Chapter 7

A Leader's Burdens

As the moon and the star lit up the night sky, illuminating the camp below, Gray picked up some food, mainly meat on the edge of being spoilt and walked over to that ever familiar campfire, where his friends seated beside them, their talks livelier than ever.

Of course, that's because someone else has joined in. Sitting beside Tobin as usual and handing him his portion, he leaned back and listened as Clair recounted an event from her childhood that drew laughter from his friends. Ever since his invitation to join the other Ram Villagers on their usual nightly gatherings, the noblewoman partook with them on many occasions.

"So…" Tobin whispered as the others were busy with their conversation. "…how long till you confess to Clair again?"

"What? Stop teasing." His friend chided back, his face obviously red. Getting the reaction he was hoping for, Tobin simply laughed. "Urgh, you jerk."

"Wow, Clair, I didn't know the nobility did so many things in their childhood." Faye exclaimed. "It must be tough."

"Perhaps for some people, but not for one as intelligent and as graceful as I." She turned to Gray and Tobin, still caught in their little conversation. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Oh…uh, yeah, you're amazing." Gray said, looking away and silently cursing Tobin for making him blush even more. Clair either didn't see it or she simply didn't care as she stood up and began stretching herself.

"Well then, I shall be heading off. It's getting rather late. See you all at first dawn."

And with that, the one person left the fire. The rest of the Ram Villagers all looked at their black-haired compatriots, wide grins on their faces.

"W-what are you all smiling about? It's creepy." Gray said, unnerved.

"Just admiring how red your face is right now." Kliff said with a smirk. "Man, have you ever tried being subtle in your life before?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean."

"You were blushing the entire time Clair spoke, Gray." Faye said, giggling a bit. "It was kind of hard not to notice."

"Oh, man. I must look so dumb right now." Gray groaned out, receiving a pat on the back by a sympathetic Tobin.

"Anyways, it's getting late. I'll be heading off to my quarters." Faye said, leaving only the three boys left. Kliff started to stand up as well.

"Not joining us for training?" Tobin asked.

"I got better things to do." Kliff remarked before leaving to parts unknown, leaving Gray and Tobin behind. All around them the soldiers were extinguishing their fires and going back to their tents save for those who've been assigned on perimeter guard.

Nodding to each other, the two decided to put out their own fire and get to their usual nightly training. They've stopped these past couple of days due to necessity, but they decided that it was time to catch up on more bruises and sweat.

Alm was sitting on his bed, bitterly realizing that he couldn't sleep tonight. It was a more common occurrence now than ever before. He tried his best to hide it during the day, but in private he let the fatigue show full force.

He was looking around his tent. As befit his title of leader, it was a bigger tent, complete with makeshift fireplace, tables, pen and parchment, and even a wardrobe. And yet he didn't feel it was grand or as lavish as people claim, just…empty.

"I'm letting the pressure get to my head." He thought bitterly. "Is this what you've always warned me about, Grandpa?"

Deciding that he shouldn't try to sleep, he stood up and walked out of his tent. As expected, the camp was empty; its souls getting what rest it could before the next march, the next battle. For some of them, it could be the last.

His mind was deeply troubled. He knew that a leader had to make sacrifices in order to achieve victory, but even still, he found it difficult to stomach the first few times: The mourning, the corpses, all of it. Over time he'd learn to swallow it better, but that did not make much easier for him to decide who lives and who dies, merely accept that what's done is done.

The clang of blades brought him out of his deep thought, as he wondered who'd be training in the dead of night. Approaching where he heard it, he saw Tobin and Gray furiously sparring with each other. Sparks flew as blunt steel clashed against blunt steel, the two facing each other with both camaraderie and intensity.

They both stopped the moment they spotted their friend and leader just staring at them, and just nervously waved at him. Alm waved back, feeling a bit awkward that he was interrupting their sessions.

"Hey…" Tobin said. "What are you doing up so late, Alm?"

"I could ask you two the same thing, but I've already guessed." He replied, exchanging a fond smile. "Mind if I join in?"

Tobin's response was to throw the sword for him to catch, which he did with eased. Gray, now facing a new opponent, readied himself, sarcastically remarking "Hey no fair, I just fought Tobin."

Despite that, the two decided to spar in that empty clearing. They were almost evenly matched, neither side gaining a clear advantage. Tobin, who had lazily observed them, wondered how far their skills who grow, and if either would outgrow the other.

His mind returned to the duel at hand. Gray landed a flurry of blows towards Alm, who deftly parried and retaliated with a quick swipe of his own. It caught his opponent off guard and disarmed him. Embarrassed and humbled, Gray raised his hand in surrender. "Guess you won again…"

Alm lowered his sword and respectfully bowed. "You were an excellent opponent."

"Whoa…" Gray exclaimed. "No need to be so formal, we aren't nobles, you know?"

"O-oh, alright." Alm said, as Gray lay down on the grass beside Tobin, yawning tiredly. Alm joined and sat down, the trio staring at the stars in silence for a while.

"I'll ask again, since you didn't give me a proper answer last time." Tobin began. "Why are you up so late?"

"I don't really know…" Alm admitted. "I guess I'm just tired, but I can't sleep."

"Being a leader is that tough, huh?" Gray said as his mind started to wander. The atmosphere was oddly soothing, a far cry from the desperation he felt scant minutes ago.

"You have no idea." Alm muttered, though even that was a fraction of the sheer frustration he felt.

"I guess…" Gray admitted. "Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be in your shoes, to have so many people look up to you and admire you. I don't think anyone looks at me the way they look at you."

"Trust me, sometimes I wish they didn't." Alm admitted, letting out a long sigh, as if the breath he let out were all of his problems. "It's so…hard, to have so many look up to you as if you're some kind of hero, some kind of god, even harder to choose who gets to live and die."

"Huh, when you put it like that, maybe I don't want to be in your shoes. But, then again…what do I fight for?" Gray said, catching a nearby fly that zipped across his face, a habit from his childhood.

"There you go again." Tobin said, laying to his side and closing his eyes. "You always go back to that question."

"Hmm, about what you're fighting for? This is the first time I've heard of it." Alm asked.

"That's because I'd never told anyone but Tobin and Kliff." Gray said. "A man's gotta keep his image, you know?"

The other two laughed, though Gray himself still pondered the question seriously. What did he have to fight for? The more he thought about it the more he was certain than an answer was beyond his grasp.

The three decided to stay for a little while, basking in the night's sky. It wasn't a particularly important moment, but they felt as if it was still irreplaceable.

The next day was signaled by shouts and the clopping of hooves.

Awakened by the sudden shouting, Alm and others prepared their armor and marched to its source. Outside, three mounted figures stood there, spears brandished. One of them was a familiar sight.

"Fernand." Clive said, already armed.

"Heh, so this is the Deliverance. You're lowlier than what I expected." The man in the center spoke. He was wearing jet-black armor that matched his hair. His face was an arrogant sneer, and already some of the troops whispered out his name, such was his renown.

"Prince Berkut, I assume." Clive said flatly. "Is this supposed to be an ambush?"

The Rigellian prince chuckled arrogantly. "Oh nothing so grand, Zofian. It's just been so long since I went out hunting, I figured I'd make sport out of you lot."

The army readied their weapons, nervous. Alm stepped forward, already brandishing his blade, pointing it at his opponent.

"So this is the peasant leader of this rabble." Berkut said, barely passing a glance at him. "Hmph, you certainly look the part of a peasant. Why don't you return to your farm instead of playing soldier?"

"Alm, don't fall for his taunts. It could be a trap." Clive warned, concerned. Alm stood forward anyways, resolute in his decision, the soldiers cheering him on.

"I know, I trust you to handle things if it is." Was all he said as he prepared his stance, feet apart and sword gripped tightly. Berkut smirked and charged at him, spear aimed for his head.

Alm barely dodged in time, the spear mere inches from his face. Another swing forced him to block, and already concerned rose within the Deliverance ranks.

"Shouldn't we help him?" came Clair's voice, slightly unsteady. Clive didn't answer.

Another hard swing landed on his armored gloves, breaking it and sending Alm back. Berkut laughed in satisfaction, whirling his lance around for show, a demeaning gesture as much as an arrogant one.

"What's wrong, farmboy? Can't handle a real fighter." Berkut taunted as Alm picked up his sword again, his arm now exposed.

Berkut froze on seeing his arm, a mark that resembled a scar, but wasn't a wound. He gritted his teeth at what he saw, on what that mark on his arm meant.

"Could he be?" Berkut thought as he prepared for another charge, anger suddenly swelling up inside him. "How could one as common as him be chosen? It must be a mistake."

Berkut charged forward on his mount, whirling his spear. Alm held his ground and parried, throwing his mount backwards. The prince nearly fell before reining in his horse tightly, allowing him to turn and gain distance on Alm.

For a minute they stared at each other, the death of the other burned into their eyes. In the end, spoiled of his easy prey, Fernand lost his appetite for fighting.

"Fernand, we're leaving." Berkut said, gritting his teeth. He turned his back towards the Deliverance, who were shouting congratulations to Alm. "I'll let Desaix deal with this. Know that if we meet again, peasant, I shall show you why you lowborns should accept your place."

Berkut rode off, his Rigellian companion joining him. Fernand stared at Clive, who could only offer a flat look, before he rode off with his master.

"Why did you not attack further?" Fernand asked once they were out of earshot. He was disappointed that Alm wasn't beaten, and he made his displeasure known.

"Hmph, he can be beaten at any time. I simply wished to test the boy's mettle." Berkut said, though Fernand remained unconvinced. "Regardless, they'll get no further with Desaix's castle in the way, especially since you'll be there as well."

"What?" Fernand asked, shocked. "My place is by your side, my lord. I will not work under that greedy hound."

"Your place is where I tell you to." Berkut replied coldly. "I've heard reports from the survivors on that river battle, Fernand, and I am not pleased. You speak above your station. Know that you're only here by my goodwill."

Fernand wanted to object, but kept his tongue. The third rider simply looked at him with contempt before whipping his head back. In silence the three rode, and Fernand's doubts began to grow.

"That wasn't much of a victory at all." Alm admitted once he was in the privacy of Clive's tent. "Honestly, I'm not sure if I can count that as a battle."

"Indeed, he only wanted to test us." Clive responded. "Prince Berkut is as arrogant as the stories claim."

"Yeah, but he got anxious the moment he saw the mark on my arm. Why is that?" Alm said, looking at his exposed hand, mark present. "Why would he be scared of some birthmark?"

"I don't know, and I'm not sure we'll find an answer any time soon." Clive commented, sitting down nervously. "Regardless, I think we should march to Desaix's castle immediately. Every second we waste gives him more time to build his defenses and…" He trailed off.

"Oh, right, your lover…" Alm said. "He still has her prisoner, but we'll free her. I promise you, Clive."

"Mila, those earnest eyes, the way he carries himself, how can he not be a noble?" Clive thought, as his fingers brushed over a map of Desaix's castle. The general slaved away all night studying every known entrance, defense mechanism and potential chokepoints.

This wasn't just another battle to him; this was where everything hangs in the balance, both strategically…and personally.

"I'll go organize the troops, I'm sure they'll want to congratulate me some more." Alm groaned slightly. It wasn't that he didn't like the praise, or even that he was embarrassed about it. It just felt…unwarranted, especially now. The only time when he'll fully accept it is when victory is finally achieve.

Leaving the tent, he passed by several soldiers, who saluted him dutifully. Commoners and nobles in grounds, but neither were intermingling. That was going to be an issue he intends to fix, to dissolve the distinction between the two, at least during wartime.

"One thing at a time, first we need to secure Zofia."

He told several messengers to relay his orders to march immediately, and couldn't help but suppress a yawn, regretting staying up so late last night. Regardless, he couldn't stop at all; he went to check on the armories, asking about the state of their weaponry. He went to their scouts to gather reports of their surroundings. He went to check on supplies, to comfort the wounded, to seek advice.

A thousand acts threatened to overwhelm him, yet the boy stood firm. This is what a leader should be, to bear the weight of the army without complaint. He marched throughout the camp with vigor in his step, heading to his final destination before the army began to march again.

Sorry for the delay, my college life has been a living hell of my own creation. Admittedly this is just a filler chapter, since I really didn't know what to do with the first Berkut encounter, but now we're truly heading to Desaix's castle, where the AU elements finally start to pop up. Till then -ArcanaHermit