking action!" Edwin cut him off. "Our fathers lie dead at the feet of our enemies, and you have chosen to remain passive?! We should immediately be rallying our forces for another offensive!
"Rallying our forces? What forces have we left to call to our banner?!" Hexen countered. "Lest we forget, we have lost nearly all our men at arms and knights. Many of those who remain are too sick or wounded to participate. We need time to rebuild our troop numbers."
"Do not sound so dramatic Hexen, we have soldiers all around us!"
"And what soldiers might that be?"
"The very ones training behind you." Edwin said, pointing out to the drill field.
"The militia?" Hexen asked, utterly bewildered.
"The militia." His cousin confirmed. "They are better trained and equipped then other such groups outside our lands. If you call upon them, they shall make a considered force to help reconstitute our armies."
"Well armed and trained militia is still just a militia. They are not used to the rigors of campaigning, and they have not the carnage of a true battlefield. Yet you want to send them against an enemy that slaughtered our dedicated professionals?"
"The difference won't be so great if we hire bands of mercenaries from the north to bolster the ranks. They would know the handle from a sharp end of a blade."
"That kind of spending would practically empty the treasury. Especially in the numbers you're suggesting."
"If that's what it takes, so be it." Edwin huffed. "We cannot simply sit idly by and allow the insult upon our honor to stand. We have a duty to come to blows with the enemy and avenge our fallen."
"Even if we did everything you're suggesting, we could not take on the enemy force alone." Hexen argued. "The Allied kingdoms brought nearly a hundred thousand men, and it wasn't enough. The rest of the Empire is reeling from it's losses just as much as we are and will not be able to lend any sort of assistance to another campaign."
"Then it simply falls to us to set the example for the others. It's the sacred duty of House Duron to carry the Imperial Banner and show the way in times of hardship!"
"Edwin, your suggestions border on madness." Hexen shook his head. "You suggest that I should call out all the militia and spend a staggering amount of gold in the HOPES that the rest of the Empire will be inspired enough to join us in another battle that we don't even know if we'd win? Think of the repercussions. Farmers would be torn from their fields and families for gods know how long and leave our land completely defenseless against a possibly approaching Orc Warband and every group of petty bandits that sets its sights on us."
"And what is your solution, pray tell? Sit around on our laurels and hope the threat goes away on its own?"
"Of course not. I'm simply trying to keep our home from falling apart by dealing with problems as they arise."
"If you're waiting for those problems to arise, then you already act too late." Edwin spat. "This unknown enemy we face could potentially bring down the entire Empire, and us along with it. If we wait to act, then we miss the chance to crush the opponent before they come to destroy us in our own home. I understand what we risk, the sacrifices that will need to be made on the battlefield and beyond. But at least we will be given the chance to recover from those losses by taking an active approach instead of remaining passive and letting the issues before us grow worse. Strike hard, strike fast, and strike decisively. That is the Duron way of life."
Hexen chewed the inside of his cheek. He had to admit that Edwin's arguments had some merit, and he would have liked nothing more than to march to the Capital at the head of an army to assemble a new force to drive the invaders off Alnus Hill. But in his mind, he kept thinking of the way the militia had looked at him. Scared, and unsure about the future. They were depending on him for leadership, and he would not lead them to a grave upon Alnus for no good reason other than his pride.
"I'm sorry, Edwin." He said. "I've made my decision. If you want to help, return to your estate and begin searching for replacements to our men at arms. I'm certain your experience would be more useful at such a thing then I."
Edwin stared down at him for a moment, fire burning behind his eyes.
"So, you choose to make a mockery of my father's sacrifice?" He bit out. "The blood of our family stains the soul, and you elect to be a coward. It's good that Edmund and Uncle are dead, so they can't see what you've become."
Now trembling with rage, Hexen could feel his blood beginning to boil over. How dare Edwin try to stand upon his father's grave and cast judgment down upon it. He had no idea the responsibility Hexen now had, the pressure that had latched itself upon his shoulders like a leach slowly draining away his life.
"Why you arrogant-"
"That's enough." Myron said, joining the conversation for the first time. "Edwin, your cousin has spoken. Like it or not he is your Lord now. And you will obey his edict."
The other man turned his glare upon the old knight, mouth opening to shoot back, but he closed it once more. He turned back to Hexen, his molten gaze hardening into a cold steel.
"For now."
Edwin reared back his horse, and Hexen thought that his cousin was actually going to run him down this time, but he simply turned back around and galloped back the way he'd come, his two companions following in his wake. Hexen let out a slow breath, feeling his heart pounding against his chest.
"Thank you, Myron." He said. "I shouldn't have let him get under my skin like that."
"It's not your fault. Nor is it really his." Myron's eyes followed in the wake of the horses. "He feels completely powerless right now and isn't sure where to direct his fury. His words are those of a man who is looking for any kind of justice."
"I know. To be honest, I felt much the same after first receiving the news about the Gate." Hexen sighed. "If it becomes too much of a problem, I'll see about sending him after the orcs. At least then he'll have something to take his anger out on."
"Perhaps that would be wise. But either way, you must mend some kind of bridge between the two of you. A divide between you and him would only be catastrophic for the House."
"I'm aware." Hexen said, giving a last look at the drilling militia. They had stopped training at this point, many of them looking his way as their attention had been drawn by the shouting match.
When they noticed his gaze, many turned back to pretend they were doing something else, clearly afraid of offending their new Lord in some way. Yes, further arguments between Hexen and Edwin would do nothing to help their cause for survival. Then again, extraordinarily little in the world seemed to be in favor of such a thing anyway.