Time is a strange thing, and how we perceive it is even stranger. Peace, no matter how long it may be, passes by quickly and is often taken for granted. War however, no matter how short it may be, feels like aeons, and stays in our minds no matter how hard we try to forget it.
The Kingdom of Valm knew peace for twelve years, and yet this peace passed by so quickly it may as well have been twelve months. Now another war was on the rise, but not like any other war the nation has ever seen before.
"The resistance is making its way to the castle as we speak. There are about thirty soldiers, but most of them are former peasants."
Nathaniel sighed and furtively wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared his commander, General Walhart, in the eye. The man stared at the tactician intently, without wavering his eyes even for a second. He seemed to be scrutinizing his subordinate without any room for mercy, and though Nathaniel was used to his harshness, he could not stop himself from being intimidated.
Considering the circumstances though, he was handling himself well. He and twenty of Valm's finest soldiers sat at the large rectangular table in the council room, surrounded by drafts of battle plans and maps. All eyes were on him, everyone was staring at him like children stared at their teacher, awaiting instruction and sure that if they followed his orders, they would survive.
"So the enemy appears to be more focused on numbers than on the quality of its army…" Walhart mused, "Expected of rebels. They're more concerned about the end rather than the means…"
"Correct. They also seem to be counting on brute strength. Our espionage team came back a few days ago and told us that the enemy brought exactly ten knights, ten fighters, five cavaliers, and five heroes. Armoured units are no match for mages, flyers, and anti-armour weaponry. Fighters and Cavaliers can be dealt with by anyone; however the heroes may pose a problem."
The room, which was silent a few seconds prior, became filled with the sounds of heated discussion. Eventually the voices grew so loud that Walhart had to hit the table with his fist, which caused everyone in the room to shut their mouths. Afterwards, a Pegasus knight began to shift nervously in her seat, and then stood to address her tactician.
"Any word from our soldiers at Fort Stieger, sir?"
Nathaniel bit the inside of his cheek and stared at his shoes, a sign that he did not wish to be reminded of what happened there.
"Overpowered. Indeed, a bit of carelessness on my part. Most of them managed to retreat, but there are about five casualties."
Walhart's ears seemed to perk up at the very mention of failure, and he gave Nathaniel a deadly glare.
"Very disappointing, Mila help you should you fail us this time." His voice was calm but threatening; Nathaniel could not help but shiver as he knew that Walhart meant every word he said.
"I assure you, General Walhart, it won't happen again." He hung his head down for a second, and then looked up, "Now, based on what the espionage team gave us, I have decided we take ten mages, ten Pegasus knights, myself, five generals, and four paladins."
"Mages? Why not sages? They could also serve as medics." A new recruit piped up from the back of the room.
"Yes, that is something I overlooked, however we don't have as many sages as we would like."
"There's Pheros and her brigade, but… oh, you are right. Three sages including her, and the rest are trainees. We have ten Pegasus knights, all under Reina, and we've got plenty of generals and paladins, so we just send out our strongest ones."
Pheros, who was sitting in the left hand corner, stared at her hands and hung her head in sadness, her blonde locks covering her face.
"A nice thought, but there is one problem…"
"What do you mean, Pheros?" Nathaniel asked.
"One of my trainees… died in the attack on Fort Stieger. We only have nine units that are capable of using magic."
Pheros began to tremble, judging from her reaction, the now dead recruit was most likely someone dear to her.
"May I ask, who was it?"
She glared at Nathaniel for a split second, and then looked down again.
"It was Aurelia, sir."
Nathaniel too hung his head upon hearing this unfortunate news. She was older than Ariana by a couple of years, only finished school recently. He remembered ordering Pheros' brigade to participate in the attack, only for them to be defeated … so in a sense, he was to blame for her daughter's death. All he could do now was hope that Ariana would not meet a similar fate.
"…A grave loss."
"Please, spare me your condolences," Pheros spat contemptuously, "If you think you can ease the pain of her death with some pretty words, you're either overly optimistic or laughably ignorant."
"I am aware, Pheros, as a parent, I understand-"
"You lead her to her death and now you have the gall to try and sympathize with me?"
"Pheros, desist, or will I have to order you to back out from this next battle due to being… emotionally compromised?"
Pheros appeared to have gotten the message and stopped, looking somewhat embarrassed.
"Now, Pheros is right about one thing, we are one mage short. We either need to find a solution or an alternative to this problem, any ideas?"
There was silence, but then Pheros stood with a determined look in her eyes, as if something had clicked in her head. She stared squarely at Nathaniel with a heartless smile.
"Wait a minute; your daughter is a mage isn't she?"
Pheros was in pain, Nathaniel told himself. She was in agony over the death of her child, and misery always loved company. Surely everyone would realize that, everyone would tell her that putting Ariana on the battlefield was a horrible idea. Or better yet, he could convince them that it was a horrible idea.
"…Forget about it, she wouldn't last a minute in a fight."
"Quite the contrary… I know one of the administrators at the Valmese Military Academy, she has an exceptional record. Exemplary students are conscripted all the time, are they not?"
The other soldiers began to murmur and one by one, they nodded their heads in agreement. A handful of them, obviously mothers and fathers, did not like this judgement, but eventually they were coaxed into going along with the decision.
"Yes. It's settled. Well done, Pheros, thanks to you, our little number situation has been fixed. Draw up our battle plans, Nathaniel. The rebels will be here in about two days."
Time froze at that moment. He couldn't hear the discussion, he could not see his comrades, he couldn't even see Pheros still smiling cruelly at him. His surroundings were a complete blur; the only thing he was sure of at that moment was this: Walhart was sending Ariana to die.
"We… we could ask Reina to promote one of her recruits-"
"No can do. Their magical capabilities are hopeless, you should know that. I sense your rapier intellect has been… duller these past few years. I know not the cause, and I honestly could not care less."
"There must be another way-"
"Since when did you suddenly become so concerned about our younger soldiers? What stopped you from putting Pheros' daughter on the front lines?"
Indeed, Walhart was right. He wanted to say that this was different, because Aurelia was old enough to go into battle and Ariana was not. If he said that however, he would be seen as a hypocrite, someone who claimed that abilities were more important than age and yet would not apply the same principle to his own family. Yet, in essence that was what he was, but how could he say such a thing?
"You can't do this-"
"Stop quivering like an infant, it ill becomes you. Besides, how old is Ariana, twelve? Children younger than her are put on the battlefield. Don't make a big deal out of nothing."
"Please…"
"Goodbye, Nathaniel. I expect a full strategy by tomorrow. Council adjourned everyone." Walhart got up from his chair and began to leave the room, refusing to look back.
"You can't do this! You can't- oh for Mila's sake… she's just a child! She's…"
The entire war council was staring at them with judging eyes. Nathaniel could only imagine what was going on in their heads, and it most probably was not good.
What would he tell Ariana? How would she handle the news?
It was the last day of the month, and eight o'clock in the evening, which meant that it was time for inspection. The slightest bit of ill conduct, the smallest article of clothing left astray, or so much as one hair out of place would result in doing extra exercises tomorrow, or worse, cleaning duty.
The fact that inspections were a regular occurrence did not stop the girls' dormitory from being filled with nervous chatter and running about. Students began hurriedly folding their clothes and putting them in their trunks, making their beds, throwing rubbish into bins, and grooming themselves and making sure their uniforms were spick and span. There were a couple of final years who sat and did nothing while giving orders to the little ones, but some were more compassionate and helping out their juniors. Some of the seven year olds were crying, and a couple ten year olds were trying to calm them down.
It would have been a typical boarding school, except for the overly harsh punishments and high expectations, as well as the fact that you not only learned mathematics, but also how to use a weapon.
Once all the cleaning was finished, the students stood in their places and began to fidget nervously, and once they heard the sound of a piercing whistle, they knew what to do. They all stood attention, side by side in a straight line, with harsh expressions on their faces to hide their nervousness.
The matron, a stern faced woman in her fifties who wore the swordmaster uniform and had long grey hair tightly wrapped in a bun, stepped in. If she gave the room a cursory glance, she would be satisfied. There were sixty girls standing orderly and quietly in a spotless dormitory. But it wasn't her job to give cursory glances. She knew she had to carefully observe every detail, there had to have been at least one student who made a mistake.
She took a couple of steps towards the girl nearest to her, and began to scrutinize every detail of her appearance, how she kept her hair, how she kept her uniform, whether or not her shoes were polished, then if she found nothing wrong, would take another step and do the same to the next one.
"Untied shoes… ten extra laps tomorrow."
The seven year old sniffled, trying to hold back tears, the matron wacked her left shoulder with the stick she was carrying. The child knelt down from the sheer force of the blow.
"Consider yourself a corpse if you can't handle that, weakling."
She kept on walking, inspecting each student with the eyes of a hawk.
"Sweating like a pig, hair let loose, two days of cleaning duty in the mess hall."
"Forgive me, Matron, I've had a high fever these past two days."
The other girls inwardly flinched; nobody talked back to the matron unless they had a death wish.
"Oh, I'm sorry, your highness, perhaps you would like tea and a massage? Or would you like to have your pillows fluffed?"
She struck the girl on both her shoulders, and then in the gut, she winced in pain.
"You do as you're told, sick or not. What did you expect, that we would show concern for you? That we would pardon you for your misgivings? This isn't some fancy academy for nobles, you're here to toughen up, you understand? Four days of cleaning duty in the mess hall."
Then she stopped in the middle of the line. Her long black hair was neatly combed and tied in a ponytail, her uniform was spotless, her shoes were tied and polished, and she stared at the matron with a neutral expression. She had something important to tell this one, but she didn't know if it was good news or bad. She had been fighting for so long that she knew what was going to happen to this one should she survive. She wanted to feel sorry for her, but steeled herself. It has happened many times before, she's seen students die in battle and students come back from it not quite the same all the time.
"Number thirty-seven…"
She had been called that for five years, so she knew that she should respond. Students were just numbers here.
"A message for you…"
She held out her hand and stared blankly at the conscription notice, and then continued her inspection as usual. Once it was all over, chaos ensued.
The younger ones began to crowd around her and cheer, but her seniors just stared at her like she was already dead. They knew that being sent to fight was not something to celebrate. And some of her classmates knew too.
She could handle it, she told herself. She had to come out alive. She had so much of her life to live, and she was determined not to die. If she survived, her father would be proud of her and she would be seen as a hero by her fellows.
She had to survive; she had no other choice…
Ariana woke up early that day, she didn't care that she was in the barracks. She chose to ignore that she was in an unfamiliar place and began to get ready swiftly and mechanically. She brushed her teeth meticulously, bathed as fast as she could, and then was about to dress, but once she looked at her mages' uniform, she froze.
She was scared, and she wasn't supposed to be. Fear was bad; it was a sign of weakness, and nobody liked weakness. The students who cried, shivered, or hesitated were punished or beaten. Her father would admonish her for expressing fear all the time. She had only been scared three times in her life. The first was when she was three or four and her father beat her for breaking a couple of clay pots, the second was when she was about to attend military school, and the third and worst was two years ago, when she started bleeding.
However, all those times were different. All the things she feared before this seemed miniscule and childish now. It was stupid to be scared of being beaten; parents did that when their kids misbehaved. She was little when she first went to school, and adjusted quickly. She learned later that bleeding was absolutely normal and she got used to that too. There was no guarantee that she would even live to see the next day, let alone get used to participating in an actual battle and killing actual people. No, scared was too small a word for what she was feeling right now, she was terrified.
She wondered, what would her father say if he was standing there? He would probably tell her to snap out of it and get her act together. If her teachers from school were there, they would beat her with a stick and force her to fight. If her classmates were there, they would probably shake their heads in disapproval. 'I thought she was so strong,' they would say, 'so she really is just a wimp,' they would say, 'she's probably like those noble bimbos who wear frilly dresses and cry over everything,' they would say.
She didn't want anyone in school to think low of her, and most of all; she wanted to make her father proud. So she pushed her fear aside and began to put on her uniform. She started with the long sleeved black inner shirt, and then the black tunic with quarter sleeves, and then tucked them both into the green leggings, then came the blue cape and front piece that came down to her knees, the belt which she wrapped firmly around her waist, and lastly the boots. Of course, there were also the fingerless gloves she wore so she could hide the birthmark on her right hand. Her father told her never to take them off, though she wasn't really sure why. She would have worn a hat, but they were flimsy and more likely to obscure your vision than they were to protect you, and besides, she thought they looked ridiculous.
She kept two tomes on the bed, one was lightning, the other was fire, and took them both. She felt embarrassed for a moment, as her fellow soldiers would be seasoned mages or even sages and Valkyries that can use high level magic. Once they saw her low level tomes, they would probably laugh at her. She shook her head, fear was bad, and she couldn't be scared of anything, especially being laughed at.
She manuevered her way around the seasoned soldiers and began to walk outside, where they would be ready to leave for battle. Her father would be leading the forces, he had his strategy all planned out. She saw him walking among them; she decided to talk to him, as she knew it might be her last chance.
"Number thirty-seven reporting for duty, Fa-sir."
Nathaniel stared at her. She did not bear any ill will towards him for putting her on the battlefield, but she was afraid, he probably sensed it and spoke in his standard commanding tone.
"Nobody knows your number here. This isn't school; one wrong move and you won't live to see your next birthday."
"I am aware. One cannot be too cautious in battle."
"You may know this in theory, but can you put it to practice?"
"I cannot boast of sure triumph against the unknown, but I will attempt to fight regardless. I reviewed your strategic plans yesterday… sir. The rebels appear to be using strong and bulky units, most of which are weak to magic, which is why you chose your soldiers accordingly. You divided your army so that Pheros' brigade, which I will be fighting with, will be charged with the disposal of the ten enemy knights."
"You just contradicted yourself. You said you could not boast of winning, but from the way you are talking, you seem to have this all figured out."
"Of course, there is another variable to consider. That is the fact that mages are strong attackers, but should they be hit in battle, they will not last long. So the best thing to do is attack from afar, move as fast as possible, do whatever you can to make sure the enemy cannot reach you. In essence, a stealth oriented approach would be ideal when fighting against knights."
"You're just spouting the knowledge you gained from reading textbooks, unless you can put it to good use, you've been studying for nothing."
They stopped as they found they were outside the castle, where thirty soldiers were standing attention and divided into groups.
"Don't disappoint me."
Ariana walked towards Pheros' brigade, which was on the far left-hand side. Ariana had only seen the woman a couple of times, but remembered a few things about her. She stern but kind, and she had a strong will. Her daughter died in the attack on Fort Stieger, and Ariana remembered seeing her in the corridors at school before she graduated. Ariana could only imagine what she must be feeling right now. She was probably furious. Furious with her daughter for getting careless in battle, furious with the soldiers who killed her, furious with Mila herself who decided to end Aurelia's life prematurely, there was probably so much anger inside her, but she was able to push it aside for a greater cause.
She stood attention with her fellow magic users, Pheros looked at Ariana in a way she didn't think she'd be capable of doing. The commander stared at her with a mix of satisfaction and contempt, as though she wanted Ariana dead. This didn't make sense to her, Ariana was on their side, plus she had nothing to do with Aurelia getting killed. Pheros had no reason to hate her.
It was because she was weak, yes, that was it. She was the weakest and youngest soldier in the bunch. Weakness was to be hated with no exceptions, so Pheros did have a reason to hate her. Some part of her wanted to prove her, to show Pheros that she was not weak, but she wondered, would she be capable of doing that?
"Okay, listen up." Nathaniel began to pace the floor while facing his army.
"We thought we had the upper hand, we thought a bunch of disgruntled rebels would be easy to take care of, but the incident at Fort Stieger made us learn a painful lesson: never underestimate your opponent no matter how much the odds appear to be in your favour." He paused for a few seconds to let his words sink in.
"If there's one thing we know about these rebels, it's this: They're chaotic, disorganized, and just want to see blood spilled by their own hands. Their strength is based purely on the intensity with which they hate the royal family. We have something that they don't however, a plan."
Pheros was still glaring at Ariana, which made her more determined to prove herself than ever.
"Stealth, speed, and precision are the keys to winning here. The generals and paladins are all up front and guarding the castle, I will be joining them after I deal with you. Reina, your Pegasus knights will attack from above. And Pheros… you and your trainees will take cover wherever feasible and take the enemy by surprise." As soon as he finished, angry cries could be heard in the distance, a sign that the time to talk was over.
"Now everyone, take your positions!"
Ariana could barely process what happened after that. She remembered scrambling for her life, running to the castle walls where she could take cover. She remembered the rebels' screams, the screams of the other soldiers, the cries of pegasi and their riders and the sounds of javelins whooshing through the air, the sounds of swords and spears clanging... what she heard was not that bad. It was what she saw that was horrifying.
A general heartlessly drove his lance into a rebel's chest, and he screamed in horror. Blood spattered all over his tunic as he fell over. A paladin hacked off the arms of another one and then stabbed him to death. A javelin was stuck in the side of another one and she was covered in blood, her father decapitated another one. The sight was so sickening that she wanted to throw up, but she couldn't. She wasn't a weakling, and she didn't want to act like one.
Several more of them made it past the generals and paladins and were now on the other side, which meant it was now her turn. She knew better than to act rashly, so she looked at who was there to see if she could land a hit on anybody. There were two heroes, seven knights, and three cavaliers. The heroes were incredibly strong, the knights were bulky but slow, the cavaliers were somewhere in between. They all looked the same to her save for one. One of the knights was clearly smaller than all the rest, and he was shaking as he held a cheap spear in his hand. He appeared to be shorter and younger, but she knew that boys grew later than girls, so he may have been her age or even a little bit older. He was running about, uncertain of what to do or where to go, and he appeared to be crying.
It didn't matter if he was older, or younger, or her age. He was a coward. He was a weakling. Weakness needed to be beaten out, and weaklings needed to be pruned if they couldn't shape up. It was clearly a stupid move to put someone like him on the front lines, but it was good for her side. It meant that she would show Pheros and her father that she wasn't weak, or at least not as weak as that.
But then she saw Pheros use a bolganone on a cavalier. The horse and her rider let out high pitched screams as they were being roasted alive, the horse fell down and tottered and flailed about as it burned, and the cavalier began to roll on the ground, still screaming until they both turned to ash. Then she saw a mage use a superior jolt on a knight and he got electrocuted to death. Watching this was even worse than watching people getting dismembered and stabbed.
Could she do that to a fellow human being? Could she do that to another child who was probably in the same position as her? Maybe he had a father or mother he wanted to make proud, or maybe he too wanted to show that he wasn't weak, just like her. Maybe he could have gone to the same school as her, maybe, just maybe, he could have been the friend she desperately wanted to have.
As she heard the clanging of armor coming towards her, she knew she had to make a decision. The boy held out his spear tentatively at her, but he looked clumsy and he was shaking and sweating.
"Don't come any closer, or I'll have to hurt you!" If that was his idea of a threat, it was a very bad one.
She would have to have this boy electrocuted or burned to death...
"I'll- I'll fight you!"
But if she did not kill him, she would get killed, and her father would be disappointed, and she would be remembered as the weakling who ran from a fight...
"I'll... I'll-"
She read the incantation and the boy was hit with a stream of fire. His entire upper body was in flames, and he was screaming pitifully.
"No! I don't want to do this! I wanna go home!"
She read the incantation again, and now the boy was being char broiled. His flesh was slowly burning off.
"I don't wanna die! I want my mom and dad!"
A third time, and the boy was reduced to unintelligible shrieks. He fell to the floor, burning and screaming in agony. Now she wouldn't be a weakling, now she would be a hero, in fact, killing wasn't so bad now... she killed one, so where was the harm in killing a couple more?
She sprinted towards the next knight. She had to say the fire incantation five or six times before he was reduced to a flaming corpse. Then she did the same to the next soldier, and the soldier after that, until her tome was almost half done. When she looked around for more victims, she realized there were none. The battle was over.
This was enough to make up for the incident on Fort Stieger, two were injured, and there were zero casualties. The enemy had been virtually obliterated. There were only a couple of rebels left, once they were taken care of, the war would be over.
Ariana looked down, her uniform was covered in blood, and so were her tomes, she was sweating and her hair was disheveled. Her head was throbbing, her body was shaking. She felt dizzy, like she was about to collapse. Why didn't she feel stronger? Why didn't she feel satisfied? Why didn't she feel thankful to be alive?
All the soldiers gathered around to celebrate their triumph, but Ariana did not feel like celebrating at all.
"Excellent work, everyone. Now there are only ten rebels left, and they will probably come here to avenge their fallen comrades. Don't think you can celebrate yet, we still haven't won the war."
Then her father began talking. Something about strategy, about tending to the injured, General Walhart came out and congratulated him, but she didn't care. She couldn't pay attention to any of this. How could she even think of anything else after what just happened?
"Yes... another battle. More blood for me then... more burning people... more fried people..."
Even she couldn't make sense of what she was saying.
"More people to kill... yes... killing is good... fear is bad..."
She was so shattered that she wouldn't be able to notice everyone looking at her with sad eyes, or Pheros clenching her fists, or her father walking towards her. She knelt down and began to cackle, then she started pulling her hair, which now fell below her shoulders, and rocked back and forth.
"Who will die next? It doesn't matter, I can kill anybody now-"
Under normal circumstances, she would have been embarrassed at the fact that her father beat her in public, but now she didn't care. In fact, she felt like she deserved being punched in the face and kicked in the ribs.
"Get a grip on yourself."
She covered her face with her hands and cried.
